"C'mon, Girl, I got to be on the road. If you want that ride, you best be pulling your pants up and get to moving." That was the extend of his pillow talk as he buckled his belt and started to walk away from her.
Sheila quickly shook her head to free it from the blissful daze she was lost in. Quickly pulling her pants up, she spared one second to glare at the older trucker, still leering at her, before grabbing her bag and running after the man who had just deposited a load of cum inside her. She could feel the cooling wetness running out of her, dampening the crotch of her jeans and smearing down her thighs.
She saw Howie climb into the driver's side of a nondescript, white box truck covered in grime. She scrambled into the passenger side, though to secure her seat she needed to push piles of food wrappers, soda cans and other detritus out of the way. She barely had time to buckle her seat belt, as he started up the engine and began to leave the rest stop and move back onto the freeway.
"What the fuck was that, Asshole? Fucking me standing up against a truck? Letting that asshole take pictures of me? I would have, you know, 'paid' you back for the ride, but we could have done it somewhere private. I thought you were nice." She crossed her arms and pouted in her seat.
"Aww, now don't be like that. I am nice. I just had an itch that needed to be scratched and I couldn't wait. We've got a long drive ahead of us and you don't want me being all tense and horny, do you? I know you'd get to it in your own time, but there's no time like the present. And besides, it aint like you haven't done that, and worse, before. I know you're a slut, tried and true. You don't need to pretend with me." He glanced over at her briefly and then looked back at the road, but placed his hand on her thigh and gave it a little squeeze.
"What do you mean, 'like I haven't done that' before? How did that guy know me? Whats going on?"
"Well, shit, darlin'. You're famous. I can't believe I'm actually talking in a real, live porn star. I would say that you truly have gone viral. I'm surprised that you don't have your own web site. But I guess when you're having as much fun as you are, you don't really have time for the technical details." Howie told her this as if talking to a child who didn't know why it was wrong to steal, never taking his eyes off the road. He controlled the steering wheel with practiced ease using one hand while the other fished around in a worn bike bag wedged in between his seat and the center console. It emerged holding an electronic tablet device, which he turned on with the touch of a button before handing it to her. "Open that file there that says 'Darling of the Interstate'."
Upon opening it, she saw that it contained a collection of mp4 video files. Opening one after the other, she stared, mouth agape, as she watched video after video showing her in the most obscene acts. She watched as an unseen cameraman recorded her sucking on the cocks of two men, holding their thick members in her hands, turning her head, first to engulf one with her mouth, face bobbing back and forth into his crotch, then wrapping her lips around the other, face slick with saliva that dripped down her chin. While she ultimately jacked them off into her open mouth, much of their sperm splattering onto her hair and face, coating her with goo. Looking closer, she could make out that she was also sitting on the cock of a third, his hand grasping her hips as he pumped himself in and out of her.
She spent several moments gazing at the screen, bitterly ashamed at how much of a slut she appeared to be, but also deeply aroused at the thought of all these cocks inside of her, all the creamy sperm she seemed determined to cover herself with. There she was on all fours, hard, veiny shafts thrusting into her ass, pussy and mouth. There she was on her knees, a circle of naked men standing around her. Those she was not fellating, or tugging on their erections with skillful vigor, were jerking their own dicks off, to finally rain their sperm down upon her, covering her in cum.
"Oh, my God!" she said, "how did you get these? Where did they come from?" Not once did she take her eyes off the screen, horrified that complete strangers had recognized her from this whorish behavior, yet feeling a familiar heat rise from between her legs. She felt her nipples harden and her face and chest flush hot.
"Where did they come from? Well, if you don't know, I sure as hell don't. These have been posted all over the internet. Just go to most any porn site and search for 'truck stop whore' and there you are. One or two of them even have a name for you."
Sure enough, one identified her as Sheila Benson. Her heart sunk knowing that her real name meant that everyone she knew had probably seen this by now. Her father, her mother, her friends, the maids and butlers that worked for her family; they could all see what depths she had fallen too. A tight knot of despair tangled up in the pit of her stomach with a flame of sexual longing. The ultimate humiliation was knowing that she wanted these men, these faceless strangers to fill her up, with their cocks, with their cum, as her crotch grew moist and yearned to be invaded again and again.
"Slow down, Honey, you're gonna get all the attention you can handle in a little while."
Howie's statement snapped her out out of the hypnotic state that watching herself had put her in, and she realized that she was using one hand to rub herself between her legs. The frantic motions of her fingers had brought her to a frenzied state. Horrified at the brazen display she was putting on for this man, it horrified her further that she was so in need that she was going to ask him to pull over and fuck her. She looked him over, naked lust in her eyes, but also realizing that he saw her as little more than a piece of meat, a cum rag, something to be used and then thrown away. And perhaps that is what she had become. Her need was so great right now that utter humiliation and debasement was something she would endure, though she already knew she would regret it later and mourn the loss of her dignity.
These thoughts all tumbled over each other in her head, while Howie turned to look at her, a lecherous grin on his unshaven face. His eyes clearly showed that he thought of her as something less than human, a set of wet holes to be violated. That look and the thought of violation nearly brought her over the edge, and she howled inside in frustration, knowing that her curse would not allow her to orgasm by her own hand.
Overcoming the shame she felt, she opened her mouth, her desperate plea to be fucked straining to come out, but was cut shot by the high pitched sound of a police siren. In an instant, she saw Howie's leer change into a look of stark panic and his eyes darted to the rear view mirror. He cursed under his breath and deliberated for a moment. To Sheila, he seemed to struggle internally with whether to pull over or to run, speeding away as fast as he could. His nervousness was infectious and a sharp stab of panic pierced her chest, feeling at once that her situation was even more dangerous than she had assumed it to be.
The mood in the cab of the truck was tense was it slowed and pulled over to the shoulder of the highway. Howie gripped the wheel, white knuckle tight, staring through the windshield to the horizon. Sheila looked at Howie, her face a mask of concern, hands gripping her knees, all thoughts of hot flesh on top of hers, inside of hers, pushed as far into the background as it had ever been since the curse had taken her. But it was never gone.
