A long drag of a cigarette lit up the small space the two of them occupied in a dim amber glow. The trip had dragged on for some time, and it wasn't exactly the easiest trek for anyone to take. The pair was tired, and both wanting to get o a place to call home. Liz and Sylvia had started this trip together hopping trains across the USA as a mourning of the last bit of irresponsibility they could achieve before heading off to graduate school in the fall, the one last gasp of punk the two had remaining in their slowly-conforming bones. Sylvia hadn't lasted more than Nebraska before she had given up the challenge the two had set out to complete; the evenings of hostel showers when they were available, the atrocious food, the lack of a bed of any kind on a night here and there.
Liz persisted. The young woman had embraced the lifestyle wholeheartedly and enjoyed the thrill of her lack of responsibilities, her lack of feeling rushed and stressed, the complete ecstasy of abandon. It was at some point going through the passes of Montana that she decided to take a break from the racket of the rail line cargo freights and take it easy in the town of Bozeman. The mountains and the views were unlike anything she had seen growing up in Baltimore, and the air was so crisp and cool.
That's how Liz found herself behind this bar, talking with some man from the restaurant as the shared a cigarette back and forth. He was handsome in a small-town-boy kind of way, clearly toned from some of the labor he was involved in nearby. The atmosphere around him was dissimilar to the folks she had known in the cities, and free from the typical concerned judgment of the Midwesterners she had run across previously in the Dakotas and Wyoming. This man was calm, always smiling through half-closed eyes and chuckling with a warm attention to each word Liz spoke.
"It's a courage I don't think I have," he said with a contended grin as he pulled once again. "Besides, it's gotta be rough to take a piss hanging your ass off the side of a freight."
"Upper arm strength, cowboy." Liz laughed as she took the cigarette back and took a drag.
"Quarryboy. Not nearly as romantic, I'm afraid." The self-deprecation was punctuated with a grunting chuckle.
"Oh, don't worry," the words broke from a sly grin. "I'm still impressed with your physical strength, hauling rocks all day."
The quarryboy laughed against and winked, "you really don't know shit about life out of the city, do you? It's a bulldozer hauling those rocks. I go to the gym like everybody else."
Liz had no clever response, so she simply shoved his arm as she passed him back the cigarette. The meager beers he had in the bar were wearing away the buzz of the evening, and she was beginning to feel tired. "Look, q-boy, it's been nice. But I need a place to sleep tonight. I don't image there's a hostel or a room for rent nearby you know of?"
"The only place that'll take you in on the cheap is a shelter, and I doubt you wanna stay there. I've got a place nearby if you'd like to take the bed. I'll take the couch. Roommate is pretty quiet, and the sun doesn't hit the windows until 9AM."
"How gentlemanly of you!" Another smirk. Liz considered it for a moment be rejoined with, "but you're probably in no shape to drive. And I noticed you've got that exceptional piece of country machinery they call a pickup out front. So why don't we just take it a couple blocks over down to the tracks, and watch the stars for a minute?"
"Well," he said, affecting as much of accent as he could muster, "mama did teach me to make sure to let the girls have their way, now."
"As long as mama told you to watch out for girls like me, with their dyed hair and devily rock music."
The two laughed together as they walked down the alleyway to the truck. Liz collapsed into the back as the man got in the cab and drove a short stint down the road to the nearby tracks. The air was still warm from the unusually hot summer day, and the plastic cover of the flatbed still retained some of the residual heat from baking in the sunlight. The stars ran past overhead as Liz lay there, more beautiful than any planetarium she had seen in her youth. A cloudless sky, a full moon, and the total stillness of her world in that flatbed.
The truck lurched to an inelegant stop on the tree line next to the tracks. Liz stayed motionless as she heard the door to the cab open and close, feeling the truck rumble as the man jumped over the side onto a spot next to her.
"It's so quiet out, even on the weekend."
"That's how it is in a town like this, not much of a nightlife. We kinda just do as we want and enjoy the big empty all around us. Where're you headed to?"
"Portland, I think. I was considering going down to California, but time is running out before I need to get back."
"Never been," he said with a dreamy demeanor. "Bozeman's just kinda been it. I'd wanna check it out, but time and money get in the way. Sometimes I'll head down to Coeur D'Alene, but that's about it. Make sure you see it on your way through Idaho. Last bit of blue waters you can find out there."
"Hah, well, you're not missing out on much. Usually cities are the same. And we've got none of this nature."
Liz focused on the man for a minute in the moonlight. He had strong features, a little heavy for her liking, but definitely still attractive. His hair was cut short, nearly buzzed to the scalp, with a matching stubble along his face. His eyes were bright, even in this dark, and filled with a sort of mischievous humor that was magnetic to Liz.
As an hour passed of conversation, she had come to realize how close she had managed to slide towards him, and he to her. Liz pulled herself on top of him and kissed him deeply. The slight tang of cigarettes and cheap beer remined her of younger years at basement shows and back alley venues, plunging her into a fit of nostalgia and lust. He reciprocated the advance and pulled her closely to him. There was the strong smell of his body, the scent of his accumulated day. Her own unwashed self hadn't had a shower in at least a couple days, but it didn't seem to bother the man. If anything, the strong scents of their bodies and the pheromones therein made the two more desperate to become closer, with some primal urge taking over the two of them.
Pushing him away for a moment, Liz started to undo her elaborate belt and steel toed boots. The man simply propped himself up on one arm and watched amorously. She peeled away her dirty leggings to reveal her long and toned legs, unashamed of herself in that moment. She bundled her roughly-dyed green hair, already showing roots from the journey, into a lazy bun as her bangs and sides fell forward. Her dark eye makeup smudged but highlighting her pale blue eyes. She grabbed him and pulled him closely again, kissing him passionately as their tongues began to explore one another in a tight embrace.
Within moments, the man pushed away and began to pull his shirt away. Liz hadn't seen a man like him in the Baltimore punk scene. He was muscled, clearly tanned from his outdoor labors and time in the gym, and had a perfect patch of hair across his chest. The man was entirely proportionate in his physique, nothing grotesque, simply the product of discipline. Liz felt her own gaze lingering longer than she was proud for, which he had noticed as well.
He lifted her up onto the top of the truck cab and pulled down what little fabric remained. He buried his tongue deep inside of her as he held her hips in his hands. The sensation was overwhelming, having been lacking affection for so long on this long journey.
Legs over his shoulders, Liz dug inside her vest for the joint she had been saving. She lit it and took a long puff as she looked down at the man kneeling in the flatbed, hungrily devouring her cunt.
"Weed makes me come harder," she said with a giggle. "And I fully intend to take advantage of this moment"
He stopped for a moment, "one for me?"
Liz passed him the joint as he took a few drags, still playing with her clit with his free hand. Passing it back, he immediately went back to work. Finishing the rest of the joint, Liz felt her face flush and a sense of pure joy as his tongue kept working across her clit with such delicate speed. A component was missing, something inside of her, that made this damnably pleasurable experience just feel like one long tease. However, she didn't have the heart to stop him, nor the desire for the teasing to end. Liz simply placed a hand on the back of his head, holding the joint in one hand and ground her mons onto his lips as his tongue snaked beneath.
One of his hands left her hips as she heard him struggling against his own pants, then the sound of slapping flesh as he pleasured himself to the taste of her body and each drop from her lips. Just knowing that he was so aroused brought her closer to climax, prompting her next move.
Liz kicked the man away as she pulled her shirt away. Her stomach was just as toned as the rest of her, both of her small breasts were naked to the night air, stiff with anticipation.
Putting her feet on both of his shoulders, she played with her clit as she leaned back on one hand, "you're going to beg for it."
The man nodded as he held his cock, crouched on his knees. His expression was of submission and hunger, motionless as Liz played with herself in front of him. The moonlight was bright enough that he could see her lips shine with wetness and satisfaction. Liz's feet began to strain against his shoulders, but he held fast. Her pace quickened as she lay fully back onto the top of the truck cab and used her free hand to explore her stomach and breasts. All the while, the man held fast.
There was still a layer of shyness to conquer, so Liz stifled her first orgasm into soft moans and the gritting of teeth. She could feel a pulse of come gently pour onto her fingers as she kept her rapid pace until her back began to arch with a grunt.
