Chapter 5
Shelby Minor drove over to the diner for lunch the next day. He was ahead with his crew on the bridge job, and it was going to involve a wait of over two hours before they'd be able to continue.
"Take a long lunch," he had told the men that were under his authority. "We don't get them very often."
The men had happily agreed. Most of the guys ate at the camp site, where a makeshift dining room had been erected, similar to a military mess hall. Regular people came to cook for the construction crew, and the atmosphere was generally friendly.
But Shelby had different ideas today. He knew that Betsy, the waitress, didn't get off the lunch shift until one o'clock. It was twelve-thirty now, and if he hurried, he'd have a little time to talk to the pert redhead.
She was cleaning the grill when Shelby entered the restaurant. There was only one other customer, finishing a bowl of soup, an old man.
Shelby sat on one of the stools at the counter and waited for Betsy to turn around. He liked watching her from the rear, seeing the way her round little rump pressed the material of the white uniform, making it stretch from hip to hip.
She, had a tiny waist that flared out provocatively at the hips, and her thighs were slender but shapely. Her back seemed small when she was turned away, but he knew that her full, high breasts would more than fill the top of the uniform blouse, and sometimes the blouse was cut low enough so that he could see the beginnings of the smooth, freckled mountains.
The diner was a strange little place. It was located in the middle of nowhere, with a gasoline station next to it. Outside of travelers on the highway, the regular customers were a few scattered farm families and workers from a cotton mill about eight miles away.
In the mornings, fishermen would stock up with provisions on their way to nearby lakes.
Betsy finished scrubbing the grill. She took several dirty pots and turned around to plunge them into a sink of hot soapy water. When she saw Shelby her broad smile revealed a set of even, white teeth. Betsy was pretty in a redheaded way, and she made little effort to hide the freckles that dotted the bridge of her upturned nose, and her rosy cheeks.
"I'm so glad to see you back on the job," she remarked sarcastically. "I was afraid that bridge would never get finished."
"Hi," Shelby said, smiling back. "Listen, do you get off work in about twenty minutes?"
"Yeah. Why, did you want to take me dancing?"
The construction worker smiled again.
"You know where I want to take you! And I do mean, take you!"
"So we're back on that subject again, huh?"
"Owww, come on, hon! I'm only human!"
She continued scrubbing the pots. Then she glanced at him again, noticing that he was starting to fidget.
"Why don't you save it for that cute little wife at home?" she asked in a low voice. The old man had finished his soup and was standing up, fishing for his billfold. Betsy made change and said a few words to him, then he left the diner.
"Are we alone?" Shelby asked.
"Yes, but I can scream loud, and Sam's next door," she said, crossing the room to put a "closed" sign on the door.
"Very funny! As if I had to resort to raping women--"
"I wouldn't put anything past you hard-hats," she said, her voice becoming more friendly. "Or should I have said, 'I wouldn't put anything against you!' "
"Hey, Betsy," Shelby said, reaching out and taking one of her hands across the counter. "How about it? Just let me come back and visit with you for a little while. I need to, baby!"
Betsy pulled her hand away, but not too roughly.
"Take it easy with the hand, Romeo," she said, "I need both of them to sling hash."
Betsy had only mentioned to one or two of the men who came into the diner that she had private accommodations in the rear of the building, with her own entrance. It was a small but efficient apartment, clean and serviceable. Shelby was one of the men she had told about her living quarters, and her working hours, so she didn't blame him for persisting. After all, she got lonely, too, and she knew that sooner or later a proposition would be made.
"I don't know," she said, polishing an enormous stainless-steel bowl, "I never let anybody visit me without proper credentials."
Shelby made his fingers busy at his fly. Then, taking a quick glance around the empty room, he flipped his hardening cock out of his pants and stood up for her to take a look.
"How much more do you want by way of credentials?" he asked.
The woman looked for several seconds at the big, thickly-veined cock.
"I should cut that off and serve it for the luncheon special tomorrow," she said. "Hey, put it back in!"
"Nobody's around."
"I know, but it makes me nervous. Here, busy yourself with a beer and I'll be through in a few minutes."
She opened him a bottle of beer and put the bottle and a glass in front of him. "Are you hungry?"
"Just for some tender, loving care," he said, buttoning his fly again. He sat down and began to sip the cold beer slowly, letting the bubbly liquid quench his parched throat. Betsy continued with her work, going quickly and efficiently, seeming to be in as big a hurry as he was.
By the time the brew had been drunk, she announced that she was ready to leave the restaurant until they reopened for the dinner crowd.
"We can go through the back," she said, motioning to him.
He followed her through the kitchen, a storeroom, and out the back of the diner. Several steps from the restaurant was a small house with two windows and a door in front. Betsy quickly crossed the yard and opened the door of the bungalow.
"Home sweet home," she said, motioning Shelby inside.
He entered the small dwelling, feeling an excitement in his chest. He had been trying for many weeks now to see the inside of Betsy's living quarters, and at least he made it this far, regardless of what happened.
"Small," the waitress said.
Shelby looked around at the large efficiency room. There were chairs and a sofa bed, a television set, and a dinette. There was a small kitchenette and a private bath.
"It looks pretty big to me," Shelby said, "but of course, I'm a trailer ass."
The woman indicated a chair for him to sit in.
"How about another beer?"
"Don't mind if I do," he said, relaxing as he sat.
She went into the refrigerator and brought back two frosty bottles of beer and two mugs.
"I like it myself, when I'm not working," she said, placing the beers alongside him on a small table and pouring them into the mugs.
"Cheers," she said, toasting him.
"Cheers yourself," he said, and took a long gulp. "Hmmm, hits the spot on a hot day, doesn't it?"
"Sure does."
He watched her sit across from him. He stretched his legs and pointed his feet in her direction.
"Hey," he said, taking another gulp of the beer.
She stared at the burly man for several seconds. He was one of the best-looking men who had ever come into the diner, and she couldn't deny that she'd been more interested in him than in most of the guys who made their daily pleas for her attention.
"So what's the problem at home?" she asked. "Hell, you were only there yesterday morning."
Shelby smiled, feeling a little sheepish.
"No problems. Except for the arguments, of course."
"Arguments? What arguments?"
"Oh, something you probably wouldn't be interested in," the big man replied. "They've been going on for a long time now. And I guess they aren't finished yet."
"Is that so? Married troubles?"
"No, not exactly. Well, yes, I guess so. You see, Connie wants a baby and--"
The woman lit a cigarette. She was just taking the first drag when she interrupted him.
"A baby? So what's the problem? How long have you been married?"
"Well, almost ten years, but--"
"Ten years! And you don't have kids?"
"No. You see, I don't think we should tie ourselves down that way. You see, I'm on the move a lot, from job to job."
"Jeez!" the waitress said, taking another puff on her cigarette and a sip on her beer. "I feel sorry for her, you know. She's alone a lot. Maybe a kid means a lot more to her than you think."
Shelby was getting slightly annoyed. He didn't come here to talk about his marriage to Connie.
"Anyway," he said, rubbing his crotch through the khaki material of his trousers, "she'll beg me for it all she wants to, but she'll play hell getting a baby out of this!"
Betsy looked slightly amused. She watched the burly man rub himself to a near erection. She couldn't get over the sight of his cock when he showed it to her in the diner. She stood up and walked over to him, kneeling down between his outstretched legs.
"Slip 'em down," she said.
He quickly unbuckled his trousers. He undid his fly and, slipping his thumbs under the waistband of his jockey shorts as well, pushed all the material covering him down his thighs to his knees.
She untied his shoes, pulled them off, and then yanked the pants down over his feet and threw them on the floor beside her. She was still wearing her white uniform, as starched and white as a nurse's.
He was completely nude in front of her gaze now, except for his shirt. His hairy belly was hard and bushy--the brown hair of his pubic area formed a thick jungle. Beneath, the cock was standing out as thick and long as a small arm, and the balls hanging down over the edge of the chair were as big as ostrich eggs. His hairy thighs were massive and powerful. She could tell that his entire body was like a rock.
She reached out and took the thick slab of meat in her hand, weighing it. A drop of clear fluid accumulated at the little slit, where the foreskin allowed half of the big head to peep through. She leaned down and licked up the drop with her tongue.
"Whew!" he gasped, starting to breath hard. The cock jumped in her hand. "Maybe we better get you out of that uniform.
"Sit still," she said, standing up. She quickly reached behind her and unzipped the dress. In one movement she pulled it down and off her shoulders, then down over her hips. Shelby watched in fascination as more and more of her bare skin began to expose itself to his view. She had the white, white skin of many redheads, with attractive freckles scattered over the body. The first he noticed were on her shoulders, and a few dotted her breasts, which stood high and proud.
She wore only a bra and panties as she laid the dress neatly across the bed. They were pink, and made her white skin look even softer, more feminine.
"Take everything off," he whispered.
She stood a few feet away from him and began to remove her underwear. The bra peeled off her breasts like the skin of an orange. The twin orbs seemed to poke straight out at him, staring. He looked into the round eyes and saw the nipples begin to harden. Then she slowly slid the panties down over her hips and a fine vee of red pubic hair formed at the crotch. The hair was straight, and it hung down from her lips, looking damp already, like she had just stepped out of the shower.
"Come here," he said, sliding his ass farther down on the chair and pushing his crotch forward. "Sit on this."
"Oh, no," she said, advancing. "I have other ideas for that. Just leave it to me, okay?"
She got on her knees between his legs again and reached once more for his now jerking and trembling pole.
"We'll make sure this doesn't cause any trouble," she said, and then she bent down and took the head of his cock in her mouth.
Shelby groaned and shifted his weight, letting his crotch shove even farther forward.
Betsy's red hair fell down each side of her face, brushing his legs. He placed one hand on top of her head, gently urging her to go down more.
She opened her mouth wider and cupped his balls. The she sent over half his thick slab into her mouth, past the opening to her throat, and down her gullet.
"Holy shit!" he moaned, pressing her head with both hands. "Holy shit!"
She pulled the cock from her mouth and began to lick his big nuts. The thick brown hair that covered the sac was matted and slicked down in a few seconds from her spit.
He felt his balls begin to churn under her lips, and he wondered if he was about to lose his load. He put his hands under her armpits and urged her to come up over him.
"Nothing doing," she said, taking her mouth away from his testicles. "I'm going to do what your wife should be doing to you. If you won't give her a kid, she should never let you into her hot pussy again!"
"Oh, come on, Betsy--" he protested.
"Not on your life. You don't get anything but my mouth."
"Please, baby, you'll drive me crazy that way--! "
"Serve you right!"
She went back to his balls, licking furiously and pushing his thighs up at the same time. In a moment, she had his feet resting on the edge of the chair, and his ass was clearly exposed to her face.
The powerful cheeks rested on the edge of the seat like two slabs of hairy granite. A thick jungle of his hair swept up into the crack, hiding the hole. She reached out and pried the cheeks apart. When the little brown pucker was exposed, she dipped her mouth down and began to lick the small orifice.
"Aggghhh!" he almost screamed. He sent his pelvis a foot in the air, allowing her greater freedom to tickle his butt with her tongue. "Oh, goddamn, Betsy, at least let me eat you too!"
She pulled her mouth away from his ass-hole.
"I said leave it to me! Now just lie there and shut up!"
She inserted a finger at the entrance to his rectum and probed inward.
"Wheeeewwww!" he whistled through his teeth.
The finger was shoved all the way inside him now, and her mouth once more attacked his jerking pole.
He and Connie had only experimented this way twice, and Connie had only managed to give him a token blow job, not expert enough to bring him off, even. Shelby realized it was probably his own fault, but his sexual attitudes were slightly prudish where his wife was concerned, and he had usually discouraged oral foreplay.
Betsy had him lodged deeply in her throat once more, and she was sliding his cock into her gullet until her lips pressed firmly into his hairy bush. He had never had his tool taken all the way, and the sensation was driving him almost crazy!
"Oh shit! Shit!" he hollered. He grabbed the back of her neck with both hands and began to fuck wildly into her face. He didn't know how she could take it without gagging, but it was a wonderful thing to see the way she operated!
She would hold the cock down the entire length for several seconds before coming up for air, letting her throat muscles massage it at the same time. He noticed that she was exciting herself as well as him, and she reached down and began to shove several fingers into her pussy, pulling and pinching her clit at the same time.
"Hmmmmm--" her voice hummed against his shaft.
"I--I'm gonna--shoot--OH!" he groaned, still bucking his hips, almost completely out of breath. "Oh, Christ, let me put it in you! PLEASE!"
She paid no attention to his pleadings, and she continued to give him deep throat.
"Oh, shit! Yeah, that's right," he grunted, while he fucked her face, resigned now to the blow job, "suck that prick, you cocksucker! Eat that big piece of meat until I come in your mouth, you fucking horny bitch!"
She began to masturbate herself faster and faster, and he could tell from the perspiration on her forehead and breasts that she was just as hot as he was.
He felt the seed begin to bubble then, and he made no attempt to hold back.
"Now eat it, bitch!" he moaned loudly, "eat my pussy-splitter all up! Swallow that come, you fucking queer bitch! Eat it! Owwww, eat if, you fucking whore! I'm gonna shoot! Oh, shit! I'm cummming!"
She sucked even harder.
"I'M CUMMMNNNGGG!! ! " he hollered, and then she felt his first splashes of hot, heavy cream hit her throat. Her instinct was to gag, but she held on, swallowing as hard as she could until she had drained him completely and his prick began to dwindle again. She had brought herself off at the same time, and the fingers that still squeezed up into her cunt were soaking.
Finally, she pulled off and stood up immediately.
"Now get dressed and get out of here!" she almost spat at him.
He looked up at her in amazement.
"Why--what's the matter, baby?"
"Don't baby me! Just get your pants on and split! Sure, I wanted that cock, or I wouldn't have brought you back here, but now that I've had it, I don't care if I ever see you again, you conceited bastard!"
"Owww, come on, Betsy, why do you talk to me like that?"
She tossed his pants at him.
"You heard me! Save it for your wife from now on! Although, I don't know why she even wants it, the way you treat her!"
"Oh, mind your own fucking business," he grumbled, slipping into his shorts and trousers.
When he was dressed, he walked to the door, then turned around, feeling awkward and angry.
"Will I see you again?"
Betsy was slipping into a housecoat, preparing for a shower.
"No, Shelby," she said, "if you get too lonely from now on, how about jerking off?"
He felt like walking back and slapping her. Instead, he went out of the little bungalow, slamming the door behind him.