I hadn't told my parent's that I was heading back up to school. All that mattered at the time was that I was ready to go, and even though my two closest friends at school had tried to warn me not to venture off alone in this weather, of course, I didn't listen, I could take care of myself.
My old Mustang started out okay, but died along Highway 99 in the middle of nowhere around ten-thirty tonight. This stretch of highway was practically deserted, and I hadn't seen another car or even a big rig for over an hour. The rain just kept coming. I thought of staying in the car but I was too scared to stay there at night alone, it was too creepy. I tried calling a tow service, but out here on the highway, the cell reception was non-existent, and then to make things worst, when I got out of the car, I locked my keys inside. Try as I might I couldn't get the door open and my heart sank like a stone when I looked inside the car and there on the floor in front of the passenger seat was my purse. In full view, but out of reach I could see my phone and my wallet inside. I was stranded, broke and scared.
*****
I started walking in the now pummeling rain, positive there had to be a truck stop further up the highway. I must have walked for almost two miles without seeing a car, when off in the distance I saw the tall neon sign and billboard for the Petro Truck Stop. After another half hour of walking, I made it to the truck stop and entered the café. It had rained off and on for most of the afternoon and evening when I stumbled into the almost empty truck stop cafe looking more like a drowned rat than an attractive twenty-two year old graduate student. I looked around and saw a few truckers seated at the tables catching a quick meal or a cup of hot coffee before getting back onto the road.
Despite my bedraggle appearance, I could feel the truckers eyeing me when I came through the door. My naturally blonde hair hung in a thick wet braid down my back, damp ringlets having formed around my face. My jacket was drenched and soaked through from the rain. When I took my wet jacket off I was little aware of how the dampness and chill made my nipples stand erect, hard and brown tipped, obvious through my wet clinging blouse. More embarrassing was the camel toe that was outlined by my wet skirt clinging to my thighs and hips that was eliciting blatant, lascivious stares from some of the men. Feeling self-conscious and uneasy, I made my way to an empty table and sat down.
I sat there for a few minutes shivering, hungry and tired trying to figure out what I should do and whom I could call for help when I looked up and saw one of the truckers standing next to my booth. Middle-aged, the beginnings of a beer belly, a day's growth of beard and kind but tired gray eyes.
"Here, he said, offering me his thick flannel jacket. Put this on; you look like you need it." I slipped into the warmth of his jacket as he turned and walked over to the counter. When he came back, he placed a hot cup of coffee in front of me and sat down.
"My name is Jack. You look like you could use a little help. Can I help?" He asked.
"I'm Madison," I said.
I looked at him, wanting to trust him, needing to tell someone about everything I had been through within the last several hours. Out of frustration, I blurted out everything, the broken down car, locking my purse and phone inside the car, no money, the long wet walk. By the time I finished I was on the brink of tears.
"Everything will be okay, there's no need to cry. I have a girl about your age, and I would certainly want someone to help her out if she ever found herself in a similar situation. I'm sure I can help you . . . okay?"
Jack sat there watching me while he made casual conversation. "You know, I do extended hauls, and I'm away from home and my family for long stretches of time; it gets lonely, real lonely out here," he said, now watching me intently, expectantly.
"It's good when you meet someone you like right off and want to get to know . . . someone you want to be nice to."
"I can be nice to you Madison. I know you need a little money, all you have to do is be nice to me."
I looked across the table at him, momentarily puzzled, not sure what he was talking about, and then the meaning became all too clear.
Jack said he would give me a hundred dollars if I would let him put it in my mouth, put his cock in my mouth. Though surprised at first by his proposition, I remember thinking that a hundred dollars was a lot of money and that it would get me back to school. It was obvious Jack didn't want a regular truck stop working girl, he wanted a nice, clean, pretty little college girl, someone who reminded him of perhaps his . . . daughter or one of her friends.
"All right, Jack, okay," I said after thinking it over.
Taking my hand, Jack led me into one of the stalls in the back shower area. As he ushered me into the stall and began to close the stall door, I tried to pull back now having second thoughts, but he held my wrists tighter saying, "you got your money, now give me what I paid you for, little girl."
Kneeling in front of him, I took his cock in my hand and slid it between my lips, my tongue licked the head of his cock, and I looked up at him as Jack moaned from deep in his chest.
"Such a pretty little girl," he kept repeating as he entwined my thick blond hair in his hands and put pressure on the back of my head wanting me to take his full length into my mouth and down my throat. Just wanting to get it over with, I didn't fight or resist but willed myself to relax and let Jack slide his cock down my throat. He controlled my head as he started to fuck my mouth, slow and then quick, increasing his tempo. I was used to having my boyfriend force his cock down my throat and so I figured I could deal with Jack for another minute or two. He started thrusting hard, grunting and moaning loudly, and I was worried someone might hear. I knew he was on the edge, and all it took was squeezing his cock with my mouth for him to explode and cum in hard spurting jets.
I was frankly surprised at the amount of cum that came out of him, and as he continued to hold my head in position, my throat muscles contracted around his cock and he filled my mouth leaving me no choice but to swallow most of his load even as his overflow cum dribbled out of my mouth.
Jack combed his fingers through my soft, blond hair, mumbling, "Oh my God, you have a beautiful mouth," as he held my face and thrust forward a final time, ejaculating the last of his cum into my mouth and then pulled out. I reached up and wiped the dripping cum away with the back of my hand. With lust filled eyes, he looked at me hungrily before adjusting his pants and walking out of the stall.
*****
When I finally returned to the café, James had paid his bill and had already exited the door heading for his rig.
I sat at the counter, disappointed that I hadn't caught him before he left; I had hoped he would give me a ride further down the highway, maybe even all the way into Chico. All things considered, just knowing I had a little money in my pocket made me feel better. I asked the waitress if I could use her phone, and taking a chance, I dialed my best friend's number and listened dejectedly as the call went to voicemail.
"Tiffany . . . Tiffany, it's me, Madison. Please be there, this is an emergency." I waited, but she didn't pick up. "I'm stranded on Highway 99 and need you to drive down and pick me up. I don't have my car, I don't have much money, and I don't have my phone. I'm at the Petro Truck Stop and will stay here until you get here. I gave her the number to call me back on when she picked up the call up. Thanks, Tiff, next time I'll listen to you. Bye"
I took a sit at the table where I had sat with Jack, ignoring the stares and whispered comments from the other truckers and ordered myself a coffee and club sandwich. As I sat eating and waiting for Tiffany to return my call, a man approached my table.
"Excuse me Miss, but I couldn't help but notice you were sitting here alone. Do you mind if I join you?" He asked.
I looked up and saw a vaguely familiar man. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes, broad shoulders and a strong cleft chin. Maybe in his forties, he was attractive in an average kind of way.
"I . . . I . . . sure, please sit down," I said.
"Hi, my name is Brent, Brent Wolowitz, and you are?"
"My name is Madison," I replied.
"Nice to meet you, Madison," he said as he signaled the waitress and ordered a beer.
"Like I said, I saw you sitting over here, and I couldn't seem to shake the feeling that I knew you."
"I don't think so," I said. I grew up in Southern California, and go to school at Chico."
"Hell, maybe that's it; my stepdaughter, Janice Peterson attends Chico. Twice a semester if my route takes me close and I have a little time, I stop for a visit, I've probably seen you there."
I began smiling as I looked at him, gradually recognizing him as someone I had indeed seen in the dorm and about campus with Janice, a casual friend of mine at school.
"Mr. Wolowitz, hello. Of course, I know Janice, we live in the same dorm, she's just down the hall from me, in fact, I have a class with her this year."
We sat and talked for a while; he had another beer and bought one for me as well. He said he was on a run up to Oregon and that this particular Petro was one of his regular stops on this route. We talked and enjoyed our beers. I told him about the car breaking down and my locking my purse inside the car leaving me with no money and no phone and that I was pretty much stranded until my friend got here, assuming she had picked up my message.
Mr. Wolowitz grew quiet. "I saw you and that guy go into the shower area earlier," he said clearing his throat.
I looked up at him silent and apprehensive. His hand covered mine, "I could probably help you out a little if you'd like me to," he said lightly stroking my hand.
"What are you talking about Mr. Wolowitz?" I asked innocently, pulling my hand away.
"I think you know what I'm talking about Madison, he said, as his hand slipped under the table and onto my thigh. I saw you and that guy go in the back, and the way he hurried out of here grinning and looking satisfied, it was obvious he had just got his rocks off, most likely in your pussy or your mouth. Am I wrong?"
"Who do you think you're talking to," I said indignantly as I began to stand up.
"Sit down, he said as he squeezed my thigh painfully. . . sit down."
I did as he said.