Living Our Fantasies Pt. 18

HOT CHOCOLATE...Another Two-fer Pt18

My last stories reminded me of another two-fer. Yes there are also flashing stories of female pedestrians flashing truckers. You know, while standing in front yards, along the curb, beside the road, and on overpasses.

I remember a few of all of those. In fact way before I started trailer truckin I convinced my own young wife to do most of those flashie games. We loved the overpass flashin. Dollie got honked at and lights flashed as she leaned over the rail and hung her boobies out for drivers to see.

Well this pedestrian truck flashin story is slightly different. That's why I decided to add it.

First off please don't think I am prejudice or anti-colored. Several of my best friends and co-workers were black. Yea BLACK. I am from an all white little mid-western town and back then there were other colors, plus black and white.

In fact we often called those people over in Peoria Negros, plus that other name many didn't like. My buddy Ernie, a black man, explained the differences between White Trash and Niggers. After that things were easier to understand. Okay we got that splained. Now for the story.

Back then I drove a Freightliner long nose. This was before the anteaters. I loved a conventional tractor because I love old cars with a long hood and bulging fenders.

Our company came a long way since I started driving. This Freightliner had an overhead radio with built in CB, good working AC/heater and the reason I'm telling this, power windows and power door locks.

I was on the north bound run and started at the ungodly hour of 4AM. That's what being on the bottom of the totem pole got. No one else wanted that shift and it was an overtime run. Being company our runs were set up for eight hour shifts. But with longer runs and several drops, this one and some others were ten hour runs.

Okay more crap out of the way. Also the company was into what was called "just in time" production. Often my load going north was not ready just in time! Go figure. I often had to take a load the 20 miles to where my van would be loaded, drop and hook, then head north. I sorta wrote this in another story.

We also had two ways to get across the river and north. Most drivers stayed on the east bank and drove north to the last bridge. I like people watchin and there are three bridges close to our terminal that crossed over into Peoria. There is a northbound two lane and a block west the south bound two lane, both right through the lower part of town.

Got the picture? When going north I had to pass the PROJECTS. These were the low income housing projects nearly down town. 99% of those living in the projects were young unemployed healthy black people. Since they were unemployed and July in central Illinois was hot and humid many of them wandered the sidewalks, front yards, and curbs along a three block area of the projects. Also since it was hot and humid many of the feminine type black ladies wore few items of clothing.

Now ya see why I went the west route rather than the country route. Driving along the east bank of the river there were deer, rabbits, and other wildlife. But I enjoyed starin at the wildlife near the projects.

Another thing I might add, I drove in the left lane along the projects because there were often young black people stepping between cars, leaning and laying on cars, throwing bottles and cans, and just loitering along the right lane. Yes male and female were often topless or nearly so. Often cops with red lights flashin in this area.

Another thing to visualize, there was a traffic light at every city block intersection. But they were timed so at 30MPH you could ht most on green.

Well I was headin up past the projects, windows down, doors unlocked. As always in that area I locked the doors and hit the power window buttons. No offense, it just felt safer that way. I'm not profiling, this is the real world!

I remember it well, Friday around 4:30AM, my last work day, night, before the two week summer vacation shutdown. Had my paycheck in my pocket, at home the RV was hooked up, and plans had been made to go camping. I was happy!

WTF? Ahead of me standing right in the lane I was driving were two topless young black gals. I'm guessing around 30-35 years old. Both lookin good. One with extra large boobs, other well shaped but smaller. I had no other choice but to stop.

As I looked around to see what kind of an ambush I might expect I saw a group of mean lookin black dudes off to my left in the shadows. Black guys in shadows ain't good! No I ain't profiling I said this is the real world.

In no time those two topless black women were standin on my left step, boobs against the window glass. "Hey man, ya got any money? We need some money to buy beer." Like a fool I lowered the window as two of those larger big black breasts protruded inside, inches from my pale white face. "No I ain't got any money and there's no place to buy beer this time of nite."

I'm think it was around 5AM by now. "Well ya got any change for cigarettes?" Again I explained this was my last day till vacation and my wife has all my money.

Well I'm staring at four black boobies, checkin my right mirror and the windshield, worried about getting the crap beat out of my skinny white ass, and cops wantin to know why a company truck is parked in the middle of the road. Still being a boob man I had boobs on my mind.

The words are only approximate but this is the way I remember it. "Those titties sure look nice and firm. Can I touch them?" The answer was yes. Now here I am fondling two large black... I mean black... titties, keeping an eye on those big black guys in the shadows, lookin in the right mirror, and out the windows, and getting an erection. I couldn't see anything in the left mirror except black titties.

After about an hour, okay five minutes, the skinny black babe shoved her friend against the mirror and suggested I feel her titties two. Who am I to discriminate at a time like this? Those little titties felt mighty good.

But I was worried about being ambushed, worried about cops, and worried what I'm gonna write on my tattle-tale tac when I get in this morning. Couple a people in cars honked as they passed then I woke up. I started beggin those gals to get off my runnin board because I had to go.

Still alternating with the big and little titties, I slipped the clutch and moved maybe a car length ahead. I did this several times, worried what would happen if those gals fell off. Musta gone three or four car lengths, stopping and creeping, before those topless black babes jumped down. Slowly I headed north, checking both mirrors and grinning.

Okay maybe I shouldn't added this. But it's a true story and I was a young man in my 40's with a hard-on. Most likely all the way to my next drop and hook I was choking my chicken and smiling.

Supervisor Wants to know.

More explaining about the Black Babe Two-fer. They had eliminated the second shift dispatcher. Day shift didn't come in till around 7AM. Mine, No Names, and the 5AM driver would have a note and our trailer info on the table in the trucker's lounge. I shared a tractor with a second shift driver that worked roughly 3-11. Our supervisor over material control had the small industrial RR and the small in-plant truck fleet to watch also. He was rarely at our small truck terminal, away from the main plant.

Normally I and No Name saw him when we checked out, but not everyday. Just another reason I loved that run. No boss, no dispatcher, no factory work.

When I got in that Friday before vacation and filled out my tac and log book I had to put something in that ten minute gap while I was feeling black boobies. Being the honest and loyal trucker I am I wrote TRAFFIC JAM.

I had a great supervisor for a change. An ornery hillbilly who'd told stories about his childhood encounters with black and white girls down south. Born and raised in a small "all white" town I never had that kind of luck.

Like all supervisors Dave wanted to know what kind of a traffic jam just over the bridge took ten minutes. I figured WTF he'd get a kick out of this. I told him. Well Dave chewed me out for not calling him on the company radio to come help. Dave warned me if it ever happens again to call him.

We laughed about that for years. In fact we still talk about the time I was ambushed by black boobies.

Now you see why I want to write true stories. You just can't make this crap up!