Detours (Part 1 Of 3) free porn video

It was Bonnie’s dad who had instilled in her the love of a good, long road-trip. Her appreciation of the finer things such as a car loaded with snack-food and CDs, rest stops, and the nuances of “roadkill bingo” were all because of him. He enjoyed planning his routes as much as he did just tossing the bags in the trunk on a whim and picking a direction and driving.

And Bonnie always went with him.

“North American roads have more total distance than the rest of the world combined,” he told her. She wasn’t sure if he was right, but she rarely doubted her dad.

“Why fly when you can drive? Stop when you want, where you want, and do whatever you want,” he continued, “Make it an adventure, right?”

Bonnie would roll her eyes each time her dad inevitably recited that particular credo sometime about the midway point of every journey. In truth though, she took comfort in hearing him say it.

“The devil is in the detours,” he would conclude then smile, pleased with his own turn of the phrase. As she got older, she began to wonder to herself if he had thought it through what that actually meant. Despite that though, Bonnie recited it along with him.

“The devil is in the detours.”

By the time she was eleven, she was tall enough to sit in the passenger seat beside him --shotgun-- taking the spot where her mother would have been if she were alive. She could tell her dad liked having her up front with him, too.

When she turned sixteen and she began to get that itch to take the wheel herself, her dad decided to reveal to her his “rules of the road-trip” while on their way to a spring vacation in Florida. Some were pretty obvious like pulling over when you feel tired or not to hold a cup of hot coffee between your legs on the car seat.

“Roadside motels are fine to stay in,” he said, “But just check for bed-bugs before lying down.”

Connie cringed. “Ew.”

“And maybe bring a black-light,” he added, grinning like a cat. “You know, wave it over the sheets and carpet…”

“Eww!”

“… blood stains and all that.”

“ Eww - uh! Dad! That’s disgusting!”

“No GPS’s.” The little gadgets were just beginning to gain popularity. Bonnie’s dad shunned them, consider them as cheating. “They’re too A to B, like using a calculator to answer a math equation. They make it too easy to miss all the little bits in between.”

He had her open up the map. It unfolded to the size of a small tablecloth blocking her view of the road. He waved his hand over it. “See all those roads, all that terrain and little lakes and things? That’s the good stuff.”

The coloured lines of roads criss-crossing all over the place reminded her of veins on a body. It was almost organic.

“And no hitchhikers,” he added, “No matter their appearance, or age, or if they’re a woman, a Hobbit, or whatnot…no hitchhikers. Okay, Bonnie?”

He didn’t explain any further. His look and his tone of voice told her all she needed to understand.

“Sure dad,” she replied and turned her blue eyes back toward the oncoming road.

*

Bonnie Sinclair, age twenty-seven and tens of thousands of miles of highway notched on the wheels of her old Malibu, was on the road again on the second day of a three day solo drive to the coast. The drive itself was going to be the highlight of her trip, she was sure of it; the destination was less appealing. Her cousin was getting married and her entire extended family would be there. Both she and her dad weren't so big on these family events, but he always insisted that they attend.

"They can drive you crazy, but so can the rest of the world," he would say, "If anyone drives you crazy, it may as well be family… you’ll always end up forgiving them, eventually."

So she had to go. When she was ready to send her RSVP, she knew she would have to face at least two inevitable questions.

The first question was why she just didn’t fly to the wedding so that she could spend more time with the family. Her first reason -- shared with everyone -- was that she loved to drive of course, just like her dad. As long as the destination was within reach over land or bridge, she was going to drive there.

The second reason -- not shared with everyone-- was that she couldn’t stand being with her extended and extensive family. Well, perhaps that was a bit harsh, but she could probably think of a hundred things she’d rather be doing than tooting around town for several days with dozens of relatives whose names have escaped her, chattering non-stop at her and gossiping aloud about whomever wasn’t there. It made her appreciate the serenity of being on the road that much more.

Speaking of gossiping, the second question: “Will you be bringing Stefan?”

“No. Stefan isn’t coming with me.”

“Why? You’re still seeing him, aren’t you? Weren’t you serious about each other?”

“Stefan is not coming with me.”

“Oh no, Bonnie. Did you two break up?”

“Stefan...is not... coming ...with me.”

So on this particular trip, she was alone on the road -- almost alone. Every once in awhile, she rubbed the soft fur of a little green rabbit’s foot dangling by a chain from her car key. It had belonged to her dad. Why green? Who knew. Didn’t matter either. As long as it was with her, so was her dad.

Boomer was with her as well -- again, sort of. Boomer was her Cocker-Spaniel and, unfortunately, unlike most other dogs, he wasn’t so much into car rides. She loved him dearly but she was fed up having to stop her car to clean dog chow vomit off of her seats before Boomer ate it. So, while a friend babysat her motion-sick dog back home, as a reminder of her beloved companion, one of his favourite chew toys sat shotgun in his stead: a ragged, tooth-scarred Mark Wahlberg “Planet of the Apes” doll. Marky Mark was good chewin’.

As she motored along the highway, Bonnie leaned back in her car seat -- way back. The back of the chair was reclined at a lower than typical angle, like she was in a dentist’s chair waiting for her mouth to be scoped. In this position, she basically viewed the road ahead through her steering-wheel, her fingers controlling it at the base. It also allowed her to raise her leg and prop her bare foot out the open driver’s window, her heel on the side mirror.

This wasn’t a driving position her dad ever taught her, that was for certain. She had passed some hippie guy in a beat up, duct-taped Toyota Echo sitting like that while she was driving through New York State a few years ago, and she’d been curious about trying it herself ever since then.

Her dad would not have approved.

“Sorry dad,” she mused aloud, the warm wind blowing through her toes and the short, blonde strands of her page-boy haircut, “This is pretty darn comfortable.”

Chalk one up for the hippies.

She had been driving for several hours now, passing through an area where winding roads through hills and valleys had long given way to flatter, browner, rockier desert, drier air, and the towns came fewer and far in between. Less rolling terrain also meant less need for curves and turns on the road. She could see straight up the highway for miles. The problem with a straight, flat, endless highway was that there was very little stimulus to help maintain her attention. She wasn’t passing many cars either; traffic was beyond sparse. She gave her head little shakes and cursed at herself every once in awhile, snapping her back into focus to ensure she didn’t end up mindlessly careening off the road.

Still, she remained in an almost hypnotic trance, eyes fixed and peering through dark sunglasses at the unbroken stretch of black asphalt. Her thoughts drifted like feathers up, up, up to the puffs of cloud hanging in the blue sky splayed out before her as she flew down the road at eighty miles per hour.

Suddenly, an unholy blare of one mean-sonofabitch horn erupted in the air around Bonnie, rattling her teeth and shaking her heart up into her throat.

“Holy Jeez-us!” Bonnie gasped, sat up, and gripped the wheel as the horn continued to thrum. She swerved a little to the side but managed to right her car quickly.

She glared out of her driver’s side window and looked up the side of a big cherry-red rig as it rode along beside her. Looking back down at her from the truck’s cab were two grizzled men, waving and smiling. They were shouting at her and, judging by their leers, it probably had less to do about what she thought about the current crisis in the Middle East and more about what they would like to do with her on the hood of her car. Then again, she couldn’t hear a damn word they were saying with the whooshing rush of the road and the bleating of their own stupid horn between them.

Bonnie eased her foot off the accelerator. Thankfully, the two guys in the eighteen-wheeler decided to just pass her and continue on ahead. The one on the passenger side kissed his lips at her like a fish as they went by and then gave her a thumbs up as they took the lead and pulled away.

“Yes, yes. Nice to meet you, too,” she muttered. She stuck her hand outside the window, fluttered her fingers, waving to the truck before bundling them into a tidy middle-finger salute. “Assholes.”

The truck bellowed its horn.

It was one of the perils of a woman driving alone in the middle of nowhere, she knew that. An only child raised by her dad, she grew up a bit of a tomboy and felt that she could probably take care of herself in most situations, but still, she had to be aware and leery of jerks and weirdos on the road.

She continued for another hour, going through several revolutions on the dial of her radio before giving up. She sang to herself and played the geography game in her head. Then she was silent again with nothing but the road and sun above to keep her company.

She yawned. This was a damn long drive.

Bonnie sighed and caught herself thinking that maybe it would have been nice if Stefan had come along with her.

“Woah!” she exclaimed, catching herself. She tilted her head and shrugged. “No, this is ten times better than bringing along that…than being with him ,” she thought.

Stefan was kind of like this stretch of road: straight, open, bright, warm…but he could also be tedious, dry, and predictable. And like those big rocks scattered off to the side of the road, it turned out there were snakes hidden behind some of them.

Yeah. Being alone was better than being with him .

Then again, being with someone is better than being alone , she thought. It reminded her of a few unfulfilled road fantasies she had envisioned from time-to-time on these solo drives.

As her thoughts drifted, so did her hand as it slipped down between her legs, scratching her thigh just under the cuff of her shorts, then gently stroking the soft skin there. She tucked her fingers in a little deeper, stroking the line of her panties. The touch of warmth and dampness on her fingertips drew an unexpected silent sigh in her throat.

She blinked her eyes wide, snapping herself out of her stupor. She knocked her knuckles against the side of her head and berated herself, “Okay, see? This is what happens when you don’t focus on the road! You stop making sense!”

The conversation went on inside of Bonnie’s head as she continued to drive along the straight stretch of highway. She then noticed, way off in the distance, someone walking along the side of the road. She leaned forward in her seat and squinted through her sunglasses. The figure was still tiny but she was pretty certain it was a man. He was walking on the other side of the road, towards her.

“Not going my way, then,” she guessed.

The man crossed to her side of the road.

“Oh…’kay, then.”

Of all of her dad’s rules of the road, she always knew which one was like the Pandora’s Box of commandments. There was no way she would ever think of breaking it. No way. Not a chance.

Her foot eased up slightly on the pedal. She could hear the hum of her engine soften.

“You’re not stopping, Bonnie,” she said to herself.

The distance between her and the man evaporated quickly and she continued to slow down as she came within a couple hundred yards of him.

“No way. Don’t even think of it.”

Practically coasting now, her foot shifted to the brake pedal.

“What…the hell …do you think you’re doing?”

The man stood at the side of the road, facing her. Clad in a dusty, hunter green jacket, jeans and boots, he had a small pack slung over his shoulder. She was expecting him to stick out his thumb to ask for a ride, but he didn’t.

As Bonnie’s car approached him, she managed a closer look. He was tall with raven wavy hair that fell to his collar, dark-tanned complexion, and thick brows that shadowed his eyes. He pivoted casually in his boots as she drifted by him in her car, a placid expression on his face as if it didn’t matter to him if she actually stopped or not.

Bonnie did come to a stop eventually, about fifty yards ahead of him. She didn’t put the car into “Park”; just kept her foot on the brake.

She lifted her sunglasses onto her head and checked her rearview mirror. She could already feel the anxiety curling up the back of her neck as she watched the guy still standing in the same spot looking towards her.

“Can’t leave another human being walking on miles of road in the middle of the desert by themselves, can you? It wouldn’t be right. You should help,” she said, trying to convince herself that this was okay.

“Uh,” she uttered and flinched when she saw him finally start to move towards her.

So this is it, she thought, you’re going to take on a hitchhiker. Why not? It’ll be fine. The company will be good.

Bonnie craned her head around and looked back through the rear window. He was almost there. She drummed her fingers on the wheel and chewed her lower lip.

“No, no, no…what are you doing?” she muttered aloud, the voice of her dad intertwining in her head. “What are you doing?”

She jumped in her seat when she heard the hitchhiker pull at the handle of the passenger door. It was still locked.

Her mouth hanging open, Bonnie thought for a fleeting second then leaned across the passenger seat and looked up him. “I’m sorry,” she said as she waved her hand.

He looked back at her, his glass-like eyes set within his dark complexion. There was nothing but ease and calmness in his expression but it didn’t register with Bonnie.

“Sorry!” she called to him again. Then she took her foot off the brake and applied the accelerator.

As her car pulled away down the road and away from the man, she muttered, “Damn. Damn. Sorry.”

Glancing back through her rearview mirror, she could see that he hadn’t moved. He just stood there watching her passively as she drove away.

*

Thirty minutes later Bonnie pulled up at a roadside gas and diner located at a highway junction. She slipped on her ankle boots before getting out of the car. As soon as her feet touched the ground she stretched towards the deep blue canopy above. A soft breeze pushed warm, dry air through her open fingers and bare legs; it felt refreshing. It was one of her strange, little pleasures during a road-trip: stretching out after a long drive.

There was only one other car parked outside the diner… and a big cherry-red rig parked on the other side of the gas pumps.

Bonnie winced when she noticed it. “Great,” she grumbled.

As she paused for a moment, a pickup truck pulled up a few yards behind her. She watched as an elderly man and woman climbed out of the front cab.

The old man limped his way around to the side of the truck and spoke to someone sitting in the back cargo bed. “We’ll be a short while. If you want to wait around, you’re welcome to come with us after.”

The old man waved and nodded and joined the woman as they ambled toward the diner.

“Beautiful day,” the woman said to Bonnie with a smile as she opened the door for them.

“Oh yeah. Perfect,” she replied, smiling in return.

“Heard it was gonna rain later in the hills,” the man offered as he entered the diner, “Real storm.”

Bonnie nodded then turned toward the pickup truck as a man jumped out from the back. She blinked and froze when she recognized who it was.

The hitchhiker pulled his backpack from the truck and slung it over his shoulder. He looked around, scanning the area until his eyes came across Bonnie still standing at the door only a few yards away.

She hesitated, unsure of what to do. Her lips motioned as if she felt like she should say something to him, but she came up empty, her mind parched for words. For some reason, all she could think of was how --due to his hair and long sideburns, his placid expression, and stature-- he somehow resembled a big coyote if it were standing perfectly upright on its hind legs.

He regarded her for a moment then walked off and around to the back of the diner without a word or second glance.

Bonnie sighed, a long stream of air escaping her chest. She realized then that she had been holding her breath the entire time.

*

Bonnie used the last of her soft, buttery biscuit to polish off the remaining gravy from her plate before she popped it into her mouth. The country sausages and mash were amazing. She would have licked the plate clean if she were in the privacy of her home, it was that good.

“Mmm-mm!” she hummed, smiling as she chewed.

The big, gruff cook peeked at her from his kitchen through the service window. He laughed and gave her a little salute with his spatula.

“Hey, you made Sweet-pea smile,” the old man with the woman said as he pointed over to the cook. “He never smiles!”

The cook pointed his spatula at the couple and joked, “Hey Conner, how about you ordering something more than ten cups of coffee and a donut sometime and I’ll show you a smile that’ll blind your one good eye!”

“Ah! It’s only because she’s so young and pretty! You’re trying to be all genteel! ” the old man said dropping some cash on the counter as he and the woman stood up. “There you go, you old goat!”

“ You’re calling who old?” the cook laughed.

The woman touched Bonnie on her forearm. “You have a nice day, dear. Drive carefully,” she said. She waved to the cook. “See you, Sweet-pea!”

Bonnie waved to the couple as they left and chuckled to herself, “Sweet-pea?” She settled into her stool at the dining-counter. It was well-past lunch time and she hadn’t realized how hungry she was while she was driving. It felt good to get something hearty into her belly other than chips and cookies. She felt content and relaxed.

When she had first entered the diner, she was wary of the two men who were from the truck that had buzzed her earlier on. They were sitting in a booth by the window. Though they did give her a silent, lingering look as she walked past them to the counter, they didn’t say anything to her and just continued their huddled, low-hush conversation. They were still sitting there after she finished her meal but they were so quiet, she barely paid them any notice.

A few minutes later, after returning from the washroom, Bonnie paid her bill. She was last customer in the diner, it seemed, the two truckers having left in the meantime.

“Thanks very much. That was great,” she said to the cook.

“Sweet-pea,” he replied with a nod, still smiling.

Bonnie chuckled, “Thanks very much… ’Sweet-pea’!” She finished off her coffee and paid her bill.

“Take care, now,” Sweet-pea said.

She stepped outside and slipped on her sunglasses. Standing by the diner entrance for a moment, she took a quick look around. There wasn’t any sign of the hitchhiker; looked as if he continued on with the elderly couple.

Bonnie made her way over to her car. As she approached it, she frowned. Something seemed off.

“Crap! Crap! Crap! ” she fumed as she glared at the flat, driver’s side front tire. She bent down to inspect it --yeah, it was dead-- then stood back up and thumped her butt against her car. She rubbed her forehead, grimacing with frustration.

Not that she couldn’t change a flat, but it was still a royal pain in the ass. Heaving a sigh, she pushed off her car, shuffled her feet around to the back, and opened up her trunk. Fortunately, she didn’t have too many bags and other junk to unload onto the ground to get to her spare.

“Full-size spare, it’s the only way to go,” her dad had told her, “Don’t want to be caught driving long distances on a spare donut.”

“Thanks dad,” she said to herself as she picked up the jack and tire iron and dropped them on her luggage. She reached down to haul out the spare.

“Damsel in distress?” a voice chimed in from behind.

Bonnie gasped and whirled around. The two truckers stood a couple yards away from her, grinning like cats who had discovered rum in their milk bowls. Their shapes were reminiscent of Laurel and Hardy, one a kind of pointy-faced lanky guy, the other rather round all over with a flat nose. That’s where the similarities with the old-time comedians ended, all of their classic charm and sweetness abrasively scrubbed off the two leering men before her.

“Oh, hey,” she said, feigning a slight smile, “It’s nothing. Just a flat.”

‘Hardy’, the round one with his thumbs hooked in his pants pockets, said, “Too bad. Shit happens, though.”

“Shit happens,” ‘Laurel’ concurred, nodding and shrugging.

“Yeah.” Bonnie eyed them through her glasses, but she repeated calmly, “It’s nothing.”

“Well,” ‘Hardy’ sighed, “Guess it’s a good thing you’ve got two willing and able bodied gentlemen here to help you out.”

‘Laurel’ immediately stepped forward. “Let me get that for you, sweets.”

“No it’s alright.” Bonnie raised her hands. Cocking a brow sharply, she insisted, “I can change a tire.”

“Wouldn’t want you to crack a nail,” ‘Laurel’ chuckled.

God, she wanted to punch him so hard, but that meant actually touching him.

“Besides, you’re not exactly properly attired for this kind of job.” ‘Hardy’ angled his head to the side, his button black eyes scanning up her legs from her boots to the crotch of her denim shorts. “Don’t want you to scuff yourself up.”

Her attention divided between the two men, Bonnie had to hold onto her tire as ‘Laurel’ picked it up from her trunk while addressing ‘Hardy’, “I said it’s okay.”

“Now, now, just being friendly,” ‘Hardy’ said with a shrug and moved towards her.

She had just glanced toward the tire iron beside her when a hand suddenly reached down and picked it up along with the jack.

Bonnie and the truckers turned and looked at the hitchhiker as he quietly carried the tools around to the side of the car. For once, they were all on the same page as the three of them, all with the same quizzical expression, peered around the car and watched as he stooped down and positioned the jack.

She and ‘Laurel’ were each still holding onto her tire when the trucker asked indignantly, “Hey! Hey buddy, what do you think you’re doing?”

The hitchhiker remained quiet for a moment as he took off the hub-cap and loosened the nuts on the tire.

“You listening?” ‘Hardy’ asked. “What’re you doing?”

“Replacing a tire,” he finally said without regarding any of them.

The two truckers gawked at him.

Bonnie blinked, mute and unsure of what to make of any of this. He had gotten ‘Laurel and Hardy’ to shut up for a second, though. That was a help.

‘Hardy’ stepped forward. “We were going to do that.”

Bonnie glared at the rotund man.

“Really? All I heard was everyone having a nice conversation under this hot sun, getting all friendly,” the hitchhiker breathed still working efficiently. His voice was deep and dusty like the desert around them. “You can carry on with your nice chat, though.”

Peeking through the corner of her eyes, Bonnie could see the jaws of the two truckers slacken.

When ‘Hardy’ took another step forward, the hitchhiker stood up, removing his jacket. With all eyes on him, it was clear to everyone just how tall and sleekly built the guy was, his black tank top leaving little room for question. He held a steady stare on the trucker, his dark, feathery brows hanging low, centering focus on the coolness of his black-pool eyes.

‘Hardy’ froze in mid-step, the hitchhiker’s long and imposing shadow dropping over his puffy belly. He stepped aside as the hitchhiker silently walked past him like he was a houseplant.

Bonnie and the other trucker also remained passive as he reached for the spare in their hands. Behind the cover of her sunglasses, her eyes rolled up to look at him and widened noticeably when she saw him gazing back at her. It was an instant, but it was like an ignition going off in her belly.

“Uh…” was all she could eke as the tire was removed from her grasp.

The truckers were obviously flustered now, looking back and forth towards each other and the man, measuring him and coming up short in every way. They walked over and stood behind him, giving him clear space, as he bent down again and resumed cranking the jack. They were fumbling for something to say. Finally ‘Hardy’ blurted, “She... she said that she didn’t need any help.”

“Yeah,” ‘Laurel’ chimed in with a confused frown and a nod, “She doesn’t need help.”

Idiots, Bonnie thought.

The hitchhiker paused. He didn’t turn around, instead just angling his head aside and saying to the dirt, “Well then, I guess you two Good Samaritans can go.”

Bonnie didn’t know why, but that cracked a subtle grin on her lips. Feeling oddly emboldened, she strode over to the side of the hitchhiker as he worked and turned and faced the two truckers. Arms crossed, she smirked and said, “Thanks a lot, guys. I think this is all the help I’ll need today.”

The two men hesitated, staring at her. She could tell they were trying to puff themselves up again, but they were just as deflated as her tire now.

Finally, after muttering gibberish to one another, they turned and shuffled away toward their truck.

Bonnie watched as they climbed back into their rig and fired her up. With things settled, she looked down at the hitchhiker and said, “Thanks.”

The car was raised and tilted as he finished cranking the jack. He stood up, slapping and wiping the dirt off the palms of his hands as he watched the truck drive away. “So, you don’t need anymore help?” he said unexpectedly, “You’re good to finish this off?”

“Oh, umm… I… well… ” Bonnie’s lips remained parted and silent for a second as her eyes skittered about and her mind worked. She looked down at the tire still not sure of what to say.

Unfazed, the hitchhiker simply turned, bent back down and resumed working.

“That’s… okay… ” she began to say, but stopped herself. No, just leave it already, she thought.

He hadn’t even paused.

A few minutes later, while he was putting the lug nuts back on the spare tire, Bonnie was checking her flat. She wanted to know what sort of nail or object had busted a perfectly good tire. Instead, her fingers traced along a one-inch cut across the front face of the tire, as if it had been stabbed. She angled her mouth in a sour twist and stood up. She glared at where the truckers’ rig used to be. “ Assholes !” she grumbled.

When the tire was finally changed and the car lowered back down, Bonnie came around and offered a bottle of water from her cooler to the man. He was perspiring, the tanned muscular sinews of his long arms glistening and tight.

“Thanks,” he said.

Bonnie raised her sunglasses, watching him unabashedly as he tilted his head and gulped back the entire contents in one, satisfying chug. Her tummy unexpectedly spun with anxiety as she observed rivulets of water run down his chin, along his undulating Adam’s apple, and onto his broad, upper chest. She smacked her lips. It was so dry and hot outside. She scurried around to her cooler and grabbed herself a bottle of water, seeking to satiate her sudden thirst.

A short time after, as Bonnie finished putting her stuff back into the the trunk, the hitchhiker re-emerged from the back of the diner carrying his jacket and pack over his shoulder. He strolled towards her like he owned the ground he walked upon. She smiled to herself. There was just something so cool and laid back about this guy; it was both evocative and unnerving at the same time.

Closing her trunk, she brushed off her palms as she walked around to the side of her car, still looking at him as he slowly approached. She shaded her eyes with the flat of her hand, smiled and said, “Thanks again.”

He nodded.

“Can I -“ She hesitated. What was she going to say? Could she what? He was still walking towards her and suddenly she had brain freeze. “Can I buy you something to eat?” The words snapped out of her mouth.

The tiniest angle slicked onto the man’s lip. He shook his head.

Bonnie’s lashes fluttered as she thought quickly. Would it be rude to offer him money? Maybe he’d like some potato chips? “Stupid, Bonnie! Stupid!” she harangued herself, “You know what he wants.”

She couldn’t give him a ride, though, not this stranger. She just couldn’t.

He walked up to her. There was a daunting deliberateness to his stride.

Her mouth hung open for a pregnant pause before she finally started to say, “I… uh?”

The man walked past her and towards the open road.

Bonnie blinked, staring at the spot where she had expected him to stop to ask for a ride. It took a shake of her head before she could turn to watch the man from behind as he walked away. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind but nothing coalesced into a coherent sentence that she could speak.

Instead, it was the man who turned around with an easy and subtle --and no less startling-- grin on his lips. As he continued to step backwards and away, he said, “You don’t pick up hitchhikers.”

Bonnie inhaled a slight, shuddering breath. There was familiarity in his words, but instead of assurance, they suddenly filled her with remorse. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she said, the words twisting out of her throat.

Still with that evocative curl on his lips and riveting look in his eyes, the man shook his head, nodded politely, then turned and continued on his way, melting into the rugged, dry terrain.

Bonnie slid dejectedly into her car, started the engine, then drove away from the diner. She passed the guy on the road slowly, trying to catch his eye as she drove by, but he didn’t turn his head.

As she pulled away down the road, she checked the rearview mirror repeatedly, watching him become smaller and smaller. When the road slowly began to dip, he disappeared completely.

Bonnie stared harshly at the straight, unbroken road ahead of her, pouting her lower lip, shades of indigo bleeding into the early afternoon sky. Her right hand dropped off the wheel and reached for her keychain. As she stroked her dad’s lucky green rabbit’s foot in her palm, the thousand thoughts that had clogged her brain earlier fell away till only a choice of two remained. Her foot eased off the pedal.

As her car slowed, she said aloud, “Sorry dad,” and turned the wheel and headed back toward the diner.

Two minutes later, she was pulling around and beside the man as he walked along the roadside. When he stopped, so did she.

He approached the passenger door.

This time, Bonnie popped the lock open.

The devil is in the detours.

*

“It’s Marky Mark,” Bonnie explained as she drove. The guy had sat on the action figure when he got into the car. Thankfully, it wasn’t broken. Boomer would have been pissed.

While it was refreshingly amusing to look at him as he observed the mangled plastic toy, it just didn’t suit him. Bonnie cleared her throat, took the doll away, and flipped it to the back seat sheepishly.

For the first few minutes, they said very little. Bonnie looked at him with fleeting glances, exchanging awkward smiles with his cool monkish regard. Even with the quick peeks, she managed to get a better look at the man now. Up close, she had a clear picture of the details of his face: a reddish-brown tanned complexion painted over high cheek-bones and a hard jaw-line, slender and strong lips, and a long sharp nose. Everything was pleasingly weathered like rich, soft leather, and framed by his long, dark hair and sideburns. And of course, he possessed eyes which seemed to have captured midnight in the pupils.

As they continued down the long highway, he adjusted the seat, pushing it all the way back to accommodate his long legs. “Do you mind?” he asked almost as an afterthought.

“Nope. No.” Bonnie shook her head. “Not at all. Make yourself comfortable.”

He settled into his seat, arm propped up on the door, fingers at his stubbled chin. “You’ve maintained this car pretty well,” he said.

She looked at him reading the slightly curious look on his face as he checked across the dashboard of her car. She knew what he was thinking. A ‘97 Malibu wasn’t exactly a typical “classic” worth maintaining as well as she did.

“She’s a special car,” Bonnie admitted.

The man simply nodded silently.

“Oh… Bonnie,” she said, realizing suddenly that introductions had been overlooked. She glanced towards him. “You can call me Bonnie.”

He looked at her and nodded. “Bonnie. Nice to meet you,” he said. His voice had softened from before, but it was still steady and assured.

As his gaze returned towards the road, Bonnie frowned. Okay, maybe he doesn’t want to introduce himself , she thought.

“Donovan.”

Was that his first name or last name? Did it matter? He was in her car now and she was going to drive with him for a few hours, drop him off somewhere, and drive away never to see him again. Why bother with names? That was the best case scenario. All the other ideas running around in the darker reaches of her mind, she did not want to entertain.

“Donovan,” she parroted with a nod. “So… where are you headed?”

“Haven’t decided, yet.”

Bonnie recalled him just pivoting around when she had first come across him. He had turned 180 degrees on a stretch of highway in the middle of nowhere on a whim as if he was deciding which coffee shop to go to in the city. Her brows pinched. “You’re just wandering?” she asked, incredulous.

“Pretty much.”

She creased her brows upward. “Must be nice.”

Donovan settled into his seat. “Sometimes.”

Bonnie tilted her head aside, thinking about this for a moment. Without any real destination, and at the mercy and whim of the cars that did or didn’t pick you up along the way, that really was the ultimate road-trip. It was as intimate as you could get with the endless roads. She wondered what kind of experiences Donovan would have had, the secret places he could have discovered.

She wanted to ask him what he did for a living… if he worked. That would have been tactless, though. Instead, she grinned and asked, “Are you some sort of multi-millionaire recluse who decided to give it all up and hit the road?”

He turned towards her, matching her smile with a tight-lipped grin of his own. “Something like that,” he said as he turned away again.

Bonnie’s mind worked furiously to think of what to say next, though she felt less edgy as the miles clicked by on her odometer. She trusted her instincts and convinced herself that he wouldn’t try to kill her. That was a major hurdle to overcome.

Though scruffy --suitably so-- she was also relieved that he didn’t smell like a homeless bum, something she had fretted about before she let him in. He had an earthy scent about him, not unappealing at all, if she were to be honest.

“You enjoy driving long distances,” Donovan said after a short while.

It took Bonnie a moment to realize he had said that as a statement, not a question. “Yeah. I do,” she said, smiling to herself.

“It’s the freedom. It’s the adventure. Don’t know where you’re going to stop, what you’re going to see… ” he went on.

Bonnie nodded with exaggerated dips of her chin. The words were familiar. She turned to him. “Yep.”

He met her eyes with a sharp gaze. He added, “... who you’ll meet and pick up along the way.”

She held his stare for an impossible second.

“It excites you.”

Bonnie’s mouth drifted open and hung there for a few seconds. “I… I’ve never picked up a hitchhiker before,” she finally said, pausing to swallow. Why she suddenly felt compelled to confess that, she didn’t know.

Donovan grinned, a sliver of teeth exposed between the slit in his lips. His eyes narrowed as he said, “I know, Bonnie.”

As she continued to linger her sights on him, absorbed by the grip of his dark, piercing eyes, Bonnie pinched the back of her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Oh, shit!” she suddenly gasped and quickly righted the wheel, the car swerving back into the lane. She stared over the wheel, gripping it tightly, feeling her pulse rattle through her fingertips. For a moment, she couldn’t see the road properly, Donovan’s heady gaze filling her vision.

He nonchalantly reached over and held the wheel. “Steady,” he said.

Bonnie breathed through her slack mouth, “Yeah. Yeah, sorry about that… thanks.” She chuckled anxiously, “Better concentrate on driving, huh?”

With more effort required than she had expected, she regained her focus on the road. It took her even longer to settle her heart. She ran her fingers through her blonde hair, puffed out long breaths of air, and locked her blue eyes on the road ahead. For the twenty minutes, she turned her head only to look through her open window at the passing barren landscape, bleak and beautiful. In the distance ahead, there was finally respite to the endless stretch of straight road and flat earth -- rolling hills appearing on the horizon.

She said nothing to Donovan, but her awareness of his presence in her car seated beside her was more than enough to set off a dozen heated and provocative arguments in her mind.

No. She wasn’t worried that he was going to try to kill her.

*

Bonnie sat on the trunk of her car eating an apple. As she munched, she looked up at trees lining the rest stop. It was funny to think that, just an hour earlier, she had been driving straight through a dry, warm desert. The temperature had cooled considerably now that she was back amongst the winding roads of increasingly dense forest.

The rest stop was really just a parking strip with a couple of garbage cans, not even a toilet. Still, they were useful for those long haul drives, allowing time for a nap, to eat, or to stretch out and do other things.

Other things.

Bonnie smirked. While hers was the lone car occupying this particular rest stop at this time, she recalled another trip a few years back when she wasn’t so alone at a similar stop. Though she had been loathe to do so, and her dad had warned her about it, she had been caught in an overnight solo drive on a long stretch of quiet country road between towns and just had to pull over for a nap at a rest stop or else risk falling asleep at the wheel.

It was empty when she parked, and it was lit up only by the moonlight. Bonnie climbed into the back seat and locked her doors. She kept a flashlight and umbrella close at hand for protection before covering herself up with a blanket and dozing off.

She didn’t know how long she had been asleep before a jumble of muffled noises awoke her. Lying still for a few seconds, she listened carefully, picking up two voices: a man and a woman. She heard the not so restrained giggling and chatter going on between them. Bonnie frowned and slowly raised herself up from the seat to peer through her window.

With the moon high above, it didn’t take much squinting to adjust her focus through the bluish filter of the evening light. Her eyes quickly widened when she realized what was going on outside. Parked on the other end of the rest stop’s driveway was a large, long car, maybe an Oldsmobile. A man, possibly college age and tall with a buzz cut, stood leaning against the back trunk. His long legs were bare with his pants and shorts pulled down around his ankles. The woman, her long, dark hair shimmering from the moonlight, knelt on the ground before him, filling her mouth with the guy’s lengthy shaft.

Bonnie sucked in her lips as she continued to spy on them. She shifted in the seat to sit at a more comfortable position, moving furtively. It was doubtful the young couple actually would have noticed her anyway, or cared if she were watching.

The woman was quite audible and animated as she did the deed. Raspy gasps for air and satisfying slurps escaped her mouth as she sunk it over the guy’s cock and pulled it back with a long, pronounced tilt of her head. She giggled and hummed with delight as she held it in her hand, raising it up to lick underneath at its base.

The guy sighed and groaned his approvals aloud, stroking her hair.

Bonnie remained perfectly still, continuing to hold her lips tight with her teeth. She became acutely aware of the sound of her heartbeat in her head and hoped it somehow didn’t pulse like a beacon out of her car.

More than sufficiently hardened, the guy switched positions with his girlfriend, spinning around and lifting her up onto the trunk of the car. She had kicked off her shoes even before he had reached for her jeans to yank them off. Bonnie couldn’t tell if the woman had been wearing panties or not, her slender, pale legs suddenly exposed from her hips to her toes.

With barely a pause, the guy buried his face between the woman’s thighs, her legs draping over his shoulders. He held her, his hands on her hips, as she fell back against the trunk, wriggling and squirming. The top of his smooth head bobbed incessantly between her thighs.

More pleasurable groans and moans chased through the night air, bursting the silence of the secluded rest stop.

Bonnie’s lips slipped from the grasp of her teeth, trembling, and she unexpectedly shuddered. Saliva had built up in her mouth and she both swallowed it and licked it across her dry, pink lips. She adjusted in her seat again, trying to relieve the tension twisting like a braid all over her body. A film of sweat glazed her palms and fingertips, and she unconsciously wiped them on her shorts.

The woman pulled herself up from the car, meeting her lover with a forceful kiss. She leaned back again --Bonnie could spy the wickedly enlarged smile on her face like a scar on the moon-- and held her legs apart as the guy settled between them.

The guy held onto her waist and drove his hips forward with one, stiff thrust that buckled the woman’s head back. He held it in her for a moment, exchanging a kiss, before jostling her again with another hard stroke, then another, and another. All the while, as she gasped sharply each time her head snapped back, that broad smile of hers never swayed.

Soon the couple were clutched in a tight, tangled embrace. Her legs wrapped around his torso. His arms fell around her back, his hands clutching at her bottom. His bare ass shuddered and clenched as bucked into her with stiff strokes, pitching her higher upon the car. Their voices were mangled and distorted by lusty groans and moans. They fucked like beasts under the cover of night.

Twenty yards away in her Malibu, Bonnie’s left hand hadn’t left her shorts, suction-cupped along the crotch, kneading forcefully against the cotton material. The fine lines of her brow pinched towards each other and her bottom lip had found itself caught between her teeth again as she desperately tried to stifle the sighs aching up her throat. She was staring through a foggy window now, steamed up by her trembling breaths. Yet her mind’s eye saw well enough. Her hands were too busy to wipe it clear anyway.

The button of her shorts popped like a gunshot. She didn’t restrain a creaking moan as her fingers pushed down, slipped underneath her panties, and stroked along her quivering, puffed line.

“Oh shit,” she eked, wincing. She swallowed, licked her lips, and gasped again painfully.

The couple were raging hard now. The woman had fallen back against the trunk of the car, her knees riding high against her lover’s torso. His hands were on her arms and shoulders, pinning her down as his turgid thrusts grew erratic and desperate.

Bonnie twisted away from the window. She had seen enough. She slipped down across the back seat, leaning heavily against the door. Her shorts and panties were crushed down against the top of her thighs as her fingers rubbed between her soft ridges and folds. She looked down past her hitching belly, between her legs, and watched as she swirled and teased her fingertips around the hood of her clit, her slit all damp and slick. She gasped and sniffed sharp breaths, holding her lips in tight. Her toes curled, her tummy clenched, everything tensed within her.

By the time the sounds of immense relief and satisfaction erupted in the rest stop from the couple outside, Bonnie was lost in her own little world of swirling pleasure. She squirmed in the seat, pushing her head back. Her fingers worked without pause, gentle efficiency having given way to feverish abandon. Soft whines and anxious groans strained from her throat, past gritted teeth. Her heels pushed down against the seat, raising her hips upward, bowing her body as the blood pulsed to a singular point in her body.

God, she wanted it to last forever but she also couldn’t wait for it to end. She just couldn’t wait.

“Ohh… fuck !”

“Sorry, to make you wait, Bonnie,” Donovan said, walking towards her as she sat on her car trunk.

“Wh-what?” Bonnie shook, startled. She nearly dropped her apple which had been hanging from her fingertips for the last few seconds as she stared into space. Where the hell was she?

Donovan had come back from around a tree a few yards away having finished a smoke.

“Oh… no, it’s alright,” she said, quickly gathering herself back up. She looked away and cleared her throat, buying time to alleviate herself of her memories. Finally, she slid off her car and said, “Just finishing an apple. You want one?”

Donovan nodded. “Sure.”

Bonnie handed him an apple from her bag. She walked around slowly and put it away in the backseat of the car. She brushed her fingers through her short hair and slipped on an over-sized plaid shirt to cover up her tank top. She looked for her map, continuing to take her time to settle down a bit. For some reason, she felt compelled to double-check that her shorts were still done up. When she came back around to the back of the car, Donovan was leaning against the trunk, eating slices of apple he cut with a pocket knife.

Bonnie inhaled a lungful of fresh air and watched him as he ate. His eyes scanned their surroundings, his head slowly turning side to side.

“Have you been through this area before?” she asked, opening up her map.

“A few times,” he said, nodding. “You?”

She shook her head.

Donovan cut another slice of apple. He took his time chewing. “You know,” he said, “There’s a hidden grotto not a few miles away from here.”

“Really?” Bonnie said, her interest piqued. She scanned the map.

“Doubt it would be on there,” he said, “It’s small, but kind of nice. Sometimes there’s a little waterfall.”

Bonnie frowned. Dad and her always loved discovering places like that. It would be neat to find it.

Donovan reached over and tapped the map. “Around here.”

She leaned her face closer to where he had pointed. “There’s no road there.”

“There’s a road,” he assured her, “It’s a slight detour, but we could get there by late afternoon. Still be light enough to see it.”

Reluctance curdled in Bonnie’s gut. The notion of exploration that her dad had instilled in her was thoroughly being trounced by what he would have to say about her driving alone with a stranger down some unmarked road into the middle of nowhere.

Donovan sliced another bit of apple. He held it out to her, the sweet-tart fruit balanced on the blade. “Want to go?”

She looked up at him, holding his gaze, attempting to gauge his intentions. She took the slice of apple from the knife and slipped it into her mouth. “Sure,” she said softly.

A minute later, they were seated in the front seat of the car. Bonnie tossed the map away into the back. They pulled back onto the road, leaving the rest stop behind.

To be continued...