I'm a driver. I love to drive. Long trips, short trips, makes no difference to me. Get me in a car, and I'm going. Unfortunately, I don't have a car that makes driving fun. It's a breakdown waiting to happen, the parting blow from my last relationship - with a mechanic who I thought might be around to fix the shitbox. Well, it's paid for and cheap to insure, and I have that shitbox to thank for the experience I'll relate in the next few paragraphs.
It was a beautiful day, warm, sunny and I was headed home after a visit to the old home town. Long drive back to where I lived, straight stretches of superhighway with nothing but corn and soybean fields to see on either side, broken only with the occasional farmhouse. I took my mind off of any concerns about my slipping clutch by playing with the passing traffic. I love to play with truckers, I'll admit. I always dress for long drives in clothes that make it easy - short skirts, low cut tops, no panties... it's a snap to get a little attention as you pass with your hand under a skirt, a little tit showing. Makes those miles just whiz by!
I was passing a long line of trucks at sundown, the sun slanting in through the driver's side window and giving me a good look in the side view mirror of the meat I was passing in the big rigs. I got such a thrill from the sight of their CB mics as they passed the word up the line of what was coming up... Me! I imagined their conversation as I cruised past, pulling a finger from my pussy, putting it in my mouth, rubbing the wet finger against my bare nipple where it peeked from my lacy bra, exposed by the transparent, open blouse that sat unevenly under the seat belt tucked under my left breast.
I felt deliciously vindicated by every toot of the air horn, by every truck that kept pace with me as I flew past in my haze of sexual abandonment. Stupidly safe and slutty in my car. I passed the last truck, teasing my vibrating pussy to the edge of orgasm with my wet fingers. He was an appreciative voyeur, not asking me to pull over, but giving me the thumbs up and a short blast from his horn. I blew him a kiss as I passed him... I thought about the line of cocks I just passed, imagining each of them straining against the fabric of their jeans. Or better yet, out where the air was clean, them pumping with their free hand, on that long open stretch of road, on those swollen cocks that I was responsible for making so hard and full of cum.
There was little traffic up ahead, and my tension began to abate without the steady teasing of truck driver eyes. My clutch foot on the dash, I absently fingered my still-wet pussy and fantasized about a rest-stop affair. Not that I would ever actually pursue that avenue. Mine was a purely exhibitionist hobby. I kept up a steady 70, putting the line of trucks behind me. Up ahead, the hot tarmac, white lines and a single black pickup about a half mile ahead. My pussy ached with unfulfilled desire. I pressed on the gas to catch the pickup. I pulled up closer behind the truck, noticing with a thumping of my heart that it was a man alone in the driver's seat. No need to straighten up and fly right, as there'd been if I'd seen a woman's head, or (worse yet) a kid's.
I put on my one working blinker and smoothly moved into the passing lane. I glanced down to check the peek of my nipple from my blouse and slipped a finger into my once again gushing pussy. I passed the pickup at maybe another 5 miles per hour of speed above what the guy was doing, noticing what a nice truck it was, and the county from which he came. Nice place, I thought to myself! A pretty part of the state! Had a few friends down there - hope I didn't know this dude... Seeing someone you've met at a cookout fingering herself in a car tends to produce some odd reports back to the home folks. My pussy being in the driver's seat however, I decided to take the chance.
I peered at my prey in his side view mirror. Tousled graying curls... cute round sunglasses... nice beard with just the right amount of white in it. I'm a sucker for older men. From personal experience, I've found that the old saw about snow on the roof tends to prove true every time. And they always know just what to do! As I pulled closer to even with him, I caught his glance in the mirror... and a big grin spread over his handsome face - fabulous, even white teeth that shone in the setting sun. Ooohh! I thought, a real fox, this one! Although it was too late to arrange myself in a more ladylike posture, I felt my whole body flush at the sight of his grin. Yikes! A strong wave of sexual charge coursed through me as I passed him and I felt my hips raise off the seat, my foot reflexively pressing the gas. I shot past him, my fingers on my hard clit and my breath coming hard from open lips. A fine film of sweat sprung out on my forehead, so close was I to the edge. I decided to coast into the right lane in front of him and gather my wits a bit before something unfortunate happened.
But something unfortunate did happen... for my car, at least. A bare three-quarters of a mile registered on my long-ago flipped over odometer when a loud "thump" and backfire changed my heat to a cold chill. A glance in my rear view showed a big cloud of blue smoke emerging from the rear of my car. Smoke seeped from under the hood. With some relief, I saw an exit ahead maybe a hundred yards. I aimed my ex vehicle at the off ramp and nursed the gas, willing the heap to at least make it a little closer to the nearest town. The dear beast cooperated enough to get me up the ramp to the state route it met. Without stopping at the stop sign, I turned in the direction of "Silver Lake 3 miles" and prayed some rusty Hail Marys. The engine coughed back to life long enough to get me to a side road about a mile from the freeway. The red lights came on for real at that intersection. I yanked the wheel to the right and pulled far off onto the shoulder, no horizon but corn. As I cruised to a stop, the car was surrounded with a small cloud of foul-smelling fog. I sat for a moment with the windows rolled up while the fog cleared and hit the steering wheel with the heel of my hand.
"Fuck me!" I yelled, angry at myself for being so cavalier about my imminent peril. I knew this was going to happen. And not so much as a cell phone to my name. And fairly inappropriate attire for hiking. Four-inch heeled sandals do not a pleasant couple of miles to the nearest farm house make. And I'm sure the religious folks round these parts would love my brief skirt and transparent blouse. Just their thing! I sat for a second, examining my options. A knock on the driver's side window made my heart jump to my throat. "Shit!" I whispered, almost panicked. I thought of all the truckers I'd teased and all the stories I'd heard about mass murderers. Just what my mother always warned me about. Well, maybe my tragic tale would keep some other smug slut from following in my footsteps. I peered out of the window to see the handsome bearded face of the driver of the black pickup I'd just passed. What a guy, to follow me all this way, eating that foul smoke! Wait! Should I be worried?
"Car trouble?" he said loudly through the glass. The patent understatement took me so by surprise that I laughed. Hysterically. I rolled down the window, glad the smoke had dissipated somewhat.
