A Reluctant Virgin's Road Trip

Lilly Anne gazed into Connor's eyes for a few moments, caught up in a dopamine high while listening to his spiel. She would have agreed to anything he said. It sounded somewhat like Reverend David's hypnotic words about life on the road and about driving out demons from people. It sounded like Connor would teach her how to drive out the devil from people like Mandy and Roger or at least how to control them; keep them from hurting her or others. She'd learned kind souls like Prince Albert were out there but not effective, just like the Memphis CSI detectives; no one seemed to have a way to stop the Mandys and the Rogers that abounded on the highways. If Connor had a key to control them, she decided she would listen and learn.

"Yes. I'll be your pupil. Teach me everything you know, including about not being a virgin!" She readily agreed to stay with him, emphasizing the last part about non-virgin training.

Connor smiled at her response while grasping her butt and pulling her leg over his own. "When you can get my cock hard again, I'll show you how to do this on the side, from behind, from above, standing against the wall, on the dresser, upside down, and ...."

At that point, Lily Anne was giggling at his exuberance. "Just how many times can people ... you know ... do it?" she asked, caught up in his excitement.

Connor Adams reigned in his enthusiasm for a moment ... remembering that this night was intended to be about the virgin becoming a woman and building up her trust in him. Seal the deal, he expected to be the goal tonight as she bonded with him, and he would be well on his way to influencing a new acolyte. The follow-up of pure unadulterated lustful sex would come afterward.

Connor Adams smiled as he lay between her legs and ran his tongue around the apex of her thighs. He had her tacit acknowledgment even though she didn't fully understand the ramifications. He would take two more days at the motel to inundate Lily Anne with the thrills of sex. He would cater to her every desire, including eating her cunt; kissing and eating her ass, and overwhelming her senses as she absorbed his teachings about the intimate arousal of a man's desire for the delightful beautiful Lily Ann 'Freckles' White.

On the third day of holding up in the motel, Connor opted for a change of places and finally led Miss Freckles White back up the hill to his eighteen-wheeler parked at Love's Fuel Station and Restaurant. They rolled westward in that brand new Peterbilt custom job and headed for California. He wanted to ensure she reached that blond moment's desire that drove her away from Myrtle Beach to taste the other ocean and see the difference in salinity. Of course, she would taste different salinities there -- that would come in time. And he would use those precious twenty-nine road hours to California to fill her in on some of the details of his business plans. Each night in a different chain of more luxurious hotels with pools, spas, and better quality king-sized beds. Lily Anne needed to know what Connor could offer her before reaching the other ocean.

Oceanside in California, it would take a month's worth of grooming as Connor introduced her to his friends and a new world of sexual gratifications. His friends would become her friends. Lily Anne would experience a world of multiple partners, mixed parties, and toys to recharge between sexual refraction periods for Connor's customers. Those experiences would obliterate the values her parents had tried to instill in her before she ran away from home. That was Connor Adam's plan from the outset as he explained how overrated virginity was in the first Love's Fuel Station and Restaurant.

Connor would work diligently to strip away all of Lily Anne White's moral barriers and focus on wealth. Once he felt confident Lily Anne was utterly obedient to him, he would introduce her to the last surprise: the sexual palace built into the back of that large trailer he pulled around the Interstates. Her role in his partnership would be to entertain wealthy men needing time away from prying eyes to play, time to do with and to women all those things that Connor could hide on the open road inside that big rig.

The Lily Anne that the world had known would disappear like the mist upon an early sunrise along the vast highways of America. She would be reborn as Freckles, a mysterious legend, the Mistress of Pleasure: part vixen, part concubine, and a source of consummate pleasure. She would master the art of seduction and learn to drain a man's soul of reason before he left the specialized compartment in the big rig's trailer. He'd leave too drained of his cum and drained of tens of thousands of dollars transferred from his bank account to an account in the Cayman Islands.

Occasionally, it would require Freckles to yield to some kinks: bondage, dress-up games, and role-playing. It would lead to many video recordings, some going to the clients and some recordings of which they were unaware. Those would be reserved for future exploitation if a client decided to disassociate themselves from his services. Of course, the Mistress of Pleasure was always there to soothe the pains that followed -- for a price.

While Connor Adams worked his plan of plotting a subservient role for Lily Anne, she, on the other hand, worked a different one, having benefited from his many confessed experiences as he regaled her during sexual bouts. Riches would indeed pour into the coffers. Just ask Connor Adams how that worked out for him.

After a month under Connor's tutelage, Lily Anne saw the potential for letting men between her thighs in California. She became subservient and readily climbed into that trailer with a smile each time.

Unbeknownst to Connor, however, a girl learns a great deal from all those wealthy insecure clients held spellbound by her pleasures in that trailer while cruising the Interstates. She had but to ask, and in the rolling box between those refractory rates, his clients readily yielded their wealthy secrets to impress and often to enrich her separate accounts. Connor never suspected how much more he could have earned since the Mistress of the Interstates set up a sting operation connecting him, Mandy, and Roger. Ironically, all three were caught in a business meeting, planning a joint sex-trafficking enterprise, and sent to prison in Tennessee. How serendipitous. Her wily plan kicked off her takeover of the operations at a far greater enterprise level than a minion like Connor could have imagined, and the secrets the clients shared with her added immense wealth to those coffers.

In the three years since then, Lily Anne received a self-taught Ph.D. in people persuasion, which didn't cost her a dime, just a smidge of tarnished dignity. And it did not require using a silver dollar in the decision process. The key, she learned, was to read people and figure out how sex was involved in their lives and decisions. Now, she makes her decisions for today and tomorrow from that well of knowledge and sends their names and places of pick up to her drivers for booking three and five-day trips aboard her fleet of freightliners on the Interstates.

Freckles had her grandfather's sentimental graduation gift appraised. The George Washington 1865 silver dollar was still near mint condition. That five-thousand-dollar coin found its way into a red-velvet jewelry box. One with a small key that she carries on a chain around her neck. It's still around just in case one day she finds it necessary to call upon its assistance for a decision she is unable to make herself. As of three years later, it hasn't been needed. Life is golden, flush with money, and she controls minions less dangerous than Roger, Mandy, and even others similar in conning to Connor Adams. Freckles ensures that everything a young woman working the Interstate Highways needs, whether a Plan B contraceptive or a bottle of roofies, is aboard her fleet of trucks. Freckles and her band of ladies have a lock on the pleasure-vehicles merchant fleet cruising the Interstates, freely commingling with law enforcement types to help smooth any speed bumps along the way.

Ever wonder why you see so many stopped eighteen-wheelers, the ones with heavy red lipstick SWACK symbols on the cargo doors that say, 'Our Lights Are Always On' and swarmed by smiling troopers checking them out? It isn't for speeding ... it's the unique services offered to them inside the customized eighteen-wheeler pleasure wagons to help grease the wheels of sex commerce as Freckles rules over the trade going westward-ho out on the Interstates.

As for the folks back home in Myrtle Beach, her parents smile whenever they video chat while she's standing in front of one of her newest Peterbilt rigs. She shares her most recent story about being a trucking magnate CEO with all the charm of a Californy gal. However, she is careful not to show them the SWACK logo on the back. Her relatives think her freightliners carry warehousing goods.

If you happen to be traveling east or westbound along the mid-continent Interstates, keep an eye out for that SWAK symbol above the 'Our lights Are Always On' Slogan. And note the phone number for Lily Annie's business if you feel the need for a vacation aboard one of her luxury freightliners. They're open twenty-four-seven for your convenience.

Thanks goes out to kenjisato for his assistance in editing this missive. It makes my work seem much better with the glitches ironed out under his watchful eye.

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