Truck Stop free porn video

Truck Stop

by Torrent

Look, it's like I told the cops — someone poked a hole in my back,took my truck, took my Indian princess and left me for dead.

All the rest — what I was carrying, where I picked up Cherry — itreally don't matter. But hell, Doc, you saved my life, and I owe you.

So here's the story.

The company told me I'd be hauling a high-value load. Three pressurizedtanks inside a bullet-proof steel cylinder. I said, just tell me this, is anyof this shit radioactive? I don't carry radioactive and I don't drive throughradioactive. And I carry a beep-counter to make sure I don't.

They said, it ain't radioactive. It's FuckFoam, the stuff they use to makeDi-Clones. It ain't even classed as a hazardous substance. Sure, you got agoddam smelly mess if it gets out, but it's safe.

That was the good news. The bad news was that I'd have to drive pretty closeto Nashville. There's other ways to get from Indy to Memphis, but the onlyway to avoid Vandals is to stick to the Eye Roads — I-65, I-40. And thatmeans coming pretty goddam close to that radioactive pile of shit that usedto be downtown Nashville.

Well, they're paying me 80,000 Federal, which is more than I made all oflast year, so I say, what the hell.

The first hundred miles or so was uneventful. I had another company driverwho needed a ride to Louisville. All he did was talk. Some guys like companyin the cab, but I like to listen to classical music, not some asshole tellingme his life story and how he's angling for an office job.

I dropped him off just south of Louisville and picked up three cans of hydrogen,enough to get me to Memphis, if I didn't run into trouble.

I'd been told the run from Louisville to Bowling Green was fairly easy.You might run into punks with shotguns, but no Vandals. No one with heavy stuff.

It was getting dark, and I was about ten miles south of E'town when I sawthe big Topaz sign all lit up off the side of the road:

GAS GUNS GIRLS.

I didn't need no gas, and I had three guns, which was two more than I wasever likely to get a chance to use. But I was horny, so I pulled in.

There was two big rigs and a Federal police van at the pumps, and a bunchof trailers at the edge of the pad. That was a bad sign. It likely meant theirdrivers had abandoned them. Too scared to keep heading south.

I went inside. A cop was teasing the waitress, and the two truckers wereeating burgers and not talking. They looked glum.

The manager was behind the register, reading a magazine.

"Business looks slow," said I.

He looked up. "It is slow. I'm going broke here."

"Well, I'm here to help you out," I said, flipping him my Topazcard. "What you got in the way of girls?"

He inserted the card and glanced at the monitor. "No way, buddy. Youcost us 2,000 F's on your last rental."

Now, I know I got a little rough on the last girl I rented, up around Gary,but I was pretty damn sure that fixing her up didn't cost more than the 500F damage deposit. Still, I didn't want to get into an argument and miss a chancefor some female companionship. I figured it could be a long way to the nexttruck stop that offered girls.

"Okay," says I, pulling out a wad of bills, "here's 1,500F's. That and the deposit should cover what you say I owe. Now, what you gottonight?"

"A blonde with big tits, named Honey Dew. And an Indian princess namedCherokee. They're in the back room."

When I went in, they were sitting on bar stools, smoking and listening tobluesy jazz.

The blonde was my type. Big tits, pouty mouth, and an expression that said, "I'mtoo dumb to do anything but fuck." Even better, she had a shiner. Herleft eye was almost swollen shut.

"Looks like you ran into someone rough," I said.

"Yeah," she said.

"A trucker?"

"No," she said. "Bristol, the manager."

Christ, I thought to myself. I just paid $1,500 for beating up one of theseDi-Clone bitches, and here's the manager doing the same to the merchandiseat this dump, and he probably won't pay a dime.

"You like rough stuff?" I asked. I always ask first.

"Love it," she said. She leaned toward me in a sexy way, and Icould see down her blouse. She really did have great tits.

She also had a rash. I could barely see it, but it was definitely there.I don't fool around with bitches that have rashes.

"Yeah, well that's nice," I said. "But I prefer to beat theshit out of girls who don't like it."

I turned to the Indian princess. She was small and dark, with long blackhair and big brown eyes. She wore a short leather skirt and an unbuttoned denimvest. Her tits were small but shaped nice. A silver pendant on a rawhide bolohung between them.

"How about you, sweetheart? You like rough sex?"

She just looked at me and said nothing.

I grabbed the bolo and jerked her off the stool.

"I'm talking to you, bitch," I said.

"Don't hurt me," she said in a small voice. "Please don'thurt me."

It was a real turn on. She was going to be fun.

We was barely in the cab before she gave me the first blow job. I leanedagainst the door, and she went up and down on me. She knew just how to do it.

"You think this is gonna get you a bye on the rough stuff," Isaid, breathing real heavy. "Don't bet on it."

I shot off in her mouth, and she swallowed it greedily. I shifted, pulledher down on the seat and got on top of her. I wanted to hurt her real bad,and she knew it. Her eyes were closed. She seemed to be waiting for the firstblow to land.

Then I thought, do I really want to blow another 2,000 F's? And if she endsup all beat to hell, what good will she be for the trip ahead? We was goingto be traveling through dangerous territory, and it wouldn't hurt to have anotherset of eyes in the cab.

So I settled for a single punch to her gut. I didn't use much force, butit was enough to knock the wind out of her, and she moaned, which is a soundI've always liked.

I pulled her up, shoved her against the passenger-side door and slid behindthe wheel.

"Yeah, we're gonna have some good times," I said. "That shineryour pal Honey Dew had was nothing compared to what you're gonna look likeby the time we get to Memphis. That's assuming you make it that far."

I wanted to scare her. Actually, I was pretty scared myself. I wasn't atall sure either of us was going to make it to Memphis.

We slept at a rundown rest stop, me in the bunk at the back of the cab,her in the front seat. Least ways, that's the way it started out. When I wokeup, just after dawn, she was curled up next to me. She hadn't gotten underthe blanket, but I guess she needed my body warmth.

I looked at her sleeping beside me. She was fairly pretty, not all tartedup the way most Di-Clones are. She looked almost real.

She opened her eyes and made a little gasping sound, like she was surprisedto find where she was.

"Rise and shine, Cherry," I said. I had decided to call her Cherry,instead of Cherokee.

I opened the door. It was cold outside. The sun was peeking over the easternhorizon, but to the west there was lots of dark clouds. I figured it was gonnapour soon.

I hauled out the propane burner and fried some sausages atop the only picnictable still standing. I showed Cherry how to use the coffeemaker in the compartmentbehind the bunk. I had a little refrigerator there, too, full of cheese andsalami and beer.

She sat on a bench, with the blanket wrapped around her. She was shivering.I sat beside her and put my arm around her. I don't know why. It just seemedthe right thing to do.

After breakfast, we stashed all out gear and I told her to get back in thetruck. I walked a little ways on the highway. The sun was up, now, but therewas no traffic. The road was in bad shape. Nobody had worked on it for at leasta couple of years. We weren't going to be able to do more than 40 miles anhour. A shadow crossed the highway. I looked up. It was a Prankster, sizingme up. Looked just like a buzzard, wheeling around real lazy.

I hightailed it back to the truck. I didn't want it mistaking me for a Vandaland zapping me with a laser. Pranksters are real good at keeping Vandals offthe Eye Roads, and for that I am grateful. But you better stay in your truckwhen they're overhead.

The rain started as we drove through the cave country. I'm told there usedto be all kinds of motels around there in the old days. Tourists came fromall over America to see Mammoth Cave and buy shit in tacky little shops.

We passed several exits with no sign of life. Finally, I saw a Federal policevan parked under an overpass. I stopped for a chat.

"You the first truck I seen today," said a cop who was about myage. His partner looked twenty years younger.

"Yeah, it seems pretty deserted along here. Any trouble ahead?"

"Naw, it's all clear, at least to Bowling Green. But we got reportsof some shooting north of Nashville. Where you headed?"

"Nashville, then on to Memphis."

"Well, maybe our boys will have everything cleared up by the time youget there. Whatcha hauling?"

"Propane," I said. I hoped they didn't ask to see my papers.

"Well, you better hope that fucker is bulletproof," said the youngcop. "Otherwise, you could be in the middle of the biggest explosion Nashville'sseen since . . . ."

"Yeah," I said, interrupting him. "But I don't intend toget my ass blown up. If they're going to stop this rig, they're going to needRPGs."

The young cop laughed. It was a nasty laugh. "Funny you say that. Vandalsbroke into an R.O.M. arsenal last week and stole a big bunch of shit, includinggrenade launchers."

If he wasn't a cop, I would have punched him out, the son-of-a-bitch.

Instead, I smiled and tried to stay cool. "No shit. You said an R.O.M.arsenal. What exactly is R.O.M.?"

"Jesus," he said. "Republic of Memphis. Haven't you heard?A whole stretch along the Mississippi River is now a separate fucking country?"

I hadn't heard. I knew there had been all kinds of talk about secession,about how the Federals couldn't hold things together anymore. But a Republicof Memphis?

And suddenly it hit me. If I was delivering to a depot in another country,how could I be sure I'd get paid? And what would they use to pay me?

"They got their own currency?" I asked.

"Sure do," said the cop. "Effective today. It'll probablybe worth more than ours."

Then he looked past me and said, "Who's the cunt?"

I glanced back. Cherry was climbing down from the cab. I hadn't noticedbefore what a nice ass she had.

"Di-Clone from a truck stop near E'town," I said.

"She don't look like any Di-Clone I've ever seen," the young copsaid. He stepped between me and her. Cherry tried to sidestep him, but he movedto block her. Then he grabbed her arm.

"Where you going, slut?" he said.

"Leave her alone," I said.

The older cop said, "Yeah, Fred, knock it off."

Fred twisted Cherry's arm behind her and pulled her against him. "Howabout a kiss, honey," he said.

Then he bellowed and doubled up. Cherry had kneed him in the balls.

He was on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. I looked at the othercop. The whole goddam trip just might end right here, I thought.

But the older guy just laughed. "You had it coming, Fred. Come on.Get up and get back in the van."

He helped his partner to his feet. Young Fred was wobbly, but he turnedback to look at us, and it was about the meanest look I've ever seen.

"I'll get you one day, bitch," he said.

We drove on for a while in silence. Then I put my hand on her knee and said, "Nicejob."

"Thanks," she said. She grabbed my hand and slid it to her crotch.

"I just hope you never plan to try that knee-to-the-balls routine onme," I added.

She looked genuinely shocked. "Why would I do that? You paid for me.That piss ant didn't."

Now I knew where we stood. I paid for her, so I got to do pretty much anythingI wanted. As for her begging for mercy the night before, it was all an act.I had told the blonde I didn't like women who liked pain. So Cherry had drawnthe logical conclusion.

As I massaged her clitoris, I wondered if she'd always be a step ahead ofme.

# # #

The weather improved, but the road kept getting worse. I was worried aboutbusting an axle, so I slowed to 25. That's when I saw him come running downan embankment to my right — a raggedy looking guy with a torn shirt,a skinny chest and an empty sleeve where his right arm should've been. At thecrest of the ridge, I saw what he was running from: three angry looking guyswith knives and clubs.

I downshifted, hit the brakes and had the door open before we was fullystopped. I don't know why, but I had decided that the one-armed guy was okayand it was the three who was chasing him that was the problem. That's the wayI saw it, so I pulled my Glock out from its pocket in the visor and fired acouple of warning shots. Scared the hell out of all of them, the one-armedguy included.

So I yelled at him to get his ass in the truck. Cherry opened the door onher side and he started to climb in, fell back and tried again. He grabbedCherry's hand and finally made it. Just in time, because one of the three guyschasing him raised a long-barreled handgun — a .22 target pistol wasmy guess — and started peppering the windshield.

Once the door was closed, I wasn't worried. Even a high-powered rifle wasn'tgoing to get through this cab. We was armored, big-time.

I put her in gear and we was back on the road.

The one-armed guy finally caught his breath and said, "Jesus, thankyou, guys. Those bastards was gonna kill me."

"What'd you do to them?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, sounding hurt. "Well, maybe one thing.We was playing Ming, and I ended up with all their money. They said I was cheating,which is a pretty fool thing to say about a man with one arm."

I asked him what Ming was. He said it was some kind of Chinese board gamethat's popular in those parts. He said he learned it from his pappy.

While he was talking, I glanced over from time to time. Cherry was sittingbetween us, and he kept watching her. Even when he was talking to me, his eyeswas on her.

"I'm Stumbo," he said. "They call me Give'im-a-hand Stumbofor obvious reasons. But my real name is Husk. What's yours?"

"Daniel," I said. "And this here is Cherry. Cherokee, actually.She's an Indian princess." I decided not to add that she was a Di-Clone.He'd probably figure it out anyway, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"I ain't never seen an Indian princess," he said. "I thoughtall the Indians was on reservations out West, where you can't get to anymore."

"No," said Cherry. "There are Indians in Federal Land, too."

"How about that," Stumbo said. He didn't sound convinced.

We all got quiet, so I slipped a disk into the player. It was Aida. Igenerally like Rossini and Mozart better than Verdi, but I'm a sucker for Aida .

"What's this?" Stumbo asked.

"An opera," I said. "About an Egyptian slave girl."

"Slave girl? You mean, like, a fuck toy?" asked Stumbo.

I said, "Yeah, I guess so. Shut up and listen." So they shut upand we all listened. Listening to operas relaxes me. I usually don't know whatthey're singing about, but it sounds right. I'd listened to Aida thirtyor forty times before, so I sort of zoned out, driving automatically and imaginingwhat it was like in Memphis — the original Memphis, in ancient Egypt,with beautiful slave girls and jealous princesses and all that shit.

"Any of you hungry?" Stumbo asked, after a while.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said. Cherry looked confused but nodded.I think she had dozed off.

I pulled onto the shoulder and cut back on the throttle. I didn't want towaste fuel, but I also didn't want to have to crank back up if there were Vandalsaround.

The clouds had cleared, and it was warming up. I heard honking far away.It was geese, heading south. I scanned the sky for Pranksters, but there wasn'tnone.

"We got cheese and salami and mayo," I said. "Might be acouple of hardboiled eggs in there, too. And get me a beer, Cherry. Stumbo,get yourself one, too."

"I don't drink, Daniel," he said. "Don't drink, don't smoke,don't do speed or narc. My only vice is pussy."

He leered at Cherry. She handed me a beer and said nothing.

I kind of felt that, if I was a gracious host, I'd invite him to fuck Cherry,but I couldn't quite bring myself to do it. Besides, if he'd fleeced thoseguys who was chasing him, he had enough money to buy his own girl.

He must have read my mind, because he said, "And speaking of pussy,I got a wad of 50 F bills in my pocket and nothing to spend it on. How aboutI part with, say, 20 of them, in return for a little fun with the lady?"

I turned to Cherry. "What do you say, Lady?"

She looked down and said softly, "I do what you want."

"Deal," I said. I held out my right hand to Stumbo to shake onit, then realized my mistake and changed to my left. He shook it.

"What I'd like, Miss Cherry," he said in a soft, sort of purringvoice, "is for you to do a little dance to get things started. Daniel,you got anything besides opera in that truck?"

"Yeah, I got a lot of chamber music, too, but I think I can scroungeup something a little sexier."

I popped a disk of Hindu flute music into the player and left the door openso we could hear it.

Cherry got up, closed her eyes and just stood there a while. Then she startedswaying. Stumbo looked impatient, but I liked her pacing. Slow and easy.

The music got louder and faster, and she slipped her hands under her vestand began rubbing her breasts. Her mouth was partly open, and she licked herlips.

She'd never heard this music before, but she seemed to know just when tomake the next move. She opened her vest and let it fall to the ground. Hertits were all rosy from rubbing them.

She unbuttoned her skirt and let that fall, too. Now all she was wearingwas very skimpy black panties and her bolo. She slid her left hand down intoher panties and began working on her pussy. With her right hand, she pinchedher nipples. She was making little whimpering and moaning noises.

Stumbo couldn't take it anymore. He jumped up, pushed her against the sideof the truck, and pulled down her panties. He shoved his hand into her crotch,then leaned against her and bit her neck.

She yelped but didn't resist. He unzipped his pants and began fucking her.He slipped out once, but she reached down and got him back in again.

It was all over in half a minute.

She was pressed against the truck, and he was collapsed against her, breathingheavy.

I didn't feel jealous, exactly, but I wasn't happy.

Finally, he backed off and told her to lick his prick clean. She hesitated,and he slapped her hard across the face.

I was about to bust up the party, but she sank to her knees and took hisprick in her mouth. She cleaned him up, real gentle.

Goddam, she was a pro.

We finished lunch and were stashing our gear when Cherry looked back downthe road and yelled. It was a bunch of Vandals, on bicycles. We climbed intothe cab, and I got my door closed just as the first one reached us. He grabbedonto my big outside mirror and began hammering my window with a bicycle pump.I gunned the motor and let out the clutch. We lurched forward, and the guyon my side tumbled off. We rolled over two others. I was pretty sure therewere more but I couldn't see them. Just then I heard the rifle shot. I didn'thear it ricochet, so they must have fired at one of my tires. Dumb shits didn'tknow I rolled on Haley's Honeycombs. Federal Army issue. It would take a coupleof dozen shots before one of them went flat.

After I had covered enough ground, I adjusted the outside mirror, and damnif there wasn't another one, peddling like crazy, just a few yards behind us.I pushed down on the accelerator and we pulled away from him. Then there wasa flash in the mirror and a lot of smoke where he had been, followed almostinstantly by a big boom.

"What the fuck was that?" Stumbo said.

"Prankster," I said. "Too late to do us any good, but atleast there's one less Vandal on this stretch of road." I opened my windowand looked up. The Prankster was gliding off to the east. Just like a buzzard.

# # #

I hadn't asked Stumbo how far he wanted to ride, but the more I thoughtabout him fucking Cherry, the more I felt it was time to get some things clear.Besides, we was almost at Briley Parkway, which was as close to downtown Nashvilleas I planned to get.

"Stumbo," I said, "we ain't talked about where you're headed.We're going to be just outside what's left of Nashville in about 15 minutes.Then I'm heading west, to I-40 and Memphis."

"Yeah, well, Memphis is fine with me," he said.

"But it ain't fine with me," I said. "I'm glad we could saveyour ass from your Ming-ding partners back there, and I'm sure Cherry is gladshe could be of service to you. But it's time for a parting of the ways."

I kept my eyes on the road. I didn't want to see his expression. He said, "Sure,just pull over and let me out, I'll be okay." His voice was all pitiful.

"Is it safe here?" Cherry asked.

"Shit," I said, "it's not safe anywhere these days. But he'llbe better off here than back in that pig-shit patch he came from."

"You're right," he said. I pulled to a stop, and he started openingthe door.

"Just a minute," I said. "You forgot about the 1,000 F'syou owe me. For Cherry."

"Oh, yeah," he said. He stretched out and reached down into hisleft pocket. I'm not sure exactly what happened next. I know he pulled hishand out and raised it. Then there was this hissing noise, and suddenly I couldn'tsee. Cherry was screaming, my eyes were burning, I couldn't breathe — andeverything sort of just disappeared.

When I came to, the sky was almost dark. I sat up, felt dizzy and sick,and lay back down for a while. I heard someone moaning nearby. It sounded likeCherry.

I tried to get up again, and this time I made it. I was in the middle ofthe road. The truck was about 50 yards away, part way up an embankment andtilted at a dangerous angle. He must have tried to drive it away and couldn'thandle it. It would be a bitch to drive with only one hand.

I heard the moan again, from a little gully beyond the shoulder. I staggeredover and looked down. Cherry was lying naked in a pool of rain water, her handstied behind her with wire — probably from my tool kit. I slid down nextto her and began fumbling with the wire. She turned to look up at me. Her facewas bloody and puffy.

"The son-of-a-bitch," I whispered. I got her hands freed and helpedher sit up.

"Can you make it to the truck?" I asked.

She shook her head, no. "Carry me," she said softly.

I carried her. She couldn't have weighed much over 100 pounds.

I got the truck back down on level ground, and we spent the night in it.He hadn't stolen much. My first-aid kit was still there, and so were my emergencytools. The Glock in the visor was gone, but I had another in a compartmentunder the bunk, along with a sawed-off shotgun. That's where most of my moneywas, too.

On the other hand, he had cleaned out my refrigerator, and that was goingto be a problem. I sure as hell wasn't going to buy food anywhere near Nashville.I don't like plutonium in my potato salad.

Cherry's vest was too torn up to wear, so I gave her one of my T-shirts.Her panties and leather skirt were wet and muddy but intact. Next morning,when we started out, I tied them to the mirror and let them flutter in thewind till they dried. Luckily, it was a sunny day.

Cherry was sore all over. She said that, after he gassed us, he draggedher out of the truck and slammed her head against a wheel cover. And whileshe was down and dazed, he had kicked her in the side. I felt her rib cage,touching her lightly. She said even the slightest pressure hurt, but I didn'tthink anything was broken.

"Why are you so gentle now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"When you first took me in the truck, you said you would beat me. Youwould make me look even worse than Honey Dew."

It made me uncomfortable, her telling me that.

"Well," I finally said. "It's one thing for me to beat theshit out of you. It's quite another for some cheating son-of-a-bitch to doit for free. You more or less said the same thing yourself yesterday."

She smiled a little. I kissed her lightly on the forehead.

There was all kind of what they used to call "suburban sprawl" alongthe Briley. But if there were any suburbanites, we sure as hell didn't spotany. It wasn't till we were about 10 miles out on I-40 that I saw any signof life: a Topaz truck stop with what looked like at least 30 rigs, along witha couple of Federal vans and a local sheriff's car. I checked my fuel gauge.I probably had enough to finish the trip, but if they had any hydrogen I mightas well fill up. Besides, I needed some company. Cherry was a sweet littlething, but she wasn't worth shit when it came to conversation.

I parked on the edge of the pad and told Cherry to stay in the truck. ThenI headed for the restaurant. It was noisy as hell inside, with honky-tonk music,and cigarette and pot smoke, and guys yelling back and forth. There a few whoressprinkled amongst them. Seems it wasn't just a restaurant. There was a smallstage at one end, and at the other a bar, with beautiful bottles of whiskeyon shelves. I hadn't seen whiskey in a long time.

I found an open spot at the bar and ordered a Bourbon, double and straight. "Whatkind?" the bartender said. "Cheapest you got," I said, and rightaway regretted it. What the hell, I had 28,000 F's in the truck. I could drinkwhat I damn well felt like.

But I was too late. The kid had poured me a pretty stiff one. I finishedit in three gulps. It burned, but it felt good.

I asked the guy on the stool next to me where he was heading. "Nowherenow," he said. "I was supposed to be going to Memphis, but I'm likethe rest of the drivers here — fucked by politics."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Ain't you heard? The Federals aren't letting anything through to Memphistill this secession shit gets cleared up. They've set up checkpoints. They'reclearing trucks carrying food, but no fuel and nothing that can be used tomake weapons or ammunition. Not even fertilizer."

What about FuckFoam, I wanted to ask, but just then the crowd started hootingand clapping. I looked over to see what was going on. A short bald guy witha black bow tie was on the stage, holding a mike.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, then he paused. "Actually,there ain't a lady in the house, and none of you look like gentlemen. So howabout this — hookers and rednecks, we got a special treat tonight. Thanksto the kindness of a benefactor who will remain nameless, we're got a 1,500F prize for whoever's left standing at the end of our " — he pausedagain, letting the suspense build — "catfight festival!"

"God, I love this," said the guy next to me.

Two hookers came up on the stage. They were standard Di-Clone: big tits,big hair, big lips. One was a blonde, the other a redhead. They both wore glitterybikinis. I tried to get the bartender's attention for a refill, but he wasfocusing on the stage.

A big cheer went up, and when I turned back to the catfight, the blondewas doubled up, and the redhead was smiling and waving at the crowd. Then theblonde came up from behind and slugged her in the back. Then they both wentdown, and I couldn't see over the guys in front of me.

"Fuck it," I said to myself and headed for the door. Just thentwo dudes came in. Between them was Cherry. She looked scared.

"What the hell you doing with my girl?" I yelled.

"Your girl!" one said. "Little tramp was wandering aroundthe parking lot, looking lost and lonely. We figured to give her some company."

Several other drivers and a cop joined us. I thought the cop would straightenthings out, but instead he said, "She's just what we need. When thesegirls onstage are finished, we can toss this little piece of ass to Big Lil."

Everyone started laughing — everyone but me and Cherry.

"Why didn't you stay in the truck?" I yelled to her.

"I was scared," she said. I could barely hear her.

Then they started hauling her toward the stage. I tried to get to her, butthree guys held me back.

The first fight was over. I saw the loser, the blonde, staggering throughthe crowd and out a side door. Her face was covered with blood.

The cop went to talk to the bald guy, then pointed to Cherry. The bald guybeamed. You could tell he was real excited.

They pushed Cherry up onto the stage. They had stripped away her T-shirtand skirt. All she was wearing was her black panties. The crowd liked that.

The bald guy had the mike again, and he called out, "The gods havelooked with favor on tonight's festivities. They have sent us this lovely littleslut as an offering to our reigning champion . . . . Big Lil!"

At that the crowd let out a mighty cheer, and I got shoved aside as threebig men made their way to the stage. Actually, as I quickly realized, it wastwo big men and one enormous woman.

Big Lil lived up to her name. "Jesus," I said, "she mustweigh three hundred pounds." One of the guys holding me said, "You'reway off. Try three sixty-five."

"Hey, stop this," I yelled. "This ain't fair. Cherokee ain'tbut a third this bitch's size."

"Cherokee!" the emcee said. "Yeah, of course. I knew therewas something about you, honey. You're a fucking Injun."

Scared as she was, Cherokee's eyes flashed and she cried, "Indian princess!"

Just about everyone seemed to think that was funny. But Big Lil, who hadjust climbed onto the stage, looked bored. Well, at least she would get thisover with quick, which was the best I could hope for poor Cherry.

Two guys pushed Cherry forward till her tits were touching Big Lil's belly.Cherry looked up at her with as cool an expression as she could muster.

Then I heard the announcer say something about a clean fight, and suddenlyBig Lil lunged. She was quicker than I expected, for a woman her size, butCherry was quicker. Lil stalked her, and Cherry kept retreating, then slidingsideways when she'd reach the edge of the stage. Lil lunged again, and thistime Cherry went off the edge and tumbled into the crowd. A man and a hookergrabbed her and threw her back onto the stage — and right into Lil'swaiting arms.

Cherry struggled, but Lil's bear hug would have been hard for a strong manto break. The crowd was chanting, "Squeeze her, squeeze her, crush herribs."

Cherry was growing weaker. She tried to claw at Lil's face, but Lil shookher like a rag doll. When the shaking stopped, Cherry's arms hung limp andher upper body and head had fallen backward. I could see her face hanging upsidedown. Her eyes was half shut, and only the whites showed. Spittle dripped acrossher cheek.

Lil let her go, and Cherry's body fell with a thud to the wooden floor.Then the big bitch turned and blew kisses to the crowd. She was so happy, sheactually looked kind of pretty.

A man picked Cherry up, slung her over his shoulder and disappeared throughthe side door, along with three or four others. I tried to break free and followthem, but someone hit me hard in the stomach. When I tried to straighten up,he hit me again, this time in the head, with a beer bottle.

I lay there a while as the crowd cleared. Then, after about half an hour,when I felt strong enough, I got to my feet. I managed to make it to the sidedoor, but I waited a minute before opening it. If I was going to have to fight,I wanted to be ready.

But there wasn't going to be any fight. The men were gone. Cherry lay onher back, on the floor. She was naked. Cum oozed from her crotch and her mouth.I knelt and pressed two fingers against her neck. She was alive.

For the first time that I could ever remember, I cried.

There wasn't no doctor or hospital nearby. I asked; they just laughed. Butone guy who was halfway human said there was a clinic in Dickson, about 25miles away. Just get off at State Road 96 and head west, he said.

We got to Dickson past midnight. Everything was dark. If there was a clinic,I sure as hell didn't know where it was. I pulled into the parking lot of asmall shopping center, checked to see if Cherry was still alive in the bunk,then made myself as comfortable as I could on the front seat and went to sleep.

(To be continued.)