“Crock of shit!“ Jenna kicked the unwilling rubber of the tire again and unleashed clouds of choking dust that settled on her already filthy jeans. Why she felt such rage for an inanimate object she did not know but she suspected it was partly to do with the fact that nothing, absolutely nothing was going right in her life. She couldn’t even drive for a few hours without breaking down.
She looked around her; nothing, fittingly, just endless scorched fields under a flat sky. “Dust Bowl” was the right word for it. God, was she really this desperate for a job that she was prepared to come to a godforsaken place like this? Yes, was the answer. She was that desperate for this particular job, but why couldn’t she have found it in San Francisco or Seattle, or at least somewhere with hills? She kicked the tire again because it felt good to do something that futile.
She grabbed her purse through the open window and found her mobile. She was never going to call it a cell phone, one very small way of hanging on to her Englishness. Not that she had lived in England for a very long time. There was really nowhere that she could call home, not since her father had dragged her out of a sleepy little life in a northern English town and taken her to a place very similar to the one she was heading now. Somewhere flat and dusty and full of brainless men in pickups wearing seed company hats. That had been one hell of a shock. She could still feel the loss and disorientation in the pit of her stomach. And for the last two days, the further away from San Francisco she had driven, the more those feelings had come back, settling in there and making her feel again the horrible insignificance of being sixteen in an alien place.
But she wasn’t 16 and she had been to many other alien places since then, had lived through not just disorientating, but down right dangerous situations. Breaking down on a dusty road was nothing.
Her mobile had fully loaded and she saw an ominously empty signal bar. “Crock. Of. Shit!” she yelled at it as she threw it in the dust. There was nothing else to do but dig out the squashed, almost empty packet of emergency cigarettes in the bottom of her bag. Thank God for moments like this. At least they gave her an excuse to smoke.
She was making the most of this rare moment of nicotine, leaning against the dusty car, feeling the mid day sun on her furious face when a cloud of dust appeared on the horizon. A pickup was coming her way, no doubt occupied by a seed company hat. She quickly stubbed out the cigarette and made sure her T-shirt wasn’t showing too much cleavage. She peered into the shimmering road and stood tall, holding her arm up as a signal, trying not to look too girly or helpless.
The pickup slowed and stopped a few feet away. There was indeed a hat but it looked like a battered straw cowboy hat as far as she could make out, peering into the sun. He wasn’t exactly a man of action, whoever he was. He took his time to open the door and get out. She saw long denim clad legs move in a languorous lope.
“Engine trouble?” he said. A man of few words too.
She held a hand over her eyes. It was difficult to size someone up when you could barely make them out.
“Yeh,” she said “The crock of shit just died on me. And there’s no reception on my phone.”
This elicited a deep, rumbling laugh, “You won’t get none round here, nearest antenna is in Jericho.”
The dust was beginning to settle and she squinted up at him. Jesus, he was tall. And broad. He wore a blue plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, unbuttoned enough to show a tanned lean chest. There was clearly no air conditioning in his truck as sweat glistened on his defined torso and his shirt stuck to him like a second skin. Almost hypnotised, Jenna’s eyes moved further down to a brass belt buckle and worn blue jeans stretching over a promising bulge. She gulped and dragged her eyes back to his face. His grin was wide under the battered rim of his hat.
“Want me to have a look?” he asked, and for a moment she thought he meant something else. She felt a worrying loosening in her groin.
“Sure,” she said, “Why not?”
He took his hat off. His hair was blonde and a little too long, curling at the ends. His eyes were as blue as a Californian sky. She licked her lips as he ambled over to the car and wrenched open the hood. Then she was treated to a view of his ass as he bent over. Tight denim was stretched over two perfect muscular cheeks. She completely forgot her troubles, or any danger she might be in as she feasted her eyes on that one big hunk of manhood, and in her mind ran her hands over that perfect ass.
“Head gasket’s blown,” he said as he stood up and turned round and she found her eyes fixed on his crotch once again. It looked like he may be pretty perfect there too. She could think of another head that could get blown. She almost laughed out loud.
How long was it since she’d had really good sex? She’d had pretty bad sex not long ago; disappointing sex with a whiny guy with an average sized dick that always seemed to be flaccid. She’d left him in San Francisco to obsess over his writer’s block on his own. But really good sex? It had to be two years. That arrogant photographer in Istanbul who turned out to have magical hands, and a huge cock. She pulled her sweaty T-shirt away from her sticky skin.
He was staring at her tits, and she could swear the bulge in his jeans was getting bigger. It seemed it wasn’t just her who was thinking about sex.
“Hot, isn’t it?” she said. Nothing wrong with a corny line at times like this.
He visibly gulped. She took a few steps towards him. “Is a blown head gasket serious?” she asked softly, for once playing the ignorant female, and putting emphasis on the word “blown”.
“Yes,” he stammered. “You’ll need it towed into town.”
It’s so disappointing when they don’t play along. Jenna was standing quite close to him now. She could smell his sweat and underneath something like soap and was it lavender? He was clearly rooted to the spot and trying to stop himself from staring at her tits, which were unrestrained by a bra, nipples poking out through the thin cotton jersey. He was shy. She liked that. She pointedly looked at his chest and running her tongue along her top lip said, “But that can wait can’t it?”
He gulped again and she touched the top button on his shirt, slowly undoing it and taking a moment to lightly touch the sweaty skin underneath. He stayed immobile, breathing heavily, as she slowly undid each button until she could pull his shirt apart and gaze at his naked torso. He had a six pack, of course. Hell, he had a sixteen pack!
Jenna smiled and touched the ridges of muscles. She noticed with satisfaction something stir in his pants, so she moved her hand down to lightly brush the growing bulge. He groaned loudly, and grabbing the tops of her arms with his big hands, slammed his mouth down onto hers.
Their mouths opened and tongues joined in a gasping, slippery dance. His hands pushed into her hair as Jenna rubbed her chest against his and opened her legs so she could rub her aching crotch against him too. His belt buckle pressed into her belly and her hands moved to rub his cock through the straining denim of his jeans. She could feel its rigid hardness filling her small hand, and there was already a slight damp patch in the fabric. No wonder, she was soaking wet too. He moaned into her mouth as she stroked him and then, grabbing her ass, moved her up his body so their groins could meet and they could grind into each other as their lips greedily sucked. His fingers made their way across her gyrating bottom, slipped through her legs to her denim clad crotch and rubbed her wet slit, making her moan with blissful desperation.
He backed up against the car, holding her high up on his body, bracing himself with bent knees. A rough hand pushed up her T shirt and cupped a bare breast, fingers pinching a nipple. She cried out, and his hard cock pushed against her more insistently as his hot lips closed over a nipple and sucked. She frantically rubbed herself up and down his rigid crotch, the mounting pleasure already rising. Through her aroused haze she had enough sense to hope this road wasn’t used very often. Then his hand pushed into the back of her jeans to pull her closer, and she thought, what the hell, who cares if anyone sees!
She pulled away from him and sinking to her knees in the dust, pulled apart the buttons in his fly. She looked up at him and he was staring down at her, blue eyes almost dark with lust, chest heaving. As she tugged his jeans and underpants down a little and dipped her hand in, his eyes flicked to the road and the horizon, but his cock twitched in her hand. The possibility of discovery was clearly turning him on. She broke eye contact with him and looked at the hard cock in her palm. It was thick, with a neat glistening head. She licked it all the way up the shaft and swirled her tongue round the head. When her mouth enclosed it and sucked him in, his hands dug into her hair and held her head as she swallowed it almost to the hilt and then released it so it bounced against her tongue.
“Fuck,” he groaned from above, and then she was roughly pulled up and practically thrown onto her back on the hood of the car. “Sorry, ” he said as his lips made contact with her belly and kissed her gently. She pushed her fingers into his thick hair as he unzipped her tight jeans and tugged them over her hips. He stopped a moment to look at the lacy panties she was wearing and run his fingers over the silk crotch. Her hips bucked wildly even with that light touch.
“Oh God,” she yelled.
“Do you want it?” he asked huskily.
“Oh God, yes!” she cried pulling his head up to hers.
He reached to the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the silver packet of a condom. Well at least he was thinking straight! He quickly rolled it onto himself, yanked her panties to one side and thrust into her in one swift movement. She was so wet he sunk in to the hilt and stayed there for a moment, twitching slightly inside her. Jenna squirmed, impaled on him, trying to get even deeper contact. She grabbed his biceps and gasping, he pulled out nearly all the way and quickly sank back into her. His sun kissed blonde curls hovered above her as he stared at his own thick cock driving in and out of her glistening pussy, lacy panties spread. His hand hurriedly pushed her T-shirt up and his hot lips closed over a nipple. The added stimulation was almost too much for Jenna. She cried out and pulled his head away.
“Turn me over,” she gasped and grabbing hold of her waist he spun her round, tugged her panties down her thighs and rammed into her from behind, his eager thrusts pushing and rocking her clit against the hot metal, bringing her to a screaming orgasm in seconds. He continued to energetically slam into her as she came and came and came, spread eagled on the car hood, eyes rolling back in her head. One last, deep thrust and he gave out a strangled cry and pumped into her, every muscle in his body shuddering.
A car drove past as they lay gasping on the car hood, but neither of them cared. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay here a couple of days, Jenna thought, as she looked up at the flat sky and the satisfied man breathing heavily on top of her.