A Slow Night at the Farm

This story could or should have been placed in the humor section. I know, but whose to say that two fractured souls can't find love in the most unlikely places? Not me, certainly. I hope you have as much fun reading the story as I had making up this shit. LYG

***

I'd been on the road for twenty hours or more before I even started to wonder why.

I knew goddamned good and well that I couldn't unload my cargo for another two days in Long Beach and I was only about six hours away.

"Pull over you dumb ass," I scolded myself.

But I was still another ninety miles from a truck stop. There wasn't much out here at all but sagebrush and jackrabbits.

And then it hit me, "The Sunshine Kitten Farm."

I haul this way at least a couple of times a month. I always wondered what that place looked like on the inside.

Stuck out here in the dessert, about fifty miles from the closest known shithole in the universe, was a house of ill repute. A bordello if you prefer, but as most of us truckers refer to it on the CB, a butt hut.

Due to my, ah, "condition", I never stopped there before. What the hell, maybe they won't mind if I stop and park in their lot and get a few hours of shuteye. A cold beer or two might be nice too and the place is only a couple miles up the road. Why not?

I swung my tractor into the dirt driveway and found a spot that faced away from where the sun comes up. I put ol' Betsy, that's my truck, to bed and bumped the tires on the trailer as I stretched and unkinked my legs. The lot was empty, besides ol' Betsy and only sign of life was the big pink neon sign tellin' me to "Cum on In". It wasn't but half past midnight so I figured they must be open. "Must be a slow night on the farm," I concluded.

When I pressed the doorbell, it took a couple of minutes before the door swung open. I wasn't sure what girls that did this for a living looked like but damn, I wasn't expecting what this one looked like. The woman that answered the door must have been the first hooker that came over on the Mayflower. If this broad was under eighty, then I was the Sultan of Brunei.

"Excuse me ma'am, I wonder if it would be alright to park my truck out here while I got some sleep?" I asked politely.

With a voice that reminded me of Edward G Robinson, "Well why don't you come on in and we'll talk about it."

"Here it comes," I thought to myself, "The high pressure sell." Well, I ain't buyin'.

This would probably be as good a time as any to explain my aforementioned "condition" to y'all. Back in the early nineties, when I was a couple of years out of high school, I joined the Army. I figured it to be a piece of cake. Three years and I could go to college on someone else's dime. Little did I know that ol' General Swartzenhiemer had other plans. One fine morning I was driving my Hum-Vee down a road in Kuwait, when, like a dumb ass, I ran over an Iraqi pothole. A goddamn motherfripin' land mine. Now, my injuries didn't look too bad at first and even now you can hardly see the two-inch scar on my right hip that remains as a reminder but from my bellybutton to my knees I only have about five percent feeling. What does that mean you ask? Well, the most obvious is that even though I can get hard, my dick is impervious to stimuli. Nope can't feel hardly a thing, I could hit it with a hammer and not even flinch.

So with that in mind, the other obvious effect is that I haven't been able to shoot one goddamn load of spunk for the last fifteen or so years. Oh, I tried for a couple of years; I probably bedded over a hundred concerned women that assured me that they would be able to help me. God love every one of the brave girls, they tried but all that ever happened was I left a wake of thoroughly fucked pussies behind without firing one single solitary sperm.

Finally, I gave up. I couldn't handle the disappointment after so much work and nothing to show for it but a worn out partner that was begging me to stop. Now I'm not sayin' that makes me some kinda super stud. What I'm getting' at is when you don't have to worry about premature ejaculation, or ejaculation period, most women aren't a problem to satisfy sexually.

The old girl, Stella, ushered me into the parlor. Pretty fancy for a whorehouse I mused.

"Why don't you and Misty discuss your sleeping arrangements," Stella's gravel like voice said.

Misty appeared in the doorway, now this was more like what I expected. She had dark mysterious eyes but at the same time a look of uncertainty. She was also younger than I expected and built like brick shit house. Damn, she was fine but the same old disappointed feeling was coming back.

Stella looked at me; "You two should get along fine together. She's new and shy just like you," she concluded.

Stella was right, Misty was shy. She escorted me to the bar and coyly asked if I'd buy a young lady a drink. Like I'd said before, I was thirsty for a couple of beers so I saw no harm in buying Misty a drink. Hell, I know that's all part of the game and partly how these girls make their money. Since I had no intention of making her earn a living the old fashioned way, I might as well cough up a few bucks for her retirement.

We talked a bit but I never got too personal. I told her my name, Powder, and not much else. I could see Stella giving her the eye from time to time to go on and close the deal. Misty was uncomfortable but she made her move and asked, "So, would you like to come back and see my room?"

I thought about lying to her and telling her I was married or some such shit but for reasons I'll never understand myself, I decided to tell her the truth.

"I'm really sorry darlin' but it'd be a big waste of time. It's not that I don't want to...but that I can't," I explained.

She looked a bit perplexed so I continued, "I have this condition and well, it's complicated but I can't... you know... finish."

She still looked puzzled so she asked; "Do you mean you can't get hard?"

"No, that's not the problem. Shoot, I can stay hard all night long if I want to but I can't... I can't ejaculate... What I'm trying to say is that no matter how hard I try I can't cum," I announced a little louder than I should have.

"Bullshit," I heard from behind me.

I turned to see another one of Stella's girls sitting a few stools away from us and shaking her head.

"That's pure bullshit. I heard some pretty lame ass excuses not to pay fo' pussy but that one is the lamest," the black girl scoffed.

I won't try and tell you that I ain't prejudice cause I'd be lyin'. I hate assholes and bitchy cunts that can't mind their own business. I took an immediate disliking to this woman.

I took a sip of my beer and asked, "What the hell do you know about it and why would you care anyway?"

She took a step toward were I was sitting, "Com' on white boy, just admit ya can't get it up no mo' and cut the bullshit."

I shrugged and turned back toward Misty, "Whatever," I said trying to ignore any further confrontation.

Misty jumped in, "Well, I believe him."

"OH pa-lease honey, he just anotha wanna be dickless bullshit artist," she scoffed.

"I think she's scared Powder. Look at her, she wouldn't know what to do with a hard dick." Misty grinned.

"They ain't no such thing as hard dick that I can't handle. I tell you what white boy, if I can't make you cum then you don't have to pay," she continued.

"Not interested," I said.

"What's a matter you afraid of lil' ol' Shawanda," she teased.

"Well, to be to be totally honest, I just can't see what I'd get out of a deal like that. I can't see where it costs you a thing either way. If by some miracle you did make me cum, then you get my money but if you don't, what's in it for me?" I asked.

"You, mister truck driver man, get some of Shawanda's special sweet meat fo' free," she answered defiantly.

"Well Wanda," I said purposefully, "Before we strike a deal, I got to see this special pussy."

Stravanda didn't hesitate one little bit. She hiked up that whatchamacallit she was wearing and exposed the hairiest, blackest bush I'd ever seen on a woman. It reminded me of the afro style she wore on the top of her head.

I scratched my chin after a close examination and said, "Just as I thought."

"What you mean?" she quickly responded.

"It ain't made of gold, I thought you said it was special. It looks like ordinary pussy to me," This made Misty giggle and that in itself made me smile, "Besides, I've already got a lady lookin' after me," I said with a nod to Misty.

The bitch just wouldn't let it alone though, "Wha's a matter, the big man scared of a lil' bet?"

This pissed me off. If I had one weakness that I'd admit to, it was that I'd never, not ever, walked away from a bet. Sha...fonda had no way of knowing it but she had struck a nerve.

"So now you're talkin' my language, how much you got?" I dared.

I saw a little sparkle in the corner of her eye, she figured she had me now, "You tell me Hoss, how much you wanna lose?"

I pulled out my wallet. I'd been on the road for four and a half months and hadn't been to a bank. I pulled out about half of what I had, a stack of hundreds about an inch and a half thick. I began to count. I stopped and tucked a couple of bills in Misty's cleavage and started to count again. There was eighty two hundred dollars, liking round numbers, I peeled off the odd two hundred and added them to the few I'd already given to the sweet young thing.

"Eight grand," I announced, "First to cum loses."

By then the conversation had attracted quite a few spectators. It appeared that every girl in the house was now in the bar.

I could tell that S'ganda, or whatever her name was, wanted that pile of dough. She seemed to hesitate though and I knew what was coming next.

"I ain't got that much," she hemmed.

"Well what do you got?"

"I don't know... maybe fo', five thousand?"

"I'll tell ya what girl, just to show you what a nice guy I am, you put up five against my eight and you got a bet. First orgasm wins, the loser gets the money," I offered.

"What?" she puzzled.

"Never mind," I shrugged, "You in or not?"

She hesitated and looked at the other girls. A blonde standing next to her spoke up, "Hell, if you won't fuck him, I will. I've got the cash if you don't."

"Hold on now," she pushed the blonde away, "I got this,"

I smirked, "What's the rules and where we gonna do this?"

S'honda thought she had me, "Ain't no rules honey, we gonna do this right here," she pointed to the floor.

"Down and dirty huh? Alright then, let's fuck!" I ordered.

I turned back to Misty and asked, "You okay with this?"

She shyly nodded and kissed me for luck.

"Okay big mouth, let's see what you got," Shawanda retorted.

Misty took over and started to undress me, "Fuck the shit out of that bitch," she snarled.

We got down to my underwear; Misty was acting as my manager or valet, whatever you wanna call it. I had my back turned toward the other girls when she slid my boxers to the floor. I was a little apprehensive to fuck in front of an audience and my dick wasn't showing any interest up to this point, if you get my drift. Misty looked down and giggled and that kind of unnerved me. I'm kind of ashamed to admit that my package is on the small side... for a palomino that is.

As Misty grabbed old Willie Peter, I couldn't feel it, of course, but she inadvertently touched the scar on my hip and that sent a shiver down my spine.

She beamed as my cock started the inflation process in her hand. Her eyes locked on mine as she leaned in and ran the tip of her tongue over my left nipple. That did it, oh God did that do it. I was locked, loaded and ready for action. Willie was awake now and lookin' mean.

Misty put her hands on my shoulders and whispered, "Go get her Powder," as she turned me to face Sha...Wanda.

The bitch had a look of uncertainty as she saw what was about to invade her box. Even Stella, the old one, had to look twice. If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn I could hear Willie say, "Mwa ha ha ha ha."

Stella passed a condom over the bar to Misty; she was having some trouble at first. One of the other more experienced girls stepped up and told her, "You grab it and I'll put this over its head."

Chewwanda was aware by this time that this wasn't going to be an easy fit. One of her friends had suggested she'd better lube up, so she was doing her best to squeeze a whole tube of K Y into her crack.

With Spananda now properly greased, I kneeled down between her ebony legs, "One last chance bitch, you sure you wanna do this?" I asked.

She bit down on her lower lip and nodded rapidly like a rodeo cowboy about to ride the bull that's never been tamed. To be fair, I didn't shove it all in at once. I took my time and advanced slowly. I didn't like this mouthy cunt but I didn't want to hurt her either. I gave her time to adjust and slowly started a rhythm.

The sound was obnoxious. The K Y was causing a seal to be formed and with each stroke in, a distinct "Phfffffffft" was heard as the air queefed out of her greasy twat. On the backstroke, it was more of a "Sluuumpft" like a sucking noise.

Phfffffffft, sluuumpft, phfffffffft, sluuumpft.

After about twenty minutes, I still wasn't feeling a thing, but Sweranda, now she was on the verge. Her mouth was open and all that was coming out were grunts each time I sunk to the bottom of her hole. Her dark red nails were imbedded between my shoulder blades and her feet were back behind her ears. I double clutched and sifted gears.

This was just exercise to me, as I still couldn't feel a thing. But I double damn guarantee that the slut on the floor beneath me was feelin' it.

Snoronda had a big mouth and just like before, she couldn't shut up, "OH SHIT, NO not there, NO, slower, faster, don't squeeze my titties, ouch, fuck, damn."

I'd had about enough of her shit, why couldn't she just shut the fuck up. Suddenly and with no warning, I pulled out and stopped. I got up off the floor and yanked her with me.

Before she could say anything else, I swiftly bent her over one of the tables and entered her from behind. I liked it this way and besides my knees were almost raw from the rug burns, not that I could feel it.

I'll give Stramanda credit where credit is due. She lasted 'til about the forty-five minute mark, talking shit and barking orders most of the time. I'd been pounding that pussy for all I was worth when her fingernails dug into the wooden table and she screamed out for her Momma and went into convulsions. "Finally," I thought to myself as she lay there shivering not uttering a sound.

Misty ran over and gave me a high five before she wrapped the towel around my neck and pulled me down for a kiss, "Damn Powder, that was somethin'," she remarked, "That's the first time since I've been here that she's shut her big mouth."

"I was thinkin' along the same lines, darlin', it's kind of... peaceful now."

Misty toweled me off and handed me a cold one. I'd worked up quite a sweat; do you have any idea how much work goes into an unwanted orgasm? Shawanda does.

There was a clamor from the other girls about who was gonna be next. A fight almost broke out between a short redhead and a chubby brunette.

Stella came around the bar with a wad of cash in her hand, "You bitches cool your jets, I'm next," she growled.

A couple of the girls ran to the front and one asked, "Do you really think you can beat him?"

Stella chuckled, "God I hope not, I haven't busted my cookie since Nixon was in office. I don't give a shit about the money, I just wanna feel like that," she said pointing to Shawanda curled into a fetal position, "Come on sonny, let's get this over with."

"Just a dang minute," I hollered.

"Ah Powder, you're not going to make me beg for it are you?" Stella coaxed, "Please, I know I don't look like these other girls but..."

I interrupted, "Just a minute, I'm not sure I can..."

"Please Powder, you got me flowing like an artesian well," she begged.

"Goddamn it, if you'd let me finish, I'd tell you that I don't think I can without something to eat first. I'm starving."

"Well shit, why didn't you say so? Somebody fix this boy a steak, he'll need all the energy he can get," she bellowed.

Misty took the opportunity to drag me back to her room and pushed me into a hot shower. Man it felt good, on the parts that I could feel, but not half as good as when she joined me and lathered me up with her slippery body. As she scrubbed Shawanda's scent from my skin, she ran her fingers over that two-inch scar again. My cock sprang to attention to see what was going on and my eyes almost shot out of their sockets. A million pinpoints came to life before I moved her hand. Christ what the hell was that I wondered?

Wanting to concentrate on something else before we started something I couldn't finish, I asked, "I know it's stupid but what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"It's complicated, just like your problem," she shrugged.

"How so?"

"Something my Momma said."

"Your mother told you to do this?"

"OH, God no."

I looked at her with a question mark pasted on my face. So she continued, "My Momma once told me that although she loved my daddy, she wished that she hadn't gotten married so young. She sometimes felt sad because she'd missed out on something, you know. She wished she seen the Grand Canyon and New York City, she always dreamed of traveling and well, like life had passed her by," she said with a tear.

I had to ask, "And that's why you ended up here?"

"Sort of. I want to do the things that Momma didn't get to do before I settle down and have kids. I wanna see what's out there and that takes money, a lot of it."

I nodded, "Not as much as you'd think baby doll. I don't have a lot and I see it every day a mile at a time."

"I bet it's wonderful," she gushed.

"Sometimes... and sometimes it's lonely and you wish that there were a special someone to share it with."

A tap on the door interrupted us. It was Stella with a platter of food big enough to feed a tribe of Ethiopians for a year.

"You eat up sweetie, I want your best when you're ready," the old tart purred.

Damn, a real live home cooked meal, the first I seen in probably years. There was a steak about the size of Rhode Island, corn on the cob, baked potato oozing butter, steaming hot biscuits and to top it off, apple pie. I didn't even know where to begin.

"Darlin', would you do me a special favor?" I asked Misty.

"What can I do for you baby?"

"Do you think that... this is stupid... but... could we sit down and eat together like real folks do? I hate to eat alone and... well, it would make me happy if you would share this with me," I stuttered.

It was real nice just to sit and eat. We talked about this and that while I quenched my appetite. She finally got around to the big question.

"So what caused you... I mean why can't you..."

"I'll tell you someday but for now lets just enjoy the rest of this steak."

It wasn't really a national secret or anything. I just didn't feel like talking about my problems or me. I was having dinner or breakfast or whatever meal this was with a petty girl and I didn't want any of that shit to get in the way. I did however, ask Misty how an old tomato like Stella still managed to make a living selling pussy. How many guys got off on a grandma fantasy, was there really a market for that sort of thing? And could she really afford to make this bet with me? I'd feel kinda bad taking her social security checks.

"Oh shit Powder, I thought you knew," she laughed, "She doesn't work here, she owns this place and two or three just like it."

Well that was a shock, "Alright then, lets go make some money, Betsy needs new shoes."

"What?"