A friend of mine claimed that none of his stories have happy endings. These are for you, Rob.
Roblottery
Rob was skulking. He had run afoul of the highway patrol in Arizona and wasn't completely sure how far their reach extended. So, he was skulking his way north through California, not really sure where he was headed. Just, somewhere else.
The one thing you did find when limiting yourself to backroads and unpatrolled stretched of highway was other skulkers. He recognized the van as one immediately. It was old, beat-up Odyssey, sitting on the side of the road with a billow of steam coming out of the open hood, California plates three years out of date. He normally wouldn't have stopped, but a mini-van meant family, and this one's mom was a blond, curvy thing in short shorts and a cropped tank. His trailer was empty, having missed his pickup a few days prior, and dispatch hadn't forgiven him enough to send him new work yet.
If he'd seen the decal on the van's door before stopping, he'd have punched the accelerator and not looked back. Now, as he looked at a cross between a scorpion and a naked woman, its stinger buried in the neck of a screaming girl, he pondered the merits of jumping back in his truck and racing away anyway. What he had mistaken for a sexy, curvy mom turned out to be a musclebound hulk. She was still sexy, in a terrifying way. She walked up and shook his hand, her grip nearly crushing it.
"I'm so glad you stopped. We were so screwed." 'We' turned out to be six, no, eight other women, all of them rough looking with bad dye jobs, tattoos on the wrong side of the line between artistic and pornographic, and thighs that could easily break a man's ribs - if he had the misfortune to find himself between them. He barely needed the information that left the woman's mouth next. "We're a roller derby team. The Scorpions. I'm Case."
This had the familiar feel of the life Rob was accustomed to. He was sure that USC Cheer squad would need rescue at some point. There was just no chance it would be anywhere near when that happened. "Rob," he told her. "Looks like car trouble?"
She looked back at their vehicle, a couple of her teammates trying to fan away the still rising steam. "You know anything about engines, Rob?"
"Enough to know yours is fucked. Can I call you a wrecker or something?" Maybe he could still escape with his skin intact.
One of the other girls shouted over, "Case, stop flirting and ask him how many blowjobs for a ride."
Case grimaced. "We have one coming; it's just two hours out. We were hoping you could get us to Fresno in time for our match?"
He looked around. "All of you?"
"Well, not Skully. Her fibula is in six pieces, so she can't skate right now. She'll stay with the van. So, just eight of us." She tried to make a cutesy face, but it didn't really work on her. He wished he had a reason to say no, but he had absolutely nothing aside from surviving until tomorrow on his schedule. He was headed north, anyway.
He helped them move their gear over and squirreled the lot of them into his cab and sleeper. CJ was an immediate hit, the girls all fawning over his dog. He marveled at how much more attractive that made them. The blowjob comment had caught his attention as well, even if it had been said in jest.
He didn't like leaving Skully behind. She looked capable of defending herself, but she would still be a lone woman in the middle of nowhere. She was also the prettiest of them, a pleasant meld of Hispanic and Asian features despite her sparkling blue eyes. She thought his concern was sweet, hugging him before smacking his ass and telling him to get lost.
It was kind of nice having company. He'd been in his own head a lot lately. All the women were impertinent, crass, unapologetic. Three of them sat in his passenger seat, another between the seats, with the rest poking their heads out of the back.
"You have a wife, girlfriend, Rob?" It was one of the really tall girls, Razor.
He'd had a girlfriend until recently, the relationship ending under circumstances that had all the Scorpions howling as he told the story.
"Well, I can assure you the only dick you'll find in this truck is the one that tented your sweats when Nymph mentioned blowjobs." They all laughed again. It was good natured, but he felt his face growing hot.
"Ah, you made him blush." Trix seemed to be the nice one in the group. "What about it, Rob. You wouldn't mind letting one of us blow you to say thank you?"
He glanced at her to see if she was serious. She slowly licked her luscious lips.
"Now who's making him blush?" Someone jabbed Trix in the ribs, making her squeal and retaliate. Rob just tried to stay focused while his cab turned into the roller derby equivalent of a pillow fight.
One of the girls grabbed his dick, rock hard after the look Trix had given him. "Rob may be speechless, but I'm pretty sure this thing is saying yes." She actually fished it out of his pants and waved it at the room. It stopped the wrestling, at least.
A blond woman in the back, Trauma she called herself, muttered, "I'm not giving him a fucking blow-job."
Case jumped in. "We spin for it, just like anything else. You lose, you suck."
Trix came to his defense, "I don't know what you're worried about anyway. He seems kinda cuddly, like someone's dad."
"Aqua should like him, then."
"Fuck off, guys. It was just the one time." He now knew the name of the woman that was slowly stroking his dick.
"I know for a fact you've fucked at least three of our dads," Trauma countered.
"Oh, I thought you meant my dad."
Everyone laughed. Aqua took the opportunity to lean in and whispered huskily into his ear, "You have a very nice cock, Mr. Rob."
Trix maneuvered over and gave him a half hug, tugging the other girls hand away from his member. "Let the poor man drive." Then, just to Rob, "We call her Aqua because she's always wet."
Rob was slowly realizing that this might be better than rescuing cheerleaders. "And why are you called Trix?"
She smiled. "The usual reason."
It took him a minute to get it. "Oh. I'm sure you do very well."
