Chapter 9
Ella was reminded of the first time the boy had put his hand on her leg-to warn her that the shutters were iced and the engine overheating. She scanned the gauges frantically but this time nothing was wrong. The diesel racketed along smoothly at a fast idle, barely working as the truck lazed along the level highway behind the snow plow. This time the boy had his hand on her leg for other reasons.
Ella felt a wonderful warm glow of anticipation pass through her as she reflected on those reasons. He likes me, she exulted. Eighteen years of marriage had sheltered Ella from a great many of the world's experiences but she could extrapolate from her own needs to guess that men might often fuck women whom they despised-women they wouldn't look at again once the acute swelling between their legs had been reduced to manageable proportions.
But this boy had not disappeared anonymously into the night once he'd gotten his rocks off. He had stuck around and driven her truck and, though that might be put down to gratitude, Ella knew that it wasn't gratitude that made him scoot over toward her in the wide cab, put his hand on her ski pants-clad leg, fiddle with the waistband of her pants with his other hand when he could just as well be sleeping. Unless all the evidences were wrong, this boy wanted to fuck her again (or still-she didn't know if he had managed to come the first time). Either way, it made Ella very happy.
She supposed she ought to slap his hands away and pay attention to her driving but the snow plow was a hundred yards ahead and there was plenty of time to stop if it did. Meanwhile the truck was practically driving itself. Which left Ella sitting in the driver's seat, unable to take her hands off the wheel, but with practically nothing else to do except steer-and reflect on how nice it was to drive a truck while a boy managed to unfasten the waistband of her ski panties and get her zipper down. He helped her raise her ass until he got them down not far enough to interfere if she were to have to brake in a hurry, but still far enough down to discover that, in her haste to dress, Ella had not remembered to put on her yellow bikini panties.
The boy stretched out at full length on the wide seat, basking in the warmth of the heater. He lay on his right side, facing the rear, with his head pillowed on her lap. Gently, he moved his head about until one hot-as-a-branding-iron ear was pressing against her bare thigh. With his face only inches from the gentle bulge of her belly, he began blowing moist warm breath into the depth of her navel.
Ella felt that old magic begin all over again. She struggled to hold a steady foot on the accelerator but her legs wanted to fly up and capture that lovely boy's head and draw him into her crotch. She gritted her teeth and tried to hold still as the diesel racketed along behind the snow plow.
He moved his face a fraction of an inch closer to her bare belly and began darting his tongue out, barely touching her but sending an electric tingle through her body with each contact, almost as if his tongue were one of those electric things the cattle jockeys used to encourage reluctant steers up into their rigs. It felt so good Ella had trouble concentrating on the simple task of keeping the rig centered in the lane cleared by the snow plow.
She was just getting used to the feel of that lovely head in her lap, that tongue licking her and that warm breath blowing into her navel when abruptly the boy jerked as if somebody had poked him with a cattle prod. There was a clunk audible over the racketing diesel and something heavy rolled off the seat and down onto the floor of the cab.
From the corner of her eye Ella saw it was the tire club which, for those who have not spent their lives driving big rigs, can be a hammer or practically anything heavy, but since drivers on their own in the boondocks occasionally have need to club things other than tires, is often a policeman's billy. Machine turned from white ash, it was an, inch and a half thick, something over a foot long, and had a rim at the end of the handle like a baseball bat.
She guessed she must have not gotten it properly in the holder the last time she thumped tires to make sure they had enough air, for the club had fallen out and thumped this boy on his marvelously lean, hard-muscled ass before rolling down to the floor of the cab. The boy picked it up and began playing idly with the piece of wood. With his head still pillowed in her bare lap, he lay the wood on her bare thigh.
Ella braced herself, expecting something cold, but the club's holder was in the path of the heater blast and the wood was hot. She had a sudden horrible thought. She kept her face straight, trying not to betray what she was thinking. She kept her eyes on the road.
But one of the strongest evidences for telepathy is the way a person near and dear can often devise the most sensual torment, seemingly reading one's mind to find out exactly what it is that one most dreads. The boy, Ella suddenly knew with a quivery certainty, was reading hers..
She saw him studying the turned handle of the club with its series of rings and the flaring flange on the end. It was too big to go into any woman-large enough to distress a small cow, Ella knew. But she also knew exactly what this boy with his head in her bare lap was planning on doing.
If he tries it, she decided, I'll give him a karate chop on the back of that lovely neck But the boy wasn't doing what she feared. Instead, he lay with his head in her lap caressing her ass, running warm hands up and down her thighs, rubbing the club's warm wood against her. Abruptly Ella recognized a gesture. She remembered from childhood days on the ranch when her father and brothers had broken horses-how first they would take the saddle and rub it all over the skittish beast until he became accustomed to the strange shape and smell. What was this nameless boy doing, rubbing that billy club all over her ass? Why was he poking its warm flanged end up her ski jacket, between her jutting forty-twos?
I won't do it, she told herself. I won't stand for any of that kind of funny business! Yet even as she said it some tiny devil's advocate corner of her mind was asking, would it hurt? What would it feel like to have to sit here driving this truck, unable to defend herself while this lovely boy-?
This lovely boy had his hand clear into her crotch now, caressing her ass and making it difficult to keep her mind on driving. His other hand was exploring the startling slopes of her forty-twos, snaking up between the fabric of her ski jacket and her quivery skin. Ella tried not to giggle. She wanted to keep her mind on her business. Now was not the time for fun and games. There would be time for that once they got off the road and could settle down after a good meal and a hot bath.
She checked the snow plow lights ahead of her again. Everything ok. She took a hand from the wheel and rummaged by feel through the map rack until she found a truck stop guide put out by one of the oil companies. It was a small phone directory-sized book with a list of the services available in each place with a parking lot large enough for trucks, plus a map and directions to each. She tossed it to the boy.
The boy took it, nodded, but did not take his head from her lap. Still licking her belly, blowing into her navel, he did not interrupt his caressing of her whole thrumming body with the flanged handle of that overheated tire club. Ella gritted her teeth and tried to pay attention to her driving.
She considered the simian cousinship that exists with mankind-that insatiable curiosity which cannot let well enough alone, but must go on playing with fire until eventually the fire becomes fission and fusion and her ass was fizzing and futzing, and she knew she had no business letting him even think about such things. But that damnable irresistible boy was rubbing her and squeezing her and licking her and blowing his warm breath on her and he was hinting with the end of that club. As long as she was driving there was no possible way he could get his own thing into her, but she wondered if he would get a real charge out of Would she? Ella had heard and read about things like that. She had seen pictures of wonderfully life-like rubber things that screwed onto the end of an electric vibrator whereupon the whole business screwed into the receptacle of some female who didn't happen to have a man handy at the moment.
She remembered her resolve to try everything at least once before she died. But surely not this! This was the kind of thing people made jokes about lonely old maids and candles or bananas or sausages or whatever....
But lonely old maids didn't have a lovely, hard-muscled boy to do it for them. What would it feel like? It was too big. The boy's cock had been longer than she had ever experienced but his wand was elegantly slim, with only a golfball-sized knob at its tip. More importantly, it had been attached to a living, breathing boy with nerves and feelings of his own, capable of sensing when he was going in too deep or too fast. She remembered how careful the boy had been not to hurt her.
Could this be the same boy who was rubbing her body, playing with tits and belly, tickling and rubbing her to the ragged edge of a chasm of orgasm and all the time hinting at unspeakable things with that piece of smooth-varnished white ash with the tremendous flange on the end to keep it from slipping out of her hands when she thumped tires?
There was no other boy resting his burning ear on her bare thigh, sticking his tongue into the delicious depth of her navel so Ella guessed this had to be the boy.
Boy oh boy, was he ever the boy! She remembered the feel of that lovely long slim cock coursing in and out of her, churning her deprived depths into a passionate pudding. This was the boy!
He was running the hot club between her thighs, bumping gently against the -haired contours of her pouting nether lips. Ella felt a tiny trickle of the juice of desire flow from somewhere deep inside her. Damn, she thought. Turned on by a goddam stick of wood!
But it wasn't the tire club, she knew, that was doing this to her. It was the lovely horny boy who held it-unable to get his cock safely into her as long as she drove, willing to try anything. Surely he wasn't getting that much of a turn-on from all this. He must be doing it for her. Ella put her arm out blindly, steering the straight stretch of road with one hand while she caressed the boy's slim nakedness with the other.
Not taking her eyes off the road, she memorized the feel of his muscular chest, his slim waist, flat, hard-muscled ass. She found his pubic patch and the boy's legs spread to allow her easy access into his treasure trove. She captured the boy's cock and gave it an affectionate squeeze. The boy had a full erection.
Remembering how seldom she had ever handled old Fred's cock, Ella fondled the boy's with tender loving care. The boy paid her back in kind, his free hand doing marvelously educated things around the furry lips of her seething cunt, detouring occasionally to tap out an erotogram on the twittering rosette of her anus. And all the time the club never left his other hand.
He rubbed its ring-turned handle against her sides, slid it gently between her tits, made the tender inner surface of her thighs tingle with the knowledge of something dreadful-perhaps delightful to come.
He pushed the blunt end of the handle against the twittery rosette of her asshole, twisting slightly until she didn't know whether to squeal, giggle, or hit him. He was such a lovely boy that no matter what he might do to her Ella knew she would never be able to stay mad at him.
Momentarily his hands abandoned their other pursuits and slipped up the front of her ski jacket to cup the full bottoms of her perfect pectoral cones-a living, throbbing feeling bra to remind her of all the lovely things those hands had done to her-were going to do to her again-and again, she hoped.
If only there were some break in this miserable road. She peered through the side windows. The mirror heaters were doing their thing now and she could see they were alone-nobody else venturesome or eager enough to get out of a nice warm truck stop and creep along behind a snow plow. She studied the thrown-up embankments of wet snow and guessed the fall was not over a foot or so. On the level this rig could make it through a foot of wet snow without problems. She could probably outrun the snow plow if she wanted to get out and push it but Ella didn't. She didn't want to drive a truck at all. She wanted to fuck!
She tried to ignore all the lovely things the boy was doing to her with his hands, with his mouth, with that goddam super-heated tire club. She squinted into the snow spray the plow was throwing up, trying to find some way to get off the road. She wanted a hot bath and a change of clothes but hell, she was willing to settle for another roadside rest-any kind of a turnout where she could park the rig and climb over into the high-sided suicide box bunk and pull this lovely infuriating boy over on top of her. Once she got him there Ella resolved to find out where his secret triggers were. This boy was caressing, petting, squeezing and tickling her to within an inch of insanity. Just wait until she had her hands free. Ella determined she was going to coax one round out of his cannon before he got it into her even if it was a dreadful waste of hard young cock. There were limits. This boy was doing too many things for her to let him get away with it. She was going to pay him back, tease him to within a giggling, fluttering, heart-palpitating inch of his life. Damn him and his wonderful hands!
Then as she gritted her teeth and concentrated on her driving and looked for the turnout that never appeared, turnout so I can turn-on-as if I weren't already turned on so far I'm almost ready to come. Suddenly Ella felt that living bra stop caressing and kneading her firm forty-twos. The hands slipped down around her waist, caressed her belly and thighs and then that damned tire club handle was pushing at her again. This time it wasn't poking against the twittery rosette of her ass. This time that club-damn the boy! He'd left it lying in the full blast of the heater again. It was so hot it was almost burning her. He was poking the tremendous flanged handle right at the lips of her pussy. With his other hand he was parting those hairy vulva lips.
Ella gritted her teeth and kept her eyes on the road.