I stopped off at a convenience store just north of Dallas on my way up to Oklahoma to get some gas and a bite to eat. It was about eight in the evening and my goal was to make it across the Red River and to my destination before nightfall.

I filled my tank at the pump and then stepped into the store to grab some snacks for the final leg of my trip. There was no one at the counter, so I called out asking if there was anyone there. No one answered, so I waited a few more seconds and repeated my inquiry.

About that time, a very young woman exited the restroom, a very sexy gal, dressed in tight-as-hell blue jeans and a black t-shirt, proffering an apology. She rang me up and nervously bagged my stuff.

I asked if she was okay, and she said, “Yes,” but I could tell she was a little rattled. I headed out to my car and twisted the cap off my Coke. I couldn’t get the young clerk out of my mind. She was cute and refreshingly nice, so I stepped back into the store to see if things were okay. She met me with a smile and asked if I had forgotten something.

“Yeah,” I replied, “I forgot to say ‘thanks’ and tell you how beautiful you are.”

She blushed and assured me that things were perfectly well. I looked at her shirt, which read “Tori” on the front and asked if that was her name. She laughed and said, “No, I am Amy, I just liked the shirt.”

I asked how often she worked at the store.

“Every day, from three to eleven,” she replied. I spied some chicken wings in a warmer and asked how much they cost. I was trying desperately to find a way to keep the conversation going.

“Four for three dollars,” she dutifully replied.

“I’ll take five,” I said. I watched as she bagged up the wings and then rang them up in the register.

“Did they stick you here to work all by yourself?” I inquired as she bagged the food purchase.

“Yeah,” she replied. “But I can handle it. I like working by myself.”

“But aren’t you afraid?” I asked.

“Shoot no,” she replied. “I can hold my own and there’s a holdup alarm under the counter.”

Then she smiled and added, “And, I can’t flirt with customers when there is someone working with me.”

She had me at that point.

“I don’t see you as the flirting kind,” I replied.

“I can be very flirtatious when I want to be,” she shot back, proffering a very pronounced wink, and hand-waving her shoulder-length black hair over her shoulder.

“I can see that,” I answered. “But flirting can be dangerous.”

“Not for me,” she said, “I am very selective and only flirt with those I think might be receptive to my flirting.”

She handed me the bag with the chicken wings, and instead of letting go, she held on to it for just long enough to catch my attention.

“So,” she asked, “Where are you heading off to?”

“I am on my way to Oklahoma for a business trip,” I replied.

“I like Oklahoma,” she replied. “Haven’t been there in a while.”

Suddenly, our casual conversation was more engaging.

“Well,” I replied jokingly, “Lock the door and go with me.”

“Oh, I wished I could,” she shot back, cocking her head to the side. “But I’d get fired.”

“Well, I replied, “We can’t have you losing your job. Maybe on my next trip through,” I suggested.

“What do you do?” she asked.

“I evaluate businesses for commercial insurance risks,” I said.

She smiled and asked if I thought she was a good risk or a bad risk.

“So far,” I replied, “I see a good risk.”

“Well,” she replied, as she leaned forward, her elbows on the countertop. “I try.”

“Don’t you ever get bored working here?” I asked.

“Yeah, at times, it can be boring,” she dutifully shot back, “But then every now and then I get a pretty nice customer coming through . . .”

Her voice trailed off, and I could tell she wanted to say more but cautiously held back.

“Can I ask you a deeply personal question?" I pressed.

“Sure,” she replied.

“Do you ever mess around at work?”

I watched as she batted her long eyelashes, processing my question.

“Do I what?” she asked.

I quickly apologized, quickly acknowledging the inappropriateness of my inquiry as I grabbed the bag of chicken wings she had just bagged up for me.

She quickly grabbed my arm to stop me.

“Dude,” she said, “I know you’re not in a hurry.”

She leaned forward across the counter and whispered, “I give a damn good blow job.”

Oh Lord!

“For how much?” I asked.

“I don’t know, I never charge for them. I just like to suck dick and if someone leaves me a tip, it is all good.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“If you do not believe me,” she countered, mischievously twirling a lone finger in a lone strand of her hair, “Let me prove it to you.”

She silently nodded her head for me to go to the end of the counter, so I did as she said, and once there, she reached out and took my hand in hers.

“There’s a security camera over there,” she said, looking up at the ceiling behind the cash register. “Wait here while I lock the door and put out a sign.”

It was hard to believe she was for real, but then she turned the deadbolt lock on the front entrance door and placed out a 'Closed' sign. Holy smokes. She was serious.

She quickly returned to the little cubby she had created behind the boxes and instructed me to take a seat in the hard-back chair she had perfectly positioned in the small alcove. I did as she instructed and then she dropped to her knees right in front of me, placing her left hand directly on my crotch.

“Oh wow!” she exclaimed as she felt for my tool. “You are well hung.”

She quickly peeled out of her t-shirt, baring her lusciously round boobs to me.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Very nice,” I replied as she inched her way on her knees between my spread open legs, her hands on my upper thighs. She was laser-focused on my crotch. In an instant, she had me unzipped and my man tool in hand. I was only half-erect, but she quickly resolved that issue, thumbing my tool into a full erection.

She took in a deep breath and forcefully exhaled before taking me on. She tried to hold her long hair back with one hand, but it was impossible. It framed her angelic face as she inserted my tool into her mouth and began to slowly suck on me., working my man tool in and out of her mouth. I grabbed her hair and helped to hold it back while she feverishly attacked my tool.

“Tell me,” she requested, “before you cum.”

“I’ll give you fifty dollars to swallow,” I shot back.

“You double that, and you can fuck me,” she replied.

“Consider it doubled,” I said.

Amy stood up and peeled out of her tight-as-hell jeans, and then she silently slipped out of her pink lace panties. She stood completely naked in front of me. WOW!

She turned and backed her buttocks up to my lap and my exposed cock. She sat on my lap and then leaned back against me, placing her hand around my neck. I could feel her hot breath on my neck as she begged me to fuck her.

I lifted her up and repositioned my man tool for a more direct entry. She was a tight fit and she let out a guttural gasp as she settled down onto my lap, my cock slipping deep inside of her. She bounced up and down on my lap, my man tool sliding back and forth along the inside track of her vagina. Her hands were balled into fists and I could tell she was about to lose it. She shuddered as she lowered her head. My balls tightened and my thighs quivered and the next thing I knew, I was shooting my load deep inside of her. I had not thought about protection and hoped she was on some type of contraception.

“I am on the pill,” she declared in answer to my inquiry. Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over.

“Wait here,” she instructed. She slipped back into her clothes and quickly disappeared into the ladies’ room. A few seconds later, she emerged with a wad of paper towels in hand. She eagerly cleaned me up.

I headed over to the ATM to get out some cash. She gave me a nice hug and a peck on the cheek. I unlocked the front door and quickly darted out to my car.

I was crossing into Oklahoma about an hour after my convenience store visit, when all of a sudden, I realized I had forgotten my chicken wings. I called directory assistance and Amy answered the store phone.

“Uh, I forgot my chicken wings when I was there about an hour ago,” I said into my cell. Amy said she had put them back into the warmer and offered to credit the cost of them back to my credit card.

“No,” I told her. “Just keep them in the warmer and I can get them when I come back through.”

“Are you really coming back?” she asked.

“Only if you promise to go easy on the flirtations,” I said.

“I’ll try,” she replied, “but I can’t make any promises.”

I can’t wait to cross the Texas line and get back into Texas.