After a week of business in Denver, I was finally on my way home. I was enjoying the expectation of seeing my husband this evening and perhaps spending some time in our hot tub getting reacquainted. Needless to say I was a little horny. The men at these meetings always think we women are on the make so I had been hit on a lot. I had always been faithful to my husband, but the constant groping and sexual suggestions still gets me hot.
Let me tell you something about myself before I continue with my story. I am twenty-eight, 5' 8' tall, and weigh around 125. I am careful with my health and eat right and run five days a week when I can. I have a good figure, not one of those voluptuous women you see in swimsuit ads, but more of a lean version of them. I have been married for four years to a wonderful man, who kindles excitement in me with his touch.
We live in St. Louis, where he is a lawyer and I am a regional sales manager for a large software company. Once a year we have a big meeting in Denver, which had taken place in the past week. I was now on my way home.
You may wonder why I am driving. Our team meetings are always in the heart of the summer and if the forecast is good, I like to drive. The opportunity to get some sun is great, I drive a convertible, and I find the miles relaxing.
Now, back to my predicament. Everything was just wonderful. I was rolling along under bright blue skies, enjoying the sun on my bare shoulders and legs (I was wearing a short black loose silk skirt and, white silk halter top, along with a very sexy bra and thong panties in expectation of uniting/exciting with my husband this evening) when I experienced that bane of women drivers everywhere, a blowout.
Luckily it was on the right rear so controlling and stopping the car was no trouble. I pulled off the road, got out and surveyed my situation. No real damage, but I would need to pop the trunk and move a few bags so I could access the spare.
I was just considering how my sexy attire, meant for my husband's eyes, was exposing much more of me now than I wanted, when a semi pulled up behind me and stopped.
I was more than a little nervous about my situation, as a young man climbed down from the passenger side of the truck and asked me if I needed any help. I explained that I was trying to undercover and retrieve my spare. He quickly stepped forward and began to assist me unloading my bags from the trunk. As we talked about what had happened and he got my spare tire out and examined it, I found him to be very friendly and courteous and not the least scary. After all, it was the middle of the day, bright sunshine on a fairly busy interstate, and he seemed really helpful.
Then came the clincher. My spare was as flat as the tire that had blown out. The young man, whose name I had discovered was Bill, suggested that he install the flat spare, take the blown out tire to the next filling station and have it replaced and then I could get a ride back here to have them switched again.
Thinking more about getting this over as soon as possible and getting home and considering how nice and gentlemanly Bill appeared, against my better judgment I agreed.
Bill wasted no time switching the two wheels and throwing the blown tire in the back of the cab of his truck. He then held the door to his rig open and motioned for me to climb aboard.
Once again, I was acutely aware that the clothes I had selected for my husbands pleasure were suddenly causing me more than a little embarrassment. As I climbed up into the cab of the truck I am sure that Bill was staring up my short skirt at my mostly naked legs and behind. The sexual tension combined with still a little anxiety had my juices flowing to say the least.
As I entered the cab I immediately met the gaze of whom I soon discovered was Bill's driving partner. He had not appeared until now and turned out to be just the opposite of Bill. He was old, perhaps 60, and as dirty as Bill was clean and had a mouth full of rotting teeth. To top it all off he was busy staring down my now too revealing blouse.
As I settled into the passenger seat all he could mumble was "Jesus, Bill. She's fine."
Bill climbed in beside me, much too close in the small confines of the passenger seat and we started down the road.
Soon Bill introduced me to his partner, Mike.
Mike and Bill seemed to be in a state of constant running commentary about what had taken place with my car, and where they were going, interspersed with comments on their CB regarding the pretty young gal they were helping. I relaxed somewhat realizing that they were making these public statements about helping me.
As Mike shifted up through the gears though, he seemed to take every opportunity to brush against my naked thigh only inches from his and uncovered now by the shortness of my dress almost to the level of my panties. In addition, as Bill and Mike were very animated in their stream of talk, they each occasionally took the liberty of touching my legs to make a point. It had started very innocently at my knees, but as their conversation continued they had become bolder and bolder and moved higher and higher up my thighs until I had to keep constantly brushing them away to maintain any sense of decency, finally asking them to quit touching me, in as friendly but yet stern a voice as I could.
We had made it down the road several miles when Bill, very non-chalantly, reached over, and grabbing the front of my halter-top pulled it out and looked down onto my breasts, commenting, "Those are some nice lookin' titties you got there darlin'." I pushed his hand away and tried to slap him, but he caught my arm and twisted it gently.
He said, "Now look here lady, we stopped to help you out and we mean to do that. We don't want to hurt you either. But it's been a long ride in this rig with nobody but Mike to look at, and besides I'd wager we ain't the first to look at your titties. So you just relax and let Mike and I have our fun and you'll be back in your little car before you know it. If not, maybe we'll just take your clothes and let you out here."
I was terrified. All I could mutter was "Please don't hurt me."
As this had been going on Mike had put his hand back on my thigh and had steadily been raising my skirt up to reveal my panties. Now he said to Bill, "Hey buddy, I want them panties as a souvenir. How bought getting' em' for me?".
Bill responded, "Well, dear, I guess you heard Mike there. Get those panties off and give 'em to Mike, and while you're at it you might just as well get rid of that bra too."
"No, I can't. I can't let you..."
This was followed by a slap across my face and Bill advising me again that they didn't want to hurt me but that I had to comply with their demands.
I slowly and carefully removed my panties trying carefully not to show too much as I did.
I turned and handed them to Mike who I swear was now drooling.