The noonday sun blazed across the interstate, turning the asphalt into a shimmering ribbon of heat as Greg and Cathy roared down the highway in their bright yellow Camaro. They had the stereo cranked, singing “Highway to Hell” with Bon Scott at the top of their lungs. The needle was on ‘E’ as the song ended, and Greg rolled up to the pump at an old-school filling station in the middle of Nowhere, Texas.
As Greg pulled up to the pump, Cathy’s cum-stained panties were still damp from their stop an hour earlier. She had been teasing him, reaching under her skirt and moaning as she tasted herself, something she knew would drive him nuts. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and she giggled as he swerved to avoid an oncoming truck.
“You’re gonna get us killed, you crazy bitch,” he said, as she leaned back against her door and flashed her pussy at him.
“If you can’t handle a little pussy while you’re driving, Greg, maybe you aren’t the man I thought you were,” she taunted, curling two fingers into her pussy and moaning as she rubbed her clit with her thumb.
“Keep milking that tight little cunt for me, slut, because once I get my hands on you, I’m going to make you scream so loud the trucker two miles back will hear you.”
He veered off the highway and pulled into a deserted rest area at highway speed, careened around the ‘Road Closed’ barriers, and screeched to a stop in front of the abandoned pavilion. Cathy’s heart pounded in her chest as he pulled her out of the car and hauled her toward a weathered picnic table.
“Come here, you fucking whore,” he growled.
She felt the splintered grain of the wood against her back as he put his hand around her throat and laid her out on the table. She stared up at him with big, blue, blown-out eyes, her chest heaving under her cropped tank top as she gripped the edges of the weathered wood, her legs falling open in anticipation of him forcing them apart.
“Do it, Greg… right here… make me your whore. Fuck me!”
He wasn’t gentle; under the deep, cool shade of the oak trees, he pulled her panties aside and manhandled her, plunging into her and stuffing her full of hard cock.
“Oh god, I can feel every inch of you, you’re filling me up so much.”
“Take it, bitch, squirm on that fucking dick!” he growled as he slammed into her, the rhythmic thwack of his balls slapping her ass echoing in the quiet stillness.
“Oh my fucking god!” she yelled, “Harder, Greg. Fuck me!”
Every heavy thrust had driven her deeper into the wood, her tight vagina clenching desperately around his length.
“God, Greg, you’re tearing me open, don’t stop,” she shouted.
“Go ahead, tell the whole highway how much of a slut you are for me!” Greg growled as he drove into her one last time.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him and raked her nails down his back as she tried to anchor herself to him while her world spun out of control.
Her cunt seized him in a series of sharp, rhythmic contractions. The world—the trees, the distant hum of the road, the rough wood beneath her—dissolved into a single, pulsing point of raw electricity centered on her tightly stretched hole.
His release was guttural and absolute. He felt the desperate, vicelike clench of her pussy, and it triggered a primal surge. His body went rigid, his muscles corded and strained as he shot hot cum deep against her cervix in thick, pulsing jolts.
Her back arched, and she threw her head back, releasing a high, thin wail as he let out a low, predatory growl that vibrated against her collarbone, their animal lust stated.
As the Camaro stopped at the pump, nature called.
“God, I have to pee so bad,“ she said, getting out of the car. “Do you need anything while I’m in there?”
“Hmm, let me think, “ he said, walking around to the pump, pretending to think about it for a minute just to watch her dance.
”Greg!” she squealed as he laughed at her dilemma. She ran inside to use the restroom and grab a couple of sodas while Greg started filling the tank.
Inside the dim, dusty station, she caught the grizzled old man behind the counter watching her with blatant hunger. She leaned into the attention, reaching up to gather her tangled blonde hair into a messy bun. She took her time, arching her back and lifting her elbows high to let her cropped tank top pull tight against her braless tits as she secured the tie.
“Hot enough for ya?” he rasped, his gaze glued to her chest. Cathy gave him a bright, easy smile, her sneakers squeaking on the linoleum.
“It’s a scorcher!” she chirped, her sweet ‘girl-next-door’ mask hiding the raw ache between her thighs. “But the Camaro’s got great A/C, thank goodness.”
“I bet it does,” he rasped, his eyes not moving an inch from her chest. “But I reckon it wouldn’t take much to get you overheated again.”
He eye-fucked her as he cashed her out, and she met his look-over with a friendly wink.
“Bye-bye,” she said, and sashayed toward the exit, letting her hips sway provocatively as she felt his eyes on her tight ass until she disappeared back out into the heat. She rubbed a cold soda on her neck and handed one to Greg. They opened their cold Dr. Peppers, and he quickly guzzled them down.
“I picked up some snacks in case you’re hungry,” she said, “Do you want a Ding Dong, hun?’ she asked with a giggle, a mischievous grin on her face.
“No, but I have a Ding Dong for you,” he said, fisting his hand into her messy bun and forcing her to her knees. Cathy’s heart hammered against her ribs, a wild surge of adrenaline spiking at the sudden, rough command. She didn’t hesitate, her knees hitting the gritty pavement as she reveled in the thrill of being openly used for sex in the Texas heat. She freed his cock and opened her mouth as his thick meat flopped out. She didn’t care who saw; the risk of the highway was a secondary high to the rush of sucking him off.
She engulfed him in her mouth, her throat opening wide as she began to feast. A natural born cocksucker, Cathy was in her element, her hands flat on his thighs as her braless tits jutted out. Her knees were spread wide on the asphalt as Greg fucked her face. The wet, rhythmic sounds of her greedily working him filled the space between them.
Her tongue was a busy, tireless muscle, swirling around the sensitive glans and lapping at the underside of the shaft to keep him drenched in saliva. She bobbed her head back and forth, lost in the sensation of his length sliding against her tongue and the wet, rhythmic slurping sounds of her lips sealed tight around him. Every deep stroke was punctuated by a viscous, sharp, choked “ungh” as she took him to the hilt, her tongue flattening to make room, his balls smacking against her chin as she milked him with her throat.
She felt her lips stretch as he grew, and she knew her reward was imminent. Greg let out a low, guttural groan as he shot thick ropes of cum straight down her throat. She let out a high-pitched whimper and swallowed every drop, her throat working rhythmically to milk him dry just as the gas pump clicked off, signaling he had finished filling the Camaro. She pulled back with a wet pop, smacking her lips and savoring the salty, thick taste of him, a satisfied smirk on her face as she looked up at him in the bright midday heat.
Greg didn’t let her linger; he yanked her up by the same fistful of hair, pulling her to her feet. She looked up at him as he put his hand around her throat and claimed her mouth in a hard, possessive kiss. His tongue dived deep, mopping up the excess cream and saliva from her lips and tongue, reclaiming the salty tang of his own sticky cum, and forced her to taste it all over again as they shared the messy heat of the moment.
He pushed his hand into her lacy panties to find her soaked again. “Come on, get in,” he smiled.
She savored the taste of him as they pulled out of the filling station and continued down the highway. Cathy shifted in the passenger seat, her tank top rucked up, the thin fabric clinging to the undersides of her tits.
She bit her lower lip, watching the way Greg’s forearm flexed as he gripped the stick shift, the muscles in his jaw tightening when he caught her staring, and she slowly opened her legs.
Cathy sat in the passenger seat, a living testament to the chaos of their debauchery. Her cropped tank top was damp with the Texas humidity, the thin fabric clinging to her skin like a second layer and making the heavy, braless weight of her tits impossible to ignore. Her denim miniskirt was hiked up, the rough hem framing the pale, flushed skin of her thighs.
Her messy bun was a structural disaster; golden strands of hair had escaped the tie to plaster against her neck and temples, darkened by sweat into honey-colored curls. Her face was flushed a deep, healthy pink; her big blue eyes were still blown open with the lingering adrenaline of the highway.
Her cotton panties were visibly sodden and stained, the white fabric turned translucent in patches where her own juices had soaked through, and marked with the thick, creamy streaks of Greg’s cum. The scent of the car was a heavy, intoxicating blend of leather upholstery, ozone from the vents, and the raw, musk-heavy smell of a woman in heat.
“You’re a filthy little slut, Cathy,” he said, “You have no idea how hot you look all messed up.” Greg’s voice was low, rough, and the way he talked dirty to her made her pussy tingle.
“I love being your dirty little roadside attraction,” she teased as her fingers trailed up the inside of her thigh, inching beneath the hem of her skirt. “I’m just your skanky whore, your highway-side cum-bucket,” she said, her fingers moving under her skirt. The way Greg’s eyes flicked toward her movement told her he knew exactly what she was doing.
Ahead, a hulking semi appeared in the right lane. Greg changed lanes to pass the slow-moving truck. He pulled alongside on the left so the trucker had a good view of Cathy.
“Come on, highway slut, show me what a filthy little exhibitionist you are.”
The trucker had his window down, his muscled elbow leaning on the sill. The broad-shouldered driver wore a flannel shirt stretched over his barrel chest, his face half-hidden beneath the brim of a worn baseball cap. The driver looked down at Cathy and waved.
She giggled and waved back, smiling up at him, “He’s looking, Greg,” she said excitedly.
The driver looked again and did a double-take as she lifted her top and flashed him. Cathy rubbed her tits, her top rucked around her neck, pulling her nipples, and rolling them between her thumbs and forefingers. She cupped her tits and pushed them up, flicking her nipples with her tongue. Her pussy clenched as she teased him, a fresh gush of wetness soaking through her panties. Cathy held his gaze, an obscene, unspoken ‘come and get it’ hanging in the air between them.
The truck’s air horn blasted, a deep, shuddering BWAHHHMP that startled Cathy. Greg laughed as she squealed, nearly jumping out of her skin at the sudden blast of sound. She recovered quickly and flashed the trucker again, kneeling on the seat, pressing her tits to the glass and blowing him a kiss.
Greg punched the throttle, the Camaro lurching forward as they shot out from under the semi’s shadow, sunlight blinding for a second before the world snapped back into focus.
“Look at you, Cathy, you’re making a goddamn mess of my seat.”
Cathy whimpered, squirming in the seat as she ground down against her own fingers, the denim skirt riding up further.
“Find another one,” she growled. “I want more.”
Greg didn’t need to be told twice. His eyes scanned the highway, locking onto the next rig half a mile ahead, its trailer emblazoned with some logistics company’s logo. The Camaro surged forward, eating up the distance, the engine snarling like a beast on the hunt.
Cathy grabbed the hem of her tank top and yanked it over her head, tossing it behind the seat where it landed in a crumpled heap.
Greg pulled even with the big rig. She could feel the driver’s eyes on her as she caressed her tits and spread her legs. She pushed her skirt up further, exposing the wet spot of her cotton panties. The fabric was dark with her arousal, the scent of her pussy thick in the car.
“Touch yourself,” Greg ordered, his voice a dark growl. “Show him what a pretty little pussy you have.”
Cathy didn’t hesitate. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, peeling her sodden panties off and tossing them on the dashboard. The air from the vents felt cool against her bare pussy, her clit already throbbing. She sank two fingers into her slit without preamble, the wet, squelching sound of her fingers obscene even over the low rumble of the engine. Her hips jerked as she curled her fingers inside herself, her thumb finding her clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles.
The trucker was still there, his rig pacing them. She could see him now—younger than she expected, maybe late twenties, his flannel shirt stretched tight over broad shoulders, his calloused hands gripping the wheel like he was afraid to let go. His eyes were locked on her, dark and hungry.
“That’s it, baby,” Greg murmured, his own breath hitching as he watched her. “Finger that tight little cunt for him. Let him see how wet you get when you’re being a filthy slut.”
Cathy moaned, her fingers working faster, her juices coating her hand. Because of the angle of her hips, the slick, viscous fluid trailed from her palm, over the heel of her hand, and down the underside of her wrist, glistening against her pulse point. The trucker’s window rolled down, and for a second, she thought she heard him groan, but the distance swallowed the sound. It didn’t matter. She knew he was hard. Knew he was imagining those rough hands on her, spreading her open, fucking her right there in the middle of the highway.
Greg’s hand slid higher, his palm rough against the inside of her thigh as he accelerated past the second driver. He didn’t touch her clit; instead, he used his thumb to trace the very edge of her labia, dragging her own juices up toward her hip before pulling his hand away entirely as the speedometer climbed. He was making her wait, letting the wind from the vents and the gaze of the highway do the work while he hunted for the next rig.
Ahead, another semi appeared—this one taller, its cab higher off the ground. Greg eased off the throttle just enough to let it pull alongside them. The driver was visible now, leaning forward in his seat, his face a mix of shock and lust as he took in the sight of Cathy’s bare tits, her fingers buried in her cunt, her skirt hiked up to her waist.
Cathy didn’t just tease this time. She lifted her hips, spreading her thighs wider, giving the stranger a perfect view of her glistening pussy, her blonde pubic hair damp with her arousal. Three fingers plunged inside her, stretching her, filling her as she fucked herself with sharp, desperate thrusts. Her other hand found her clit, rubbing furiously as her breath came in ragged gasps.
“Oh god—” Her voice broke, her back arching as her orgasm crashed over her. Her pussy clenched around her fingers, her juices gushing over her hand, dripping onto the seat beneath her. The trucker’s face was a mask of raw hunger, his mouth slightly open, like he was tasting her pleasure on his own tongue.
Greg didn’t give her time to come down. “Enough,” he barked, his voice thick with command. “Crawl over here. Now.”
Cathy obeyed instantly, her petite frame moving with practiced agility as she shifted onto her knees. She crawled over the console, her braless tits swinging and her denim skirt hiked up to her waist, exposing her wet pussy and the pale skin of her ass to the trucker’s hungry gaze. Greg’s cock was already out, a long, thick meat stick that she couldn’t resist. Cathy lowered her head, taking him into her mouth for a long, wet minute, her throat working rhythmically to show the trucker exactly what she was capable of.
She pulled back with a wet pop, then she shifted, lifting her hips to straddle him. She was tiny against his massive frame as she guided his thick, veiny cock inside her. She let out a long, shuddering moan as he filled her completely, her tits pressing firmly against his broad chest.
She draped her arms over his shoulders, resting her head on his right side so her face was turned directly toward the trucker. Greg kept one hand at the bottom of the wheel and the other hand holding her ass, his view of the road clear over her shoulder.
Cathy began to ride him, her hips rising and falling in sharp, desperate thrusts. The trucker’s rig pacing them, his eyes locked on the sight of her bare back and the way her golden tits mashed against Greg’s flannel shirt. She held the stranger’s gaze, her eyes glazed with pleasure, a defiant smirk playing on her lips as she took every inch of her man in full view of the highway.
Greg’s hand shot out, gripping the back of her neck to pull her even closer. He let out a guttural groan as his orgasm hit, his cock pulsing deep inside her. Cathy squeezed her internal muscles, milking him dry as they shot past the rig, the Camaro’s engine roaring a final, triumphant note.
Greg floored the gas, the car surging ahead and leaving the trucker’s blaring horn in their wake. Cathy stayed tucked against him for a long moment, her heart hammering against his chest, before finally shifting back to her own seat, her body boneless and glistening with their combined sweat and cream.
Cathy collapsed back into the passenger seat, her body boneless, her tits still bare, her thighs slick with cum and her own cream. The wind rushed over her, drying the streaks of fluid on her skin, the sun warming her like a lover’s touch.
Greg reached over, his fingers tracing the curve of her breast before pinching her nipple, hard. “We’re not done yet, baby,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. “Not even close.”
Ahead, the highway stretched endlessly, a ribbon of possibility. And Cathy knew—oh, she knew—they’d leave more than just rubber on the road before the day was through.
In the rearview mirror, the third trucker’s rig dwindled to a speck, but not before he’d steered one-handed into the shoulder, his other arm pumping frantically behind the glass. He was left vibrating in their wake, a lonely witness to the raw, sun-drenched spectacle that was already disappearing into the Texas heat.
