The Open Road

All night long, at the Louisiana state line, I could not lose––not with Kylie blowing on the dice, not with her full California lips smooching sweet luck into our numbers––making them sizzle, making any-sevens every time. When luck courts your woman, you know your woman's fine as they come, and Kylie surely was. And for a hundred-fifty miles I watched that fine woman sleep next to me, the morning light gracing her thigh where her short, flimsy, green dress rode way far up during the night, and I knew if I didn't get me a piece of that booty soon, I'd run our Totyota pickup into an old cow fence.

But I also grown real hungry for food, and my eyes left my wife's black panties in search of someplace to eat alongside the long Texas 10. Our trip to the riverboat craps table had paid big, leaving a sweet seven-hundred burning in my pocket, so I itched to reward Kylie with fresh croissants and espresso, but such a thing doesn't exist between Huston and San Antonio, and I instead pulled into a diner boasting the best waffles in Texas.

Kylie began stirring as our truck bumped up the pounded dirt driveway and crunched into the gravel lot. I then noticed the building directly behind the diner, and followed through to its larger lot. It belonged to a titty-bar, and I saw a sweet chance to get a little rise out of my wife.

She ran a hand through her spiky brown hair as her turquoise eyes twitched open and peered through the bug splattered windshield. She immediately read out loud the sign mounted on the building's tin roof. "The Road Hump Gentleman's Club?"

"We've got ourselves seven hundred bucks––time to have a little fun!"

"You'd better be kidding me, or you're about to be two balls short of a pair."

I bounced out my door and went around to hers. I took her hand, leading her out of the cab, and as her back lifted away from the vinyl seat, I could see her dress was soaked down her backside.

"Damn it! I'm so done with the constant sweating. How did you ever live here?"

"Easy, baby––we Southerner's, our hide is thicker, like tire tread." I pinched the skin around my bicep to prove it. "And I was broke in––humidity on me all day and Southern girlies on me all night."

I began leading her towards the diner, but she stopped.

"Albee, come on, there's nothing remotely vegetarian here. Can't we just get to San Antonio?"

"What about the best waffles in Texas? I've seen you eat eggs!"

"

Organic

!"

"

Damn

, can you be more difficult?"

I gave her a push from behind, making her march towards the diner. "I gotta eat something, sugar shackles. I'll get you some toast and coffee, and we'll stop again at some hippy hangout in San Antonio where you can eat hummus and sprouts and I can burn a fatty."

She walked ahead of me and spoke over her shoulder. "Eat what I do for one week and you'll feel so clean inside you won't ever wanna eat this crap."

"Well, maybe you oughta eat some crap for a week and pack some meat on your bones." I raced up behind her, reached around to squeeze her boobs, and let her know exactly where I imagined that extra bit of packing would go.

"You ding-dong! You sure are full of yourself this morning. And if you don't like my tits, I know plenty who do."

Her twenty-five-year old perky tits were perfect, and she fucking well knew it, so I had to give her shit, 'cause it's the only to keep a heart stopper like Kylie interested. She wouldn't have married some punk gushing all over her––she'd craved a leading man.

The sun had just broken off from the flat lavender horizon, and Kylie rubbed her eyes while I pulled the glass door. As my wife made her way to the single bathroom to brush her teeth and take a paper towel bath, I took a counter seat and tapped to get the waitress' attention. She was in her fifties, with a face that aged nicely around her wide smile.

"Hi doll, what can I do you for this morning?"

"Two coffees, and couple pieces of toast, and big OJ––all to go, Ma'am, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. You want a couple of the little jam packets with you're toast?

"No thanks, Ma'am!"

Business was slow, and I felt bad for ordering so little. I sat at the corner of the counter, close to a booth occupied by a sleepy looking trucker. I was itching with excitement, and the silent, worn out, little diner begged for some noise. I swiveled my stool around and asked the sleepy trucker where he headed.

"Going out to Blanco, and then wherever Central Freight sends me next."

The waitress had come around to pour him more coffee. "And all these years I thought you just come our way for a piece of Manny's apple pie."

I couldn't resist her kindness anymore. "Ma'am, I'll take a slice of that on a plate."

"You betchya, doll!"

The trucker smiled at her as she headed back behind the counter, and then flagged me to lean towards him.

"Don't tell Darlene, but I really comes through here for the pie they serving round back at the Road Hump." He winked at me and I smelled whisky on his breath. He must have slept in the big truck parked along the very back of the Road Hump lot, about thirty feet from where I parked my Toyota pickup.

"There's gotta be more churches than 7-11s in this town, you telling me they let that kind shit fly here?"

"Hell, Sherriff knows what's going on, and he always come back for more––

ha

!"

I then saw a chance to rile up the mood, and brewed up a little lie.

"Good to know! Though, it's a shame ya gotta be on the road tonight, 'cause Road Hump just got themselves some new stock."

"You ain't talking about that cute thing come in with ya?"

"Sho'nuf am!"

"Sweet mother of pearl, she is damn sho' cuter 'n' anything set foot on that stage in my ten years riggin' through here. She gonna make a mint."

I whipped out my wallet and flashed the trucker the seven-hundred we won at craps. "That's one nights work in the French Quarter. Lots a table dances in that stack, but most gets made around back." This time

I

winked.

"Well I'm passing here at least two times a month. What's her name––'cause I sho' is hell gonna ask for her."

I told him, and he seemed to brighten up like he swallowed a chunk of sunshine. He introduced himself as Colin, and we shook hands. My pie arrived then and I turned back around for a couple of bites. Kylie stepped out of the single bathroom and we both looked her way. She looked so fucking good as she walked towards us––a little dirty, a little tired, and a bit fogged over from our wild night at the riverboat––all of it divulging she was more badass than this little town could handle. I introduced her to Colin, she politely smiled, and then I told her to finish off the pie while I quickly hit the head.

As I stepped through the bathroom door, I looked back to see Colin eyeing up Kylie as she hunted through the pie for chunks of apple. I figured the trucker wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut, not with the big smile he had going, and he had no idea what messing with Kylie meant. That trucker was gonna trigger a mouthful outta her fo' sho'!

While pissing in the head I heard a loud crash. I shook, zipped, flushed and ran back to the diner. The trucker sat in his booth wiping off his shirt with a napkin, as the waitress rushed over with a damp rag. Apple pie had splattered all over his front side, and shards of plate were on the floor. Kylie was gone.

"Shit! What happen to you?"

"That bitch of yers is crazy, that's what happened to me."

I slapped a twenty on the counter. "For your trouble, Ma'am." I then turned to the trucker. "If I gotta come back in here, it's gonna be bad!"

The waitress froze in fear, but the trucker remained calm. Still, he knew better than to say what he must have been thinking, so I went for Kylie.

She sat on the lowered tailgate and eye-balled me crossing the lot. "Did you tell that old gross trucker I was a dancer?"

"He wasn't that old and he wasn't that gross."

"The way he looked at me was totally gross, like I was on the menu."

"Well, I might have said something about you starting at the Road Hump."

"Goddammit, Albee, why would you tell him such a thing?"

"I don't know. The thought of your gorgeous body draped around a pole, dancing up there like the world belongs to you––

and it does

––it ain't seemed like such a bad thought. It painted a real pretty picture in my mind, baby, I couldn't keep it to myself."

Kylie's always strived to be something more than just pretty, and she'd succeeded, earning good money as a pharmacist, but it still warms a woman to hear she's sexy as all-fuck, and her tone softened some.

"Well what in the hell were you hoping to accomplish making up something like that?"

"I thought I'd show you some of the old, nasty South, and maybe you'd give 'em back some of your uppity California snap. But I had no idea you'd plaster him to the wall with apple pie––

plate and all

!"

"You know what he said to me?" She deepened her voice like the trucker's, "

If I have to sit here and watch you eat one more bite of that pie, I'm gonna go out and nap in my truck until the sun drops

––and your pants with it."

I laughed hard. "Oh baby, that's good!"

"

Good

?"

"You want I should go back in there and settle it?"

"

No

, I just wanna get to San Antonio."

After quietly marrying in Vegas, we'd spent the last two weeks in my truck driving a loop around the country, delivering the news and bringing the celebration to our scattered out families. But I was getting rowdier by the day, starring at nothing but the endless stretch of black asphalt. It was our Honeymoon, for Christ's sake, and I itched for some gawddamn fun.

"Alright, you win, we'll go."

"Yes, please! But get our bag out––I need to change out of this sweaty dress."

Showing her daring side, she slipped the dress over her head, leaving her standing in the dirt lot wearing nothing but white cowboy boots and black panties. She handed me the dress, and before sliding my seat forward to get at our bags in the back of the cab, I gave her a once over.

"Mmm, look at you! What that body wouldn't do to that pole in there!"

"Really? So that's your dream? I bust my ass and finally get licensed as a pharmacist, but you rather I just strip out of my clothes for gross old truckers?"

I then quickly tossed her dress on the driver's seat, slammed the door, and sprinted around back of the truck. I tapped the key alarm and the trucked locked itself with a chirp.

"You're gonna to get it, Albee!"

"One step closer and you'll need to go get it, 'cause I'll throw these bitches."

She took a step and I threw the keys to the north end of the lot, landing them in the dry brush. She shook her head, done with me, and crossed the lot towards them.

I've never known a woman quite like Kylie. First off––she is fine! Her face widens at the temples, making room for her big turquoise eyes, and then drops around her cheekbones and quickly tapers into a delicate jaw, with just enough room her luscious lips. Her nose is small and straight, and the angles along the bridge and nostrils have the smooth perfection of folded paper. Her brunette hair is short enough that the morning wind carried it like a field of wheat, and the perfect length for running my hands through. As she stepped across the dirt, her narrow waist countered the swing of her solid yet soft ass, which had a just the right amount of jiggle. But more than being fine, Kylie keeps up with me. She plays every bit as wild as I do, even though she'll pretend otherwise.

I stomped up behind her, and when she heard me coming, took off running. She changed her course towards the front of the club, forgetting about the keys in order to get away from me. I grabbed her in my arms from behind and lifted her off the ground. She's only about one-hundred-fifteen pounds, so I tossed her into the air like nothing, and spun her until she landed in my arms facing me. She screamed and kicked her legs before I caught her and jugged her up with her bare tits flat against my tight tee shirt. My left hand slid up to the back of her head, and I kissed her ruby lips with a passion I'd saved up for days. After a few seconds her hand caressed my cheek, and then her legs wrapped around my ass.

When the kiss ended our faces stayed close, the tips of our noses gently touching. "You're eyes, baby––they're deadly serious and dangerously deep. And they just wander about under shady lids and all that heavily black eyeliner. They're like innocent souls staring out a whore-house window."

"I know you didn't just call me a whore."

"You're right, I didn't!"

"Goddamn you, you try so hard to come off whacked and backwoods, and then you go and say something beautiful like that. You can't fool me, Albee––I know you're a genius––

insane

––but a genius."

"I'm inspired, is all. And you're the reason, Mrs. Kylie Forester. And damn, don't my last name sound good on you."

I kissed her again, my tongue finding an eager playmate in hers. From the corner of my eye, I spotted the trucker heading back from the diner. He watched as I held my half naked wife firmly against me, her hips starting to grind just a little. My right hand was holding up her ass, and I began to squeeze to the rhythm of her grind. The trucker stopped to give me a nasty look, even though he couldn't have possibly known I saw him. He then carried on to his truck, eyes on us the whole trip. I had no idea where his head was at, and that was enough to get my adrenaline going. Couple that with Kylie grinding on me and my heart thumped like a gorilla trapped in an iron lung. My body shifted into gear, I could feel fire coursing through my veins. I worked-out and ran every day to wear down the hell raiser I was born into, but riding in my pickup for weeks left me ready to bust out like a mother-fucker.

My left hand drifted down her rolling back and tucked into her black panties. As her grinding ass moved outwards, my middle finger slid towards home plate. For an instant I was treated to heat and wetness, and then her pelvis pressed forwards into mine, my finger trailing out along her crack. The bow in her back returned, and her butt rose upwards and out, reaching a ninety-degree angle from her back. My finger returned to position, this time finding the door slightly ajar and slipping inside. She kept her ass out for a beat, letting me enter and sweetly murmuring my name, and when she drove against me again, my finger chased her pussy, lodged inside.

Kylie, totally burning now, bit my ear and slid her tongue around the folds and ridges. The amplified sound and the hot slick feeling fired a tingle throughout my body and wreaked havoc on my poise. I widened my stance, not wanting to lose her. She then totally gave in to the moment––a loud involuntary breath almost deafening me. I knew the effects a little teasing had on my wife, and she did not disappoint.

I'd almost forgotten about the trucker until I heard his cab door shut. Kylie froze, but I squeezed her tighter and my middle finger deepened, letting her know she was safe with me no matter what. The trucker continued watching from inside the cab, as Kylie and I got busy right there in the open lot.

Behind his truck a row of Junipers held back the morning sun, their long shadows extending over us and past the entrance to the Road Hump, and Kylie's cool shaded skin heated into a soft pink. I could feel the muscles in her ass contract and then expand––its taunt shape firming into ovals and then softening back into a near perfect heart. The muscles in my forearms poked out like steel cables, my fingers strained to both hold and pleasure her, and her tender cooch enveloped my rigid finger like a cupful of velvet.

"Goddam you got some moves, baby."

"I do! So tell me why you want so badly to see me dance?"

"Easy––you're gorgeous––and you got grace––your heart speaks so freely when you move your body."

"Maybe you'd rather watch me dance than make love?"

"I didn't say that!"

She slid off me, her boots gently landing on the dirt. She then started to dance against me, her hands clutching my ass. I picked up her rhythm and took hold of her back. Our bodies slowly swayed together, our hips brushing in way that made my dick as hard as a hitching post. I let my hand travel down her lower back, feeling it slither like a snake.

"Mmm, baby, you know a woman's back is the sexiest."

She peered up at me, with wide, questioning eyes. I let my finger travel over the bumpy road of her spine.

"It all starts here––the twisting, the rocking, the desire... It feels like some primeval serpent living under your skin." I ran my hand back up to her neck. "It's like a leash in the grip of some old-ass master, leading you to seduce, fuck, and prey on a man."

"

Ummm, Albee

! You just say or do whatever comes to mind, dontch ya? Even the nastiest stuff comes out heart felt. Everything gets beautiful when I'm with you. I lose all my hang-ups. I love you."

She danced a step back, losing my arms. Her left cowboy boot lead to the side, and then Kylie spun around it, her bare tits pointing away from me. She glanced over her shoulder, watching me watch her backside, as she rolled it like a raft on a mild swell. She kept her feet close together, and her ass performed a slow spiral descent downwards. Her fluid grace totally blew me away––she was a goddamned natural. She then thrust her butt backwards against my legs, and let it sweep up my thighs until it came to rest on my crotch. Kylie's back bowed something fantastic, and I thanked Christ for all her hours at yoga. She then held a ballerina's pose, with her torso absolutely vertical and hips completely horizontal, while balancing on straight legs. From there she began to grind––left and right, and then harder up and down. Her flimsy panties and soft behind smothered my stiff jeans and stiff cock.

At this point my body wanted to get involved and add some friction to her gyrating, come-on-and-fuck-me hips, but I held back, fearing I'd mow down her sweet elegance with a Neanderthal stomping. She kept it going in front of me, surprising my fired-up brain by raising her leg alongside her head, and pulling at the tip if her toe, she then brought it down, the heel of her boot landing on the opposite, inner thigh, and then shooting to the ground behind her.

I had to ask where she learned to dance like a whorish angel, and she moaned how her friend used to stay for sleep-overs and they'd practice in front of a full length mirror. That got the attention of my dick like nothing ever had.

She danced a few steps away, and then began slowly stepping backwards into me, giving her ass the ole stripper heave hoe. Her butt cheeks snapped up and down like they rode on blown shocks. Those panty covered globes worked together like two fit men pumping one of those old railroad handcars at sixty-miles-per-hour. She picked up speed as she neared, and the building suspense wreaked hell on my pumping heart. I was so lost to the hypnotic jiggle I actually licked my lips, and the closer she came the more I expected her to spin around and sink venom spouting fangs into my skin.

Just shy of touching me, she reached high for an imaginary pole, stretched her back and bent her knees. She then began to rhythmically swing her taut, round ass hard enough to demolish a building.

I could not sit still another second, and took hold of that beauty mid swing. I wrapped her in my arms and lifted her off the ground. She took hold over my neck with her arms and my waist with her legs. I carried her to the truck, laid her on the hood, and tugged her panties down. I pressed my lips into the velvet, with my nose resting on her little Hitler. Kylie exhaled in shock as my tongue wandered over the side and slid along her clit, and then her voice seeped into a helpless moan. She ran her hands through my blonde hair as I continued to lap up her warm saucer of cream. My wife was going crazy, and I felt a deep surge of pride knowing this fine cool chick, who was hotter than a frying pan full of carnitas and had a wild appetite for sex to rival my own, had allowed me to make her my wife.