My name is Tammy Jo. I am twenty-one years old. I am stuck in this small town in Texas and I hate it here. My ambition is to get out of this rat hole where everyone knows everyone’s business and into a bigger city where I can have some privacy.

I have been working at the corner convenience store out of the main highway, about a half mile from the house, since I was eighteen, saving my hourly wages to buy a car and hopefully drive out of here and never look back. I have a boyfriend, or so folks tell me, but he is more of a big brother type than a boyfriend. We have messed around a little, mostly when I was drinking, but we haven’t gone all the way. Billy Bob is fun to hang around with, but beyond hanging around, smoking cigs and drinking beer, there isn’t much else to do. Billy, that’s what I call him, is like my protector. It seems like every horn-dog in this little po-dunk town wants to take me to bed. Billy Bob keeps that from happening.

I’m about five foot four and I have the great luck to have a fantastic body, but it doesn’t come easy. I jog two miles every day and I hit the gym every other day. Yes, we have a gym bit no fast food places. I love to wear skimpy outfits, mostly very short shorts and tight-fitting shirts, that show off my ass and my figure. I love the attention. The girls hate me.

I like working the convenience store out on the highway that runs through town. The old man who owns the place is a bit of a pervert, and he is always looking for a hug and I oblige, but only because he keeps me employed. Poor fella, he lives for the hug, the occasional pat on my ass. He keeps telling me he is going to kidnap one day. I keep telling him he may want to check with his wife before doing so.

The store only has myself, Mr. Haney, the owner and his wife Helen and one other employee. I fill in when the owner and his wife and their low-life cousin can’t be there. For me, it is a time I can escape from everything else going on in Po-dunkville. The low-life cousin is a trip and a story all by itself.

Last week, old man Haney told me he had to take his wife into Tyler for a doctor’s appointment. Haney asked me to work the store. I really didn’t want to, but he pleaded and I am a sucker when folks beg. I slipped into some shorts, slipped on my cowboy boots, and walked the short half mile up to the store. Haney was his usual self, giving me a big huh, hanging on a bit longer than he probably should and patting my ass. I couldn’t believe his wife let him do the things he did, but then again, she just wasn’t the attentive type.

I settled on to a bar stool behind the counter and switched on the radio. We had one radio station that we could pick up and all that it played was country western. A pickup pulled up to the gas pumps and a rather nice-looking fellow got out and started to pump gas. I watched him on the closed-circuit television monitor we had behind the counter. He finished pumping the gas and walked towards the store doors. I stood up to greet him.

“Hey,” I called out cheerfully as he walked in through the doors.

“Hey,” he called back, without even so much as looking my direction. He headed straight to the beer cooler. He grabbed a bag of Doritos and approached the counter. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, tall and ruggedly handsome. He say the items on the counter top. I scanned the items and looked at the register.

“Twenty-one thirty three,” I said.

He fished in his billfold looking for a credit card.

“Can you hang on a minute?” he inquired, “I think I left my card in the car.”

He darted out the door and towards his car.

He stepped back into the store and handed me his credit card. I glanced at his left hand for a ring. No ring. Yes!

I slid his credit card into the slot beside the register.

“So where ya from?” I casually inquired. I knew everyone in the town and I didn’t recognize him.

“Dallas,” he replied.

“What brings you all the way out here?” I pressed.

“Work,” he replied.

The internet connection was slow and I apologized.

“Everything out here is slow,” he replied.

“Slow can be good,” I teased, flipping my hair back over my shoulder.

He wiped one of his eyes with a lone finger.

The connection died. I apologized and asked him for his card and swiped it a second time.

“It looks like you’re having a party,” I noted, looking at the beer and his Doritos as we waited for the card to pass.

“Yeah,” he replied. “But it looks like I’m drinking alone.”

Alone. Damn. What a shame, I thought to myself.

“Well I get off in an hour,” I replied. Stop. Did I just say that? Oh my God! I must’ve been desperate.

“I’m at the Halletsville’s Six,” he replied. “Just come on by.”

The connection blinked on the computer screen: “Processed”.

“Would you like a receipt?” I asked.

“Only if you put your cell number on it,” he replied.

Smooth. I liked this guy.

I chuckled.

“It will cost you,” I replied. “Two beers.”

“Are you old enough to drink?” he asked.

“I just turned twenty one a few months ago, thank you,” I replied.

He pulled two beers from the package and sat them on the counter-top. I scribbled my cell number on the back of the receipt and handed it to him. He shoved the receipt into his pocket without even looking at it.

“Halletsville Six,” he said as he grabbed his stuff and darted out the door. I watched as he got into his pickup truck and drove off.

I had played this game before. It was an easy way to get free beer. The phone number I gave him was the store number. I am no dummy. Besides, I had no way to get to the Halletsville Six.

I settled back on to the bar stool after stuffing the beer under the counter. The store phone rang.

“Haney’s,” I said into the phone.

“You will come over to Halletsville, right?” asked the voice on the other end.

“I would,” I replied, “but I am without a ride.”

“I’ll come back for you,” he said.

He was a really good-looking guy, but I wasn’t sure if trekking all the way to Halletsville was a good idea or not. Beer and a hotel room could only mean one thing and while the thought of experiencing this really good-looking hunk of a guy really turned me on, my intuition was to pass on his offer.

“I won’t take ‘no’ for answer,” he pressed.

“Sorry,” I replied.

He said he understood and told me to have a nice afternoon.

It was a very slow afternoon and the minutes on the wall clock seemed to tick off very slowly. Haney called and said he was going to be late and asked if I minded staying at the store a few more hours.

“Sure,” I replied, trying to sound cheerful about his request. Truth was, I was bored to death and stuck in this stupid store. A car slowed and drove into the lot, then turned and looped back in the direction it has been traveling.

Woo-hoo.

About then minutes later and a familiar-looking truck pulled into the lot. My ‘cowboy’ was back. He walked in and stopped at the counter.

Her seemed surprised that I was still there.

“I thought you were off work already,” he commented.

“The owner asked me to work for a bit more,” I replied.

He smiled and headed off down one of the aisles.

“Is there something I can help you find?” I asked.

“No, not really,” he replied. “I’m just kind of looking to see what it is that I want.”

I watched as he scanned the chip aisle.

“Can I ask you a very personal question” I inquired.

“Sure,” he replied, looking in my direction.

I slipped off the bar stool and turned my ass in his direction and tip-toed.

“Do you think my shorts are too short?” I asked, bending forward slightly.

I looked back to gage his reaction.

“No,” he slowly replied. “They look very nice on you.”

“My boyfriend says they are provocative,” I said, spinning around and facing him.

“No,” he replied, “I wouldn’t call then ‘provocative’.”

I slipped back on to the bar stool, spreading my legs as far apart as I could, and slipping my fingers along the inside edge of my shorts next to my crotch.

“Would this be provocative?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied, his eyes glued to my crotch, “that would be classified as provocative.”

I unsnapped the snap of my shorts and peeled them open.

“How about this?” I pressed.

“Yes,” he replied.

‘And if I do this?” I asked, slipping my manicured fingers in past the elastic edge of my panties.

“Definitely . . .very provocative,” he replied.

Old man Haney had a camera trained on the area right behind the register, so I knew that my show was being recorded. I didn’t care.

I asked the guy of he’d like to stick around a bit. He looked at around the store and asked if I was alone. I assured him I was there all by myself. I am not a whore by any stretch of the imagination, but I know a guy that desires me when I see him.

“Can you do me a favor?” I asked.

“Sure,” he replied.

“Lock the dead bolt on the front door,” I instructed.

He reached over and turned the lock on the door. My cowboy trucker slipped around the counter and stood silent in front of me. I slipped off the bar stool and wiggled out of my shorts. I stepped out of them and stood there, dressed only in my panties and my t-shirt.

I slipped back on to the bar stool. I pressed my fingers into my soaking wet panties, pressing them into my vagina.

“Provocative?” I asked. His steely blue eyes were glued to my crotch.

“Yes,” he replied. He slipped off his cowboy hat and sat it on the countertop next to the register. My heart practically skipped a beat.

He knelt down in front of me, between my spread open legs. I lifted my ass off the bar stool and slipped my panties down my legs. I was so glad I had shaved before coming to work. My pussy was pulsating out of control, anticipating his touches. I slipped my fingers along the outer bands of the folds to my pussy. I parted my pussy lips and inserted a lone finger directly into my pussy.

“Lick it,” I demanded.

He pressed his head between my parted legs. I felt his tongue pressing against my labia. I grabbed his head and held it in place, as he alternated between the use of his tongue and his fingers to pleasure me.

Oh my God! It was a surreal experience. I glanced up at the camera pointing down as us and smiled. I gave a half wave and then lowered my head. I pulled my guest up and we kissed. Fire flew from our lips as he pressed himself in closer to me. I grabbed his buttocks with both of my hands. Oh my God!

I felt for his manhood through the fabric of his jeans. He was well stocked, I could tell.

I fumbled with the opening to his trousers. In a split instant, I managed to free his manhood. His shaft was very this, much thicker than Billy Bobs. He was also a lot longer. In fact, he was huge.

“Do you think you can put it in me?” I asked.

He silently pressed his schlong against the opening to my vagina. He slowly slipped the head of his circumcised tool in as I parted the lips with my fingers. I closed my eyes. I could feel him filling up my vagina. I had never experienced such a feeling, ever. His cock pressed against the hood of my vagina as he began to work his hips and forth., slowly at firest, then more more deliberately. I felt a chill go up my back as he pressed himself against me.

Oh my God! I couldn’t contain myself and simply exploded. Womanly juices flooded into my vagina. I dug my finger-tips into his shoulders. Suddenly, I could feel an explosion of cum filling me up. He bit down on his lower lip as he exploded inside of me. I wrapped my legs around him and he grabbed my ass, pulling me off the stool. His cock was still buried inside of me. I hung there for the longest time, just taking it all in. Finally, after a few minutes of breathtaking exhilaration, he sat me back down on the bar stool.

I grabbed a towel from the counter next to me and stuffed it between my legs. I was a mess. He took the towel and wiped himself clean, then handed the towel back to me. I wiped my pussy and sat the towel off to the side.

He pulled his trousers up and refastened them as I silently slipped my panties and my shorts back into place.

I walked him over to the door and thanked him for making my work day so very special.

“Well,” he replied, “Mine was pretty special as well.”

“Thanks for dropping by the Corner store,” I dutifully replied.

He smiled and nodded his head in my direction.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” he said.

“The pleasure,” I told him, “was all mine.”