Hit 'n Run

The old patrol car slowly rolled past until it reached the end of the pavement of town, about thirty yards past the property, before making a U-turn and parking on the far side of the road. I'm not sure if the U-turn itself was illegal but parking on the left side sure was. Not that it mattered to Sheriff Richie and not that it mattered in this tiny shithole town. He let the car idle as he scoped us out from across the road. He didn't think that he was being obvious but we knew - two young girls in skimpy clothes on a hot lazy afternoon sitting in the shade of the porch. He was ogling us, perving. If the creep had any brains he'd have busted us for drinking under age. Then he could have taken us into Parkford Station and strip searched us or some shit, but I guess he figured we were sipping ginger ale and never thought twice about it. I raised my cider to him in a toast and Kennie joined in, adding a middle finger.

"Hey Dickie!" she called and we had a laugh. The sheriff put the car in gear and rolled away, pretending that he hadn't been up to anything at all.

Of course we didn't really mind the attention even though he was gross. We were bored, hanging out and hoping for something fun to come along. A chance to flip off the fuzz was better than nothing. On such a hot day we were barely wearing anything - Kennie in her black-dyed hair and her black bikini cutting into her fleshy curves, and skinny little me in a pink checked bandeau, cutoff shorts and my punky haircut - so I guess that we expected it from him anyways.

Not long after, car wheels on the gravel could be heard far in the distance. There was only one road running through Bugshaw, the butthole that is our home town, and was only paved for the three blocks of frontage. We were in reclining lawn chairs set in the shade of the front porch of the gas station sucking on cold cherry ciders that we had helped ourselves to from the fridge and were on our third or fourth each. With the first round, we were sure that Uncle Vern wouldn't have noticed, but as the hot afternoon bored on we stopped caring about how pissed he'd be with us, especially with me. It had been a baking dry summer that had stunted the crops, and after graduation all the single boys around town went off to college while half of the few that were left we had already shagged behind (or in front of) their girlfriends' backs. There was really nothing to do out here in the middle of East-fuckin'-nowhere, especially since the town banned dirt bikes and ATVs after the 'church incident' the previous fall. Someone had carved up the lawn in front of Presby and the shit flew all over town like someone wrapped the Virgin Mary's head in the stars-and-stripes and desecrated her from behind or something. Kennie and I both wanted to move to the city but there were no jobs in town for two teenagers to make enough money to do that, and the number of Christmases and birthdays it would take to save up dough from grandparents would have been pretty much infinity-plus-one. Bugshaw was a fucking dead end.

The car drew closer. We could hear it rushing and crumbling along the gravel pretty fast. The locals rarely drove at that rate of speed, always scared of kicking up stones and scraping paint or cracking a windshield, so it was either one of the kids we knew looking for thrills, or an out-of-towner rambling through. I looked up and saw the huge cloud of dust trailing out behind it. The car was black and sleek with tinted windows. It wasn't from around here. When it reached the warped pavement leached grey from years of unrelenting summer sun, the throb of its engine slowed. Kennie looked over her shoulder and lowered her shades. It was pulling in for gas. We had a customer, but neither of us were about to get up. Of course Kennie had an excuse. She was just hanging out. I was the one on the clock.

The car rolled into the lot and pulled up to the pump. The engine cut and a couple moments later the driver got out. It was a guy, college-aged or older. His hair was cropped close on the sides with just a hint more on top. He wasn't too tall, had a husky build and wore shades. A grey t-shirt stretched a big blue star across his pecs with 'Dallas Cowboys' spelled in block letters beneath. He pushed his chest out, stretched his arms and looked about absently. He'd been on the road a while. With a sigh of resignation, I got up out of my chair and leaned against the porch post.

"Need gas?"

"Dumb question," he smirked.

"I have to ask," I said before tipping the bottle to my lips and downing the last couple of swallows of faint pink brew.

"Uh-huh," he nodded. Then I placed the empty on the porch rail and dropped down to the hot pavement in my dirty flip-flops. Lowering his glasses, he took me in as I approached, my skinny matchstick arms and legs, my light brown hair shorn into a pixie cut with pink-dyed tips down the front of my face and the shaved sides growing back in, my little top stretched across my tiny chest. Around the back of the car, silver stretched letters read 'D O D G E'. I reached the pump and we stood just a few feet apart. He pushed his shades back up his hawk-like nose. It had a slight bend in it and I wondered if it had ever been broken. He looked like that kind of guy - one who played sports and got into fights. He was stocky, fleshy, muscly, but not well defined. He was built like a pitbull. His jeans clung tight to the powerful curves of his ass.

"Reg'lar?"

"Yeah."

"Fill?"

"Sure."

"It's set to pre-pay," I told him. Uncle Vern didn't trust me enough. I mean I could still turn the pump on myself for cash sales, but he knew I would sometimes wander off for a bit and leave the place unattended, like the time that he showed up unannounced to catch me blowing Cole Shipton in the tool shed. The most surprised was Cole. I'd never seen a guy go soft so fast, like ice cream in a microwave on level ten. "Card or cash?" I prompted him. The stranger slipped his wallet from his back pocket, took out a card and swiped it on the pump.

"Sure is hot," he remarked as he took in the lack of landscape. He wasn't sweating at all, at least not yet.

"Air conditioning is nice, huh?"

"M-hm," he nodded. I glanced inside the tinted windows and saw the silhouettes of the empty seats. He was travelling alone. Then I opened the gas flap that he already popped and I twisted off the cap. Taking the nozzle from the pump, I pressed the button for regular and inserted, locking the trigger. The pump began to whir. I walked past him and he turned to keep his eyes on me as I took the squeege from the bucket.

"Windshield?"

"Sure."

I began to squeege the driver's side of the window. The car was rather big and I'm small so I had to lean forward, holding my hand over the button of my fly so as to not scratch the paint.

"Having yourself a cool drink in the sun?" he asked.

"Dumb question," I smirked.

"Got one for me?"

"Fer sale in the store," I winked.

"What about what

you're

drinkin'?"

I finished the driver's side and wiped the squeege, then dunked it back in the bucket and walked around the front putting a bit of a swank in my hips on purpose. It was fun to see just how much of his attention I could get. The grill and lamps were pitted with a few bugs, as well as the likeness of Lincoln between the red letters of the plate. He was from out-of-state.

"Illinois, huh?" I remarked. "What brings you through here?" I asked as I scrubbed the left headlamp clean.

"On my way to Arkansas."

"Arkansas," I said. "That's quite a drive." Then I wiped the right side headlamp and moved up the fender of the car to do the other half of the windshield.

"It's all right," he said as he came around the front of the car. Again I covered my waist with my hand to protect the finish as I reached with the squeege. Over my shoulder I caught him checking me out, my skinny legs stretching, my tiny chest pressing into the windshield, my country tan lines. I gave him a knowing smirk. He didn't flinch. The pump stopped and I walked around the back to read the amount.

"Forty-nine, twenty-nine," I told him. "Should I top it up to fifty?"

"Nah."

I removed the nozzle, replaced the cap and shut the flap. Then I dropped the squeege back into the bucket with a sploobsh.

"So then," I began as I leaned against the pump. "Still want that drink?"

"All right," he shrugged. I smiled.

"Gimme a minute," I told him and then shouldered off the pump and headed back into the store.

"Want another?" I offered Kennie as I climbed the steps.

"I'm good," she said without moving.

I went to the back and opened the beer fridge. The coolness spilled out and and hit me and I sighed in relief before grabbing two more ciders and shutting the door. By this point Uncle Vern was going to be royally pissed anyway. Two more wouldn't matter. So I'd be in trouble. I was always in some sort of trouble, like when I stuck that karaoke mic in the Lomax's bathroom window while they were getting it on and plugged it into Kennie's Dad's backyard sound system so that the whole block could hear Mrs Lomax cry "Now take it out and pee on me, Bill! Take it out and pee on me!" but I'm digressing. Raiding the liquor cabinet was routine. I walked back out and nodded for the thirsty traveller to follow me around the side of the building. Then I stopped and leaned back against the wall and cracked both bottles with the opener on my pocket keychain.

"It's nicer in the shade," I explained as he approached. Then I handed him one.

"Cherry," he read the label and raised an eyebrow.

"Bottoms up, tops down," I smirked.

"Heh," he chuckled and we both swigged.

"So," I began. "What's your name?"

"Ty."

"Lainey."

"How old are you?" he asked after we shared another swallow.

"Nineteen. You?"

"Twenty-eight," Ty answered after a pause. Then he braced himself casually against the wall with his forearm, his shoulder bulging under his t-shirt. "So tell me Lainey, are all the girls in this town as cute as you?"

"Who cares?" I shrugged and tilted my bottle to my naughty grin. He smiled.

"I like your attitude."

I drank. Ty drank. He tipped it back and sucked down half the bottle. I suppose he had to catch up to me, although that would have been a rather lost cause by that point. He'd been driving for hours and all 105 pounds of me had been knocking them back all afternoon. He savored it and then dropped the bottle to his hip and leaned close. His thick fingers raked back the sweep of my pink-tipped hair from my face and he kissed me. I kissed back. My mouth opened and our tongues stroked at each other. As the kiss deepened, his cider bottle clinked when he braced his other hand against the wall on my other side. I put my arms around him, my bottle dangling from my fingers against his lower back. Our lips smacked and our breath hissed as we made out. After a couple of minutes, he stopped, leaned back and chugged down the rest of his cider, tossing the bottle aside with a blunt clatter as it cracked on the pavement. I swigged too, but mine was still half full so I hung on to it when he leaned back in to pick up where he left off.

His firm paws pinned my shoulders to the wall, heating and dampening me, and I whimpered into his mouth as our tongues recklessly lunged and licked. Soon after, he groped my breast, smooshing my nipple pierced by its titty bar into the fabric of my bandeau and rubbing it about. His thick palm was easily larger than my small breast and after a couple of fondling passes, it slipped under my top to push it upwards and my little hard beige nipple popped out between his fingers. He gave the steel bar a twist and my knees weakened and swayed about beneath me with the sensations. When he began kissing my neck I pulled my top right up, my left breast pierced by its matching bar also falling out and perking, and as his mouth moved further down to close upon it I yelped in delight, certain that Kennie could hear me out front. My left hand stroked playfully into his hair as I took another generous swig of cider.

"You sexy little hottie," he said as he came up for air. I was so ready to fuck him. It seemed that I'd found some adventure for the day after all.

"Yeah?" I grinned. "And what do you do with a sexy little hottie like me?"

"I pin her to the wall and fuck her 'til she can't walk."

A wave convulsed out of my core that squirmed my spine, shuddered my chest, flitted my eyelids and secreted a fresh sheen in my cunt. Ty wasn't the cutest but he wasn't bad looking at all neither. On top of that, he was pushing thirty and built like a fuck machine. There was no one like that around here. I had to give him a try, add his flavor to my list. My fingers tucked into the waist of his jeans and I was about to open his belt when a car rolled by, briefly distracting us. As I heard the tires reach the gravel to leave town I was ready to resume when Ty spoke.

"What's that there?" he asked. I looked up to see him nodding to the corner of the lot along the the old bent fence where a little white Hyundai sat with a 'FOR SALE' sign in the rear seat window.

"That?" I shrugged, wondering why it could suddenly be more important to him than my pussy. "That's my car."

"Yours?"

"Yeah."

"What year is it?"

"What do you mean?" I asked him with a trace of aggro.

"What year is it?" he repeated as he craned his neck to stare at it. I was speechless. He was going to leave me hot and dripping over some lame old car.

"Like oh-three I think," I huffed finally.

"Does it run?"

"Why do you care?"

"Does it run?" he persisted.

"Yeah."

"Why are you selling?"

"Insurance ran out and I can't afford to renew," I explained as I let go of his pants and sat myself down on the dirty pavement. "So what?"

"How much you askin'?"

"Why, you wanna buy it or somethin'?" I almost laughed. Then since we were apparently suddenly done with the hanky-panky, I put my tits away and took another swallow from my drink.

"Maybe," he said contemplatively. "How much?"

"Eight-hundred," I shrugged. "Are you serious about this?"

"Let me test drive it," he said as he stepped back from me and turned towards the car. I thought about it for a moment.

"Well, the decals are expired three months back," I explained, "but if we just go up and down the road a bit no one will know."

"Come on, then," he said and started walking towards my car. I can't say I was impressed with him taking me halfway and stopping, but I couldn't ignore the chance to get my hands on eight-hundred bucks, so I decided to change gears and go along with it. He was up close with my little car, checking it out, shielding the sun from his eyes with his palm to look inside at the interior through the glass.

"I'll get the keys," I sighed. Then I got to my feet, dusted the grit from my skinny ass and headed back into the store.

"Bring us another round," he called out as I stepped out of the shade and back into the blazing heat. I was surprised to see that Kennie wasn't alone. Dustin was there, a boy from Elphinsburg (the next town over) that we both knew had liked her. She stood on the porch leaning forward, arms crossed on the railing, her pale plump cleavage on display in the bright sunlight. Dustin's white tee hung off his skinny frame and his blonde frizz for hair puffed up everywhere as he stood a few feet away in the middle of the lot. He was gaga and he was a total green jeans bore but Kennie enjoyed the attention so she just led him on, letting him gawk even though he didn't stand a chance. Dustin was surprised to see me. I guess he was so focused on Kennie's tits that he hadn't heard me and Ty making out and chattering just around the corner of the building.

"What up, girl?" Kennie asked me as I climbed the steps.

"Gonna take my car for a test drive," I told her. She looked at me kinda funny but said nothing. I went inside and took the keys from where they were kept in the drawer under the counter. Then I went back to the fridge and grabbed another two ciders. When the sun hit me as I stepped back out I could feel a wobble in my legs. I'd done a fair amount of drinking and was beginning to move past the buzz stage. As I crossed the lot I cracked the bottles open with my keychain and handed Ty a cold one. He took it and when he held out his other palm for the keys I passed them over too.

Ty lifted the driver's door handle and when he found it was locked he used the key. He opened it, took a swallow of cider and climbed in. He started the engine. It took a few seconds to kick over as it had been sitting there for weeks, but once it fired up Ty revved the gas a few times.

"Get in," he nodded to the passenger side, then reached across to unlock it for me. I went around and sat in. The interior was a dark grey so it was almost an oven inside and I was just grateful that the upholstery wasn't vinyl. I rolled the window all the way down and sipped my cider. Ty put the car in drive and started across the lot to the road.

"Go left," I pointed. "If you go right and someone sees, they might tell the sheriff or somethin'. I don't need the hassle."

He turned the car left and we rolled past the store where Kennie waved to us from the porch. A couple of seconds later we left the pavement of town. Then Ty stepped on it and the front end lifted up, the wheels spitting gravel everywhere and digging two fresh strips into the dirt.

"Okay so far," he remarked with a shrug. Ty drove with his right hand and drank with his left. He took a moment to roll down his window too and rest his elbow on the door. I looked at the dash. We were doing forty.

"Just go down to the tracks and turn around," I told him. "It's about four miles, and out here it's nothin' but a straight line." Ty drove in silence, tipping his bottle to his mouth a couple of times, his eyes focused down the road. I sat back and drank too. We passed the Grayson's mailbox. That was the one-mile mark. Then Ty sped up. I watched the needle pass fifty, then sixty. The wind started whipping at my hair and I could feel the car sliding around on the gravel every so often. The dust cloud behind us was solid grey-brown and billowing out like a rocket trail. "You like to drive fast?" I asked him, raising my voice over the engine and the clatter of gravel under the car. When he didn't answer I felt a twinge of concern, but since I hadn't been out for a drive in a while and as tipsy as I was it was actually pretty fun. We were getting away with it all. I wasn't wearing a seatbelt and neither was he, and I wasn't sure about the airbags. We had no protection whatsoever. It was a small thrill that I hadn't had in some time. A minute later we passed Hobey's tractor on the left. Hobey was this old guy from before I was born who farmed with this old tractor from like World War II until one day when he was like ninety years old he died while riding it in the field during planting. No one ever moved the thing afterwards and it sat rusting for decades. It was a local landmark and kids would sit on it and drink and smoke weed. Kennie even fucked Stu Abbott on it just before graduation. I checked the speed again. We were going seventy-five and creeping towards eighty. I didn't think that my little car would even go that fast. I drank again. Poplar Woods were approaching in a hurry. It was a grove of trees that stretched about a hundred yards on either side of the road. Just beyond that were the tracks.

"Once you get to those woods you'll wanna slow down," I warned him, my little voice straining against the incessant ragged noise. "The tracks are right after and they're raised like a ramp." All the kids in town knew this. It was a lark to drive over the tracks really fast to see if you could get some air, but usually they did it at around sixty and often in a four-by-four truck. Last year, Chase Jamison tried it in his Volkswagen. He figured a little car like that would really launch. Apparently it did and when he landed he busted something in his engine and wound up in the ditch with a broken arm. My Hyundai was right about the same size.