Fourteen hours of bad blacktop, then a stranger’s smirk in the steam turns paid water into a sticky regret.
Fourteen hours of endless miles have my body wrecked.
I pay for a shower in a rundown truck-stop.
Then Jesse shows up.
Voice low from somewhere down south, torso marked with old wounds, snake ink looped across his side, towel draped loose over his hips, showing off the thick, heavy bulk he’s got hanging there.
We use the same bar of soap.
Our hands bump, skin slick and sticking, and neither of us pulls back.
It ramps up brutal in the humidity.
The razor scrapes close, igniting something a lust I never even knew I had.
Fingers shove in rough, hunting that deep, pulsing crave, our bodies grinding together in greasy, frantic mess.
“Dirty trucker,” he grunts, pounding hard and relentless, even as truck motors grind outside and some guy bangs the door, about to bust through.
Deep Load delivers gritty MM truck-stop heat: straight-to-gay awakening, shower teasing, first time, manly man-to-man action, MxM. Almost 5k words of raw filth!







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