When Sheila's awareness returned, she found herself on her knees, an erect penis inches away from her face. An odor assailed her nose that was a combination of urine, sweat, cigarettes and manly musk. Unconsciously, her nostrils flared as her lungs hungrily breathed in, the offensive miasma making her stomach queasy, but some primal aspect to it also causing her panties to moisten in arousal. She dared a glance up to find a large man in his late 40's staring down at her. From her vantage point, he towered over her, wearing a stained tee shirt, leather vest and truckers cap. A three day growth of salt-and-pepper stubble cover the lower half of his round face.
"Well, go on, girl. We had a deal and that dick's not going to suck itself." His voice was deep. Not unkind, but also not joking around.
She fought the urge to flee, fought the rising panic and rapid beating of her heart. She focused on the hard dick in front of her. Clung to it like it was the only real thing in a world that had become wholly surreal. As repelled as she was by this situation, her mouth watered at the stiff piece of meat in front of her and she hesitantly reached out to touch it. The soft, velvety warmth of it sent electric tingles along her fingers and she plunged her face into the prickly grey pubic hair to nuzzle his erection. A low moan of approval from the man urged her on and she felt her blood rush to her groin, her pussy lips and clit swelling with need.
She took the entire 5 inches of the thick shaft into her mouth, her forehead bumping into his large gut and nearly gagging on the salty, sour taste of it. She forced herself to lap at the bulbous tip while her lips gently suctioned the base. Despite her self disgust at sucking a strangers dick between parked semi's in a highway rest stop, she found herself unbelievably turned on. She longed to touch herself, to drive her fingers deep inside of her, to rub between her legs, but she knew that that was forbidden. At least the cock in her mouth provided some relief.
"You sure know how to suck a dick like a grade-A slut." He grunted, patting her on the head with his large, nicotine stained hand. "Why don't you take that shirt off and let me see those pretty titties one last time."
Sheila looked up at him with her large brown eyes, mascara and blue eye shadow painted on two states ago in the cab of a truck. Obediently she took off her tee shirt, furtively looking around to check for potential voyeurs. Her face burned with shame knowing that at any moment, someone may walk by and she her on her knees, tits hanging out, with a dick in her mouth like a truck stop whore. The rest of her body was on fire, burning with desire, her pussy soaked and aching with the desire to be filled. She briefly considered just bending over and offering herself to him, to his hard cock, but then the horror of what she was doing struck her and she focused on finishing him off as quickly as possible.
"Oh, gawd, honey, I'm gonna cum. Your little mouth is suckin' the juice right outta my balls."
Her head moved rapidly between his legs, as one of her hands cupped and fondled his hairy scrotum. His balls contracted, as she felt his dick pulsate in her mouth and the first gout of milky sperm slide down her throat. She kept swallowing as he pumped spurt after spurt of cum into her. She made a face, wincing at the bitter and salty flavor of his seed, but making sure not a single drop was wasted.
The warmth of him in her belly made her realize the full weight of what she had done and she struggled for a moment with her rising gorge. Once she regained some level of control, she quickly stood up and wiped the drool from her lips and chin with her shirt, before hurriedly putting it back on. She kept her eyes cast down at the asphalt, while the stranger tucked himself away and buckled back up. Too ashamed to meet his gaze, she wished she could just shrink into the earth, that it would swallow her up and take her away from the gnawing lust that made her a slave to her desires.
As an escape, she allowed her thoughts to travel back in time, hardly any time at all, really, though it seemed like a lifetime ago, to the times when she had a life. She could still remember having a family that loved her, a beautiful house to live in, friends to keep her company. What she missed the most, however, was a sense of control, the belief that her life was her's to decide. She had taken it all for granted and without a thought incurred the wrath of someone she thought unimportant, inconsequential. How wrong she was, how very, horribly wrong.
So distracted by her own thoughts, she momentarily lost sense of where she was until the loud thump shocked her to the present. The trucker had gotten her backpack from the cab of his truck and thrown it at her feet.
"Well, it sure was nice having you ride along with me, darlin', but this is as far West as I go. I'm headed South, down to Louisiana. With those big ole' titties of yours, and how much you seem to like bein' on your knees, I don't think you'll have that hard a time finding a ride out to California. You take care now, there's some dangerous people out there."
He climbed back into his truck without another word and started the engine, taking just enough time to leer at Sheila, before driving off. She fought the exhaustion that threatened to wash over her and picked up her bag before heading towards the rest stop. It was one of the larger ones she had seen, with a few restaurants, a convenience store and a gas station collected in a single, generic, cinderblock-deco building. Her only thought though was to get something to wash the taste of the trucker's sperm out of her mouth.
After stepping inside, Sheila had to pause momentarily to adjust to the cool, stale air and the harsh, fluorescent lights. The greasy smell of fried food caused her stomach to grumble, but she made a bee line for the ladies room to check her appearance. She hardly recognized herself reflected in the large mirror. Her dark, unwashed hair hung limply around her face. Her eyes were ringed with mascara that looked like it had been applied days ago and her complexion was sallow. She wore a garish yellow t-shirt that was stretched tight across her large breasts. Here and there were crusty stains that she knew were cum from who knew how many truckers. Her faded jeans hung low on her wide hips, hugging her firm buttocks and ample thighs, but were so torn that they revealed as much skin as they hid.
She turned from side to side to look at herself from a few different angles. "Other than needing a shower," she thought to her self, "I can't believe how good my body looks. Have my breasts grown bigger?" Her nipples stiffened from gazing at herself, marveling at how completely slutty she looked. So entranced, she unconsciously brought one of her hands up to fondle and tweet them through the thin cotton, producing a low moan and sending a shudder of pleasure throughout her body. A middle-aged woman entered the bathroom, breaking the spell and sending an instant flood of shame that filled her up, but did nothing to dispel the arousal. Not daring to look at the woman, Sheila rummaged through her bag for her toothbrush.
After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she looked at herself one more time to brace herself for actually walking out and interacting with people. She began to feel a bit more stable and self-assured, but then, with a rapid flutter of her heart, she felt the presence awaken within her.
"Ah, the heartland of America. I'm sure you'll feel right at home with all the other whores in here." The demon that now dwelled within her spoke in a deep voice that seemed to fill her mind and reverberate through her entire body. She had never believed in the supernatural, in curses, but that was so very long ago and now she couldn't remember the last time she had control of her own actions. A deep pang of despair struck her and she struggled to fight back the tears that welled up in her eyes.
"Now, now. None of that. We have work to do and you know what will happen if you lose control now. Who knows what I might make you do." The powerful voice gripped her with a fear that beat her sorrow back down, deep inside her. She knew. She had some idea of what would happen and that knowledge allowed her to stem the flow of tears and walk determinedly out of the restroom. A storm of conflicting emotions tugged at Sheila, but a ravenous hunger cut through it all driving her in the direction the closest fast-food restaurant. Captivated by the smell of food, she moved towards the aroma as if hypnotized, but then stopped short as she placed her hands in her pockets.
As she stared, crestfallen, at the two nickels in her hands, the demon began to speak.
"What's the matter? That trucker's load not enough for you? You were on your knees earning your hot meal just a few minutes ago." She seemed to feel, more than hear, the words, as they rumbled through her. The memory they brought back to her was like a reliving of the event. The hard, rough asphalt under her knees, the trucker's hands entangled in her hair as they drew her face onto his groin, filling her mouth, the smells of gasoline and masculine musk as her nose was pressed into his pubic hair. She felt a heat between her legs and her panties moisten, while simultaneously a deep humiliation weighed down upon her realizing that she had become a truck stop whore. Reading her innermost thoughts, the demon continued to torment her.
"Of course you're a whore. You saw yourself; you're dressed like a complete slut. Your tits are almost busting out of your shirt. And, oh, look, your nipples are hard." Sheila looked down at her breasts, though she didn't need to. Her nipples felt engorged, hard and so sensitive against the straining fabric of her shirt. Oh, how she longed to touch them. She had always been well endowed, but lately it seemed as if her breasts had grown to a cartoonish size. She may have been more curious about this had her life not become one of constant sexual need and depravity.
As degrading as the demon's litany was, the low rumble of it sent thrill after thrill through her body, soaking her panties and causing her sphincter to clench and relax, aching to be filled. It continued resonate through her, her grumbling stomach now joined by a different hunger, her most sensitive parts now tingling, longing to be touched.
"I've possessed a lot of stupid bitches in my day, but you are dumber than the succubi of the second circle! Have I made your life a living hell? Fuck, yeah, I have, and it ain't gonna get better. But having me inside you does provide some benefits, if you haven't noticed. Now walk in there and whore yourself out for some cheeseburgers!"
Too exhausted to keep fighting this constant background chatter, telling her that she was a worthless slut, only happy when she is on her knees. This inner voice bestowing titles upon her like cum dumpster, cock holster, piss mop and more, slowly convincing her of her new station in life. She scanned the restaurant with new eyes, flitting from table to table, looking at the people, each one filling her with desire.
The thirty-something mother with her four year-old son and full, round breasts encased in a silky, button up blouse. The huge, black state patrol officer, his muscular shoulders straining the fabric of his dark, blue uniform and a big gun at his hip. A rough, long-haired man in black leather and tattoos covering his muscular arms.
