A Reluctant Virgin's Road Trip

In and out until it felt too good to stop going deeper; her throat rebelled at the new intrusion. She coughed and sputtered. He pulled back for a moment.

"It's okay, honey," he breathed out the words heavily.

"Sorry, Roger. I'll do better. I promise!" Lily Anne sputtered. Her intentions were good. It was so new to her. She didn't understand the future expectations.

"Oh, yes ... yes you will, darling, yes you will," he assured her, reaching out with both hands to stroke the back of her head. He slipped inside her mouth again.

And, at that point, Roger spread his legs to better his stance. Clutching two fistfuls of long blonde hair, he drove his dick down her throat until his balls slapped her chin. He fucked her mouth while she gagged, tears rolled, and she tried to cry out. He was like a pile driver, ramming her face with the fury of a rapist. Lily Anne's body shook as she tried to pull loose, but she was no match for the frenzy behind his power and lust to cum in her throat. It took a good while, but the crazed and rising sensations of a powerful climax reached every fiber of his body. At jackhammer speed, he emptied his nuts into her gullet.

Mercifully, he eased up.

Lily Anne could finally breathe. She gasped, choked, coughed, and finally swallowed another teaspoon of 'sweet sugar.' Weak-kneed, Roger slowly removed his hands from the back of her head. Her gasps were strong. Her jaws ached. She choked again and doubled over, retching from the effect of being strangled by a mouthful of well-endowed cock.

Roger trembled from the massive orgasm sweeping over his body. He loved the rush of getting off while slamming a woman's head against him. It gave him a sense of power, feeling her struggling to breathe and knowing she couldn't until he was ready to let go. He collapsed on the bed beside Miss Lily Anne White, feeling damn proud of his accomplishment.

He was smiling.

She was hurt.

Tears ran down her face as he pulled her back up by her hair ... and kissed her lips, sticking his tongue into her mouth to finish the kiss. Roger's kiss was deliberately nasty—an in-your-face showing to Lily Anne that she was at his mercy. A control that showed he could have all of her as intimately as he wanted.

He let her go. She dropped like a stone onto the bed in a sobbing heap.

He had the nerve, then, to ask, "Liked that last pounding, didn't you, honey?"

"Yes, yes, sugar. I didn't know it could feel like that. Was it as good for you too, honey?" Lily Anne sniffled out what she thought might please him, then cried as he sat down to watch her.

Her voice was torn and raw from the throat lashing she took. But the words from Mandy's coaching came back to her. 'Tell him how good it was; make him feel like a man if you want a chance to escape, Lily Anne.'

Lilly Anne had gotten off easy. She had her virginity intact, both her cunt and her ass.

She thought it was because she did such an excellent job of face-fucking his cock that saved her. In truth, it was just what Roger's sister called his stupid idea: he couldn't fuck a virgin or take a virgin's ass.

It was a false sense of hope she had built up, fed by Mandy's and Roger's warped minds.

"Here, sugar, you did so well. Take this and some water," Roger said as he gave her a pill. "It's aspirin. It'll take some of the soreness away. You'll get used to it the more you do it. You can ask Mandy. She's got lots of experience!" he smiled and watched her swallow the pill.

"We're almost to Atlanta, sugar. I'll wake you up, then. Sleep now, Miss Lily Anne White," Roger cooed as he stroked her hair. He coaxed her slime-covered face closer to his, for now, satiated dick, letting the head poke her lips. She opened her mouth obediently and took the flaccid head.

Lily Anne lay her head back on his lap, sucking on his flaccid one-eyed snake, and studied it carefully, memorizing its shape and different shades of color. It was calm now. So, she reached out and explored his hairy balls and the leather-like texture. At the same time, she felt Roger's fingers tracing her 'tatters' and on toward her fuzzy region. He was quiet. She yawned then. She hadn't slept since graduation night, and that night's sleep had been restless. This morning, there had been no sleep at all. In an instant, she was out like a light.

"Ow, Mandy, my head hurts!" Lily Anne whimpered.

She wiped a hand across her forehead, then rubbed her eyes. She felt the pain in her jaws, the soreness in her breasts. They felt bruised, as though a tennis ball had hit her. The sun was bright, and the eighteen-wheeler's tires rumbling down the Interstate continued to sing its familiar whining sounds. Slowly, she blinked as the fog lifted from her mind. She became aware of her surroundings.

"You're not Roger ..." she exclaimed!

"Well, well, look who just woke up, Miss Sunshine! I figured you'd sleep most of the day. So, what did they give you? A Roofie?"

Lily Anne's face was shocked and filled with wonderment all rolled into one. As if by some Cinderella kind of magic wand, the beautiful eighteen-wheeler had been transformed into an old, well-worn battle wagon. Its driver was now an old gear-shifter, whose round tummy, scraggly beard, and jovial voice were not quite—Santa Claus status.

"Whoa!" Lily Anne huffed out and pushed straight up and against the doorframe as far as she could slide.

"What ... who ... where .... How the ..."

All the interrogatives one could ask started to flow all at once, but not one of them came out coherently in a sentence. Lily Anne was just stunned to find her world had been, once again, turned upside down.

"Okay, Baby! Calm yourself down!" The almost Santa scowled, "Let's start with one of those at a time. First, I'm Albert. And I got your name from them as Little Annie. Though, I don't think they got all of that right. Now, what's the next question you got?"

Lily Anne's mind locked up. She wanted all the questions answered first and had just thought of more to ask simultaneously. She didn't want to sound like a ditzy blonde. So, she took a deep breath and started them off, one at a time.

"How did I get here?"

"Picked you up this morning in Atlanta. They told me you were looking for a ride west."

"So, where are we now?"

"Northwest bound to Memphis, sugar. In Memphis, I got a long haul to deliver. Kinda gets you going west, baby."

"Oh shit! My backpack!" Lily Anne shouted, just realizing she didn't have her A-frame backpack.

Albert chuckled at her reaction. "It's okay; hold your britches! It's up in the sleeper. You can crawl up there and check it out."

Lily Anne almost rose out of the seat but then sat back down. "Maybe later; you say it's up there, right?" Her thoughts were about the last time she crawled into a sleeper; she didn't get out of it, without some damage and at a high cost to her dignity.

"Yep," Albert confirmed, checking his mirrors for traffic on both sides.

"Next question, Missy?" Albert asked after a long pause in the conversation.

Lily Anne had been doing some soul-searching. She was contemplating her close call with her 'captors' Mandy and Roger. She just realized she had no idea who they were, where they were going or coming from. She had nothing to report to the police to give them a clue about the truck. All she could have said was that it was a new truck and had an apartment in the back big enough for two — to fuck.

The next thought along those lines was that calling the cops, or 'Bears,' as Mandy called them, would probably get her caught and sent back home. Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. But Lily Anne White felt that was all behind her now. She was wiser and would be more vigilant in selecting with whom she rode.

"I gotta pee," she announced as she saw a sign for Love's Fuel Station and Restaurant fifteen miles ahead.

"I usually go in a bottle," Albert laughed, "but I'm guessing your squirter ain't gonna fit the one I got," he said, holding up a gallon jug. It was about a quarter full.

Lily Anne studied the bottle for a second. She'd never done that—peed in a bottle. Yes, peeing in a cup at the doctor's office was a lot bigger and a bit messy. Besides, she'd have to ... crawl up top, with the bottle, for some privacy. How would you pee in a bottle lying down up there anyway?

"It's okay, darling. When did ya eat last?" Albert asked, looking over at the disheveled youngster.

When he first spotted her, she was draped in the arms of a burly trucker sporting a shit-eating grin. Had he not been grinning, Albert figured, the girl would have been dead by the way that fucker carried her.

"Hey, old-timer, got some nice virgin here! Want some of her? She's looking for a ride out west. Little Annie here is a — real first-timer — ya know? She was fun! Easy, docile, and likes to please! Likes sucking dick — just like a Hoover!" Roger told the old trucker.

Bedraggled and ran roughshod over; she looked like a kitten left out in the rain. He was reluctant to take her on at first. He knew she was in trouble, however. His good nature wouldn't stop him from taking in a stray cat ... especially one that looked like she'd been put through hell in that asshole's new eighteen-wheeler. Fate hadn't given him much choice: say 'yes' and rescue her or 'no thanks' and know that the dipshit would pedal her to another trucker. His conscious made the decision.

"I ate a cinnamon roll about three in the morning at the Love's Fuel Station in Myrtle Beach," Mr. Albert," she answered using 'Mr.,' trying to get on his good side. Some of what Mandy said crept into her mind as she studied him a bit.

"Well, guess we can make a pit stop or pee stop, sugar. And get you something to eat, too," Albert said, nodding his head, "But just an in and out, quickie, honey! Time is money, ya know?"

Lily Anne shuddered at his 'in and out quickie' remark.

"Yeah, Albert," she said, as a tremor racked her body, "that sounds fine to me. Just need to get away from it all." The reference brought up an evil picture of Roger's thick hairy cock in her face and its 'in and out quickie thrusts' into her mouth. She could feel the gagging coming back, the smell of sweaty balls banging against her chin, and that taste.... It seemed like yesterday, but that notion was crazy— it was just a few short hours ago, according to Albert. Lordy, Albert must be right. That 'aspirin' Roger gave her must have been a Roofie—whatever it was, it wiped any recollection of what transpired from the time she fell asleep in that comfortable, new big rig to finding herself lying on Albert's front seat.

Albert wheeled the big rig in-line with the other truckers as he pulled off I-20. He and Lily Anne set foot outside the big old rig just east of Birmingham, Alabama, amidst the rumble of idling mother truckers parked for a respite at Love's Fuel Station and Restaurant. Lily Anne gingerly walked alongside Albert as he seemed to waddle duck-like through rows of idling trucks toward the diner.

"I'll get us a table," Albert said as they walked inside. "And Miss Lily, you might want to," he grunted, looking a bit sheepish, "get to the restroom quickly and get your clothes rearranged."

The nice clean ladies' restroom bustled with women travelers and their children, all needing to pee. Lily Anne stood waiting for her turn and glanced into a mirror as she waited. She nearly croaked. Fortunately, a stall opened. She kept her eyes downward and scooted inside. If she had to guess, it was fucking Roger who put her clothes back on her. The blouse was inside out and backward! The thought of that asshole handling her body while putting her clothes on her felt ... like a significant invasion of privacy. Not that getting mouthfucked didn't, but she was awake during that.

"What the fuck did you do to me, asshole?" she muttered in the privacy of the stall as she began to strip. Who knows what he did after the pill took effect?

As Lily Anne pulled the top off and reversed it, she saw the bruises on her breasts. Her social filter went off, "Fuck you, Roger!" she screamed aloud. The thought of anyone hearing her words didn't even click in the back of her mind; so mad was her anger. Roger had mauled them and left 'hickies' and even a bite mark on one. No wonder she felt like a tennis ball had hit her!

She sat and peed. It was then that she looked down at her shorts. With a gasp, she slipped them off. "Shit, fuck!" she hissed and turned them right-side out. Fucking pervert did that on purpose; she just knew! With her bottom naked, she did her best to inspect her body to see what else he might have abused. She twisted around as far as she could to inspect her backside. Without a mirror, she couldn't tell for sure, but it didn't feel like Roger had invaded the backside of her anatomy. Her last gasp came with a sigh of relief—she felt her coin pocket. The round shape of Grandpa's lucky 1865 George Washington Silver Dollar was still there. That's when it hit her ... Fucking Roger kept her bra and panties.

She washed her hands. Her hair and her face twice. She was trying to get Roger's dried ... stuff ... off her face and out of her disheveled blond mop-style hair. She couldn't bring herself to call it 'cum.' She'd walked through the whole damn restaurant—with Albert—looking like that! She wondered if the people she passed on the way in had seen her sad state of affairs. Jesus Jennie! She was lucky to get away earlier in the day, or just maybe, what Mandy taught her helped her survive.

At the washstand, as she leaned slumped forward, a feeling of embarrassment crept over her, standing there looking in the mirror. She was barely eighteen and three months of age, but right now, she couldn't make up her mind whether she felt more like eight and needed someone to wrap some safe arms around her or had aged to at least twenty-one in the last few hours -- still in need of being in safe arms.

"You okay, honey?" asked a polite and seemingly concerned voice.

It jolted Lilly Anne to consciousness. "Yes. Yes! I'm fine, ma'am. Thanks for asking. It's just been a long day."

"Well, hope you get some rest, dear! You driving or riding on a dime?" the lady asked.

That term, again! Lily Anne's eyes widened as she answered, "Traveling with my Grandpa!"

She practically shouted that out as she hurried out of the bathroom. For a moment, the lady sounded like Mandy was again back in her life.

Out she rushed, looking for Albert. Too late, she realized she had made another mistake. Her backpack was in Albert's rig. If, and when Albert went to the can, she didn't have it to run away with; if Albert turned out to be like Roger. Her lifelines were in it: her money, graduation gift cards, and identification papers.

"Mr. Albert, I didn't bring in my backpack. I need to get some money from it to pay for dinner," she said, sitting across from Albert.

"S'okay," Albert replied, looking down at a newspaper he'd bought, "I ordered you a burger and fries. Figured an orange soda pop, too. If you'd druther have another one; I'll drink the orange and get ya what ya want. Later, you can pay me back." After a year of travels, Albert just knew all southern girls drank orange soda pop or RC Cola. He figured she was an 'orange' girl.

The 'pay me back' phrase rang a bell with Lily Anne. 'Shit!' she thought, 'I must be getting paranoid. He's just reading the paper like I'm not here, so maybe it was just what he said—not what I thought he meant. It wasn't sex for 'pay me back,' right? My BFF and I say it all the time to one another, 'pay me back later, girlfriend' that's all it is, money, right?'

While riding in a big rig headed for Memphis, Tennessee, many words can be said. Some leave you crying your heart out while heading down Interstate 22 bound out of Birmingham, Alabama.

Lily Anne exploded in the relative quiet of the big rig's rumble down the highway. "Fuckin' Goddamned Roger and Mandy!" she screamed, stomping her feet, and clenching her fists in a fury.

"Don't go busting a lung, now, Missy! What's up?" Albert broke into her tirade, looking over with concern. He watched her pawing through the large A-frame backpack as though she'd lost her best friend.

"My graduation money is gone!" she bellowed, "Four hundred dollars!" The anger dissolved into tears almost immediately.

"Figured something was up when that guy came dragging your gear; after he put you up in my truck. He was stuffing something in his pocket. Had a damn big smile, too."

"Fuckin' Roger, again. Can't see what Mandy sees in him!" Lily Anne whimpered.

"Don't feel bad about her, Missy. After returning to that shiny new, custom-long-haul rig, I saw him hand her some of it."

"Then ... Fuckin' Mandy, bitch, too!" Lily Anne added to her increasingly crass and growing vocabulary.

"Don't rightly know if it's any comfort, Missy, but ya might think about the fact that they just took your four hundred dollars and let you get out intact. Not that they could have left you on the side of the road or in a ditch somewhere." Albert spoke forthrightly, saying, "Be a shame to read about a cute waif, like you, in the newspaper's obituaries."

Lily Anne had time to get beyond bemoaning the loss of the money as they rolled toward Memphis. She acknowledged the facts of the situation and reticently agreed, after some more thought, with Albert about her release.

'I am, fucking lucky,' she thought.

"Mr. Albert, I left home on the flip of my grandpa's gift of an 1865 George Washington silver dollar. My daddy said not to go hitchhiking and get picked up by strangers. I kinda tried to do that by taking a greyhound dog out of Myrtle Beach, but ... that didn't turn out.

"Well, maybe, Miss Lily Anne, ya might want to think about a Greyhound bus out of Memphis and go back home. Do they love you there, Lily Anne?" he mused as they passed a sign saying one hundred fifty miles to Memphis on I-22.

"Yes. They do," Miss Lily Anne White replied, with a slight smile creasing her lips, as she watched Albert checking his mirrors. He followed the signs to Memphis.

It would be three hours more. There was plenty of time to tell Albert about her BFF and how she would attend community college, get an apartment, get drunk, and find some hunks to fuck like rabbits. Time to talk about her high school education and her lack of direction in life. Those were some very introspective moments she shared with Albert as she poured her heart out.

And, of course, there was time to learn that Albert was a retired policeman from Chicago, afloat after a messy divorce and looking to redefine himself — out on the Interstates.

She broke down at that revelation and told him her experiences with Mandy and Roger in their new tractor-trailer. Before that, she could only talk to Albert about Tiffany, her BFF, and her soon-to-be fucked experiences, but not the ones she had just been forced through. That had been too personal. When it was all said and done, Albert was extremely quiet.

Too quiet, she thought. "Albert, I guess there's nothing I can do about it. I don't have anything to report to a police officer, even if he is retired. I have no last names, locations, or vehicle identifications."

Lily Anne alighted from Albert's ancient rig on Memphis' outer beltway, Interstate 269, at the Love's Fuel Station and Restaurant. Together they walked inside. This time, Lily Anne carried her A-frame backpack with her. Although, she wasn't thinking she had to pick out a guy who would be willing to give her a ride by giving him 'the eye,' making him believe she wanted to 'please him.' She wouldn't be waiting until 'Prince Albert was in the can' to run away. She knew Albert would be headed down into the city to the trucking terminals.