- إنضم
- Jun 28, 2024
- المشاركات
- 8,670
- التفاعل
- 125
- النقاط
- 63
I had been visiting with a friend in Cottonwood for a few days who dropped me off here at the truck stop to wait for my brother Bobby to pick me up. As usual, he was late. I was planning on spending the balance of my vacation in Portland with my folks, and he was supposed to drive me the rest of the way.
When I entered, I saw the café was only half full, so I sat at the first empty booth and ordered myself a club sandwich and an iced tea. My phone insistently buzzed as I sat eating and waiting for my brother Bobby to arrive. I stared at the text message in frustration and disbelief. My brother was delayed, and instead of picking me up at 12:30p, he wouldn't be here until almost 6:00p.
Almost immediately, the phone rang . . . it was Bobby. I sat trying to hold back tears as I listened to him apologize and explain.
"Well, what am I supposed to do, Bobby? I don't have any money; I don't have a car . . . there's no one else I can call. What am I supposed to do?" I practically shouted into the phone, ignoring the stares and whispered comments from the people around me, but at that point, I didn't care if they heard me.
Bobby said he'd try to get here as soon as possible, but in the meantime, I should just wait and stay put. There really wasn't anything else I could do.
"Alright . . . alright," I said reluctantly as the call ended.
*****
"Excuse me, Miss, but I couldn't help but notice you were sitting here alone. Do you mind if I join you?" He asked.
I looked up and saw a vaguely familiar man. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes, broad shoulders, and a strong cleft chin. Maybe in his forties, he was attractive in an average kind of way.
"I . . . I . . . sure, please sit down," I said.
"Hi, my name is Brent, Brent Peters, and you are?"
"My name is Samantha, Sammi," I replied.
"Nice to meet you, Samantha," he said as he signaled the waitress and ordered a beer.
"Like I said, I saw you sitting over here, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew you."
"I don't think so," I said. I grew up in Portland, Oregon, and attend Chico State."
"Hell, maybe that's it; my son Jason Peters attends Chico. Two or three times a semester, if my route takes me close and I have a little time, I stop for a quick visit; I've probably seen you there."
I began smiling as I looked at him, gradually recognizing him as someone I had seen in the dorm and about campus. Although several years older than me, his son Jason was a casual friend of mine and someone I had gone out with a couple of times. Though I was only a freshman, one night, after an evening of drinking, I somehow ended up in bed with him. I don't remember much about it, but I swore it would never happen again.
"Mr. Peters, hello. Of course, I know Jason; he's the Resident Assistant in our dorm and lives just down the hall from me."
We sat and talked for a while; he had another beer and bought one for me. He said he was on a run up to Oregon and that this truck stop was on his regular route. We talked and enjoyed our beers.
Mr. Peters grew quiet. Then, without any embarrassment or awkwardness, he began, "During my last visit to the school, Jason had pointed you out and told me you, and he had been dating and had gotten . . . together. Clearing his throat, he added, "Jason said you were young and inexperienced but that you had the warmest, tightest, and sweetest pussy he had ever been lucky enough to hit. He said he liked how you felt and was disappointed because you only let him do it once."
"I'd like to show you what it's like to be with a real man," he said, not even trying to disguise his lust.
I could feel the red flush of embarrassment and humiliation when he said that, and I looked up at him, silent, apprehensive, and a little scared.
*****
He drew closer to me, his left arm around my shoulders and his other hand under the table resting on my thigh.
Chuckling to himself, he said, "I can still see the expression on Jason's face when he told me about you, Sammi. I swear he was grinning like an idiot the whole time he described how he had gotten his rocks off, in your pussy and your mouth."
"What are you talking about, Mr. Peters?" I asked and tried to pull away.
"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Samantha," he said.
"Who do you think you're talking to," I indignantly said as I began to stand up.
"Sit down, he said as he squeezed my thigh painfully . . . sit down."
I did as he said.
"You're a sweet girl, Sammi. I can see that."
I kept my head down, not wanting to look at him, and gasped when I felt his hand move up my thigh and his fingers brush teasingly against my sensitive pink lips.
I tried to squirm away and felt the pressure of his hand preventing me from moving.
"Jason mentioned that you were in a money bind and that he had helped you out a little . . . I want to help you, too. I can give you a lift up the highway and maybe give you some money to tide you over," he said.
*****
Even though he sickened me, I politely said, "That's considerate of you, Mr. Peters, but I'll be fine. Thank you for your offer."
"I know you're not a whore, Sammi, but I got three bills right here for you, and I'd like you to have it," he said.
Even though my words protested, my body was starting to like the feel of his fingers between my legs.
"Oh my god, Mr. Peters," I said in a surprised whisper as I closed my eyes.
"Ohhhhh, Mr. Peters," I sighed.
Trying to get my breathing under control, I thought, what was the big deal anyway? I'd have a couple hundred dollars and a ride up to Portland; hell, I could be halfway home by the time Bobby finally showed up. All it would cost me was what? Sucking Mr. Peters' dick?
"Well, what do you say, Sammi?" He asked, his hot breath moist against my ear, his hand still under my skirt and inside my panties, sliding in and out of my now soaking wet pussy.
"Okay . . . alright," I finally stuttered out. After a few minutes, Mr. Peters paid the check and, taking me by my arm, pulled me out of the booth, "Come on," he said as he led me out of the café and across the parking lot toward his truck.
*****
As we approached his truck, a massive red and silver 18-wheeler, I felt a creeping sense of uneasiness but dismissed it, thinking I had nothing to be afraid of; after all, this was Jason's father, not some stranger.
Just as fast as the thought entered my mind, I found myself slammed against the side of his truck.
"Ohmmm," the wind was knocked out of me, and Mr. Peters was all over me, his mouth, his hands, and his huge growing erection rubbing against me.
"Stop!" I hissed at him. It was the middle of the afternoon, and anyone crossing the parking lot and looking in this direction could see us, although I'm sure they would have thought it was a horny trucker grabbing a quick nut with a truck stop whore.
This was just supposed to be a blowjob!
Ignoring me, he held both my wrists in a viselike grip above my head. He lowered one hand and slipped it inside my blouse, roughly fondling my breasts. Pulling my blouse up over my breast, he bent forward and pressed his mouth against my hard, aroused nipple. Mr. Peters began to hump against me as he kissed and licked the mound of my breast. I could feel his teeth on my breast, and as he thrust harder, I moaned when he gently bit down on my nipple, sending chills through me.
Easily overpowering my weak struggling, he turned me around, facing the truck, and yanking up my skirt, ripped away my panties. I stood there pressed against the truck while he took his fingers and spread my pussy lips apart so that he could fondle me between my legs and rub his hard cockhead against me. I could feel his breath on my neck and gasped in surprise when he rammed his hard cock inside me and began pounding into me. His cock was huge and filled my tight pussy.
"No, wait, wait, please," I cried.
He actually laughed at me. "Just be quiet and take it all, little girl. I promise you'll like it."
Despite my inner disgust, I could hear myself beginning to whimper and moan as his cock continued to swell inside me. My legs began to quiver, and I felt my pussy, as if by instinct, contract around his cock, gripping it tightly, milking him. Mr. Peters stiffened and started ramming his cock deep into me, squirting load after load of thick, hot cum inside my young, now compliant pussy.
When he finished, I stood there on trembling legs, his cum beginning to drip out of me in silvery rivulets down the inside of my thighs. Mr. Peters pulled his still hard cock out of me and absently stroked it as my hips swayed with the afterglow of his forceful fucking.
When I entered, I saw the café was only half full, so I sat at the first empty booth and ordered myself a club sandwich and an iced tea. My phone insistently buzzed as I sat eating and waiting for my brother Bobby to arrive. I stared at the text message in frustration and disbelief. My brother was delayed, and instead of picking me up at 12:30p, he wouldn't be here until almost 6:00p.
Almost immediately, the phone rang . . . it was Bobby. I sat trying to hold back tears as I listened to him apologize and explain.
"Well, what am I supposed to do, Bobby? I don't have any money; I don't have a car . . . there's no one else I can call. What am I supposed to do?" I practically shouted into the phone, ignoring the stares and whispered comments from the people around me, but at that point, I didn't care if they heard me.
Bobby said he'd try to get here as soon as possible, but in the meantime, I should just wait and stay put. There really wasn't anything else I could do.
"Alright . . . alright," I said reluctantly as the call ended.
*****
"Excuse me, Miss, but I couldn't help but notice you were sitting here alone. Do you mind if I join you?" He asked.
I looked up and saw a vaguely familiar man. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes, broad shoulders, and a strong cleft chin. Maybe in his forties, he was attractive in an average kind of way.
"I . . . I . . . sure, please sit down," I said.
"Hi, my name is Brent, Brent Peters, and you are?"
"My name is Samantha, Sammi," I replied.
"Nice to meet you, Samantha," he said as he signaled the waitress and ordered a beer.
"Like I said, I saw you sitting over here, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew you."
"I don't think so," I said. I grew up in Portland, Oregon, and attend Chico State."
"Hell, maybe that's it; my son Jason Peters attends Chico. Two or three times a semester, if my route takes me close and I have a little time, I stop for a quick visit; I've probably seen you there."
I began smiling as I looked at him, gradually recognizing him as someone I had seen in the dorm and about campus. Although several years older than me, his son Jason was a casual friend of mine and someone I had gone out with a couple of times. Though I was only a freshman, one night, after an evening of drinking, I somehow ended up in bed with him. I don't remember much about it, but I swore it would never happen again.
"Mr. Peters, hello. Of course, I know Jason; he's the Resident Assistant in our dorm and lives just down the hall from me."
We sat and talked for a while; he had another beer and bought one for me. He said he was on a run up to Oregon and that this truck stop was on his regular route. We talked and enjoyed our beers.
Mr. Peters grew quiet. Then, without any embarrassment or awkwardness, he began, "During my last visit to the school, Jason had pointed you out and told me you, and he had been dating and had gotten . . . together. Clearing his throat, he added, "Jason said you were young and inexperienced but that you had the warmest, tightest, and sweetest pussy he had ever been lucky enough to hit. He said he liked how you felt and was disappointed because you only let him do it once."
"I'd like to show you what it's like to be with a real man," he said, not even trying to disguise his lust.
I could feel the red flush of embarrassment and humiliation when he said that, and I looked up at him, silent, apprehensive, and a little scared.
*****
He drew closer to me, his left arm around my shoulders and his other hand under the table resting on my thigh.
Chuckling to himself, he said, "I can still see the expression on Jason's face when he told me about you, Sammi. I swear he was grinning like an idiot the whole time he described how he had gotten his rocks off, in your pussy and your mouth."
"What are you talking about, Mr. Peters?" I asked and tried to pull away.
"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Samantha," he said.
"Who do you think you're talking to," I indignantly said as I began to stand up.
"Sit down, he said as he squeezed my thigh painfully . . . sit down."
I did as he said.
"You're a sweet girl, Sammi. I can see that."
I kept my head down, not wanting to look at him, and gasped when I felt his hand move up my thigh and his fingers brush teasingly against my sensitive pink lips.
I tried to squirm away and felt the pressure of his hand preventing me from moving.
"Jason mentioned that you were in a money bind and that he had helped you out a little . . . I want to help you, too. I can give you a lift up the highway and maybe give you some money to tide you over," he said.
*****
Even though he sickened me, I politely said, "That's considerate of you, Mr. Peters, but I'll be fine. Thank you for your offer."
"I know you're not a whore, Sammi, but I got three bills right here for you, and I'd like you to have it," he said.
Even though my words protested, my body was starting to like the feel of his fingers between my legs.
"Oh my god, Mr. Peters," I said in a surprised whisper as I closed my eyes.
"Ohhhhh, Mr. Peters," I sighed.
Trying to get my breathing under control, I thought, what was the big deal anyway? I'd have a couple hundred dollars and a ride up to Portland; hell, I could be halfway home by the time Bobby finally showed up. All it would cost me was what? Sucking Mr. Peters' dick?
"Well, what do you say, Sammi?" He asked, his hot breath moist against my ear, his hand still under my skirt and inside my panties, sliding in and out of my now soaking wet pussy.
"Okay . . . alright," I finally stuttered out. After a few minutes, Mr. Peters paid the check and, taking me by my arm, pulled me out of the booth, "Come on," he said as he led me out of the café and across the parking lot toward his truck.
*****
As we approached his truck, a massive red and silver 18-wheeler, I felt a creeping sense of uneasiness but dismissed it, thinking I had nothing to be afraid of; after all, this was Jason's father, not some stranger.
Just as fast as the thought entered my mind, I found myself slammed against the side of his truck.
"Ohmmm," the wind was knocked out of me, and Mr. Peters was all over me, his mouth, his hands, and his huge growing erection rubbing against me.
"Stop!" I hissed at him. It was the middle of the afternoon, and anyone crossing the parking lot and looking in this direction could see us, although I'm sure they would have thought it was a horny trucker grabbing a quick nut with a truck stop whore.
This was just supposed to be a blowjob!
Ignoring me, he held both my wrists in a viselike grip above my head. He lowered one hand and slipped it inside my blouse, roughly fondling my breasts. Pulling my blouse up over my breast, he bent forward and pressed his mouth against my hard, aroused nipple. Mr. Peters began to hump against me as he kissed and licked the mound of my breast. I could feel his teeth on my breast, and as he thrust harder, I moaned when he gently bit down on my nipple, sending chills through me.
Easily overpowering my weak struggling, he turned me around, facing the truck, and yanking up my skirt, ripped away my panties. I stood there pressed against the truck while he took his fingers and spread my pussy lips apart so that he could fondle me between my legs and rub his hard cockhead against me. I could feel his breath on my neck and gasped in surprise when he rammed his hard cock inside me and began pounding into me. His cock was huge and filled my tight pussy.
"No, wait, wait, please," I cried.
He actually laughed at me. "Just be quiet and take it all, little girl. I promise you'll like it."
Despite my inner disgust, I could hear myself beginning to whimper and moan as his cock continued to swell inside me. My legs began to quiver, and I felt my pussy, as if by instinct, contract around his cock, gripping it tightly, milking him. Mr. Peters stiffened and started ramming his cock deep into me, squirting load after load of thick, hot cum inside my young, now compliant pussy.
When he finished, I stood there on trembling legs, his cum beginning to drip out of me in silvery rivulets down the inside of my thighs. Mr. Peters pulled his still hard cock out of me and absently stroked it as my hips swayed with the afterglow of his forceful fucking.
اسم الموضوع : My Bargain With a Trucker P1
|
المصدر : Sex Stories