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Queen Of The Road

Meeting the right woman can change a man's life.

My mind was a thousand miles away, avoiding all thoughts of the boring day of work ahead. I’d taken old Route 57 because it was slower and sparsely traveled, and I wanted time to think about my life; I needed to make some changes, get out of this rut I was in.

Distracted, I didn’t see her until she stepped out in front of me, arm extended, thumb up. I nearly ran her down, swerving at the last second as I registered a flash of blue shorts, long, blond hair, and even longer legs. Bringing my old Buick to a stop crossways on the road a hundred feet later, I looked back to see her running after me – quite a sight in her high heels, long hair swinging, an old, beat-up suitcase clutched in her left hand.

Reaching my car, she pulled the passenger door open. “Thanks for stopping!”

“Are you crazy? I almost ran over you!”

“Sorry. You’re the first car in the last half hour. I was getting desperate.”

“Well… still.” I couldn’t look into those blue eyes and that disarming smile and stay angry. “You should have stayed on the main road; there’s plenty of traffic there.”

“No, I couldn’t. That’s the first place he would have looked. Can I have a ride?”

“I guess, sure. Throw your suitcase in the back.” She opened the rear door and tossed her suitcase in. I looked back at her ancient leather valise as she climbed into the front. “That’s the first suitcase I’ve seen in thirty years that didn’t have wheels on it.”

She laughed, an improvement over the fear in her voice moments ago. “I didn’t have time to be choosy; I grabbed it, threw stuff in, and took off.”

Though curious, I didn’t want to pry. I figured if she wanted me to know more, she’d tell me. Instead, I asked, “Where are you headed?”

“As far from here as I can get. Where are you headed?”

“To work.”

She leaned forward and looked at the logo above the pocket of my white shirt, the colorful patch which read ‘Quicki-Mart’, and at the metal pin above it proclaiming me ‘Roger D., Asst. Manager’. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was required.

She tried to act interested. “Is that the one at the interchange, by the truck stop?”

“Yeah, my little slice of hell.”

“That’s a long way to drive for a job you apparently don’t like, Roger.”

I nodded. “But on the bright side, my boss is an asshole and the pay sucks.”

She giggled. “At least you have a sense of humor about it.”

“It keeps me from putting a gun in my mouth. Can I ask your name?” She wasn’t wearing a shitty name tag. Lucky girl.

“Oh, sorry! I’m Leah; that was rude of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. So is the interchange good, or can I drop you somewhere?”

She thought for a moment. “The truck stop is good; I can catch a ride with a trucker.”

No doubt; I knew enough truckers to know that they are an exceptionally horny lot, and Leah was stunning. Most of them were good men, but… “Isn’t that dangerous for a beautiful young woman?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Not to burst your bubble, but those are probably the final words of a lot of people now buried in shallow, unmarked graves somewhere.”

“That’s a morbid thought.”

I shrugged. “Just an observation. Tell me where you’re going and I’ll drive you; I can be late for work. They’re desperate: it’s not like they ever fire anyone.”

“Why would you do that, Roger? What’s in it for you?”

Apparently, she wasn’t accustomed to simple kindness; she expected to be asked for a quid pro quo, probably of the sexual variety given her appearance.

“Nothing, Leah. I have a daughter; I’d like to think that if she was in your situation, whatever that might be, that some decent person would help her out.”

“Oh. Look, I’m sorry for being so mistrusting, it’s just that…”

“Never mind; you don’t know me, it’s only natural.”

“You don’t look old enough to have a daughter my age.”

I glanced at her again, guessing her to be around twenty, a year either way. “She’s only eleven, but she’ll be your age someday; she’s very beautiful, like you.”

“Thank you. That’s twice you’ve said I’m beautiful.”

I smiled. “So, what’s our destination?”

“I have a friend in Amarillo I could stay with.”

My head snapped around. “Amarillo is almost 400 miles from here!”

“A little over. You can just drop me at the truck stop.”

I thought for a moment, unpinned my name tag and threw it out my open window. It glinted in the sunlight as it spun into the roadside ditch. “No, I said I’d drive you, and I will.”

She giggled. “Did you just quit your job?”

“Apparently I did, yes.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Surprisingly good, actually, like a weight has been lifted.” I laughed out loud, the first time I’d done that in a very long time. “Road trip! I’d forgotten how much I enjoy that.”

Laughing, she bounced in her seat, as excited as I was. “Me too! We should get some beer, drink a toast to leaving bad shit behind and starting over.”

“It’s eight in the morning.”

“Who cares? Let’s be outlaws!” She hesitated as something occurred to her. “Wait… what about your wife and daughter? Won’t they be expecting you home?”

“No, they’re in Lubbock now, with my wife’s new husband. I’m divorced; I only worked that shitty job to pay child support. Amarillo will be the closest I’ve been to Abby since I took her back to her mom two months ago. We share custody.”

“Oh. I’m sorry; you miss your little girl, huh?”

“Very much, but it happens. Life sucks sometimes. We do the best we can.” I passed the Quicki-Mart where I’d been employed until moments ago and turned into the truck stop instead. “I think I will pick up some beer. Any preference?”

“I like Miller… Sam Adams if you’re splurging for the good stuff. Not Budweiser, though – icky!”

I laughed again; she’d given me back laughter, it seemed. “You have excellent taste, something else we have in common.”

She suddenly gasped in alarm and slid down into the passenger footwell, demonstrating surprising speed and agility. “Oh, fuck! That’s him by the green pickup, that’s his truck! Drive past, Roger, please don’t stop! Please!”

I did as asked, passing close to a man who stood by the rear bumper of a battered Ford truck. He was glaring around suspiciously, his stance angry and aggressive. Not huge, but stocky, he might have been considered handsome if he looked less belligerent. He looked at me as I passed, but only a glance; Leah had ducked just in time.

There’s something unnerving about a man that would chase a woman to such a public place, apparently willing to assault or try to abduct her in front of so many witnesses. Having seen him it was easy to believe that he meant her harm in some way. Fortunately, I hadn’t dropped her off and driven away. I exited onto the frontage road, turned up the ramp onto I-40 West and merged into traffic.

I pushed the Buick up to eighty before setting the cruise, then touched her hand. “It’s safe, Leah. He didn’t see you. He barely gave us a second glance.”

She got back into the seat, her cheeks streaked with tears, and I realized how badly frightened she’d been. “Thank you for getting me away from him; that was awful. I’m glad you didn’t just drop me off there like I asked.” She touched my leg. “I’m sorry I put you in danger.”

“It’s okay, we got away clean, I think. Does he know about your friend in Amarillo?”

“He does, but he knows better than to go there; he went to the truck stop figuring that’s where I’d go to catch a ride, and I almost did - would have if you hadn’t helped me. When he doesn’t catch me there, he’ll assume I’m already gone.”

“Then maybe you’re free.” My turn to ask the question, and I smiled as I quoted her. “How do you feel about that?”

She caught on immediately and replied as I had. “Surprisingly good, like a weight has been lifted.”

We laughed, the mood in the car conspicuously lighter, celebratory. “Let’s put some miles behind us and we’ll stop and get that beer.”

She nodded and stretched, arching her back and reaching up to run her fingers through her hair. The position thrust her breasts out, and I couldn’t help but notice her smooth, taut tummy beneath her short top and her hard nipples, perfect twin peaks stretching the thin fabric.

She was aware I’d noticed – may have even done it solely for my benefit – and a subtle smile crossed her lips as she stretched those long legs out and kicked off her heels.

I glanced down at them. “Those aren’t the best walking shoes.”

She agreed. “No, but they’re perfect for hitchhiking.”

I laughed. “Excellent point; good to know you had a plan.”

Silence reigned until I found an exit with a store, where I stopped and bought a six-pack of MGD and some pretzels and peanuts.

We each popped a cold one as I again headed west, snacking and making small talk as we celebrated freedom. I drank slowly, as you should when driving, but Leah downed hers and was into her second when she reached out and touched my arm.

“You’re a nice guy, Roger. You’re too much of a gentleman to say anything or pressure me in any way, but would you like a blowjob?”

Shocked, I looked over at her, not sure she was serious. She appeared to be, her wide blue eyes regarding me calmly. “That’s really not necessary, Leah; it’s not why I agreed to give you a ride.”

“No, I know, but I really love giving head. I love the way a cock feels in my mouth, and I’m horny as hell!” Raising the center armrest, she slid closer to me, then reached out and ran her fingers up my thigh, across my junk, then down my other thigh. “Let me suck your cock for you, okay?”

I trapped her wandering hand under my own. “Leah, I’m gay.”

She stopped trying to move her hand and stared at me. “Seriously?”

I nodded. “Seriously. It’s why I’m divorced. It took me awhile and some soul-searching to admit it, but yeah. I still love my ex, and she’s the mother of my daughter, who is very special to me, but it was the only fair thing to do.”

She pulled her hand away and leaned back, laughing. “Wow! I go out all dressed up to lure some desperate, horny guy into helping me, and I get picked up by a gay guy… no offense.”

I laughed. “None taken. Ironic, huh?”

“Very! I could still give you a blowjob, though; I mean, a mouth is a mouth, right?”

“That’s one school of thought, and true to a large extent, but no. It’s tempting, but then I’d feel like I was taking advantage of you.”

“You wouldn’t be.”

“Still, it would feel that way. Let me enjoy my own conceit that I’m doing this purely out of kindness and altruism. It’s refreshing to feel good about myself for a change.”

She smiled. “You should feel good about yourself, Roger. You’re a very nice guy.”


“You haven’t asked about what I’m running away from.”

I shrugged. “Not my business. You’ll tell me if you want to, but you don’t have to.”

She was silent for several minutes before deciding to share her story. “That guy you saw was Ben, my boyfriend… fiancé, really. He’s definitely not a nice guy, not like you.”


“No. He liked to hurt me. You know, during sex. I guess you’d call him a sadist.” She went on to tell me, in some detail, about his cruelty, how she’d thought she loved him until his dark side had emerged over time. At first, it had been an exciting adventure, but he’d gotten increasingly extreme, not stopping when she begged him to. She’d become terrified he would kill her, and knew he’d never let her go. She’d seized her first chance to run, and I’d found her.

I listened silently until she finished speaking, and we sat in silence after. Finally, I said, “Leah, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No. But still… Can I ask how you wound up with a scumbag like that?”

She shrugged sadly. “I was naïve, wanting to believe he was something he wasn’t. How does a gay guy wind up married to a woman?”

“Touché. I suppose I wanted to believe I was something I wasn’t.”

“Is it going to bother you if I rub one out?”

Her nonsequitur surprised me. “What?”

“I told you I was horny, and long, boring car rides make me hornier! Will it offend you if I masturbate?”

I shook my head, grinning. “You’re very straightforward! No, it won’t; you’re a very healthy young woman, I’m sure you have urges.”

She immediately began to strip out of her tiny, tattered denim shorts. “Oh, I have urges like gangbusters, alright. Fuck, do I have urges!” She wore no panties beneath her tiny shorts, and when she had them around her ankles she leaned back in the seat, legs spread. Her right hand dove for her pussy, while with her left she pushed her top up and began to fondle and pinch her hard nipples.

There was no denying that her body was spectacular, her mound silky smooth between long, sleek thighs, her breasts firm and perfect; her skin was taut and creamy, glowing with youthful vitality. It was almost enough to make me wish I was straight and could spend eternity exploring that amazing playground with tongue, lips, fingers and cock; instead, I settled for enjoying the aesthetic beauty of her flawless physique.

And her sounds. I may be gay, but the sounds of sexual pleasure – perhaps especially those of a woman - are intensely erotic, and as she moaned and writhed against her own fingers, the sounds intensifying as she neared orgasm, my cock grew very hard. When she came, crying out in ecstasy, I throbbed, and when she came a second time I ached with the intensity of my own arousal.

She brought herself off four times, each climax stronger than the last. After the fourth, which seemed astonishingly intense, she collapsed onto the seat, eyes closed, her hand clamped between her legs. She had beads of sweat on her forehead and upper lip, and between her breasts; she radiated sexuality. My cock strained, and I shuddered.

When she didn’t move for a couple of minutes, I touched her arm. “You okay?”

She nodded, eyes still closed. “Mmm-hmm, very okay. God, I needed that! What a great stress reliever.”

I laughed. “I’m sure. You cheated, though.”

She languidly turned her head and opened those baby blues. “What?”

“I said you could rub one out, but I counted four.”

She giggled. “Is that okay?”

“Extremely. I turned off the radio and listened to you.”

She looked down at my crotch, then ran her fingers across the bulge of my erection. “You’re very hard. I thought you were gay.”

I shrugged. “I am, but erotic is erotic. You’re incredible.”

“I liked that you were watching me. Would you like that blowjob now?”

“Leah, no…”

“A handjob, then? Pretend I’m a guy!”

“Really, you don’t have to. I mean, it’s fine…” She was unzipping me even as I objected, and before I could finish she’d expertly fished my junk out of my pants and was holding me in her hands.

Stroking me slowly, she looked at my erection. “You have a very cute cock.”

I snorted. “Thanks! Yeah, I was careful to check the ‘Cute’ box on the penis order form, because that’s what all guys want to hear.”

She laughed. “Well, it’s not huge, but…”

“I forgot to check that box. Thanks for noticing.”

“You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say, BUT, it’s about the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen, so handsome and perfect and, well… cute. And there’s nothing wrong with your size. I love it!”

“Thanks. This won’t take very long, by the way, if you keep doing that.” Clearly, Leah knew her way around a cock. Her touch was perfect, light and feathery, a slight twist as her hand rode up over the sensitive head with each stroke. With her other hand, she cupped and fondled my balls, her middle finger teasing that oh-so-sensitive area just behind them and occasionally tickling my anus. The girl had skills.

“Fuck, Leah… you’re going to make me come!” I’d been intensely aroused already, and she was pushing all my buttons.

“Come whenever you’re ready. That’s the point of this exercise.”

She kept me bubbling on the edge for maybe another minute, her strokes featherlight. I tried to hold off, enjoying her touch, but reached the point of no return. “Ohh, fuck! Coming…”

She continued to stroke me, staring at my face as I prepared to paint the inside of my car. At the last possible second, she dived down and took me into her mouth, her lips barely closing around me as the first spurt of cum burst forth.

She made a small, “Mmm!” sound as my first blast flooded her mouth, and the same sound again with each successive spurt, but she caught every last drop until she’d milked me dry. I was surprised she’d done that but pleased she had.

She left me drained and limp, and when she sat up she looked at me, swallowed… and burped. She giggled. “Oops! Excuse me. Swallowing a mouthful of cum always makes me burp.”

“I’m sure that’s considered polite in some societies. Thank you, Leah, that was incredible.”

“My pleasure! You were delicious, by the way; you must eat well. Did you know that cum tastes different depending on what a guy eats?”

I just looked at her, and she giggled again. “Oh yeah! I guess you would know that… duh!” She looked ahead and saw a sign for a rest area. “Can we stop there? I need to pee.”

“Me too.” We stopped there, and several more times that afternoon for food, fuel, and pit stops. We’d finished the beer and switched to water.

We hit Amarillo in the early evening, around dusk. She directed me to the west side of town and onto a state highway. I thought we were headed back out into the open country, but at the last building in sight, she had me turn in. I stopped at the edge of the lot.

It was not an inviting place, a decrepit, weatherbeaten old log structure. On the roof was a framework holding flickering neon lights which read “Nix”, and nothing more. If that wasn’t off-putting enough, there were two rows of gleaming Harleys lined up in front, a whole lot of custom chrome and leather, as well as some pickups and one gleaming black Cadillac SUV.

I looked at her. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“It’s the right place. The sign used to say ‘Nixon’s Tavern’, but it’s broken. My uncle will be here.”

“Your uncle? I thought you said you had a friend here.”

She smiled. “Tony’s not my real uncle; he served in the 101st Airborne with my dad, they were best friends. I called him Uncle Tony while I was growing up.” She pointed. “Park over there and let’s go in.”

“We can’t, Leah. That’s not the kind of place people like us go to; people like me, especially.”

“It will be fine, Roger, trust me; I trusted you, now it’s your turn.”

What could I say? I couldn’t let her go in alone… not that I’d be much help if things went sideways. I parked and we went in.

The place was every bit as welcoming on the inside as it was outside; dark and dingy, crowded, the low-ceilinged space stunk of gasoline and motor oil, stale beer and cigarette smoke, warm bodies, and well-worn leather. And testosterone; it may have been possible to swim in the sea of testosterone that suffused the room.

My white shirt with its ‘Quicki-Mart’ patch was hopelessly out of place. Between that and Leah’s blond hair and long, bare legs, it didn’t take long for two of the resident hoods to notice us. They bracketed us, big men, so close I could smell the beer on their breath.

One of them pushed me. “You better run along, sonny, before you get hurt. You can leave the lady with us, we’ll take real good care of her.”

I bristled, but Leah stepped between us. “Leave him alone! I’m looking for Tony Barlow.”

Like magic, they stepped back. The larger one said, “You know Ripcord?”

“He’s my uncle.”

His ugly face broke into a grin. “You must be Silk’s little girl! Damn, I miss your old man.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Me too, Crash; didn’t you recognize me?”

He stepped forward and wrapped her in a bear hug. “Fuck, Leah, you were a little girl last I saw you. You sure grew up beautiful.”

“You’re as ugly as ever, Crash.”

He laughed, then poked his buddy in the ribs. “Go get Ripcord, he’s gonna wanna see this little lady.” He looked at me. “Who’s this guy?”

“This is Roger. He saved my life.”

A gross exaggeration, but it worked. He slapped my back and dragged us to the bar, insisting on buying me a beer. Within minutes we were approached by a tall, lean man in denim and leather who moved through the crowd like a lion. He was accompanied by two Mexicans in black suits and ties; the others parted before them like a wave, showing obvious deference and respect.

When he got close he said, simply, “Leah.”

She bolted from her bar stool and launched herself into his arms, wrapping those long legs around his waist. He spun her around, laughing, and when he put her down they shared a very long, very un-uncle-like kiss.

Introductions were made all around, then he shook hands with the two Mexicans before they moved down the bar to order a beer, joking with what I assumed were some of Ripcord’s guys; it was clear that he was their leader. I figured the black Caddy outside belonged to the guys in the suits.

Ripcord – Tony – nodded toward the rear of the room. “Come with me.” As we turned to follow him to the booth in the back corner, right outside a door marked ‘Office’, he held up three fingers to the bartender. Three beers appeared on our table courtesy of a tough-looking, heavily-tattooed waitress almost before we could take our seats.

Leah slid in first and he slid in alongside her, backs to the wall; I sat across from them. He looked at me, then at her. “So, you finally ditched the asshole?”

She nodded. “With Roger’s help. You were right about Ben.”

He put his arm around her protectively. “I know. That motherfucker comes here, I’ll kill him myself. Tell me.”

She told him the whole story, from her abuse at Ben’s hands to me picking her up and bringing her to Amarillo. She left out the handjob en route and that I’d come in that mouth he’d just kissed, and the fact that I was gay. When she’d finished, he stuck his hand out, and I took it.

“I owe you, Roger. What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. You don’t owe me. I had a chance to help out, and I did; no big deal.”

“You quit your job and drove 400 miles to bring Leah to me; what are you going to do now?”

“Go home and try to find work, I guess.”

“What can you do besides retail shit?”

“I have a degree in accounting, sir.”

“Ripcord, or Tony, never sir.” He looked thoughtful. “I could use a bookkeeper. Are you any good?”

I shrugged. “Pretty good, yeah, and honest.” As he interviewed me – because I’d figured out that’s what this was – I became aware that Leah’s hands were very busy beneath the table. From her movements it was apparent that she was stroking his cock, a suspicion confirmed when she shifted position and several hard inches of a gorgeous cock showed above the table, the proud head glistening.

He saw me staring. “Leah is a very sexual, very naughty girl… or maybe you figured that out on the way here.”

Before I could stop her, Leah said, “Uncle Tony, Roger is gay.”

I winced; in this place, she’d probably unwittingly signed my death warrant. To my amazement, he simply looked intrigued. “Oh, yeah?” Hmmm… let’s finish this in my office.”

He rose to his feet, unconcerned about his beautiful cock sticking out of his open fly – or me staring at it - and turned. Leah rose to follow him, but I held back, assuming he’d meant him and Leah, to privately complete what they’d started.

She looked back at me. “Come on, silly!”

I followed them into the office and closed the door. As he stood behind his desk, Leah dropped to her knees and started sucking his cock; my mouth watered. He picked up his phone and punched a button, waited a moment, and said, “Yeah, Lou; find Cat and send him to my office.”

He watched her for a moment, then looked at me. “Okay, here’s the thing. The Road Dawgs – that’s us – are a business enterprise. Those Mexicans you saw import… certain products. We protect those products and move them in a seven-state area, all cash basis. It’s a lot of cash, Roger, which we have to protect and, uh, run through certain other businesses before we take our cut. You still with me?”

I nodded; I was still with him. I was amazed he was still with me, considering the job Leah was doing on his cock! He was talking about drugs of some sort, and of protection for the drugs they sold and the cash they collected and then laundered through legitimate businesses, all of it extremely illegal.

He lowered himself into a big armchair, whereupon Leah kicked off her shorts and straddled his lap, reaching back to guide his cock into her pussy. She sank down onto it, taking him deep, moaning, and he grunted once as she bottomed out, her wet pussy against his big balls.

“Fuck, girl, I’d forgotten how sweet that little pussy is!” He slapped her ass as she began to ride him, sliding up and down on his thick cock, now glistening with her juices. I could only imagine how much she was enjoying that amazing cock sliding into her, and my erection throbbed.

He looked at me; the man was a master of multi-tasking. “So I need someone that can keep track of every ounce and every dollar; no shit when I say lives depend on it. Sound like something you could do?”

I swallowed noisily. “Yes, sir…uh, Ripcord; once I find my way around. Can I ask how much the job pays?”

He held Leah’s ass and bucked his hips, thrusting deeply into her, and she came noisily. “I wouldn’t hire you if you hadn’t. What did you make at Quicki-Mart?” I told him, and he laughed. “Let’s start at three times that and we’ll see how you do.”

My head swam; almost a hundred grand! Leah turned and smiled at me as she rode his dick.

As I tried to grasp what he’d said, the door opened and a huge, dark-haired man stalked in. Ripcord grunted as Leah bounced on his lap. “Unh… Cat, this is Roger, our new bookkeeper if he wants the job.” He looked at me, and I nodded. “Take him and introduce him around – make sure they know that nobody touches him. Roger, stick with Big Cat.”

Cat was listening to him, but staring at her. His broad, hairy face broke into a smile of recognition. “Leah! Goddamn, girl, if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes!”

He crossed to them, and Leah smiled as she reached up for a hug. He bent and hugged her as Ripcord grunted again, thrust deeply into her, and came. I stared as his cock spasmed and pumped, wishing I was on the receiving end; a large pearl of cum slid down his shaft onto his balls.

He sighed and slumped back into the chair as he finished. “Fuck, I needed that!” He looked at me again. “You ride?”

I was momentarily confused by the inadvertent double-entendre but realized he meant motorcycles. I shook my head.

“Teach him to ride and get him a bike, on my dime – a Sportster, nothing too radical for a rookie. Oh, and Cat? He’s one of you.”

Cat looked confused for a second, then grinned at me. “No shit? You like cock?”

I nodded weakly, and he slapped my ass with his huge hand, keeping it there as he groped me lewdly. “Me too! We’re gonna get along great!”

I stammered, “Y-you… you’re gay?”

“Damn straight! Ha - I mean, yeah, totally.” He pushed up his sleeve, and there, on his thick forearm, was a fancy, frilly tattoo which read, ’Queen of the Road’. I laughed as we walked out into the tavern, feeling much safer with his huge arm across my shoulders.

It was all so exciting! Maybe almost running over Leah would turn out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me.



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