Description

Trucker’s Cigar Boy
From: mcgarguy


Yeah, I like being a trucker. 

There’s something right about being on the open road, holding the wheel,
listening to the engine, and smokin’ on one of my big cigars.  Hey, I’m a big
bear of a man, and I drive a big rig, and when I’m on the highway, I like the feel
of a hefty, heavy cigar.  It just seems right, you know; it feels real good while
I’m out on a hot, dusty stretch of road.

And I always like to keep my eyes open for hitchhiking males.  Sometimes, just
sometimes, I get lucky.

College Stud climbed up into my rig back at the stop.  I could tell he was a
student; he had the look, the cap, the clothes, and he was carrying the usual bag
full of books.  He needed a ride and his destination was just a couple hundred
miles my way.  I didn’t stalk him; no, I was at the pumps and he approached me
of his own free will and asked.  It was all so very innocent; what could I say? 
He was going to make good company. 

You in school?  Going for your master’s, are you?  You must be awfully smart. 
What are you majoring in: History? English?
 
Geology.  So College Stud was into rocks. 

He had a real sweet face about him too, a short cropped cut, and a little facial
hair above and below the lips that said he was almost a man.  And I kind of liked
his youthful confidence; yeah, that’s it: I liked the kid’s swagger.  So of course I
offered him a ride.

But when my rider has himself belted safe and tight in my cab, with both doors
securely locked, and as I’m pulling my rig up to speed, my mind begins to
wander:  It doesn’t look like you’ll be going anywhere too soon now, does it,
College Stud?  So why don’t you just relax and make yourself real comfortable. 
Let yourself rest, let yourself sleep.  Don’t you worry about a thing and the trip
will be over before you even know it. 

Just the thought of it makes me smile. 

You’re a pretty hot looking young college man, did you know that?    I like that
sharp, educated look in your eyes.  I wonder how good you’ll look when I have
you gazing up at me all peaceful and submissive and hypnotized.  I wonder how
good you’ll look in a deep sleep.  I wonder how good you’ll look after I’ve
turned you into my boy.  I swear I always get so hard just thinking about it.

The occasion just calls for a fine cigar, something extra big, something extra
rich.  I select one from my box and reach for the cutter.
 
Yeah, you’re a real hot looking young buck.  And you don’t know what I’m
thinking; you can’t read my mind.  But you know what, son?  Pretty soon I’ll be
reading yours.  Soon, you’ll be relaxing into a nice deep trance in that nice
comfortable seat of yours, and you’ll be slip sliding into my power.  Yes, you’re
going to let me play in your mind; you’re going to let me control your mind, and
you’re like being under my control, boy. 

Soon.

I light a flame and I fire up my stick.  The taste is right and my smoke circles the
cab sensuously.  I always love the feel and smell of a good cigar.

To tell the truth, he isn’t really such a bad guy at all.  He’s real smart but not a
smart-aleck.  He has a sharp wit, and makes good conversation; in fact he makes
a lot of conversation.  College Stud does like to talk.  But he also takes an
interest in my rig and I always like it when my rider takes an interest in my rig. 

Yeah, he’s a pretty good kid.

And he’s heading off to see some friends for the weekend.

I wonder if my smoky cigar bothers my new friend.  I hope not, but this is my
truck, and when I’m driving, I always enjoy puffing on a great, fat trucker cigar. 
I think to myself: does it bother you, boy?  No, apparently not.  In fact, by the
way you’re watching me, and the way you’re watching my smoke curl, I’d guess
you’re kind of turned on by it, aren’t you boy.
 
I ask him if he minds and he says no.  He likes it; he even says that he’s tried a
couple cigars himself, occasionally, when he’s been out fishing and hiking and
climbing and stuff.  But he’s never had one nearly so big as mine.  I think he
might want me to offer him one right then and there, and I would enjoy
watching him puff on one of my big maduros, but not yet.  Maybe later.

Oh yeah, boy, I got plans for you. 

I chuckle privately and place my cigar comfortably back between my teeth. 
This is gonna be good.

But that was a few miles back and now we’re out on the open road.  It’s flat. 
The horizon is way ahead.  Yes, it’s a fine day; a hot, sunny, dusty kind of day;
my kind of day.  And the road is so straight and monotonous and it just keeps
coming at you at that slow, steady pace; never changing, never veering.

Ever let yourself be hypnotized by the road, boy?  Ever wanted to be
hypnotized?  But he doesn’t hear me. 

No, he has no idea what’s coming.

I pause to enjoy my cigar.  It’s long and heavy and warm, and the thick smoke
almost stings in my nostrils, and it’s surrounding my boy, enveloping him. 
Breathe it in; breathe it in nice and deep.  It’s like a drug for you, isn’t it boy.

College Stud likes to brag a little and I let him.  It’s always fun to get to know
my unwitting captive before he falls asleep.  And this one likes to talk.  He talks
about lots of things: about school, about his classes, about his friends, and about
rock formations, in that order.  He’s a pretty interesting guy actually; he’s well
traveled, he’s done much.  He’s got the brains to go with his good looks. 

And so I puff on my cigar, and let the rich smoke swirl around us, and it spirals
around him, and I let him talk.  It will soon be my turn to do all the talking and
his turn to do all the listening. 

I pause to look at him.

You’ve got a nice face, boy.  I like the little beard.  I bet you’ll look even better
in a hood, a tight, black leather slave hood that shows only your mouth and your
eyes, and your eyes will be oh, so vacant.  I think I’ll keep you vacant and in
that hood for a long time.  He just keeps ramblin’ on telling me all about
sedimentary and volcanic rock formations, but all I can think of is him in that
hood.

But now he’s not talking so much anymore, and I can see that he’s already
starting to stare out the front of the cab.  He’s just staring at the horizon, staring
at the road and he’s talking slower now.  Slower still.

And now he’s quiet.  Yeah, that’s it, relax and let it in. 

His eyes are already taking on that expression; they’re starting to flutter.  The
road will do that to you, college boy.  You are starting to feel sleepy. 

The road will hypnotize you and this stretch can be awfully powerful.  It just
goes on and on and on, and it creeps into your skin, and it won’t let you go.  It
stalks you, it seduces you, and it will take you.  Me?  I have the rig to keep me
busy, and my cigar to occupy myself.  And I always take a little something – a
little white tablet – to help me stay alert when I’m on the wide open highway
like this. 

But you?  No, you have no such protection, no protection at all.  Sitting in your
great big seat, strapped in so safely, trapped facing forward so you cannot look
away from the road, you’re starting to look small and vulnerable.  You are
already falling under its spell.
 
The bright sun, the afternoon heat, the numbing vibration of the engine, it all
makes you so very drowsy, doesn’t it.  Why, it’s hard to keep your eyes open at
all.  And I know some words that will help you to relax a little more.  No, you
have nothing to protect yourself from us now, do you son. 

You see, the road and I, we’re a team; we work together and you are at our
mercy, so you may as well surrender now without a fight; it’s going to be like
singing a lullaby to a baby.  But don’t you worry, everything will be all right. 
I’m going to take care of you once you’re asleep. 

So just relax and go to sleep.
 
I smile at the thought.  I put my hefty cigar back between my teeth and savor
this moment: my hot looking, boastful, over educated college stud is starting to
go under. 

I take a second to enjoy my cigar.  Its taste is so good, and the smoke is so thick,
it almost fills the cab.  I blow some sweet smoke at my boy and watch him take
it in unaware.  The incense is so very intoxicating, isn’t it boy.  And I begin to
speak into him, oh so carefully.  And I select just the right tone with skilled
practice:

Watch the horizon, I tell him.  That’s right, just watch the horizon.  See how flat
it is; so flat, so empty, so relaxing.  See where the road meets the sky?  Just
watch it and it almost pulls you in, doesn’t it.  See how it makes you relax? 
Doesn’t it make you feel good?   Don’t look away from it, don’t fight it, let it in. 
If feels so good to gaze at the horizon, doesn’t it.

His head is bobbing from side to side, but he lets his eyes rest on the horizon. 

Yes, he replies.

Why, the boy is nodding off already.  His eyes are fluttering, blinking shut. 
Then he shakes himself; he’s trying to stay awake.  And he’s trying so hard, too. 
He just looks so cute there, struggling to stay awake like that, but the road and I,
we’re both so smooth in our seduction, and I continue to talk to him in my most
gentle voice, and I watch his eyes gradually glaze over. 

Your eyes are getting heavy, so very heavy; you can hardly keep your eyes
open. 

His pupils become glassy, and they slowly rise up to the top, and the lids slide
down and then, finally, his head falls softly back against the headrest. 

That’s right, it’s so nice to close your eyes and rest, isn’t it.  Yes.

Maybe you’d like to go to sleep for a little while.  Yes.

And the steady rev of the engine is massaging your body, helping you to relax. 
The vibration is helping you to relax.  Just relax and let yourself drift.  Your legs
are becoming so heavy; your arms are becoming so heavy.  Your whole body is
becoming so heavy. 

Yes, he agrees again.  It’s become so easy for him to agree with what I say.

I flourish my cigar, contemplate it a second, glance at my subject, and pause
long enough to enjoy this magical moment.

Let’s pretend that you’re still focusing on the road, ok?  You like to pretend,
don’t you?  Even though your eyes are shut, you can see the road.  It hasn’t let
you go.  It’s still there making you relax more. It’s still making you sink deeper.   
It feels so good, don’t you think?  Just rest yourself, relax, and watch the road. 
He mumbles something.

College boy is going under nice and easy.  Let yourself relax and sleep son.  Let
yourself drift.
 
While the smoke circles him, I turn to watch: college boy’s head falls forward.

And the deeper you sleep, the easier it is to just listen to my voice.

His head sinks a little further and again my boy agrees: yes.

I savor my big victory smoke and again glance over at my prey.  He’s slumped
over heavily in his seat, held up only by the belt.  College boy’s body is now in a
totally relaxed state.  His limbs are limp and motionless, he’s breathing so softly
and slowly, and he looks so peaceful in his deep slumber.  Yet his mind is open
to me; his subconscious is obediently conjuring up the images I’m planting in
him, and he’s still agreeing with all my suggestions. 

Real soon, I’ll have my boy all naked.

My cock is becoming so hard with this conquest.  I puff on my great cigar with
satisfaction, and let the smoke surround my boy, and I continue:  It’s so easy to
agree with everything I say to you.  It feels so good to do everything I tell you. 
You will believe everything I tell you.  You trust me, don’t you boy?”

Yes sir, he volunteers.

And so it is that way out on the open road, far from any help or distractions, he
surrenders to me totally.  I spend some time wandering through his open mind,
questioning him, conditioning him, and I enjoy altering him until he’s ready, and
then, when I command him, he opens his eyes and smiles at me blissfully.  His
eyes are so empty.  He doesn’t say a word. 

College Stud is not home any more.

It’s awfully warm out, don’t you think?  This cab is so hot.  Why don’t you take
off your shirt?  I always like to start with the most simple, most obvious
command.  Maybe you would like to take off all your clothes.  It would be so
much more comfortable.

He unbuttons and removes his shirt for me, then his shoes, socks, and then his
jeans.  The kid is wearing tight briefs and strips them off for me too.  It’s a large
cab, there’s plenty of room; all his clothes fall loosely on the floor. 

His chest is covered with the lightest, softest fur, and he looks just fine naked.

Son, you like being hypnotized, I can tell.  I can see that hypnosis is making
your cock nice and hard.  Yeah, let yourself get nice and hard.  Wouldn’t you
like to play with your cock?  Why don’t you just stroke it off for me?  Yes, here,
right now.  We’re old friends, we trust each other; it’s ok to masturbate in front
of me.  We’re out here on the road all alone; no one will see.  You feel like
masturbating right now, so why don’t you?  You just let your eyes rest on the
horizon, yeah, like that, and stroke yourself and let me talk to you a little longer.

He’s so sweet, my little buddy, he’s totally content and naked next to me in my
rig, and he’s happily moving his hand up and down his hard shaft.  It makes me
ever harder just to watch, and I’m really enjoying watching his happiness, but I
use the moment to reach even deeper into his mind.

You like being my boy, don’t you son.  You would like to remain with me and
be my boy for ever, wouldn’t you son.  He says yes sir with a smile. 

He’s stroking faster now and he’s agreeing to everything I suggest.  I like this.  I
know that hypnotic commands given while my subject is aroused will plant deep
in the subconscious forever.  He will be affected by this long after I’ve woken
him up.
 
See, this is why I like being a trucker:  I have this hot college stud sitting naked
on the seat next to me, as innocent as a child and eagerly jerking himself off, not
even aware that I’m brainwashing him, not caring that I am watching his cock
bounce around just for my amusement.  And I enjoy puffing on my great big fat
trucker cigar while I put him ever deeper under my control. 

Oh yeah, you’re going to be a good boy for me, son.

And when he cums, he shoots his juice all over himself, and some of it lands on
the dash.  I don’t mind; I merely reach over and wipe it off, and then wipe it on
my jeans.

After that, I let him sit and stare out the front a little longer, and he’s ready for
more.   I open my jeans and pull out my cock; it’s been waiting – not so
patiently – this the entire trip; and I tell my boy to go down and suck, and he
smiles pleasantly, and quietly lays down across the cab and puts his head below
my wheel and he pulls my cock in with his tongue and proceeds to suck. 

He’s good too; damn good; in fact, he’s a little too good.

Boy, you like to suck down cock, don’t you.  I begin to pet the back of his neck
as his head bobs up and down on me noisily.  You sure know what to do.  Mine
is not the first cock you’ve tasted, is it.  He continues to suck me to pleasure. 
How many cocks have you sucked boy?  He mumbles.  He grunts.  He snorts. 
He licks the head and goes back down again.  Oh god, that feels so good.  When
are you planning to tell all your friends that you like cock, boy? 

He’s too focused on his work to respond.

His bare, bubble-hot butt is slow-dancing on the seat next to mine, within easy
reach, and beckoning my grip.  I squeeze the one and it squirms under my touch,
and then I squeeze the other.  Then I knock a little of my cigar ash in my hand,
let it cool, and rub it into his rump, and up his back.  I wait for more ash and
then add it to the first.  He is sure becoming dirty, my dirty little boy. His soft
bare skin is becoming covered in my gray ash.  And his bare feet are raised up
dangling in the air, almost hanging out the window in the breeze while he
continues to suck and lick. 

And I puff on my great, heavy cigar, feel the power of the engine, watch my ash
covered, hypnotized boy lying across my seat, and feel his warm, wet lips
around my ever-hard shaft. 

And I take it all in and sigh: Yeah, life really can be this good. 

Where’s a cop when you want one?  Oh to imagine the look on some officer’s
face when my rig passes him by and he sees my mindfucked boy’s bare feet
dangling out the window.  You know, sometimes you just want to be seen.

But I’m ready now.  Ok, son, you can finish me up now.  You know what to do. 
He speeds up with skill and pulls faster and harder and in seconds I shoot.  I
shoot into his mouth and throat.  I shoot all over his face.  He doesn’t startle; he
merely smiles, then rises up slowly and proceeds to wipe and lick both of us
clean.  Good boy.  You’re a real good boy. 

Damn, talk about luck; I hit rich pay dirt with this one. 

But that was many miles ago.  And we still had a couple hours ahead, so I let
him enjoy the trip.  He spent it naked by my side, and I finally offered him one
of my finest, a long, dark maduro and he lit it up easily enough.  He looked so
good, too, with that big ring gage between his lips, his smoke curling around
him, and he appeared totally content as he stared vacantly at nothing at all. 

Yes, my boy was so truly happy, I didn’t want to interrupt him. 

I guess I’ll just have to save the hood and collar until next time. 

And though I left him in his bemused trance for most of the rest of the ride, he
was good company; though now he was a lot more quiet and I did almost all the
talking.  He just puffed on his cigar, stroked himself absently, and gazed blankly
at the ever approaching horizon as if he’d never take his eyes off of it. 

You know, son, I won’t be able let you remember this trip.  I’m going to have to
make you forget everything before I let you go.  My boy looks at me and gets
this real sad look on his face.  He gives me the cutest pouting expression I’ve
ever seen.  So I tell him not to worry.  It will be ok, I assure him.  It will be our
private little secret.  You like keeping secrets, don’t you boy?  And he smiles at
me and nods his head.  Yes, my sweet boy likes to keep secrets. 

He won’t remember a thing.

And road just passes us by, and finally it is time to start planning ahead.

Go ahead, son, you can start masturbating again, can’t you son.  Your cock is
ready; it needs it, doesn’t it.  One more time for me.  Go ahead.  He grins at me
appreciatively and takes his shaft in his hand and starts to pound.

Pretty soon I’m going to have to let him clean himself off and command him to
put his clothes back on.  And I’ll have to wipe his brain clean too.  Then he’s
going to fall into a deep, natural sleep, and he’ll rest his face against my arm
while he naps the last hour away.  And when he wakes up he’ll discover that
we’ve arrived at his destination. 

Come on boy, show me how much you like beat off.  Faster now.  You’re
almost ready to shoot.  You want to shoot but you can’t until I tell you to.  He is
going faster and he is staring straight at me and his expression is wild with
delight.

And when he finally wakes up for real, he’ll yawn.  He’ll stretch.  The boastful
College Stud will be back, but he won’t have much memory of the trip, and he
won’t even notice that he’s started addressing me as Sir.

That’s it, son, faster, harder.  Beat your cock for me boy but you can’t shoot
until I let you.  Then you will shoot the second I tell you to and it will be the
best orgasm you’ve ever had.  Faster, boy.  His eyes have become wide; he’s
going nuts.  He needs to shoot right now.

And I’ll pull my rig over and stop.  And College Stud will thank me politely for
the ride, and he’ll grab his cap, pick up his bag of books, and climb down from
the cab and close the door.  He’ll smile a friendly smile, wave at me, and then
he’ll just walk away. 

My boy’s whole body is jerking up and down now.  His cock is a hard cherry
red.  Oh yeah, he’s going to explode when I release him.

And in a couple days when he needs a ride back to school, he’ll conveniently
find me at the truck stop waiting.  He’ll say “Hey, what a coincidence!” and
he’ll ask for a return ride.  That’s all right; I’ve got lots of plans for my little
buddy, long term plans.

Ok, son, now shoot.  Shoot for me now boy!   Now!  Good boy.  He calls out; he
spasms.  His juice lands all over him and me and the cab as he settles back into
the seat.  Then with a contented smile, he slumps over into my arm, deep asleep. 
Very well done, son.  But it looks like I need to clean off the dash again.

It’s a fine day; a hot, sunny, dusty kind of day; my kind of day.  I got my rig, a
good cigar, and my new hypnotized boy, naked and fast asleep under my arm. 
And I’ve still got plenty of miles yet to go. 

Yeah, I like being a trucker.

Comments
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  •  rubberbot101: 
     
    It is a great story, that I go back and read over again, from time to time. It a dream.
     
     30.09.2019 
    0 points
     
  •  johnspncer10: 
     
    That's always been a great story...been around a long time, and its still good :)
     
     07.09.2018 
    -2 points
     
  •  Tranceguy: 
     
    Great story. I wanna be the college boy.
     
     07.09.2018 
    0 points
     
  •  RhinoBoy: 
     
    Love this Read.
    Great story and really enjoyed it..
    My only problem is that I am not to fond of smoking.. but apart from that I really love how the long road would place you in to Trance..and Obey the Trucker... lol
     
     29.03.2018 
    0 points
     
  •  WAdruid: 
     
    Life goals
     
     26.11.2017 
    0 points
     
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