She just couldn't keep her tongue in her mouth. She wasn't even aware what she was doing. Lana had stopped at one of the tourist traps off I-90 and bought a few candy sticks to suck on during the long trip. Cruising along at a smooth 65mph, she was soon lost in thought sucking away on the stick, sliding it absent-mindedly down her throat and back, winding her tongue around it and stroking. She didn't know they were keeping pace with her car until they honked and she looked over, startled. Four young guys gawking at her. She looked at them as if to ask annoyingly, 'What?!' She followed the trajectory of their eyes. They were looking at... her... mouth. 'Oh shit!' She yanked the stick out of her mouth and glanced over to see one of the guys in the back actually making a pouty face at her. She laughed and figured what the heck. She gave them a show. Burlesque with a candy stick. She flicked her tongue around the end, deep throated it, had an all-around good time. They had their windows down and were whooping and hollering loud enough for her to hear all kinds of creative remarks. She laughed and waved to them, indicating the show was over. Before they could protest, she took off, passing the truck they were now stuck behind.
Approaching Niagara Falls, Lana looked at the heat waves coming off the lines of cars and made an impulsive decision to get in the shorter group of lines going to Canada. She could take the crossover to Michigan, and liked the drive. After the long, sweltering wait in front of her, she was looking forward to the rural open road. She'd have the peace and time to think about what she was going to be facing in just over six hours.
Lana's sister Dena was recently widowed and making poor choices around men. The last one had become abusive. When Dena found out she was pregnant, the seriousness of the situation became crystal clear. She was scared, battered, and asked Lana to come help. Lana was always there for her sisters, and didn't hesitate to jump in her car and take off.
Lana pulled off at the nearest stop as soon as she crossed the border. She had to turn her a/c off during the long wait so the car wouldn't overheat. Now she was soaking in her own sweat and needed desperately to freshen up and cool off. It was just one of those in-and-out rest stops but it had sinks and that's what she needed. She let the water run cold and soaked some paper towels, squeezing them over her head and delighting in the sensation. The water trickled down through her hair, over her face, and down into her shirt. She wanted to feel the cold water on her neck and back, and made a clumsy attempt at splashing, which resulted in soaking the front her right down through her bra. Shit. Corner turned. Her nipples got hard as rock candy and she was seeing red again in no time, except this was a different kind of red. This was 'poor impulse control' red. She was like a cat in heat for at least 2 weeks out of every month lately, which put her on high alert – and high frustration – making sure she kept herself out of trouble. If she allowed herself free reign she'd be backing up onto anything protruding.
It was too late. Her panties were already soaked. There were several trucks parked but no families, so she said fuck it. She took her shirt off, then her bra, and splashed water on her torso, rubbing her breasts and pinching her nipples hard. She took her pants off, removed her panties and soaked them in cold water, wringing them out over her mons and spreading her pussy lips so the shock of water hit her hot and swollen clit. The sensation made her buck. She squeezed her clit and started jerking it off between her fingers, breathing hard and moaning with each stroke, finally coming with a series of releasing wails that echoed against the cement walls.
These bathrooms didn't have doors. They had walls that acted as a natural visual barrier from passersby. She heard someone just outside the opening. Then her heart jumped.
"Ma'am, you OK in there? It's maintenance. I was walking by the entrance and... well, it sounded like you were in pain." A deep, gravelly voice, distinctly older and male, echoed into the bathroom. Lana's pussy was still spasming mercilessly and she could feel juice slick on her inner thighs. Blood was throbbing in her temples. Before she could stop herself, she answered, breathless:
"No, I'm really not okay. I'm afraid I've made a mess in here. Could you help me?"
"Well, sure ma'am, be right in. You decent?"
"Decent as I'll ever be." Lana replied with as steady a voice as she could muster.
Lana turned away from the door quickly and straddled a corner of one of the sinks so the first thing he saw would be her bare ass and spread legs. That way he could look without feeling obligated to turn away. Her heart was pounding through her eardrums. She heard heavy work boots and the clinking of gear as he rounded the corner. Then dead silence. Not a gasp, not an "oh dear," nothing. She expected some kind of shock. Instead, she heard him put his equipment down, and then his boots on the concrete as he slowly and deliberately approached her.
"Well, well, well. You certainly did make a mess, didn't you? Look at all this water. And your clothes are soaked too...." she started to sweat from the timbre and surety in his voice, and by the long pause.
"Looks to me like you've soaked pretty much everything, including your pussy."
She squealed involuntarily as he slapped her pussy lips and grabbed them in his fist, squeezing and wringing them as he practically lifted her off her feet. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and, as he dragged her into one of the stalls, asked her if she'd been to the bathroom yet.
"No, not yet." Her head was spinning. She felt disoriented and aroused and very confused. She hadn't even seen his face.
"Not yet WHAT!" he pressed his pelvis up against her ass as he kicked her feet apart so she was standing over the toilet.
"Not yet..." She didn't know what to answer. She couldn't think.
"Sir!" And when he said it he squeezed her nipples until she yelped.
"Now when I squeeze, what are you going to say?" And he squeezed and twisted her nipples again, his breath hot on her ear.
"SIR!" She blurted out.
He parted her pussy lips forcefully and swiped out juices which he brought up to his nose and inhaled deeply. He growled as he put it up to her mouth and told her to lick her juices out of his hand. When she hesitated, he slammed her face into his hand and told her to lick every drop. She did.
"You didn't get a chance to wash up yet, did you slut?" He asked her.
"No, Sir, I didn't."
"We'll have to remedy that. I certainly don't want you to have less than satisfactory things to say about this rest stop." He grabbed his gear, filling a bucket with water and adding soap. He returned with the soapy water, a brush, and a sponge, and began lathering her down like a brood mare. He scrubbed her back with the coarse brush until she was practically raw. When she squirmed he used the handle to correct her infraction by smacking the backs of her thighs with the ends of the bristles, leaving a pinpoint pattern of red.
He soaped the sponge and began cleaning between her legs, drawing her cunt lips apart and wiping back toward her anus. The next pass was around her asshole, gently at first, but became more forceful and probing. Before she knew it he was ramming the sponge inside her ass along with his fingers and literally scrubbing. She tried to pull away, and was met by the addition of another finger slamming against her hole and a yank back on her hair. His hot-breathed whisper sent a chill down her spine.
"Be a good whore. Don't do something you'll regret."
She was absolutely still and silent for the rest of his treatment. After rinsing her down, he put his gear back by the door, and admired his handywork on her ass and thighs as he walked back to the stall. She was still dripping water from the bath... and dripping juice from her cunt, despite herself.
"So, you like to tease, to expose yourself to strange men, do you?" She thought this was a rhetorical question and didn't answer. Wrong.
He grabbed a fistfull of hair and slapped her ass full force, once on each cheek. She winced from the shocking sting but didn't cry out.
"I asked you a question, and I expect an answer now."
"Yes Sir, I do." She replied quickly.
"You do what? Tell me what you like to do, whore?"
"I like to expose myself to men, Sir. I like to tease them. I get off on it. Sir."
"Good answer. I'm going to help you fulfill your desire then, slut. You stand just as you are and do not move an inch. Do you hear me?"
"Yes." ...damn.
He expediently delivered four slaps this time, two on each cheek.
"Yes, Sir."
He closed the stall door behind him; she heard him go over to the sink before leaving the restroom. As soon as she was sure she was alone, she bolted for her clothes... Oh. That's what he did. He picked up her clothes, which also had her car keys in them. Even if she streaked to the car, she couldn't get in. She stood there frozen, not knowing what to do, when she heard footsteps. A lot of footsteps. And voices. Men's voices. A lot of voices. Shit!
Maintenance man saw the stall door close as he entered with six newly awakened truckers. He opened the door and, pulling her out by her hair, held her fully exposed to the six men, all of whom were sporting growing erections as the maintenance man pinched her nipples, kneaded her breasts, and slapped and squeezed her pussy while they watched.
"This young lady likes to expose herself to men. So I think it's only gentlemanly of us to oblige her, don't you?" He asked the stunned truckers and they all nodded their heads, gaping jaws flapping loosely.
