Chapter 3
About nine-thirty that evening the truck rolled into a truck stop just outside Farmingham, Mass. Phoebe awoke from her nap, sleepier than when she first lay back. She was hungry. In a moment however Clem had slipped from the cab, into the diner and returned with two juicy hamburgers, loads of french fries and several cans of beer.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"Starved," she said sitting up.
The two pulled the fold-out table from the storage compartment and set the table for their pilgrim's dinner. Clem was careful to drink very little of the beer, his motivation was two-edged: he was a compulsive safety freak and he knew that a seventeen-year-old girl probably had little experience with the brew.
"You like Bud?"
For fear of seeming uninitiated, Phoebe nodded a yes that indicated her appreciation of beer was well considered and that she had a number of alternatives to compare her current experience with. "It's my favorite," she said, punctuating her comment with a long swig.
For a while the beer and burger ran neck and neck. She drank and ate, ate and drank with no apparent effect from the alcohol. Soon however the burger stopped at Phoebe's stomach while the beer went, with little hesitation, straight to her head.
Dinner was over quickly and Clem slipped out again to pick up some coffee. Phoebe declined the offer but fished the Thermos "out of the lunch carrier so that Clem could get a supply to carry him through the night. By the time Clem got back to the truck, Phoebe was already beginning to regress from giddy to sleepy. She had been up for what seemed like an eternity and would probably be up most of the rest of the night.
"Listen, kid," Clem added as he entered the warmth of the cab, "how about you waking up long enough to jump up on the bunk."
Phoebe started to protest but she realized that she was exhausted and that a few hours of real sleep would probably brighten up her day's flying.
"Sure, Clem," she said as he helped her slip into the small compartment that stretched the breadth of the cab just behind the head-rests of the seats.
The warmth, beer, fatigue and rhythm of the truck soon lulled Phoebe into the deepest sleep she could remember. She seemed to slip into a pool of warmth and caresses. She loosened her brassiere and the top button of her jeans ... she did it unobtrusively, hoping that Clem would not notice. But she did want to be comfortable.
She fell deeper into her sleep and dreamed that she. was home, in her room with the afternoon breeze playing the sheets across the bed-touching her gently, lifting and flapping like tiny love pats across her belly and thighs.
Clem watched her as she slept. The scent of her outdoors clothes mixed with the moments of perspiration from her long hard day. She was a combination of woman and animal, of child and kitten. Her face took on an angelically innocent semblance and her breathing slowed into a trance-like rhythm.
Clem drove for several hours. The New England hills gave way to marshlands. Phoebe breathed deeper and deeper into her dreams. Periodically she would move in response to some secretly semiconscious cue. Her hips were less than a foot from his chin, now grown rough with the day's whisker growth. Clem poured himself another cup of coffee, using one hand while the other tended the needs of the mechanical beast that was rushing them south to Phoebe's destination. He adjusted the inside mirror so that he could watch Phoebe in her sleep. Her leg brushed the back of his head. His head instinctively nuzzled back. When she rolled over in his direction he could see that the top button of her jeans had been unsnapped.
"Well, the likable little minx," he mumbled to himself. "I wonder where she picked up little hints like that?"
The tiny golden hairs of her belly gained in definition as they approached the second button of her jeans. Her sweatshirt had ridden up slightly so that the first feminine fold of her stomach was added to his inviting little landscape.
Clem shifted in his seat to accommodate the volume of his quickly enlarging cock. His body automatically closed down less critical circulatory circuits and directed as much energy and blood as could be spared to the growing need between his legs. His cock grew thicker and harder. He placed the coffee cup in the holder on the dashboard and loosened his fly buttons. Only the base of his burgeoning cock was visible as he opened his pants. The bulk of his throbbing penis lay stretched out, plastered against his hard thigh that was its only rival in weight and strength.
Clem lifted himself from the seat briefly and tugged his huge prick free of the clothes restraining it. Even his massive hands could contain only a portion of the massive cock that was revealed. His heavy balls made a full nest at the base of the monster upended. He pulled back on his cock-shaft until the slick underskin of his foreskin lay shining like a crown beneath the swollen glans, the mushroom-shaped head of his meat. As he stared at Phoebe in the mirror, round viscous drops of lubricant oozed from the slit in his dick and heightened the glow of cock and fantasy. He stared fixedly at the second button of Phoebe's jeans.
In her dreams Phoebe's dog, Ruff, entered her bedroom and hopped up on the bed. She turned to hug him. He nuzzled her belly and dropped down heavily beside her, pressing himself against her. She rolled a little to the left to give him room. It was wonderful with his warmth, his prodding little nose. She smiled.
Clem saw the roadsign that announced the approach of a roadside rest area. He checked his watch and knew that the trip was well above an hour ahead of schedule. They were virtually to New York. Phoebe's plane would be no problem. His erect prick however was something of a problem. Even after several minutes of being ignored while watches and timetables took precedence, it stood like a pulsing monument to long nights unfulfilled. It's rich chestnut color shifted to crimson around the lines of pressure and to azure along its veins. Clem pulled into the rest area, decelerating as gradually as he could, the better to leave sleeping Phoebe undisturbed.
He pulled the silver trailer along a remote stretch of the rest area. He softened the lights in the cab and took one of the remaining beers from the cooler. Phoebe's knee brushed the back of his head. He smiled.
The cold beer went down with a squeak. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned his full attention to Phoebe. Very slowly he shifted his position so that he could face her. His turgid cock jutted up from between his legs, lifting and nodding. The foreskin had slipped forward again and only the tip of his cock-head could be seen beneath the muted crown. He finished the beer with a chug and tucked the can into the trash while never moving his eyes from Phoebe's stomach. Then he slowly pulled his meat into full erection. He passed his great log of a dick from his right hand to his left. His fingers were sticky with the drippings. With his freed right hand he gently brushed a line of fascination along the center of Phoebe's stomach. She stirred, she curled around the attention-her dream-dog firmly against her.
Clem pressed her stomach with the broad warmth of the back of his hand. He slowly fingered the buttons of her jeans, unpopping them while disturbing her sleep as little as possible. With the buttons undone to the edge of her pubic hair, the same golden down grown brighter and bolder ... he pushed her blouse up, up to the bottom of her brassiere. It was loose. Strange little minx. Clem's finger slipped under the cup and pressed into her flesh searching for the nipple. He flipped it, circled it, finally exposed it by lifting the brassiere and sweatshirt. He reached down to his cock and scooped off a large clear drop of his fluid. To that he added an ample supply of equally viscous saliva. He rubbed the concoction on her exposed nipple, which raised itself in response.
Phoebe began to stir. She shifted one way and then another seeking a deeper spot in her dreams. Ruff was sticking his quick little tongue and his woofing little nose everywhere.
Clem leaned over and placed his lips around the nipple. His prick grew harder. He moved his hand up and down on it more quickly but not too quickly. He grasped the edge of Phoebe's jeans and pulled softly as she shifted her weight. Her pants began to slip lower. Now Clem's mouth wandered down from the darkening nipple and his beard nudged the underside of her white round breast. The trail of saliva that was initiated at the top of her breast stretched down to her diaphragm. Her pants slipped down, down to her hips. Her golden mons pushed forward gently, her sweet young cunt pink, lavender and gunmetal blue lifted and opened slightly. Clem placed his hand between her legs. He pushed gently, encouraging her to spread herself. One thick finger began its slow journey down from the swirling golden hair of her pussy.
Phoebe smiled in her sleep. "Ruff ... Ruff ... naah, be goo...." Her voice trailed off into sleep but her knees buckled slightly. She opened a little more. A thick sweet drop appeared where her coral-hued lips met.
Clem's lips were moving now. He unsnapped his belt buckle and lifted his heavy balls into a more comfortable position. They swayed and pulsed with a steady rhythm. His lips crisscrossed her belly. The smell of her heat began to rise from her cunt. His tongue played along the northern reaches of the forest of silk that protected her where her skin was too tender to tolerate the touch of everyday cares. He pressed a kiss to her pelvis below.
Now his tongue began to swell with anticipation. His thick index finger moved up from its investigations and strayed the full length of her nakedly exposed pussy. He stirred the puffy lips and covered his extended finger with her succulent honey. He lifted his finger from her cunt to his mouth. He pushed his thick finger deep into his mouth, savoring the delicious scent and taste. Then his finger moved back to her moistly heated pussy. Back to the pool of softness. With his lips and tongue, he spread the tight luscious flesh of her cunt and, with his tongue extended to its full width and strength, he licked deep and long and hard. He sucked. She moaned. Her eyes tightening in her pleasure, and she lifted and pushed, spreading herself into his drinking mouth.
Clem's hand pressed her straining stomach. His gripping hand pounded his prick with solid squeezing strokes. Then he licked deeper and wider, pressing his mouth against her quivering cunt firmly to offset her efforts to free herself ... to wriggle away from his devouring mouth.
Phoebe still lingered in the disorientation of being caught between two dreams. She was not at home. This was not Ruffs gentle lickings. This was no place she had ever seen. The ceiling of the cab slammed her forehead as she tried to sit up. She was pressed back on her side. Clem lifted her. Her mind was spinning from the beer, the heat, the man licking her soft flesh. He licked her below her cunt ... above her cunt ... her cunt ... Oh God she screamed as his hand raised her left leg and he wallowed his way deeper into her. She was buckling. She began to feel a strange lingering, tingling sensation that began at her nipples. An electric sensation that linked her three little erections and made her mouth water as she looked down the bunk at this form that was licking, nipping, tonguing her every place it could reach.
There below on the seat Clem was massaging his enormous prick; she had seen nothing comparable, nothing even in range of it's size. His turgid cock slapped hard against the upholstery; he grabbed his balls and pulled them down to his asshole. As the skin tightened at the base of his prick, his cock-head seem to expand almost to bursting.
She reached out unconsciously, groping for his cock. She was lost in her confusion but knew that this monstrous rod of flesh held greater wonder, greater attraction still. As she reached, Clem slapped her hand away and shoved her back, holding her two breasts with the ditch-digger span of his immense hand. The pressure of his hand on her breasts and the abruptness of his move threw her back into deeper reverie; her hips began to shiver. She quivered and bucked. She pushed and pumped. She stretched herself open to his long tongue. The honey of her cunt poured out over her thighs, over his face and over the bunk. She came again and again and again. Clem massaged his cock within the enormity of his own fist. His balls tightened against his crotch and he too pumped and pumped-shooting gobs of heavy white sperm high into the air, splatting himself and the seat and the bunk. Each jerk sending his face deeper into her exploding muff.
He lay there breathless. She lay in confusion and the humid aftermath of their fluids. She began to cry softly as he cleaned the bunk, lifted her back into her jeans and started the truck. They drove off the turnpike and on to La Guardia without a word. Phoebe sat far to her side of the truck rubbing her forehead from time to time where she had hit if against the ceiling of the cab.
When they arrived at the airport, Clem reached across the cab to open the door for her.
"The ladies' room has a place to clean up," he said gently.
The young blonde-haired girl nodded and slipped out of the cab. She pulled her knapsack with her. The effort of walking after so many hours left her feeling exhausted but the cool morning air revived her quickly. As she approached the terminal she heard the truck engine start up behind her. She started to turn, not quite sure just why but just then she heard her flight announcement coming from the flight terminal. She was just in time.