Julie Tillman found herself walking alone on the side of a deserted highway in the middle of Texas. She stomped along uneasily, shifting her purse on her shoulder and closing her fingers tightly around the high heels that she carried. She kept glancing at the sun as it lingered near the horizon. It would set soon and there was nothing but empty fields of dirt around her. She knew that she needed to find somewhere to stay; the nights were cold and full of dangers. She remembered watching an Animal Planet show about the coyotes native to southwest America. As she tried to push the thought of hungry animals out of her mind, she began to recount the day's events.
She had gotten a late start on her trip to visit her daughter in San Antonio. It was nearly a thirteen hour drive, and she had to make it alone because her husband, Eric, was busy working with a "high-profile client," whatever that meant. She had forgotten to charge her phone before leaving, and it was dead less than two hours into the trip. To top it off, her car broke down on an empty stretch of highway. She now regretted telling Eric not to waste money on one of those dashboard car emergency services. Julie had popped the hood and stared blankly into the smoking engine; she knew nothing of mechanics and knew she couldn't fix this. She needed to find a phone so she could tell her husband and daughter what happened, get a tow truck, and get the repairs she needed. Standing around wouldn't help, so she began trudging down the road. The late afternoon sun beat down on her, and she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, allowing her cleavage to air out. She took off her heels to walk easier and prevent blisters shortly into her journey. Her skirt kept riding up her legs; Julie found herself constantly having to pull it down or risk giving any potential rescuer a view of her skimpy undergarments. 'Maybe that isn't a bad thing,' she thought. She had been walking nearly three hours, now, and she was beat.
The howl of a coyote in the distance brought Julie back to reality. She nervously glanced around, unconsciously clutching her purse close to her chest. She retrieved her phone and stared blankly at it. Still dead. She briefly wondered why she had thought the battery might miraculously come to life to save her in her time of need. Another howl answered the first. They were in the distance, but Julie knew the animals would become more courageous when the sun no longer blazed in the sky.
She began to walk faster, hoping that she might find a measly motel or gas station that she could seek refuge in for the night. She could see nothing at all in the distance. Dismayed, she hung her head. She wondered how long before the coyotes found her. 'No more than an hour after sunset...I hope I'm rescued before then,' she thought. As if someone had listened to her mental prayers, she heard the rumble of an engine in the distance. She whirled around and stared, trying to locate the source. It was difficult to see in the fading daylight, but she was able to make out headlights in the distance. It appeared to be a tractor trailer. She squealed in glee, then began jumping up and down, waving her hands over her head.
The truck approached, slowed, and stopped. Ecstatic, Julie hopped onto the large bottom step and opened the door. She saw a black man grinning down at her. He looked muscular, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. He had a chiseled face and a square jaw. His hair was short and well groomed. If he were white, he'd be exactly the kind of guy she liked...well, if she were single. Julie lifted her leg high from the step into the cab, causing the skirt she wore to slide high up her thighs, exposing her thin white thong. She glanced around the cab as she pulled herself up: typical; two large seats in the front separated by a small aisle that led to what appeared to be a miniature living area, housing a thin mattress and a semi-private latrine. She briefly wondered if this man lived in his truck. It was no mansion, but it was much more spacious than Julie would have guessed before seeing it.
"Hello there! Looks like you might need some help!" the man said, staring unabashedly at her exposed panties. She knew he was getting a free show, but she was too overjoyed to care. "Well ain't you a pretty little thing?" The man looked down at the thin white woman, mentally assessing her: brunette, hair just brushing past her thin shoulders, toned legs, flat stomach, and large breasts. He estimated them to be at least D's. He couldn't tell, but he figured she had a nice, round ass, too. Perfect little white body.
Blushing and pulling herself fully into the cab, she replied, "Um, yes, thank you...I'm so glad you came!" She tugged her skirt down and continued. "I thought I was done for...my car broke down pretty far back; I've been walking all this way..."
"I saw a car a ways back; I wondered who it belonged to. Not many people on this road these days. Why didn't you just call someone...ma'am?" he inquired, moving his eyes up slowly from her tan skirt to her face, lingering momentarily on the breasts that were more exposed than Julie would have liked. She shrugged it off, not wanting to offend the man that had come to her rescue.
"It's Julie. Julie Tillman," she said, "and my phone is dead. I guess I was talking too much on the drive." She sat down in the passenger seat, placing her hands in her lap and staring forward somewhat uncomfortably. There weren't many black men where Julie lived, and she wasn't sure how to act around him. He was much more forward than the men in her area. Sure, she turned heads on her morning jogs, but none of the men would ever openly stare at her breasts or butt if they knew she was aware of them. This man was different; he had no problem keeping his eyes on her body.
"Aw, that's some luck, eh? Well, I'm here now, sugar. My name is Marcus Fields, truck driver and deliveryman extraordinaire, " the black man said with a smile. As she settled down a little, she began to realize that this man was more muscular than she originally thought. "Now, down to business. Where are you headed?"
"Well, I was on my way to San Antonio when my car broke down, but I'd be happy just getting a lift to a gas station or hotel."
"Well what do you know. I'm headed to San Antonio, too. I don't mind taking you up to the truck stop up ahead, though. You'll be able to stop and pick up a phone charger for you so you can notify your...husband," Marcus said as he glanced at the shining ring on her left hand, placing a subtle negative inflection on the last word.
"That would be great! You're a lifesaver, Marcus!" Julie exitedly said. Marcus eyed her slyly. He loved turning white women into black cock sluts, and he could see the possibility of this fine specimen being converted...if he played his cards right, of course. He decided to take his chances with her.
"Well, hold on now, sugar. I'm sure you're familiar with 'the rules of the road,' right?"
"Um, well...I'm supposed to give you gas money or something, right?"
"Some places do that. But here, in Marcus's truck, the rule is this: you gotta make me cum."
Julie laughed incredulously. "Excuse me? Make you what?"
"Make me cum," Marcus replied, keeping his eyes on the thin white woman in front of him.
"No. No way. First of all, I'm married; secondly, just no," she said. "I'll get a ride with someone that isn't a complete pervert!" She began to stand and open the door.
"Suit yourself. I'm sure the coyotes think you have a nice body, too," Marcus grinned.
This gave Julie pause. They both knew he was right. She closed the door and slumped down.
"Don't sweat it, baby," Marcus laughed, "a hot little white thing like you should be able to get me off in no time!"
