I was out of gas.
Gregory told me to top off before I left Dallas. I was in a hurry to get on the road, so I blew off the gas station. I thought I had enough gas to get to Houston; I had made the trip before with less. Now, I would never hear the end of it.
My friend, Daisy, had broken her leg while skiing in Colorado. I went to pick her up at the airport and helped her get situated.
We didn’t realize how difficult it is to move around on crutches. Even a simple task like carrying a cup of coffee from the kitchen to the living room presents challenges. We rearranged Daisy’s apartment to suit her better while wearing a cast.
With a broken leg, she couldn’t do much, so I did everything for her. She had me move furniture around, add a few pillows, and stock her refrigerator and pantry with groceries and household supplies.
We did the laundry, so she didn’t have to worry about that for a couple of weeks. The week flew by, and I had to get home to Gregory.
I promised Daisy I’d return to check on her at the end of the month and kissed her goodbye.
I made it to the highway and soon forgot about the gas. I was doing 90, heading south on I-45 with the radio blasting, singing along to AC/DC, and dreaming of being in Gregory’s arms again. It had been a week since I left for Dallas, and I missed him badly.
Suddenly, the low fuel alarm was on. I looked down to see I was sucking fumes. I toggled the display on Fuel Range: thirty miles. I was too far past the last gas station to turn around and too far from the next one to make it. Dammit!
I couldn’t get a signal on my phone, so I couldn’t call for help. I hoped to find a place with a landline, at least.
I knew of a place a little off the beaten path. It was an old farm with a salvage yard where auto repair was done. We had been there years before looking for antique auto parts. I knew they had fuel, so I took the next exit and headed west.
I made my way to the old farm, taking consolation in the fact that it was a beautiful day without a cloud in sight.
I could see the farmhouse in the distance when the truck ran out of gas.
I was livid. ”God bless America!” I shouted, banging on the steering wheel and letting out a scream. I swear, if I could, I would have kicked myself in the ass right there on the side of the road.
I got out of the truck to stand on the hardtop road in the Middle of Nowhere, TX.
I started walking. By the time I got to the farmhouse, I was soaked with sweat and happy I had elected to wear a bra. I picked up an old Jerry can by the mailbox and walked toward the garage. I heard a distant telephone ringing nonstop.
A man was shouting fire and brimstone from a radio tuned to the local AM Christian station.
Two pickup trucks, an old Cadillac convertible, and a tractor were in the garage, one in each bay. I saw activity under the Cadillac’s hood, so I headed that way.
I walked up to the front of the Caddy and set the jerry can down. The radio was tuned to a country station. Hank Williams was singing “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” drowning out the gospel radio outside.
Thankfully, a Big Ass fan hung in the ceiling overhead, blowing air down and helping to dry the sweat from my body.
A large man wearing denim bib overalls was bent over the engine under the Caddy’s hood. He was a big, tall, thick man with a baseball cap on backward. He was chewing a cigar and cussing at the distributor cap.
He got it installed and stood up, banged his head on the hood, and cussed again.
I couldn’t help but laugh, and that’s when he saw me standing there. I’m sure I was a sight in my cutoffs, sweat-soaked blouse, and boots. My skin was shiny with sweat, and my hair was a mess.
He ambled from under the hood and stood in front of the car. He was well over six feet tall, bald, and very thick. His chin had razor stubble, and his few remaining teeth were yellow and crooked. In a word, he was gross.
The name “Larry” was embroidered on the front of his overalls.
Larry looked me up and down; I knew he was banging me in his mind. Lecherous Larry, I thought, crossing my arms to cover myself as if that would stop his filthy thoughts.
He pulled the cigar out of his mouth with his big, dirty hand and said, “What are you doing here, missy? You lost or something?”
“Yes, sir, I’m sorry, I’m Catherine. I need your help.” I told him the story about my fuel situation, and he had a big smile on his face. He chuckled when I got to the part where I ran out of gas. When I finished, he looked me up and down again.
I continued, “What I really need right now is the restroom, sir.” I crossed my legs and smiled at him.
“Sure, missy. The restroom is right there. Larry pointed to an open door, the stool clearly visible. I ran in and closed the door, but it wouldn’t close. A hump in the floor stopped it from closing, leaving it open just enough for Larry to see me sitting on the stool. I had to pee badly, and I didn’t think he’d really see anything. I pulled my shorts down just enough and sat to pee.
I cut loose for five minutes, with Larry watching the whole time. Oh, what a relief! I finished and stood, quickly pulling my shorts up. He turned back to the Caddy.
I stepped behind the door in front of the sink and removed my blouse to wring out the sweat. I got a few paper towels and unzipped my sports bra, wiping the sweat from my boobs. I peeked around the door at Larry, and he was shutting the hood of the Caddy, so I pulled off my bra, wrung it out in the sink, and put it back on along with my top.
I felt so much better. Now, it was time to get gas and go. I went back out to see Larry. He started the Cadillac, and it ran like a champ.
“Well, Larry. Can you sell me some gas and a ride back to my truck?”
“Sure, Missy. Put the can in the back seat and get in.” I put the can on the seat behind him and ran around to get in. He had an old gas pump he used to fill the jerry can and another can that was sitting by the pump.
He put the heavy cans in the trunk and got in.
“Thank you so much, Larry. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
He reached over and put his big hand on my thigh, saying, “I think I’m gonna find out exactly how much you appreciate this, missy.”
“I have cash in my car, Larry. I’ll pay you for the gas.”
“Well, I’m happy to hear that, missy, but I don’t need your cash,” he said, turning to smile at me, still chewing that cigar butt. I could smell his BO even though we were riding in a convertible with the top down.
Eeeeew. I almost puked imagining his fat, smelly body crushing me and kissing me with his foul mouth that no doubt tasted like an ashtray. I would rather shoot myself. He squeezed my thigh a little tighter and let it go. I had to think of something quick.
“Larry, I’m flattered and all, but I’ll have to take a raincheck on that and use cash instead; you know, it’s that time of the month.”
His look said he wasn’t buying it.
Larry said, “So you’re on the rag, are you? That leaves two options,” he smiled at me with his nasty yellow teeth, chewing the smelly cigar, and chuckled.
Oh, God. That was a choice between bad and worse. I didn’t want his smelly body on mine, front or back. I retched when I thought of my final option. He pulled alongside my truck with the Caddy. He leaned back in the seat and looked at me.
“It’s time to pay up, missy. What’s it gonna be?”
Gregory would punish me severely when I got home, but he was so big, and I was afraid he would leave me stranded, “Recline your seat, Larry.”
I could feel myself gagging, thinking of what I was going to do. I reached into his overalls and pulled out his dick. I stroked him a few times, hoping he would cum in my hand. He put his hand on the back of my head and pulled my face closer. When his smell hit me, I almost vomited. I retched again as I engulfed him with my mouth. Thankfully, he finished in a minute or two, and I gagged as I swallowed his cum.
Larry happily filled my truck with gas, and I was on my way, lucky to get out of there as easily as I did.
Gregory welcomed me home with a stern reprimand and a well-deserved paddling. I couldn’t have agreed with him more.
