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[With thanks to Patricia (billbig5893) not only for inspiration, but for making this a better story.]
Patricia usually tolerated the seventy-five minute highway segment of her daily commute pretty well, but today it just seemed too much, too long, too, too boring. She had promised Bill that she'd be home in time for dinner at their favorite restaurant, but it was going to be close. She and her husband hadn’t had much time together lately, with the annual reports due. This was going to be a far-too-rare “date night” for the both of them.
Work had been very demanding, an early, long meeting, followed by a long, long session with her supervisor. Sharon had repeated everything covered in the morning meeting, and had then given Patricia a list of things Sharon expected her to do...in time for a follow-up meeting tomorrow. After a brief lunch at her desk, she started research for the follow-up, but had to stop to attend a meeting with HR about the new position in finance, trying to finalize the job description.
That meeting hadn't been particularly successful so she had left work today with a headache, as well as a lot of work she still needed to do this evening. She had left late enough to avoid the rush-hour traffic, but not late enough to avoid the rush of people who stayed late to avoid the rush hour.
“REST STOP - TWO MILES”
Normally, she considered the sign as something of a half-way marker, but today she craved coffee. And a break from the monotony of the road would be good, too. She activated the turn signal and pulled off into the exit ramp.
The coffee vending machine was located near the soda vending machine, where a tall, lanky gentleman was standing. As she inserted a bill into the slot, the man spoke aloud, “Sorry, but I promised myself that I'd stop drinking Mountain Dew and I'm about to drink a Mountain Dew. So here's a dollar.”
“What? I'm sorry. Were you speaking to me?” Patricia was taken by surprise, not expecting anyone to speak.
“Yes'm. I promised myself I would stop drinking Mountain Dew and that I'd give someone a dollar every time I do, and here I am about to buy a Mountain Dew, so here's your dollar.” He held out a worn green bill.
“What? I really don't understand.” Patricia looked at him, realizing he was younger than she'd thought. Maybe 26 or so. Kind of like Ashton Kucher from “That Seventies Show.” Only better looking, more rugged, a five-o'clock shadow, a real, slightly uneven tan-not the groomed, perfectly uniform tan of Hollywood. And he was wearing some sort of musky cologne she wasn't familiar with, light but spicy. Most young men these days seemed to prefer almost floral scents, but this was more old-fashioned, with echoes of leather, sandalwood and some odors she couldn't place. “I should ask him what it is, get it for Bill,” she thought.
“I'm sorry. I figured I was drinking too much Mountain Dew. So I swore off. I promised myself that I'd pay someone a dollar every time I drink one. You know, make it more expensive. Maybe that'd help me stop. So here's your dollar.” He stepped forward, hand still offering her the bill.
“How droll. Is it working? No, you don't have to give me any money.” Patricia returned his warm smile. Standing closer, his cologne was quite pleasant, quite manly.
“No, a deal's a deal. I promised myself. Please, take it.” He was now only an arm's reach away.
Patricia's smile pursed her lips briefly. She took the bill, but said, “Why not give it to a charity?”
“You can if you want. It’s yours now. Hello. How’re you doing?” He extended his now-empty hand.
Patricia returned the handshake. When her hand touched his, she felt an overwhelming sensation of warmth, comfort, desire. He was extremely handsome. And young. And quite virile. Too young for her...unless he liked older women. “Patricia. Nice to meet...you.” She was aware of the relaxed, calm mood that overtook her, but she didn't notice that she kept holding his hand, nor that he didn't react to that.
“Ready to go now?” His words were calm, matter-of-fact.
Patricia gazed into those lovely, mesmerizing eyes. She set her nearly full cup into the trash. And responding to his welcoming smile and overcome by his scents-without thinking or hesitation-uncharacteristically- she said, “Yes. I am.”
He shifted his handshake to take her arm, and by gentle pressure, guided her from the vending machine kiosk towards the cab of a large semi. It was running, nosy and shaking. Patricia had never been inside a diesel cab, and not often this close to one. She leaned on the stranger’s arm as she stepped up into the cab, her short skirt riding up to nearly her crotch. He put his hand on her butt, his fingers pressing against her silken-covered labia. She was pleasantly surprised at how wet she was.
“You have beautiful lips,” he said as he gently wiped a finger across her mouth. “I’ll bet you suck cock really well.”
Patricia knew she should be offended, but she couldn’t help feeling excited by his praise. She put both hands on his crotch, feeling the heat and the rapidly stiffening sausage under the denim. “I would make you feel really good. I promise.” She was a little shocked to hear herself. She had never acted like this before, never begged to suck a cock, but she really felt she had to have his. Just thinking about tasting his bitter-sweet jizz was making her wetter and wetter. “Please?”
“You will, sugar. Undress.” He was smiling smugly.
Without hesitation, Patricia started unbuttoning her blouse. Once open, she shrugged it off and let it drop to the floor. Her bra followed quickly after. The smiling stranger reached out and touched each nipple. Patricia gasped at each touch, feeling the tiny electric shock accompanying his touch. Rarely for her, her nipples became hard, little bullets, which he then flicked and pinched gently.
“Oooooh! That feels so-o-o-o nice! I can’t strip if you keep distracting me like that.” She ran one hand to her crotch and began firmly rubbing herself while the other reached towards Jeff’s crotch.
“Not yet. Undress,” he said firmly.
Pouting a little, Patricia undid the clasp at her waistband, and stepped out of her skirt. The cramped quarters made this a little awkward and Patricia felt a wave of gratitude that she had worn thigh-highs today, not pantyhose.
As if reading her mind, he spoke, “Leave your stockings on. Everything else off.”
She quickly pulled down the black lace g-string and tossed it aside. That and the stockings were meant as a special treat for now-forgotten Bill. And she had shaved carefully last night, so she was especially smooth. She hoped he liked that.
“Good. Now climb up on the seat and kneel, with your head in my lap. Suck my cock, make me hard, ready to fuck that gorgeous pussy.” His voice was dark, rich, powerful...not to be disobeyed.
He smacked her ass and a wave of bliss passed through Patricia. She could feel juice flowing from her pussy. She climbed onto the passenger side seat, mindful of how completely exposed she was. Nearby, two other truckers stared at her slender figure, perfectly proportioned legs, and firm, rounded ass. The older of the two pulled out his cock and began openly masturbating while he watched. Patricia smiled to herself as she leaned over the stranger's crotch and tried to open his belt buckle. His cologne was absolutely intoxicating.
“Here. Let me.” He unsnapped the buckle and raised up so he could pull his pants down, then repeated the motion so he could pull his boxers down, too.
As he did, Patricia put her hand onto his crotch, expecting to find a turgid cock flopping about. Instead, she felt a thick, hard knob, approximately where his scrotum would be. There was a wet protuberance, but nothing like a normal cock. Had he been disfigured somehow? The heady fragrance was so delightful, so absorbing, she could think of little else. Wait! The wet protuberance...was it growing?
Patricia leaned forward and gave a tentative lick.
When her tongue touched the rapidly swelling growth, her entire body shivered with pleasure. There was a thick, almost jelly-like coating of a clear secretion and it tasted absolutely wonderful. She eagerly engulfed the entirety of this now-almost-penis sized stalk. With a soft whimper, she slid her lips to its very base and sucked gently. Feeling this stranger's hand stroking her ass-crack, she spread her legs wider, inadvertently giving her audience a clear view of her now-dripping-wet labia and puckered anus. She couldn't keep herself from pressing her pussy against his probing fingers, allowing them direct contact with her clit, which again caused her body to shiver with pleasure.
She felt his...cock growing longer, slipping into her throat easily. She had never been able to deep throat anyone, even Bill, but this stranger's member slid down her throat naturally. Maybe it was the clear secretion coating it...could it be an aphrodisiac? An anesthetic? A lubricant? The intense pleasure she was feeling made it impossible to hold such thoughts for more than the briefest of moments. She bobbed her head up and down his shaft, her fingers simultaneously stroking her clit. As her rhythm increased, she begin making mewing noises, faint at first, then increasing in volume and ferocity.
Patricia experienced a powerful orgasm just as he simultaneously pulled his now-erect cock from her throat and the sweet secretion changed to one with a rich umami flavor. She swallowed eagerly, then licked all she could from his cock.
“That's enough. You're ready to fuck now.” His frank, matter-of-fact tone surprised her as much as his choice of phrasing.
“Ah...yes, please,” she said softly, nearly breathlessly. “How do you want me?” She pulled back, away from his lap, and raised her ass, pushing it against the cab window. No sense spoiling her audience's fun, she thought to herself. The sheer naughtiness of her behavior caused her to gently rub her sensitive clit again, resulting in another shiver.
“Here. Turn around. No, I mean face the window, with your ass towards me. Keep on kneeling on the seat.” He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her butt closer to him. Patricia realized she was practically panting with anticipation.
She felt his cock, huge now, pressing against her ass and reached behind to guide it into her wet and slippery pussy, then pushed her hips back hard against him.
“Oho! Eager, aren't you?” He laughed, a rich, exciting sound. “Don't worry. There's plenty of time. If you go too fast, the men watching won't understand. You don't want to disappoint them, do you, my little cunt?”
Again, what should have been an insult pleased Patricia. Excited her. Pleasured her.
“Oh, yes! Fuck me! God, your cock feels so good! It's getting bigger! I want you to fill me! Fill me completely! I want to feel your cum gush inside me! Oh please! Please!” The normally quiet Patricia was shocked at herself. But she couldn't stop herself. She wanted him, she wanted to do everything for him, to please him more than anyone else could. “Please, fuck me harder! I want your cum! Ooooh! Your cock! It's getting thicker! Harder! Oh god-oh god-oh...oh...oh...ahhhhhh!” Patricia felt the orgasm wash over her just as felt the thick rod inside her grow thicker and longer, penetrating her deeper each instant.
As it pistoned in and out of her swollen pussy, she felt only pleasure. She could hear the slosh, slosh sound of her juices being agitated by the thrusts of his beautiful cock. It kept growing, thicker, longer. She felt herself being stretched even further.
Then, pain. His cock pushed against her cervix. Pain...and intense pleasure. “My God! He's going to cum right into my cervix.” Another thrust...and an orgasm. With tears. She wanted to feel that huge penis push into her womb, to fill her. She wanted him to fuck her again and again. To take that amazing cock into her pussy as often as he would have her.
He thrust faster and faster, and deeper, hitting her cervix each time. Patricia moaned loudly, yet still cried, “Yes. Yes. Yes! Ahhhhh!”
Then his thrusting stopped. He pulled her hips as closely to his groin as possible. She screamed in pleasure as she felt the head of that huge cock swell and seal itself to her womb, followed by the sensation of being filled with hot liquid.
“Yes. Oh, this feels...I love this.” He spoke this time; Patricia was incoherent, making soft cooing sounds as she pushed herself against him as tightly as possible, as if to absorb every drop of his cum. She felt a warm sensation spreading from her womb, comforting, numbing, a call to close her eyes.
They remained locked together for some tens of minutes. Their audience had grown to five truckers and one carload with three old men, who were debating whether or not this was some sort of Internet happening, or a fuck-film being made. Succumbing to the call of Morpheus, sleep overtook Patricia.
She awoke in her own car, on the rear seat, naked, but covered with a blanket. She found her clothes in the front seat, neatly folded. Her purse was there, too, intact.
It took her a few minutes to orient herself. The car was redolent with the stranger's cologne. Her pussy was sore and wet. In fact, her pussy was wet, her hips were wet, her buttocks were wet, and there was still fluid draining from between her labia. Wiping herself with the blanket as best she could, Patricia then dressed, still aware of gaining an audience-this time two young men, perhaps in their twenties. She checked her phone, noting both that it was now after midnight, and a dozen calls from Bill.
“Bill? I'm so sorry. Don't worry about me. Everything's OK. The men are here to fix the car-a breakdown, not an accident. Don't worry. My phone wasn't charged. I'm OK, really. I should be home in about an hour. Yes, I'll call if that changes. Just go to bed. We'll go out tomorrow night.” She turned her phone off, then smiled at the two young men, who were now standing by their car in the deserted parking area.
Patricia opened the car door and got out, allowing her skirt to ride up as she slid off the seat, giving the two a good view of her legs and thighs. She sauntered up to them, smiling to herself. “Hello, guys. Are you maybe looking for some fun?”
Patricia usually tolerated the seventy-five minute highway segment of her daily commute pretty well, but today it just seemed too much, too long, too, too boring. She had promised Bill that she'd be home in time for dinner at their favorite restaurant, but it was going to be close. She and her husband hadn’t had much time together lately, with the annual reports due. This was going to be a far-too-rare “date night” for the both of them.
Work had been very demanding, an early, long meeting, followed by a long, long session with her supervisor. Sharon had repeated everything covered in the morning meeting, and had then given Patricia a list of things Sharon expected her to do...in time for a follow-up meeting tomorrow. After a brief lunch at her desk, she started research for the follow-up, but had to stop to attend a meeting with HR about the new position in finance, trying to finalize the job description.
That meeting hadn't been particularly successful so she had left work today with a headache, as well as a lot of work she still needed to do this evening. She had left late enough to avoid the rush-hour traffic, but not late enough to avoid the rush of people who stayed late to avoid the rush hour.
“REST STOP - TWO MILES”
Normally, she considered the sign as something of a half-way marker, but today she craved coffee. And a break from the monotony of the road would be good, too. She activated the turn signal and pulled off into the exit ramp.
The coffee vending machine was located near the soda vending machine, where a tall, lanky gentleman was standing. As she inserted a bill into the slot, the man spoke aloud, “Sorry, but I promised myself that I'd stop drinking Mountain Dew and I'm about to drink a Mountain Dew. So here's a dollar.”
“What? I'm sorry. Were you speaking to me?” Patricia was taken by surprise, not expecting anyone to speak.
“Yes'm. I promised myself I would stop drinking Mountain Dew and that I'd give someone a dollar every time I do, and here I am about to buy a Mountain Dew, so here's your dollar.” He held out a worn green bill.
“What? I really don't understand.” Patricia looked at him, realizing he was younger than she'd thought. Maybe 26 or so. Kind of like Ashton Kucher from “That Seventies Show.” Only better looking, more rugged, a five-o'clock shadow, a real, slightly uneven tan-not the groomed, perfectly uniform tan of Hollywood. And he was wearing some sort of musky cologne she wasn't familiar with, light but spicy. Most young men these days seemed to prefer almost floral scents, but this was more old-fashioned, with echoes of leather, sandalwood and some odors she couldn't place. “I should ask him what it is, get it for Bill,” she thought.
“I'm sorry. I figured I was drinking too much Mountain Dew. So I swore off. I promised myself that I'd pay someone a dollar every time I drink one. You know, make it more expensive. Maybe that'd help me stop. So here's your dollar.” He stepped forward, hand still offering her the bill.
“How droll. Is it working? No, you don't have to give me any money.” Patricia returned his warm smile. Standing closer, his cologne was quite pleasant, quite manly.
“No, a deal's a deal. I promised myself. Please, take it.” He was now only an arm's reach away.
Patricia's smile pursed her lips briefly. She took the bill, but said, “Why not give it to a charity?”
“You can if you want. It’s yours now. Hello. How’re you doing?” He extended his now-empty hand.
Patricia returned the handshake. When her hand touched his, she felt an overwhelming sensation of warmth, comfort, desire. He was extremely handsome. And young. And quite virile. Too young for her...unless he liked older women. “Patricia. Nice to meet...you.” She was aware of the relaxed, calm mood that overtook her, but she didn't notice that she kept holding his hand, nor that he didn't react to that.
“Ready to go now?” His words were calm, matter-of-fact.
Patricia gazed into those lovely, mesmerizing eyes. She set her nearly full cup into the trash. And responding to his welcoming smile and overcome by his scents-without thinking or hesitation-uncharacteristically- she said, “Yes. I am.”
He shifted his handshake to take her arm, and by gentle pressure, guided her from the vending machine kiosk towards the cab of a large semi. It was running, nosy and shaking. Patricia had never been inside a diesel cab, and not often this close to one. She leaned on the stranger’s arm as she stepped up into the cab, her short skirt riding up to nearly her crotch. He put his hand on her butt, his fingers pressing against her silken-covered labia. She was pleasantly surprised at how wet she was.
“You have beautiful lips,” he said as he gently wiped a finger across her mouth. “I’ll bet you suck cock really well.”
Patricia knew she should be offended, but she couldn’t help feeling excited by his praise. She put both hands on his crotch, feeling the heat and the rapidly stiffening sausage under the denim. “I would make you feel really good. I promise.” She was a little shocked to hear herself. She had never acted like this before, never begged to suck a cock, but she really felt she had to have his. Just thinking about tasting his bitter-sweet jizz was making her wetter and wetter. “Please?”
“You will, sugar. Undress.” He was smiling smugly.
Without hesitation, Patricia started unbuttoning her blouse. Once open, she shrugged it off and let it drop to the floor. Her bra followed quickly after. The smiling stranger reached out and touched each nipple. Patricia gasped at each touch, feeling the tiny electric shock accompanying his touch. Rarely for her, her nipples became hard, little bullets, which he then flicked and pinched gently.
“Oooooh! That feels so-o-o-o nice! I can’t strip if you keep distracting me like that.” She ran one hand to her crotch and began firmly rubbing herself while the other reached towards Jeff’s crotch.
“Not yet. Undress,” he said firmly.
Pouting a little, Patricia undid the clasp at her waistband, and stepped out of her skirt. The cramped quarters made this a little awkward and Patricia felt a wave of gratitude that she had worn thigh-highs today, not pantyhose.
As if reading her mind, he spoke, “Leave your stockings on. Everything else off.”
She quickly pulled down the black lace g-string and tossed it aside. That and the stockings were meant as a special treat for now-forgotten Bill. And she had shaved carefully last night, so she was especially smooth. She hoped he liked that.
“Good. Now climb up on the seat and kneel, with your head in my lap. Suck my cock, make me hard, ready to fuck that gorgeous pussy.” His voice was dark, rich, powerful...not to be disobeyed.
He smacked her ass and a wave of bliss passed through Patricia. She could feel juice flowing from her pussy. She climbed onto the passenger side seat, mindful of how completely exposed she was. Nearby, two other truckers stared at her slender figure, perfectly proportioned legs, and firm, rounded ass. The older of the two pulled out his cock and began openly masturbating while he watched. Patricia smiled to herself as she leaned over the stranger's crotch and tried to open his belt buckle. His cologne was absolutely intoxicating.
“Here. Let me.” He unsnapped the buckle and raised up so he could pull his pants down, then repeated the motion so he could pull his boxers down, too.
As he did, Patricia put her hand onto his crotch, expecting to find a turgid cock flopping about. Instead, she felt a thick, hard knob, approximately where his scrotum would be. There was a wet protuberance, but nothing like a normal cock. Had he been disfigured somehow? The heady fragrance was so delightful, so absorbing, she could think of little else. Wait! The wet protuberance...was it growing?
Patricia leaned forward and gave a tentative lick.
When her tongue touched the rapidly swelling growth, her entire body shivered with pleasure. There was a thick, almost jelly-like coating of a clear secretion and it tasted absolutely wonderful. She eagerly engulfed the entirety of this now-almost-penis sized stalk. With a soft whimper, she slid her lips to its very base and sucked gently. Feeling this stranger's hand stroking her ass-crack, she spread her legs wider, inadvertently giving her audience a clear view of her now-dripping-wet labia and puckered anus. She couldn't keep herself from pressing her pussy against his probing fingers, allowing them direct contact with her clit, which again caused her body to shiver with pleasure.
She felt his...cock growing longer, slipping into her throat easily. She had never been able to deep throat anyone, even Bill, but this stranger's member slid down her throat naturally. Maybe it was the clear secretion coating it...could it be an aphrodisiac? An anesthetic? A lubricant? The intense pleasure she was feeling made it impossible to hold such thoughts for more than the briefest of moments. She bobbed her head up and down his shaft, her fingers simultaneously stroking her clit. As her rhythm increased, she begin making mewing noises, faint at first, then increasing in volume and ferocity.
Patricia experienced a powerful orgasm just as he simultaneously pulled his now-erect cock from her throat and the sweet secretion changed to one with a rich umami flavor. She swallowed eagerly, then licked all she could from his cock.
“That's enough. You're ready to fuck now.” His frank, matter-of-fact tone surprised her as much as his choice of phrasing.
“Ah...yes, please,” she said softly, nearly breathlessly. “How do you want me?” She pulled back, away from his lap, and raised her ass, pushing it against the cab window. No sense spoiling her audience's fun, she thought to herself. The sheer naughtiness of her behavior caused her to gently rub her sensitive clit again, resulting in another shiver.
“Here. Turn around. No, I mean face the window, with your ass towards me. Keep on kneeling on the seat.” He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her butt closer to him. Patricia realized she was practically panting with anticipation.
She felt his cock, huge now, pressing against her ass and reached behind to guide it into her wet and slippery pussy, then pushed her hips back hard against him.
“Oho! Eager, aren't you?” He laughed, a rich, exciting sound. “Don't worry. There's plenty of time. If you go too fast, the men watching won't understand. You don't want to disappoint them, do you, my little cunt?”
Again, what should have been an insult pleased Patricia. Excited her. Pleasured her.
“Oh, yes! Fuck me! God, your cock feels so good! It's getting bigger! I want you to fill me! Fill me completely! I want to feel your cum gush inside me! Oh please! Please!” The normally quiet Patricia was shocked at herself. But she couldn't stop herself. She wanted him, she wanted to do everything for him, to please him more than anyone else could. “Please, fuck me harder! I want your cum! Ooooh! Your cock! It's getting thicker! Harder! Oh god-oh god-oh...oh...oh...ahhhhhh!” Patricia felt the orgasm wash over her just as felt the thick rod inside her grow thicker and longer, penetrating her deeper each instant.
As it pistoned in and out of her swollen pussy, she felt only pleasure. She could hear the slosh, slosh sound of her juices being agitated by the thrusts of his beautiful cock. It kept growing, thicker, longer. She felt herself being stretched even further.
Then, pain. His cock pushed against her cervix. Pain...and intense pleasure. “My God! He's going to cum right into my cervix.” Another thrust...and an orgasm. With tears. She wanted to feel that huge penis push into her womb, to fill her. She wanted him to fuck her again and again. To take that amazing cock into her pussy as often as he would have her.
He thrust faster and faster, and deeper, hitting her cervix each time. Patricia moaned loudly, yet still cried, “Yes. Yes. Yes! Ahhhhh!”
Then his thrusting stopped. He pulled her hips as closely to his groin as possible. She screamed in pleasure as she felt the head of that huge cock swell and seal itself to her womb, followed by the sensation of being filled with hot liquid.
“Yes. Oh, this feels...I love this.” He spoke this time; Patricia was incoherent, making soft cooing sounds as she pushed herself against him as tightly as possible, as if to absorb every drop of his cum. She felt a warm sensation spreading from her womb, comforting, numbing, a call to close her eyes.
They remained locked together for some tens of minutes. Their audience had grown to five truckers and one carload with three old men, who were debating whether or not this was some sort of Internet happening, or a fuck-film being made. Succumbing to the call of Morpheus, sleep overtook Patricia.
She awoke in her own car, on the rear seat, naked, but covered with a blanket. She found her clothes in the front seat, neatly folded. Her purse was there, too, intact.
It took her a few minutes to orient herself. The car was redolent with the stranger's cologne. Her pussy was sore and wet. In fact, her pussy was wet, her hips were wet, her buttocks were wet, and there was still fluid draining from between her labia. Wiping herself with the blanket as best she could, Patricia then dressed, still aware of gaining an audience-this time two young men, perhaps in their twenties. She checked her phone, noting both that it was now after midnight, and a dozen calls from Bill.
“Bill? I'm so sorry. Don't worry about me. Everything's OK. The men are here to fix the car-a breakdown, not an accident. Don't worry. My phone wasn't charged. I'm OK, really. I should be home in about an hour. Yes, I'll call if that changes. Just go to bed. We'll go out tomorrow night.” She turned her phone off, then smiled at the two young men, who were now standing by their car in the deserted parking area.
Patricia opened the car door and got out, allowing her skirt to ride up as she slid off the seat, giving the two a good view of her legs and thighs. She sauntered up to them, smiling to herself. “Hello, guys. Are you maybe looking for some fun?”
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