confession of a truck-stop slut.....

Ms C, who has been visiting her sickly mother, phoned me last night. To begin with she made some excuse about being unsure if she had properly closed all her windows, and could i check for her as she would not be back any time soon and she was naturally concerned... etc.

I told her that i would check but that she should stop wasting my time and just say whatever it was that had prompted her to call. It was clear from the rhythm of her breath that she was already fingering herself - which she confirmed when i asked her directly.

'Then don't.' I said. 'Just concentrate on what you wanted to tell me...'

Ms C stopped and her breath steadied,

'Go on,' i instructed.

After a short pause she spoke again, her voice a little tremulous and thin.

'The woman i saw at the truck stop... I... it turns out that i do know her.'

For those unfamiliar with the tale; one evening when Ms C was out walking her dogs she saw a trucker being 'orally serviced' by a woman she thought a stranger at the time. The scene had proved something of an awakening for Ms C - she had even kept a momento of sorts; a cum soiled tissue.

'You want to tell me about this woman?' i inquired.

'No... yes...!'

'Which is it?' my tone was impatient.

'She.. attends my church. I've spoken to her on.. numerous occasions.. and yet I... I didn't recognise her. Her hair was.. down...'

'And she did have a fat truckers cock in her mouth...' I added, dryly.

'Yes.. she did,' Ms C paused, perhaps to contemplate the scene again.

'Is that it? Is that what you disturbed me for to tell me that one of the 'ladies' in your church sucks truckers cocks?'

'She does... more than that. She called around the evening before i left. I still didn't know who she was.. until she told me. She said that it had... bothered her that i had.. seen her like that. It had.. played on her mind. So she called around to.. explain... That's what she said but I think it was fear that i would... tell... someone...'

'Her husband perhaps...?' i suggested.

'Yes... i do know him too.... She was.. very.. embarrassed... even more so when i told her i hadn't recognised her. She said that her feel very foolish. 'I am a foolish... old woman she said'. She's the same age as me and she said she was a 'foolish old woman'...'

Ms C sighed. Almost idly her hands strayed again to her lap - i could tell by the alteration of her breathing.

'Leave you clit alone,' i told her, firmly. 'if you must touch then limit yourself to that place between the base of your cunt and your anus. It will keep you wet without overstimulating you.'

'All right,' she said. 'I will do that.'

'What else had she done at that truck stop?'

'Ah.. yes. She told me... things. Once she started she could hardly stop herself... it was a... spill of words and... hard to keep up.'

Ms C recounted what she could remember.

The 'church woman' (let's call her Mrs R for convenience) had arrived at the broad lay by under very similar circumstances to Ms C. A brisk stroll had taken her out across the fields one balmy evening. When she had emerged through the trees where the trucks so often parked up she had come across one of the drivers pissing into some bracken. The sight of his thick cock had made her blush and she had tried to return the way she had come only she tripped and the sound of that had made him turn. She'd assumed that he, the trucker, would be equally embarrassed. But, rather than put his cock away, he had continued to hold it in his rough hands.

'You all right mrs?' was all he said.

Mrs R said that she had almost run then. She explained to Ms C that she had not really ever seen a... 'thingy' (her word) before.

'Not even your husbands?' Ms C asked, a little incredulous.

Mrs R said that she'd felt it inside her of course... not often.. but over the years she had.. felt it... inside. But that this had always happened in the dark and so she she had never actually seen it. Mrs R (as Ms C recounted) actually laughed then at the thought of it.

So, when she saw what the trucker was holding she had, initially, felt compelled to run. But, she said, she was equally.. in fact more.. compelled to stay. Not once, she said, not once had she taken her eyes off that fat thing in the truckers hand.

"You all right Mrs,' he had repeated as he approached her.

Mrs R lost all urges to escape then. Recognising this the trucker had taken her by the and and led her to the side of his truck. Without any exchange of words the trucker pushed her back against the chassis and, quite roughly, pulled up her skirt. Mrs R surprised herself with her lack of protest. She felt his rough hands between her thighs and thought that he was going to pull down her knickers. Instead (and 'deliciously' she confided to Ms C) he tore them open instead. A wetness she had barely been aware of streamed out of her - for a moment she actually thought she had wet herself.

The big man, and he was big, kicked her legs apart and without any more ceremony thrust his fat, hard cock deep inside her.

'i thought i was going to die,' Mrs R confessed. "i'd never felt so... full... and it was so.. hard and so.. hot... and it just kept driving into me... I could smell his sweat and his breath was beer and smoke - i almost couldn't breathe the smell was so.. overpowering... but... that thing.. inside me.. pressing and driving... i just.. didn't care... just.. wanted more.. and more... And i told him that... told him i wanted it harder... even though it already.. hurt... almost....'

The trucker, according to Ms C, did not maintain his 'assault' for long, certainly not long enough for Mr R's newly acquired needs.

'He.. spilled his... seed.. and then he went soft and it was just like it was my.. husband.. just the same....'

But it was not, as it soon transpired, the same thing at all. Unknown to Mrs R the 'union' between the trucker and herself had attracted something of an audience. When she felt the big man shrink inside her Mrs R had opened her eyes to discover that three other drivers - she assumed truckers - had gathered close by.

When the first trucker had withdrawn Mrs R was aware that the other men were giving her the opportunity to leave. If she had straightened her skirt, and cupped her breast back into her bra she felt sure they would have let her go on her way.

'It was almost.. a polite silence,' she suggested to Ms C.

But rather than 'make herself decent' (as she put it) she had, instead, drawn her her skirt higher, spayed her legs further apart and thrust her hips forward.

'Fuck me!', Mrs R had giggled as she spoke of it. 'I didn't say it.. out loud.. but that was what i said...."

The next to sample the delights of Mrs R was wiry little man of around sixty. If anything, she confided, he was even stronger than the first.

'He held my arms up over my head and.. slipped inside me. I could feel the others watching then and that only made it.. more... much more...! And the skinny man was so much.. better than the first... not so big but.. so much more in control... and the angle was not the same so that he rubbed against me and suddenly i was... shouting... i could hear myself.. and.. i never.. orgasmed before... fifty years old and i'd never....'

Ms C said she had never seen such a smile as that of Mrs R when she spoke then.

"i was wild by then,' Mrs R had said. "after that first... orgasm.. and it was.. more than one really i couldn't... stop. At one point they had.. turned me and i felt one inside me and i don't even know which... and another had be by the hair and for forcing his... thing .. into my mouth so that i couldn't even... breathe... and... i... loved it... i was almost choking and i was actually driving myself harder onto him... and then they were.. spilling.. into me.. over me.... and i was... spilling too...'

Ms C said that she had never been in a room as quiet as her lounge in the moments after Mrs R had spoken.

Ms C too.. for a while was silent (other than the soft wet sound of her play).

'I want,' said Ms C, after a while... 'i want... that...! I want what she.. had.. has had.. often she says... Can i have... that?'

'You may cum now,' i told her, and she did.. quietly so as not to disturb her sickly mother.

'Can you.. arrange.. that?' she asked when she had recovered. 'Something like.. that.. for me?'

'Not easily,' i answered, honestly. 'But... perhaps... if you are very good...'

'I will be.. good,' she almost whispered.

I hung up then. There was little more to say.. and much to consider.

• Add Comment
• View Blog