One For The Road Ch. 1byBob Peale©
©1999 by Bob Peale.
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Disclaimer: This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead. It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further! By reading further, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older. You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that, to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law. No animals were harmed in the manufacture of this product.
The 14-hour days were killing her; this was the ninth in as many days. At least the current crisis was over, but Vanessa was sure there was another one waiting somewhere around the corner.
This was not at all what she'd thought she signed up for when she'd sold her business to those morons from New York. Initially, she thought she was getting a sweet deal: $3.5 million for a business that had only taken her 10 years to build. With that much money, she'd be able to lounge around for a few years before the lure of accomplishing something would draw her back into the rat race.
Of course, in the eleventh hour, the "investors” realized that they didn’t know anything at all about the market or the business, so they'd restructured the deal: $3.75 million, plus 10% of the profits for the next 5 years, provided she stayed on as a consultant for the next 18 months and taught someone the ropes. It didn't take long for everything she'd worked so hard to build to start to crumble. She soon found that she was working harder than when she first started the store. With three months to go, she couldn't wait to cash out and get the hell out of dodge!
It was after 11 PM by the time she pulled into her garage. Inside the house, she walked to the bathroom, stripping off her clothes as she went. Her husband was in Phoenix on business, so after taking a long hot shower, she climbed right into bed. In a few minutes, today would be just another in a long series of bad dreams.
After 3 hours of tossing and turning, Vanessa finally acknowledged that she was too wound up to fall asleep. Growing up, she would go for long drives when she couldn't sleep, but she hadn't done that in years. Kicking back the covers, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and foraged around for some clothes. The first two things she found were an old tank top she liked to wear around the house, and a short skirt she'd worn a couple of days ago. She didn't bother with shoes or underwear; she wasn't going to be gone that long.
She drove along the interstate for a while, just happy to have the windows down, the radio playing, and the road unwinding under her. As the miles ticked off on the odometer she felt the day's tension drain away. Bored with the highway, she exited and began winding through little towns and back roads with no real destination in mind.
Driving along a particularly desolate patch, a sense of isolation washed over her. She felt the irrational need to be anywhere but there. Looking at the clock, she noted that it was 3:00 in the morning. Up ahead, the road stretched endlessly into blackness.
She turned her wheels sharply to the left and made a u-turn, speeding back the way she'd come. If she hadn't been so concerned with getting away from there, she might have noticed the speed limit sign, or at least the unmarked police car hiding in the bushes next to it. As she sped by, the car lurched onto the road behind her and snapped on the blue and red lights.
There was no way she was pulling over by the side of this road. She kept going until she came upon a roadside diner that was closed for the night, a well-lit parking lot prominent in front. The unmarked car pulled in behind her and out stepped a state trooper.
He was a bear of a man, at least 6'4", full and broad in the chest, with a chiseled jaw and shoulders you could easily rest a house on. The look on his face as he approached quickly led Vanessa to the conclusion that her best option was to take the ticket and get home as soon as she could.
"Evening ma'am," he said deeply. "License and registration, please."
She had to reach over to the glove box to retrieve them, which caused her skirt to hike up, revealing a significant portion of her upper thigh and hip. She thought better of pulling it down, hoping to draw as little attention as possible to the fact that she wasn't wearing any underwear. She sat up and handed it to the trooper.
While he went back to his car to run her information, Vanessa closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. If she didn't calm down, she was going to hyperventilate. The sudden intrusion of the trooper's voice startled her.
"Ma'am, do you know why I stopped you?" he asked, shining his flashlight in the car.
She shook her head.
"The speed limit on this road is 35; do you have any idea how fast you were going?" Again she shook her head. "Have you been drinking this evening?" Before she could shake her head again he barked, "Speak to me!"
"No sir, I haven't," she answered meekly.
The whole time he'd been passing the beam of the flashlight over her body, trailing along her breasts, her crotch, up and down her bare legs. When she looked up at his face, he seemed to be wrestling with something.
"Step out of the car please, ma'am," he said finally, moving back to give her room to open the car door.
He moved his hand to the butt of his weapon, as if he was concerned that she might make a sudden move. Vanessa took another deep breath, feeling her heart drop into her stomach as she unlocked the door and stepped out.
"Please walk that line, and stop in front of the porch," he said, gesturing with his flashlight.
The parking lot gravel was warm and pebbly under her bare feet. She walked as best she could, but her nervousness made her shake badly enough to step off the line several times. When she reached the end, she turned and looked back at him.
"Not so good," he said shaking his head as he joined her. "We're going to try another one. Please raise your right foot as high as you can, bending it at the knee."
She was aware that her skirt was rising at a rate much faster than her leg was moving. She started to lower her leg, but thought better of it after the trooper shot her a menacing glare.
"Now, please lower it and raise the left one."
Was that a quiver she heard in his voice? She looked over at him as she raised the other leg, and noticed that there was a sizeable bulge in the crotch of his uniform pants.
"Okay, lower it," he said gruffly. "Now, turn and face the railing. Stretch out your arms parallel to the ground, close your eyes, and touch the tip of your nose with your right index finger."
"Now the left," he said from immediately behind her.
She jumped; she hadn’t heard him move.
"With your eyes still shut, place your hands on the railing."
As soon as she did, she felt the cool steel of handcuffs on both wrists. Her eyes shot open.
"What is this?" she sputtered. "Am I under arrest?"
"No," he said, lifting her skirt over her hips and moving her feet apart with his boot.
"This'll just make things a little easier."
Before she could ask what he was talking about, he began slowly rubbing her ass, moving up and around the cheeks, and down between her crack.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice rising. "I'm going to scream."
He chuckled. "Go ahead. This road is deader than a cemetery at this time of night. Counting your car, there's been one car on it all shift, and only four across the same shift all week. Make all the noise you want. Hell, that'll make it more fun!"
So she screamed at the top of her lungs, and pulled against the handcuffs several times for good measure. She even kicked vigorously behind her, but he easily sidestepped them and slapped her ass.
"Not smart," he admonished. "If you connect and I pass out, you’re chained here until I wake up. Just relax and enjoy,” he suggested as he continued running his fingers along her crack.
She quieted down and closed her eyes, biting down on her lower lip as she tried to imagine that she was anywhere but here. She concentrated on the movement of his hands, following it's path with her mind, trying to distract herself from the humiliation she was suffering. His hands moved rapidly between her legs, only stopping long enough to tease her asshole or stroke her labia. Her pussy started to moisten under all the attention, and she began pushing back, trying to mount his fingers when they got close enough.
"That's it," he hissed. "That's a girl."
Vanessa gasped when he replaced his fingers with his tongue, swirling it over her pussy lips from behind. His tongue was hot and hard and slippery, coating her with a mixture of saliva and the juices she was dripping. Soon she was fucking it, trying to grab hold of it with her pussy and draw it in. Her nipples were rock hard and standing out from her tits.
End of Part 1.