4 comments/ 72031 views/ 17 favorites Riding With The Devil By: nomdeplume85 Author's note: If you just want to get to the masturbating, feel free to skip this. Then if you like the story, please do me a solid and come read this section. You'll thank me later. THE MEANING OF THE BRACKETS: throughout my stories (except my first one, "Anytime Lisa,") I'll be putting brackets around certain phrases. Think of these phrases as links. I write excruciatingly slowly, but over time, I plan to post a story whose title corresponds to every bracketed phrase. Whatever the person who's talking says that's bracketed, you can go to that story to read more about what they just mentioned. Try looking up one of my other stories and you should get the idea. It's sort of a Star Wars "continuous universe" kind of thing. Okay, thanks for indulging me. And just for the record, I love feedback and I'd love to chat. Being a slut has its advantages. I'll bet you can imagine some on your own, but the one I have in mind right now is the fact that a slut is never without a ride. And before you go off half-cocked, I'm referring (at least this time) to transportation. You know, wheels. There's not a bonafide, card-carrying slut on the face of the Earth who can't scrounge up some sturdy axles when she needs them. As long as there's a red-blooded man (or woman, for that matter) with transportation anywhere in a fifty-mile radius, a slut is never truly stranded. It's one of our powers. A nice ass, a soft mouth, judicious cleavage, a kinky disposition—these are the world's only truly universal currencies. And even though I don't have a dollar to my name at the moment, by those standards, I'm rich, bitch. Which hopefully explains what I was doing standing on the side of the 101 freeway somewhere in the smack middle of California wearing a sports bra, a skirt short enough to blind, and a grin big enough to be spotted from the cab of a passing semi (or so I hoped). Believe it or not, that's all I had with me—no clothes, no money, no shoes even. That's a long story in and of itself. Suffice to say, [never eat out in Texas]. I know what you're thinking: a young thing like me, barely big enough to notice, traveling alone without any protection? Call it my compulsion. I'm a rambler, and I've never been able to submit to the bonds of sensible precaution. I'm sure it'll catch up with me sooner or later. Fuck it. I'd been waiting for about twenty minutes, and I was pissed, and hot. I was hot because it's fucking hot in California in June, and I was pissed for a few reasons, chiefly because I was about to be late to my baby brother Matt's birthday party. I'd been trying to get home in time for the past few days, and humped and wiggled my way to within fifty miles, and now here it was, the morning of the party, and it was starting to look like I was on the only stretch of the 101 that was totally and utterly deserted. It was enough to bring a girl to tears, especially since I'd promised Matt I'd make it for his birthday, and that wasn't a promise I was ready to break. I love my baby brother Matt more than anyone in the world. And I swear, I felt that way before we started fucking. The night I finally begged him to stick his little tadger into me just kind of made things official. Since then (had it been a year already?), we'd only gotten to sneak off a few times to play, and every time, as I wiggled my tight pussy back against his thrusting hips, I had a rush of something I can't quite describe. Call it love, call it taboo, call it the sheer dynamite joy of knowing you're about to milk your own baby brother's cum out of his quivering dick. All I know is to this day, no one who's spent time inside my ass has filled me up in quite the same way. And whenever I asked him, fell on my knees and begged him to plow my pussy or drill me anally, he always said the same thing: "[Anytime, Lisa]." God, Matty in my ass. I had to cross my legs to keep the wetness from dripping down onto the pavement. I could only get down on my knees and pray that we'd get a chance to sneak off during the party. I was considering that possibility, and waging an epic battle against the urge to reach a hand into my skirt and start diddling myself right there on the side of the road when a truck finally appeared on the horizon. Not an actual truck; not a semi, just a pickup. I like semis. The guys are usually friendly—most men love to think they're saving a damsel in distress—and they know the deal. The transaction is clear and expected. For the duration of the trip, my ass is theirs. But this was just a guy in a white F-150 with that new car sheen and, I saw as he pulled over, plastic novelty balls dangling from the tow hitch. I smirked as he leaned over to the passenger's side window, doing his good-natured best not to stare at my tits. I love when they do that. What he managed to see hovering above my well-cleft chest was a pale, expressive face embedded with two massive emerald eyes and topped by flame red hair. Freckles spilled down from my kinky hair like glowing embers sifting from a cloud of smoke above a campfire. I cocked my pert, voluptuous lips in a friendly grin. "Are you all right?" The guy looked mid-thirties, little well-trimmed beard, baseball cap. You know, friendly, commuter type. I like nice people. I can always identify them right away; it's another one of our powers. "Well, that depends," I drawled, stepping right up to the truck and leaning in, resting my ample cleavage on the window sill. No small feat, either; I had to go tip-toe. "Any chance I can get a ride into Thousand Oaks?" He paused to consider...purely a formality. The door lock snapped open with a click and I yelped, pretending to be surprised. This guy was lucky; thinking about Matty had gotten me in the mood for a full show. I hopped up into the leather seat, sliding my pert little butt across towards him, feeling my juice soak through to the cushion already and not caring in the least. "Oh wow, what happened to your shoes?" "Long story," I smiled. "Let's just say you're a real life saver." "Wow," he said again, "well, glad to help." I could tell he wasn't going to press me further. This guy was about as nice as they came. I mentally revised my game plan while he shifted back into gear and pulled onto the freeway. When you're dealing with a square—a norm, a hetero, an L7, whatever—you've got to keep their fragile sensibilities in mind. "I'm Lisa," I said. "Rick." "Rick. Like Richard?" "Sure." "Well, it's nice to meet you, Dick." Okay, so it was an old line, but it got a laugh out of him anyway. He fidgeted a bit, keeping his eyes locked on the road just a little too much, drumming his fingers in time to the quiet country music wafting out of the tape deck. "Thanks so much for stopping. I was getting pretty worried." "I can imagine," he said, "girl like you, out there. Are you traveling alone?" "Yup," I grinned, "just me and the clothes on my back. What little are left." "Right," he chuckled again, risking a glance. I angled my shoulders towards him and gave him my best, wide-eyed, pearly-toothed innocent flower waiting to be plucked look. "You know," he stammered, "it can be dangerous—" Now I laughed, "Uh oh. You sound like my Dad." He didn't like that. But I find men are always so much more accommodating when they're a little wounded. "Sorry," he blurted, "you're right, it's none of my business." How fucking cute is that? The way he backpedaled reminded me so much of Matt, I could feel my butthole twitch on the seat. I had to act soon, I thought, or this guy was going to notice the puddle forming on his naughahyde and think my water broke. We had a full forty minutes before we hit town; plenty of time. It's funny, even though I've been doing this (and by "this" I mean anything that moves) for a long time, I still get a little flutter in my stomach when I try and snare a guy. The important thing is to coax them, not push them; to let their natural tendencies take effect. After all, by that point in the conversation, I could be sure Rick had imagined fucking me every which way possible. I just had to clue him in that it was actually going to happen. "Nothing like a truck with big balls," I heard myself say. I wasn't even sure where I was going with it "Huh, yeah. Those were a gag gift from a buddy." "They're huge," I said. "I saw those things coming from a mile away." He started to flush, Rick did. Fucking adorable. My pussy throbbed once in appreciation. "Tell you the truth," he said, "I keep meaning to take them off there. Just forgot. They must not be that big, or you'd think I'd notice them." "Not that big?" I asked, incredulous. "Are yours that big? Honest." So this is where I'm going with this, I thought. "Uh—" He thought about that one. While he was thinking, I was already planning what kind of ringer I wanted to put this guy through. "Yeah," he said, finally, "sure, yeah, about the same." "No," I said, covering my smile demurely, "I don't believe it. Really?" "Sure," he laughed, "yeah!" Fuck, this was bad. I could feel it starting to take hold; the dark side of me, the Wicked with a capital W side. More than just horny, something bigger started filling me up. An urge was taking hold that I don't quite have a name for yet. Before I gave into it completely, I took a delicious moment to teeter on the precipice, a scanty second to pity poor old Rick. After all, the poor sap had no idea what he'd just got himself into. Then I'm off. "Prove it." I'm so horny I actually lick my lips. Rick kind of squints, his brain trying to process this turn of events. "I'm sorry?" "Prove it. Let's see 'em. I'm the kind of girl who'll believe it when she sees it." I take a look between his legs, where a tell-tale bulge is beginning to form even as he's pretending to laugh. "I...what?" I've got his full attention now. He even takes his right hand off the wheel and lays it on his leg, to hide his growing erection. I gingerly take his hand in both of mine and pull it away. "Don't try to hide now. You made a claim, now I want proof." He seems to drop the pretense, smirks at me like I've got some nerve, which I guess I do. "Jeez, lady. I mean, fuck." "Oh!" I shout jovially, "So you're not Mormon! That's a relief." "Are you serious?" Turning my torso towards him, I slide my right hand from his right knee up his inner thigh and grab the top of his zipper, palming his groin, all in one movement. I can feel him reflexively inch back against the seat, but his bulge grows to meet my hand. As I pull the zipper down with a satisfying noise, I slide my left hand behind his back and down into the back of his pants, pulling my knees up onto the seat until I'm on all fours facing him. My tiny skirt rides up to show my ass and pussy to the passenger's side window. I glance up to see him ogling the dim reflection, and his dick stiffens one more notch. Fishing into his jeans and then his boxers, my fingers close around the heat of his hard cock, but only for a moment. I push it up and out of the way and tug gently at his balls until they finally emerge. "I guess they're big," I say, leaning closer to inspect. "I still don't think they match your truck." "Well," he says, "they can get bigger, you know." His voice has totally changed now. It's husky, low. I feel like I'm getting to know the Real Rick. "Oh yeah?" I squeeze playfully. "Sure, with the right encouragement." "Oh I see," I smile, "well, I wouldn't want to lose the bet on that account." Without hesitating, I toss my hair and drop my face down into his crotch, sucking his balls into my mouth and gently popping them back out. "Oh, God," he groans, and I run my flat, full tongue up the underside of his balls, licking him again and again eagerly. When I try to take both of them into my mouth again, I have to jam my face hard into his groin. My nose pushes up against his dick, which is straining vertically at his waistband. I'd lucked out, I think. It's so big it's almost peeking out the top of his pants. I stare at it as I massage his balls with my mouth, pulsing my lips and tongue and humming lightly. My tongue escapes the confines of my mouth and explores down his ass crack, lightly salty. Popping the button on his jeans, I fish in again and cling to his thick cock, like a warm, soft Maglite. I let his balls slurp out of my mouth as the dick navigates past the opening in his boxers and springs free, bouncing against my lips. Rick hasn't made much noise, but he gasps or kind of grunts when his cock pops out. I take it as a good sign. Putting both hands around his dick, I point it gently towards my open mouth, opening my throat as much as I can. "So," I ask, "you married?" Then I bring my mouth down, not just onto his head, but down as deep as I can go. The tip of his dick slips past my parting lips, slides across my tongue, nestles against the very back of my mouth, then pushes through—I almost gag, but hold it in—down into my throat. I involuntarily start to swallow again and again, causing my throat to ripple down his length. This all in the time it takes him to register the shocked expression that is now transitioning into one of extreme pleasure fighting with deep embarrassment and a little anger. I can't even tell if he's saying "uh" or "ooh" as I continue to rub my nose against his inner thigh. Maybe a little of both. "I—I'm sorry?" he stammers out. I finally pull my head up to take a breath, and his penis withdraws from my throat like an exodus. I can feel the empty space. Long strands of spit stretch from my lips to the very base of his dick. I turn my head left to look up at him, simultaneously wiggling my butt in the window in a way he doesn't fail to appreciate. Green eyes aglow, spit still drooling off my smiling lips. "Don't be sorry," I say. "I'll still swallow." Then both my hands are around his slippery cock, turning it gently but firmly in opposite directions. I pop the slick head of his penis into my mouth and kiss it out a few times. He risks resting his right hand gently on the back of my neck, and I respond with a shiver of appreciation to encourage him. My tongue is tenderly probing and caressing his head while I knead the length of his cock with both hands. I start sucking on about two inches of him, actually sucking now, my cheeks pulling in as I imagine sucking the sweet cum out of his balls and into my mouth like a straw. My tongue whorls around in my mouth and my hands pump furiously. Rick starts to grind his ass into the seat and gently rocking his hips, fucking my mouth. I let his soft humping slowly push the head of his dick back again, and my head drops down, centimeter by centimeter, until once again the steel rod of his dick eases itself irresistibly down my opening throat, filling my whole mouth and gagging me. I don't choke, this time, but he softly exerts pressure on the back of my head with his hand, keeping my lips wrapped around the fat base of his cock and not letting me up. Good boy. I continue to choke and gasp, and Rick continues to hold me firmly in place, in fact grinding his dick up further inside of my mouth, moving himself inside the sheath of my throat. As I gag, I can feel his stiffness sliding back and forth deep inside. I can barely move my lips enough to make recognizable sounds, but between gags I manage "Fuck my throat. Fuck my throat." Although it probably sounds like "'Uk I 'oat. 'Uk I 'oat." Finally I can't take any more, and I push my head up. Rick lets go, allowing my head to yank off his dick in a splutter and cough. I gasp once, twice, begin to catch my breath. Still gasping, I ask "Any kids?" This time his expression is clear. Anger. "What?!" "Huh?" I look up at him as if I didn't hear him. "What?" "What did you say?" He looks at me as if he thinks he may have misheard. "I was just making conversation." A momentary silence. Rick's eyes dart back to the road once or twice, but otherwise I have his undivided attention. "Baby, you're pulling my hair." Without thinking, Rick has clenched the hand that was resting on my head into a fist, tightly pulling at it. He looks at his hand, but doesn't release. I wince, not because it really hurts, more for showmanship. Showmanship is more than just a slut power; it's an art form. This is the only point at which Rick will even consider stopping the truck and kicking me out. If he doesn't, he's lost the game. Then he's mine. I know this, and I want all the sympathy I can get. Rick hesitates for another second. "I—" He looks back up at the road and jerks the car to the right a little, as if he had drifted towards the median. I use the jolt as an excuse to hop my right hand from his leg to his penis, and begin jacking him off with short, quick, tight jerks right below the head, enveloping the end of his dick in wet warmth. Another pause. "Sorry." He completely unclenches, floating his hand down between my shoulder blades, where it comes to unsteady rest. "So are we going to do this or what?" I grin up at him. He flashes a smile at me and looks back through the windshield, leaning back and stretching his right arm out across my back to rest on my lower back right above the smooth slope of my raised butt. By leaning back he juts his dick out as far as possible. It intrudes into the space like an obelisk, seeming at least an inch longer. The base seems wider than ever. I use my lips to massage his balls, pressing my long middle finger into the flesh below them. "Have at it," he says. Just before I put my lips to his dick and start kissing it like I'd kiss my child, I plead "finger me." I lick up and down his length, and rub his huge dick on my wet cheeks and over my silky lips, worshipping it like Mecca. Such a prayerful pose puts my backside just within Rick's reach. His hand does small circles over my pink ass cheeks, gauging their size and tight, perfect-circle roundness. He squeezes, feeling my plump butt open slightly, letting out a wave of heat as a glistening slice of my pussy is revealed, sandwiched between two fat, smooth lips. As his cock disappears into my mouth and distends my cheek I mumble "finger fuck me, finger fuck me." He only hears "Eeger 'uk 'e," of course, but he gets the idea. He hummmmms when the already soaked tip of his index finger gets enveloped by my hot lips and finds the tight hole. He says "aah," as he pushes it in. We say "ooh" together as he gets his finger all the way inside and crooks it, causing me to pull his cockhead out of my mouth with a pressurized *pop* and squeal in delight. My pussy sucks at his finger, pulling on it like a vacuum cleaner as he tries to gently pull it out again. Keggels: slut power number 482. Then he finally does get his finger pumping, slowly, like the pistons on a train leaving the station, then faster. I start letting out low, breathy growls, "huh, huh, huh" and go down for more of his lovely dick. I suck it into my mouth and slurp it out each time he drives his finger in. "Huhn," suck, *pop,* "huhn," suck *pop,* we start moving together, a hot, sweating machine. "Ohhhhhhhh, yessssss!" I shout, two loud reports in the silent cab. I dimly realize the tape in the tape deck has ended. Now the only sounds are the ones Rick and I are making and the occasional thud thud as Rick's tires hit the median dots and he has to correct course. When he jams his middle finger in, I can't take it any more, I sit up abruptly, bushy red hair brushing against the cab ceiling as I toss it back and scream. "OoooooOOOOHHH!" A screech that ends in giggles that slowly drop into a low register and somehow become a satisfied hum. My pussy has clamped onto the twisted vines of his fingers like they were growing out of me; I squeeze like I'm trying to break them, and they are projected forcefully against my G-spot as I hump up and down, bringing them in and out of me. Riding with the Devil The person for which this was written knows who he is. I thought it would be better for his psyche if it ended differently than he expected. So, here's to my real life Travis: I hope you inspire another story as creative as this one. * Travis rolled his eyes at his roommate who was snoring softly as he leaned against the car window. This was a new record; Zane had taken only five minutes to pass out after promising to stay awake and keep Travis lucid as he drove. They had quickly discovered that the only thing more boring than driving down a Nebraska rural highway was driving down said highway in the dark. Flat grayish-brown landscape swept past the car briefly washed with his headlights then fading into the black nothingness. Billions of stars speckled the sky above like the angels had forgotten to dust for millennia. The soft sound of the road was lulling and inviting him to sleep. Realizing that this would end in catastrophe if he didn't find a way to keep from giving into his fatigue, Travis reached into the cup holder currently occupied by his phone and flipped it open without taking his eyes off the hypnotizing stretch in front of him. "Zane's a noob," he texted by feel. "U busy?" Two minutes later the phone buzzed in response. "I'm good," he read between glances at the highway. "Had 2 get away. Gotta <3 family." He chuckled at her quick reply. He'd met Allison in one of those massively addictive online games that populated the shelves at Best Buy. They'd chatted through his first two years of college and had recently graduated to texting as their professors bore massive loads of work upon them. There was no time for gaming, but there was always time for friends. In anticipation of Zane's inevitable failure as a decent driving buddy, he'd put her on speed dial. There had been a moment of hesitation regarding the times he would be driving which had quickly subsided upon the realization that he wasn't entirely certain when Allison slept. He'd never managed to wake her up regardless of how late or how early he texted her. His finger found the bump on the 5 key and held it for two seconds. A beep in his Bluetooth signaled that the speed dial had been triggered. The ring didn't finish before Allison was on the other end. "What'd he do this time?" she groused in reference to Zane. "Oh, not much," he snickered. "Just drank three Monsters and passed out immediately." "Motherfucker," she muttered. "What'd you want me to do about it?" He noticed she'd slipped into her joking sultry voice and smiled. They'd often kidded each other about sexting, cybering, and phone sex, but nothing ever came of it. "Dunno," he jibed back, "what do you want to do about it?" "Anything you want, Babe." She was now in a full husky whisper – a dialect of hers with which he was quite familiar. An unfamiliar tingle made the hair on his neck stand on end for just a moment. "You name it," Allison continued, "I'll do it." His cock jumped in his pants, surprising him. "Uh…" he gulped trying to get it to calm down. "Seriously, Trav," she whispered into his ear, "how long has it been since you had some pussy?" Too long, apparently, he thought as the boner pressed against his zipper painfully. "Do you even remember what you liked?" she pressed. "Y-y-yes," he gulped finally. "I d-do." He was out of breath and starting to associate the sharp pressure on the head of his cock as pleasurable. Allison must have noticed his discomfort because she switched back to her natural voice and laughed. "You gettin' weird on me, Boy?" she joked. "N-no," he stuttered as he tried to adjust the hard on to a position where it didn't hurt so badly. "Just tired, I guess." He was glad that his voice was returning to normal though his body had broken out in goose bumps, and sweat was prickling at his neck. "Where are you, Trav?" she asked in her most motherly voice. "Dunno," he shrugged, "somewhere on 80 between Lincoln and Omaha. Zane drove to Lincoln, the agreement was for me to drive to Omaha and then take a break." "You'd better kick his ass for this," she mumbled. "Oh, he gets to do Kansas in the daytime." "Good enough." There was a brief pause, "You sound better. Are you sure everything's okay?" "Everything's great," he soothed. "I just got a little jumpy. I dunno why." "Well, it stopped when I finished my sexy talk," she prodded gingerly. "Something you want to tell me?" "Nope." As soon as it was out of his mouth, Travis knew he'd answered too quickly and too loudly. Zane stirred at the yelp and went back to his slumber. Travis took a couple of deep breaths and cleared his throat. "I…er…mean…No, nothing," he corrected. "Ah," she said sagely, "so, it wouldn't bother you if I went back to it?" The tingle rippled across his neck again as if it was attempting to ward against arousal. He struggled to save face. "No," he answered finally as his throat went dry, "why would it?" She let out a low, quiet laugh that sent a shiver through his body. Immediately, he had broken out in a cold sweat as his cock reacted to the eroticism in her voice. For some reason, his mind drifted to how her throat must have to open to get that guttural sound and how good it would feel if she did it with his cock in her mouth. "You don't have to lie to me, Trav," she said in a soft, coaxing voice. "Tell me if it bothers you. Tell me if you want me to stop." "Doesn't b-bother me," he whimpered barely loud enough to hear himself. "Want me to stop?" she pressed. "Please don't," he croaked. The words came unbidden, though he tried to bite them back. His voice cracked like it hadn't since high school, as his throat felt arid and dusty. "Oh," Allison simpered, "so you like it?" "Yes." It was like being in a dream. He knew what his cock wanted, and he couldn't stop himself from bowing to its whims. "God, yes." He felt flushed, over stimulated, greedy, and desperate all at once. Never had he wanted his cock fondled so badly. Never had the need been this bad. He ripped the shirt off his back and wrapped it around the steering wheel in hopes of soaking up the sweat from his palms that had made it so slippery. Amazingly, the Bluetooth stayed in his ear and the car stayed on the road. His nipples hardened to pebbles though the heater was on full blast. Part of him wanted to unzip his pants to make the agony of his bent cock subside, but he also knew that Zane would inevitably wake up and see the boner sticking up, angry and throbbing. "Don't," Allison's voice said in his ear. "Leave your cock just how it is. Don't you dare take your eyes off the road or your hands off the wheel. You just listen and use your imagination. I'll take care of the rest. That is," she added as an afterthought, "if you want me to." The bewilderment of how she knew what he was thinking passed like a dream. He thought about how ridiculous it was for her to ask if he wanted her to take care of this flood of passion and arousal. He was already into the fantasy so far that he could swear hot breath was against his neck. In the background, he could hear Allison's fingernails tapping at the keyboard as usual. The vision of them was so vivid he could feel their manicured edges drifting down his chest, intertwining in the curls there, and ending up on his areolas. "Travis!" Allison barked. His fantasy brushed away as easily as a cobweb. "Did you hear me?" "Yeah," he breathed as he relaxed again. "I'll keep my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel, Al. I promise." "Good," she cooed, and the vision was back. The cool rounded tips of her nails raking softly across his nipples, the weight and heat of arms on his shoulders, and the humidity of breath on his neck took him to another realm. "What do you want?" she murmured, and he swore he felt the vibration of her teeth on his earlobe. "Do you want my hands and tongue?" A blazing, wet sensation worked its way down his spine just below his skull. "Do you want my tits?" Two soft pillows pushed at his back with their unmistakable protruding nibs. It was like he wasn't even in the car seat anymore, the feeling was so real. "Do you want my pussy?" she continued. He could smell the musk of her sex and wanted nothing more than to feel the wetness of it. "Or," she said thoughtfully, "do you want all of it?" His cock bucked hard at the offer. It had been so long since a girl had offered herself so willingly and fully. It didn't seem fair to choose one pleasure or the other. "Anything," he pleaded. "Anything you want to give me." Silence greeted his request, but he could hear her fingers drumming away at her computer. For a moment, he wanted to ask if he'd done something wrong, but his imagination got the best of him again. The curved fingernails ran their way up his arms starting under the wrists. "Just relax," the husky voice told him. It had stopped belonging to his friend and had become a luxurious buzz in his brain that rustled against his mind like silk. I don't have this good of an imagination, he thought fleetingly, but the thought passed quickly as his brain decided to focus on this extraordinary sensation. Perhaps it had been too long. "Where shall I start?" Allison purred. "I could rub your shoulders." Travis moaned as pressure was exerted on his tense neck muscles. "Or," she suggested, "I could lick and nibble on your nipples." If he hadn't promised he would keep his eyes on the road, he would have glanced down to see if his chest was wet. An invisible tongue circled his areola enticing him with its smooth yet bumpy texture. His nipple was plucked gently as hands smoothed down his ribcage and hooked into his waistband. Weight rested on his lap where no one could have fit, no matter her size and began to rub against what was now a severely painful hard on. The agony clouded into ecstasy, and he moaned not knowing what to feel. He could no longer hear Allison over the rush of blood in his ears. His breath came in gasps as his heart pounded driving blood down to his cock which felt like it was going to explode before he could cum. Inside his pants, he felt a ring form out of nothing. Two fingers squeezing tightly around his girth slid up and down on his shaft slowly. After two or three strokes, the hand paused and one of the now familiar nails traced its way around the head and ended up at the hole in the center. It spiraled its way out trailing slick precum with it as his neck was nibbled upon. The teeth left his jugular and made their way down his chest, stopping only to take in his nipples yet again. A tongue dipped into his belly button for a brief moment and trailed lower. Nimble fingers dealt with his belt and his fly deftly, freeing his cock from its agonizing prison. "Shit," he gasped as the tongue he'd grown used to looped around the head of his cock, lapping the now dried spiral clean and picking up the new drop he produced in response. Hot suction was added to the heaven of the tongue. Travis moaned as his cock hit the back of an invisible throat which vibrated slowly before the mouth began to move up and down. It glided along the length of him stopping ever so often to wiggle its tongue into his hole and sometimes to scrape its teeth against him. An animal sound came from his own throat – one of need and lust. Fingers gripped his balls and tugged gently while massaging them. A knuckle pressed into his taint, rubbing his prostate from the outside. His blood boiled. His hips bucked. His balls contracted, but the mouth didn't let him cum. The blow job stopped and cool breath blew on his pounding cock. He started whimpering despite himself. "More," he begged his imagination, "please, I need more." As if on command, his invisible lover's weight appeared on his lap again. His erect ion could feel the heat coming off her fork which felt like it was right above him. He wanted to feel it, press into the clit and listen to his new imaginary friend moan. Flat teeth bit his shoulder hard as a pussy descended onto him. It felt so good he wanted to scream. The sheath surrounding him fit perfectly and felt as if it melted onto him. Cum dripped from it onto his balls as fingernails dug into his shoulders and she slid up and down on him. "Fuck me," he said clenching the steering wheel for dear life. "Oh, Jesus, fuck me and don't stop." Until now he'd kept his voice down for fear of waking Zane, but now he just didn't care. Maybe his imaginary friend would fuck Zane if he was mad. Maybe they could fuck her together. The pussy tightened around him, and he realized that he wasn't going to share her. This was his pussy. He created it, ergo he would be the only one to fuck it. She started to go faster, driving him into her hard. Their hips pressed together; her nails dug into him, and her breath fell upon his sweaty chest. He felt it again – the tightness of his balls, the need to burst. "Now," he whispered urgently. "I need to cum, now." If his imagination had any qualms about unprotected sex, it didn't show it now. The pace quickened to a glorious frenzy. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he blew his load. "Trav?" Travis blinked slowly at the lights of the gas station in front of him. Zane was shaking him. "Dude!" he screamed. "How long have you been asleep?" It took a moment for it all to sink in. The car was parked safely; his shirt and pants were still on, and he had a steering wheel crease in his forehead. "I- I was sleeping?" he asked Zane. "Of course you were sleeping," Zane exclaimed. "What, did you think you were doing, fucking a chick?!?" "Uh…You know what? Never mind. I'm gonna go throw water on my face and get some coffee. Then we'll be on our way to Omaha." He flipped his phone open on the way inside and pressed the 5. "Hey, Al," he asked as he walked in, "did I call you?" "No," she answered, confused. "You texted, but never called. I figured you punched Zane in the balls. What'd he do anyway?" "Never mind," he replied as he walked into the truck stop's bathroom, "I was just checking on something. Get some rest, Al." He pressed the button on his Bluetooth to hang up and splashed frigid water from the faucet onto his face. "What the fuck?" he asked his reflection then went to the urinal to relieve himself. Surprise overwhelmed him when he found his boxers and pubes caked with cum. He grabbed a wet paper towel and washed himself off quickly before zipping up and going back to the mirror and stripping off his t-shirt. Purple bite and nail marks littered his shoulders and chest. Red, angry scratches scored what he could see of his back. Allison ignored this phone call. She knew he would have found the marks by now. It was best to let him cool down before trying to question her. Satiated for now, she stretched her blood red wings out and leaned against her black bed. The matching silk slid against the skin of her perfect legs as she slid her tiny feet into her red leather stilettos. They matched her bustier and the g-string she'd tossed across the room when he'd sent the first text. Travis Dalton would never know that she was a creature of the night. As far as he was concerned, she would always be a single mother living with her parents, but now he would call back and she would feed night after night until he became addicted. Riding With The Devil "Yeah yeah YEAH." I end on a moan and drop forward, draping my arms over him, jacking him slowly with my right hand, and putting my lips right up against his ear. I'm whispering now. "Please baby, fuck that hole. Move inside me. Come on, baby." I lick his ear and he grunts at the difficulty of slipping his fingers even partway out of my hungry pussy. Once they're on the edge of freedom, he slams them back in so hard his hand slaps audibly against my bum, even stings a little. "Harder, Ricky, harder," I moan into his ear, and he finger fucks me fast and hard, my pussy slippery and wet. He's almost totally out of control, at the height of sexual frenzy. Time to start the real fun. I yank on his cock and whisper "What are their names?" With all the effort it'd take to stop his truck dead in its tracks and reverse direction, he pulls his fingers out of me. At the last second I clamp down with my ass muscles, almost trapping him inside like a Chinese Finger Trap. He stops tugging, and leaves his middle finger inside me. Because of this, his thumb rests on my little butthole, and it winks in appreciation. "Who?" I suck on his earlobe and moan before transitioning into a whispered answer "Your kids. You never said." Now he actually uses his head to push me back a few inches. He looks at me in the eyes and squints. "Never said I had any." "Oh. So do you?" I wiggle my butt jokingly and laugh. He looks at me as if the next words out of his mouth are going to be "get the hell out of my truck," so before he can even consider sending a message to tell his foot to press down on the break, I say "let's play a game." I can almost feel his mind tearing itself apart, lost for what to do. Don't worry, Rick, I think, I'll show you the way. "I'll ask you some questions, and for every one you answer honestly, you'll get a reward." Rick is officially AWOL. He stares at me dumbly, unable to decide if he's accidentally driven into the Twilight Zone. I expect his mouth to flop open, but instead he just says "how will you know if I'm honest?" Uh oh, Rick, you're really in it now. You're a goner. "I can tell," I smile wickedly, and look at him in a way that lets him know I'm serious. He won't lie. I already know this. Because from this point on, he's my plaything. He wants to see where I'm going with this as badly as I want to get there, part of him has already given in, and now there's no turning back. He'll follow whatever bread crumbs I scatter, no matter how deep they may penetrate into the dark and scary woods. "Are you married?" His mouth goes dry instantly. I lean back on my heels, relaxing my pussy and gliding his fingers out. As I sit down, I know I'm also depriving him of the view in the window, blocking it from view. "Yes," he says. "What's her name?" Less hesitation this time. The Slut Pentathol is kicking in. "Alice." "Mmmm." I Reach down and pull my sports bra off. For the first time, my boobs taste the recycled air of the truck cab. They're big enough to droop, not because of a lack of perkiness, but just sheer size. The nipples are already hard, like pink eraser nubs. I shimmy my shoulders slowly and rub them against one another, tossing the bra to the floor. "Good job," I purr, and scuttle towards him. I get close enough to brush my nipples against his forearm and kiss him on the mouth, another first. He turns his head (but doesn't close his eyes) and fills my head with his warm tongue. I pull away again. "Kids?" "Uh, just one." Now he looks surprised at himself, like his mouth's working separately from his brain. That's fine. His brain will catch up. "What's his name?" "Her." He swallows hard. "Kayla." I laugh at him, a nice laugh, an "isn't all this just too silly?" laugh. Then I bend forward at the waist and find his dick, starting to soften a little but still at full salute. I take my tits with both hands and push them onto either side, enveloping him entirely with the hot flesh of my bosom. I spit onto where his dick is touching me. My nipples are rubbing together and I groan with the pleasure. Waves of warm sensation radiate up my breasts and down into my stomach and groin and I start pulling myself up and down the entire length of his cock. "How old is Kayla?" He's probably starting to feel a little sick now. That's a normal sensation when you're standing on the precipice and looking down at the abyss of your own suppressed urges. "Why do you want to know that?" he says, playing genuinely shocked, more to convince himself that he's not really going along with all this. "Doesn't matter," I say squeezing his fuckstick with my big tits. "That's how the game works." "I don't know if I want to play this game," he says, "sorry. Is that okay?" "Why?" I ask, as innocently as you please. "Because," he says, a little of that old anger creeping back into his voice, "she's young, okay? Younger than you." "Oh wow," I say, as if this is the first time I'd heard of the concept. "Younger than me? That's pretty young." The whole time his dick keeps disappearing and reappearing between my breasts, the head pushing up to just in front of my lips, feeling little puffs of my hot breath as I talk. "I think you should stop." Famous last words. The important thing to note here, ladies and gentlemen, is that the subject, though far superior in strength and size, makes no physical attempt to remove his genitals from the all-loving embrace of my grade-A, pussy-slick tit fuck. "Maybe we should stop." That ring burning a hole in your pocket, Ricky baby? I don't stop. I'm never going to stop again. For the rest of this guy's life, he's mine now, more than any other woman's, because I'm about to get inside of him in a way no one's ever been inside of him. I'm about to penetrate him as deep and as hard as any dirty, wonderful, adulterous hotel fuck in the history of man. Don't call me a slut; I'm a cock hunter. I've got this guy's wedding tackle in my big pink bear trap and I'm gonna hang him over my fireplace for my friends to ooh and aah at. "Listen, Rick," I say, adopting my matter-of-fact lawyerly demeanor. Perfectly designed for this exact circumstance. Showmanship. "Slap!" His dick slips out from between my tits, and I wedge it firmly back in. "Ricky baby, listen to me. What I'm offering you here is the best orgasm of your life. Something you're going to remember till the month after your funeral's ended. You're going to come so hard you're going to shoot the back of my fucking head off." His breathing becomes audible, but he says nothing, listening to me weave my spell. "But you've gotta do it my way. The only way to get a good orgasm—a truly great orgasm--is to do something you've never done before, to destroy one of your own taboos, break your own rules. To do something dirtier than you've ever dared before." "If you do exactly as I say, if you tell the truth and win the game, I'll teach you how to feel tings you never felt." Now I lower my voice, conspiratorial, and lower my head to begin lapping gingerly at his bouncing cock between words. "You can blame it all on me Rick. I made you do it. I'm such a filthy, perverted, dirty truck stop slut I made you do it. How were you to know?" I slam my head down onto his dick and take it in as deep as I can with my tits in the way, then pull it out again. Rick moans quietly. "I'm the devil Rick. I'm sick. Blame me, and no one will ever know." Rick starts to hump again, fast but in short bursts, almost subconsciously. "Know what? I'm not even sure what we're talking about..." "Am I better than your wife, Rick?" "What?" "Answer my question. Am I better than Alice? Do I suck dick better than her? I want to, Rick. I want to make you forget that fucking whore, I want to be your woman, baby." I pull my tits away and suck him in earnest again, head bouncing up and down on his stiff pole, hands massaging the base and his tortured, swollen balls. "Guh," he says, "y—yes. Yes you—" "I suck your cum out better? You like fucking my throat more than fucking that whore wife of yours? Come on Rick, I wanna hear you say it." "You suck b-better than—" I think he starts to pull over. I'm beyond noticing. "Than Alice. Say I suck cock better than Alice." "You suck dick better than my wife." "Who?" "Alice." I whine with demonic joy. "Oh fuck, Rick, you just made me so wet. Fuck, my pussy fucking flooded when you said I sucked better than your fat whore wife. Feel how wet I am." He palms my pussy, rolling his finger over the hood of my clit, applying light pressure. "Call your wife a whore, baby," I say. "Call little Asslick a dumb fucking whore." "M-my wife is a...fuck!" His hips jerk, as he almost comes then and there, but I slack off, squeeze the bottom of his dick with my hand. I'm not through yet. Not by a long shot. "What was that, lover?" "My wife is a whore." "Who is?" "Alice is a whore. Alice is a fucking slut." He's gritting his teeth now, using both hands to try and force my head onto his cock, as if to gag me with it. I have to use great force to pull it out when I want to ask another question. "Tell me!" I scream. "Oh, baby, you're so much better at sucking dick than my fucking whore wife." Grind! "Fuck, you're so much better than that slut. I love it when you suck my fucking dick dry baby." Thrust! "You're so much better than Alice!" "Mmm, slap my ass baby." He slaps my ass four times, incredibly hard. So hard I can feel the force move up my spine and set my skull vibrating around his cock like I'm biting onto a live wire. "Call me Lisa," I gasp, "my name's Lisa." "Oh, fuck, Lisa, your mouth feels so good!" "Do you love me baby?" "Oh, God I love you!" "Do you love me more than Alice?" "Fuck, God please, don't—" I swallow once hard and reiterate. "Tell me you love me more than your wife, Rick. Tell me that you love fucking my throat so much that you'll call the mother of your child a filthy whore. Make me your new woman, Ricky." "FUCK! OH FUCK, YES! I LOVE YOU LISA! God, I love you so MUCH! Oh, FUCK!" His hips gyrate wildly, lifting him inches off the seat as he keeps screaming. "I love your throat more than I love Alice, more than I love my FILTHY WHORE WIFE. Fuck, fuck, FU-UUUUCK. Every time he says "whore" or "Alice" I can feel his balls clench a little tighter in my massaging hand. "Good," I murmure around his cockhead, "now...call me Kayla." He looks down at me in dismay. "No, no I can't—that's—" "Call me Kayla, Rick. Call me by your daughter's name." "Lisa..." Genuine begging. "Kayla," I say, matter-of-factly. "kayla," he whispers, weak, broken. "Good boy. Now I want you to close your eyes, Rick, and pretend it's your little baby girl down here." "Oh, Kayla—" "Come on baby, let's go. You wanna win the game, don't you? We've already come so far. It'd be a shame to lose now." His dick keeps pumping sloppily up at my face, occasionally popping into my open mouth. He closes his eyes. From that point on, he doesn't say a word, but I can tell he's listening. In fact, from the look of concentration on his face, my words are the only things he can hear. I'd be surprised if he noticed an atomic bomb going off across the empty highway. "Daddy?" No answer, but rapt attention. I slowly stroke his cock and continuously kiss his head with full lips. "Remember when you came into my room and tucked me in? I was wearing my big t-shirt and my pink undies, and Mom had gone to bed, and you came in late because I had a nightmare and pet me on the head and sat with me until I fell asleep again. Do you remember?" I went silent, letting the mental image form in his head as I gave him a few more languid strokes. "And you watched me, Daddy, while I was sleeping. And you thought about how cute I was, and how much you loved me. And you thought..." His brow knit in concern. Quickly: "No, you didn't even think it. But it was there. You didn't consider it, it just happened. It just...occurred to you how nice it would be to touch my hair?" He places his hand on the back of my head and ran his fingers through my red hair, no doubt imagining his daughter's brown or tawny blond. His dick throbs against my lips. "How nice it feels to sit and stroke my back while I sleep?" I continue the chant, no longer questions, just statements, simply a story. "How nice it is when I'm finally asleep to bend down and kiss me on the warm back. How nice it would be, maybe, if no one would ever know...to kiss a little lower on my back." His hand slides down accordingly. "To pull off my little pink panties while I'm sleeping and kiss me right on the butt." He squeezes each stinging cheek, then slides his hand sideways in between them. "And I'm still breathing slow, Daddy, so you decide to open me up and taste it, just for a second. And your big, hot tongue licks against my little virgin pussy and butthole, and you can smell me and feel my warm skin on your face. And then while I'm still sleeping, you pull my little panties up and sneak out, and you think no one will ever know." Rick moans. "But I wasn't asleep Daddy," I say. "And I knew what you were doing. I could feel it." I could swear he whimpers as a big drop of precum squeezes out of his straining dick and I slurp it up. "And I wanted you to Daddy. I wanted you to touch me all over." He grunts, "Kayluhhhh..." as his hand digs deeper between my ass cheeks, searching for my pussy lips. "I wanted your pee pee to get hard in my mouth, Daddy, I wanted to suck on it like a lollipop," I say as I lick him from root to tip. He starts to slip a finger into me and I wiggle it out. "No, Daddy, I want you in my butt. Please, put it in my butt." I arch my back and push my tight pink asshole towards his hand. "Put your finger inside my asshole, Daddy." Then I whine, mimicking a little kid who wants a piece of candy in the grocery store checkout line. "Pleeeeaasse!" "Oh, baby," Rick mutters, squirming his finger into my anus up to the first knuckle. He eases it in a little farther and I do my best painful (but delighted) gasp. "Ooh, yeah, Daddy, right in my little butthole." "Oh fuck," Rick is muttering, "Oh fuck oh fuck..." "Put it in me, Daddy. Put your fat dick into my tight little ass, Daddy." He forces his finger all the way into my asshole. A sharp cramp shoots into the depths of my stomach, and, simultaneously, he thrusts his dick, now harder than ever, up into my mouth and forces my head down until my nose is nestled against his balls. "Gggglll! Oh, fugg be, Daggy," I manage, choking on his dick and enjoying the feeling of my cramped stomach beginning to relax into the suction and pumping of his finger in and out of my butthole. "Oh, Kayla! Fuck...Daddy's going to come, soon baby." "Oh, Daddy," I gasp, "your dick feels so good in my little baby asshole. Will you please play with my ass for real?!" I jerk faster than ever, my hands a blur, bringing him to the edge of shooting and elongating the moment for as long as possible. "Yes, baby!" His finger digs around in my butt; I can feel the tip of his probing finger deep inside my asshole and guts; I want a cock there badly, and I let him know it. "Really? You promise?! Oh, FUCK, DADDY PLEASE PROMISE YOU'LL SLIDE YOUR BIG COCK INTO MY TINY ASSHOLE!" "I promise, baby, I promise!" "Promise you'll FUCK me Daddy, promise you'll hold me down and shove it in and make me CRY!" I fuck his finger, forcing him to keep his hand rigid, treating it like a cock, moving my ass sinuously back and forth onto it. He inserts a second finger and I scream, feeling myself stretch as it edges all the way in, quicker than the first. "AAAAAH! PROMISE YOU'LL ASSFUCK ME, DADDY! PROMISE! PROMISE!" "I PROMISE," he screams, and I ram my ass down onto his hand, at the same time taking his dick all the way into my throat for the last time. I start swallowing, sucking the thick cum out of him, trying to milk him completely dry. As he goes into the orgasm, the dam finally bursts entirely. Every urge in Rick's body comes spilling out. He starts to talk non-stop, voice tensed, clear, like a shaman chanting a spell, or a President taking his oath. "I'm going to fuck you, baby! I'm going to come in at night and pull your panties down and lick your little asshole and hold your head down against the pillow and push my big dick in as far as it'll go! I'm going to ass fuck you baby girl! I'm going to cum inside your asshole every night, I PROMISE PROMISE PROMISE and fuck your little holes until I fill you up with my cuuuUUUUMMMM—" His balls lurch up against his dick and a jet of cum launches out the tip of his cock and hits the back of my throat, boiling hot, moving fast, and immediately followed by three more thick splashes of cum that leave me gagging as I struggle to swallow it all. But these are only the forerunners. His cock keeps jerking, he keeps cumming into my body again and again, groaning loud enough to rock the entire truck, hips banging into my face, hand forcing my head down onto his gushing dick. "KAYLA!" he screams as the jolts of cum became more intense, finally peaking with one massive expulsion of cum that fills my throat, my mouth, my cum-filled cheeks and dribbles out, slithering in white rivulets down the length of his cock. I swallow the load of cum in my mouth and quickly yank his dick out, continuing to jerk him off slowly as I lick the last of the pearly cum off his thighs and belly. As I slam the passenger side door behind me and hop down onto the sidewalk (still barefoot), I pull my sports bra over my head and stuff my boobs inside it. After all, I was in a residential neighborhood now; no place to let your tits hang out. The little kids at the lemonade stand across the street stare at me in undisguised awe. I smile and wave. Rick doesn't notice them. He stares straight ahead through the windshield. He barely even twitches when I say "so long, thanks for the ride." So I add, "and the meal," and laugh. That he at least turns his head for. "Uh, yeah." Poor Rick. "Well," he says, "so long," and starts to put the idling truck into gear. "Rick," I add, "you might want to put that ring back on now." Rick looks at me like he doesn't even know to what I'm referring, then painfully, slowly, removes the wedding ring from his left pocket. He looks at it, then at me in a strange way I've seen only a thousand times before. I've got many converts under my belt, and it's been years since my trophy case was wanting. He puts it on. He looks at it on his hand. It doesn't look right. He almost tries it on another finger, but decides to forget it for now, to just focus on driving. A last glance to make sure I was real, and not just some demonic manifestation of his Christian guilt. I'm grinning wide and bright. "Much love, honey," I say, and turn on my bare heel as if I were in ten-inch pumps, walking in the direction of my family home, a little ticky-tacky house about half a mile away. Rick's truck pulls away from the curb and down the road to Hell. Like I said, there are advantages to being a slut. You'd almost call them powers. I would. Some sluts use their powers for good. On the other hand, some sluts are the fucking Devil. As I pass the lemonade stand, the boy's head pivots on his neck like a surveillance camera, eyes locked on my bouncing boobs. The girl elbows him and he snaps to attention. I'm trying to whistle something cool, something appropriate for the occasion, something approaching Hitchcock's "Twisted Nerve," but it's hard to keep from giggling. As Matt gathers me in his arms and I push him up against the side of our house, I already feel my body relaxing into a deep, soothing love. Being with Matty is the only time I really feel like myself. I can finally really relax, my mind, my soul, my body. Even my various orifices tend to be more relaxed, to open more easily to his prodding fingers and familiar penis. Riding With The Devil "Happy birthday, baby bro," I whisper into his ear. "I missed you," he says and we kiss deeply. "You smell like sex," I say. "Mmm, you too." He's slid his hand down the back of my pants and is already fingering my asshole. The two of them are practically best friends. "Come on," I say, "I've been waiting for an ass fuck from my little brother for months." I grab his hand and am about to drag him down to the grass of the little side lawn then and there, but he's already pulling away. "Come on, Matty, don't make me beg. I need you inside me." "I know Sis, me too, but I've gotta go right now." "What?!" He's already backing towards the gate. "I've got to go over to Josh's. He's having some kind of [Britney Emergency]. I promise, we'll find time." I can actually feel myself getting red in the face. I'm not a woman who likes to give up dick. "Hey, what gives?! Who's smell is that on you?" As he's opening the gate: "Let's just say I'm having [A Happy Birthday]." As the gate closes, I run to it and make one final plea. "When are you coming back, b?" He turns back and smiles at me "soon, I promise! We've got a lot to talk about; remind me to tell you about [Drama Club]!" Then he disappears behind the front garden wall. So there I am, stranded again, standing with a soaking and swollen pussy and a belly full of cum, with no one to talk to and wondering what the hell "Drama Club" is supposed to mean anyway. I sigh. I feel a little like crying. But that's before I go inside. Inside, well, that's when things [change for the better].