Love and Lust on the Alcan Highway – Chapter 1

“Summertime . . . and the living is easy . . .”

Porgie and Bess. Every once in a while, I get this weird urge to listen to some of the old musicals. That might explain why I had that particular CD playing while screaming my lungs out in song . . . this time in the key of Q-flat. Shit, I can’t carry a tune, even in a plastic-lined cardboard box! But when you’re winding along the Alaska Highway at sixty-five miles an hour, who gives a shit? Anyone stupid enough to listen to a truck driver trying to sing deserves to have their ears fried anyway.

I’d just crawled up the Taylor hill, a miserable seven percent grade, and was relishing the possibilities of winding the old K-whopper up and making some decent time. That went out the window as soon as I found myself behind one of those damned motorhome caravans that always show up right after the May 24th, Victoria Day weekend. As soon as I spotted over twenty of them in front of me, I knew my day was now totally fucked; I just hoped I’d get a hug and a kiss when it was all over.

Well, maybe I’d get lucky and they’d all pull off at One-Oh-One for a coffee break.

Nope. No such luck. I tried to see past them, wondering if there was anything coming the other way, but the dust was just too damned thick. Those dumb fuckers might be on vacation, but I wasn’t. Hell, I had a good eight hundred and something miles between me and Whitehorse, and another three seventy-five beyond that to Stewart River. At this breathtaking speed of something less than forty-five miles an hour, I might make my final destination by, oh, say, Thanksgiving of next year?

Some smart-ass in Edmonton had slapped a bumper sticker on the side of my sleeper that read, “If it’s tourist season, why can’t we shoot them?” At this moment, I couldn’t have given you an answer if my balls had depended on it. All I knew was that these land yachts were slow, driven by people that had a tough time wheeling their Honda Civics around Wal-mart parking lots, worth something in excess of a half-million bucks a copy . . . and slower than a sea turtle with prostate problems!

There’s a stretch of this road that’s almost six lanes wide, and that’s where I’d make my move. Before then and I’d break a few windshields. At thirty-five hundred a pop to replace them, I’d be working . . . a long time for free. Not worth it. Thirty tires on eight axles tends to throw a lot of gravel, and these turkeys had the money to chase me into small debts court for what amounted, to them anyway, to being “chump change”.

Ba-wham!

Shit, that sounded like a tire exploding. I looked in my mirrors, just waiting for the telltale pieces of flying rubber that would show me which one of mine had just blown out. In fact, I was so busy looking at where I’d already been that I damned near hit one of the motorhome in front of me. He was hastily trying to get off the highway with a missing front tire, and had the back ones locked up tight. Stupid asshole! That’s the second-best way to get yourself killed on this fucking road! But it did get all but four of those land yachts out of my way, and windshields notwithstanding, I wasn’t gonna stand around gawking. I was gone, gone, gone!

It was another four hours before I reached Fort Nelson. Looking at the fuel gauge, I had just enough left to make it to Watson Lake, but if there was any kind of a delay between here and there, I’d be coasting in on fumes. Something told me that this would be a good place to fuel up, and maybe even break down for something to fill my face with. The Husky Truck Stop didn’t have the best food on the Alcan, but it was a helluva sight better than the Petro-Can across the road. That made my decision a whole lot easier. I threw the signal on, mostly out of habit, and wheeled up to the commercial pumps.

While the young fuel-jockey squirted a couple hundred gallons of diesel fuel into the tanks, I ran inside, grabbed a couple of sandwiches and filled my thermos with the last decent coffee before Watson Lake. As soon as I’d signed the invoice, I was out of there like a shot in the dark. That’s hard to do in Northern BC when there’s only a couple of hours in the day without sunshine, let me tell ya! But damn! I was gonna give it my best shot anyway!

Northbound traffic had gotten pretty scarce, but the vehicles going the other way made me wonder if there was anyone left in Whitehorse. That many cars, trucks, motorhomes, and whatever I’d forgotten, would take half the population of the Yukon Territory, and most of the people in Alaska! But with my half of the road wide open, I had my foot jammed down on that throttle hard, and the old Cat engine was just screaming like a bull moose with his cock stuck in a snow-blower! The next big pull would be Fireside Mountain, and any speed I could get here on the Lliard Flats would get me there that much sooner.

Fireside Mountain. Imagine, if you will, the shape of a Boa Constrictor that’s just had his nuts kicked hard, then stood up against a wall. Smack him a couple more times just to get him all twisted up, just to make sure he can’t wiggle or untwist. Got that pictured in your mind? Good, because that’s what the straight sections of Fireside Hill look like. We won’t talk about the others.

By the time I’d gotten half-way up that fucking goat trail, I’d dropped eleven gears. At the breath-taking speed of a whole twelve miles an hour, it’s about forty-five minutes to the top, and about the same coming down the other side. Any faster than that and by the time you get slowed down enough to jump out of the cab, you can almost get parked right beside the Exxon Valdez! For the sake of safety, I always stop at the summit and adjust the brakes. It’s a bit of an inconvenience in the winter, but it beats the hell outta falling off the road and into that ravine along the north face. Many have tried that short-cut; none have survived.

As I approached the summit, I spotted a car sitting right smack dab in the middle of the only place I could pull into. At eighty-five feet long, this rig wouldn’t fit on either side of that piece of crap without sticking out onto the highway. Damn, another stupid tourist that thinks they’re the only vehicle on the whole fucking road! Sneaking up as tight as I could so my butt wouldn’t get shoved out my nose if someone came over the top of the hill, I tapped lightly on the air horn, hoping that whoever was in the car would move enough to let me park safely. That was the theory. In practise? Not even close!

I wasn’t quite prepared for what happened next. A young woman about twenty-something crawled out of the driver’s seat, stood up, placed her hands on her hips, and gave me one of those looks that only a woman that has designs on hanging your dried balls off her rear-view mirror as a trophy can give. I didn’t know whether to get out and talk to her, or grab my 30.06 rifle, just in case.

“Sweetheart, any chance you can move that thing up about thirty feet?” I asked her. That’s when her expression changed from one of indignation to a look of resigned defeat. The tears just sat at the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill and flow if I even took a breath the wrong way.

I’m a guy, and every woman knows how helpless guys get when the tears start to fall. I confess, I’m one of those guys too. In less than a heartbeat, I went from being absolutely furious into a state of being softer than putty on a hot summer’s day. She hadn’t said a word. Not one. And I was still helpless under that feminine magic that she exuded. There’s a word that describes guys like me. I just can’t think of it, at the moment.

“If I could move this fucking piece of shit, I’d be half-way to Whitehorse!” she screamed at me. “Do you see me flying down this goddamned road? No? Maybe that’s because the fucking thing won’t start again! So, if you want it moved, you move it yourself!”

Gee, that was a great way to enjoy my day! A fairy Princess with a mouth on her that would make a sailor blush! Delightful! Just fucking delightful! But old Mr. Softy couldn’t leave her just stranded out here, fifty miles for nowhere.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s see if we can get you mobile again. I’ll grab some tools,” I directed her, then remembered my manners. “By the way, my name’s Ryan. Ryan Blackstone. And I don’t bite, so try and relax. Looks like we’re gonna be here for a while.”

She cautiously extended one of the most delicate hands I’ve ever seen, then introduced herself. I was afraid to touch her peace-offered hand, figuring I’d probably crush it into a million little pieces with my big mitts.

“Linda. Linda Coulter,” she declared, “on my way to Whitehorse. I was supposed to be there this morning. Guess I’m gonna be a little late, huh?” I stood there, looking like the mental midget I felt like. Finally finding my voice, I confirmed her worst fears.

“Yeah, I’d say so. You’re about five hundred miles short, and this is probably gonna take us a while to fix. Looks like you have a decision to make. Either we try to get this thing running again, or I can give you a ride into Whitehorse, and you can see about getting your car retrieved. Your choice.”

“Damn! Everything I own is in that car! I can’t leave it here, abandoned. Someone’s probably gonna come along and steal everything.” I could see her brow furrowing as she considered her options. “You think we can get it going again?” she asked. “I’ll quite happily pay you for your time and effort.”

The money would be nice. Spending time enjoying the view she presented would be even nicer.

With a little coaxing from me, she finally explained what had happened, and by the sound of it, she probably had a plugged fuel line. I could clear the line, but if there was rust or water in the tank, I’d have a hell of a time getting her down to Muncho Lake.

“How much gas you got?” I queried her.

“Umm, I filled up in Fort Nelson, so there’s roughly three quarters of a tank left” she replied.

“Yeah, okay, “ I conceded, “and where’d you fill up? The Husky, or the Petro-Can?”

“Fucked if I remember! If you’ve seen one gas station, you’ve seen ‘em all! What’s the difference?” she demanded.

“Well, the difference is that the tanks at the Petro-Can have more shit in them than a national park’s outhouse. So, if that’s where you gassed up, I’m gonna suggest you have a plugged fuel line, and your description of the car’s behaviour tends to confirm that. So how about we get under the hood, have a look, and see if we can get this thing running again? That is, unless you wanna homestead here instead. Nice place, but there’s an old Grizzly sow up that hill that’s gonna challenge your claim” I told her. I’ve never seen anyone go that white in the face that fast before in my life!

We tinkered around under the hood for about a half hour, and my theory proved correct. She had spark, and there was lots of air getting through the filter, but no gas. None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. A quick look at the plastic fuel filter showed that ugly oxide colour that only rusted iron can produce. I gave her the bad news, telling her that the closest place that had facilities to fix the problem was at Muncho Lake. She asked how far it was from here, and I told her. My honesty was rewarded by the threat of more tears than one man can possibly resist in a lifetime.

“Aw, come on, Linda. Enough with the tears already” I tried to soothe her frustration. “Lock it up, and I’ll take you down to Muncho, then we’ll get Gordie to retrieve this thing and put it back together for you. He’ll probably come up with some lame excuse why he can’t, but the son-of-a-bitch owes me a favour or two.”

“Ryan, I really do appreciate this. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” she gushed. Oh yeah, she’d make it up to me alright. One night with this woman would be more than full payment for a road warrior like me. I had visions of pleasuring that body of hers. My cock began to agree with the idea. The logic side of my brain suggested I get on with other things. Some days, I hate that side of my brain. Guess which day this was?

We climbed up into the cab, and as Linda got her first sight of something larger than the family chariot, I had to chuckle. Most people cursed large trucks from the safety of their little sedans. Seeing the world with eight feet of fibreglass hood in front of you tends to change your point of view in a real rush.

“What? First time you’ve been in something this size?” I teased her.

“Yeah. Wow, this isn’t as big inside as it looks, is it? It’s not much bigger in here than my car.” She looked over her shoulder at the walk-in bunk that I called “Home” most days. “Can I look back there?” Linda asked.

“Sure, but watch out for the ‘laundry creatures’ running around. They’ve got nine legs and seven eyeballs, and they’ll eat up a pretty thing like you in seconds flat!” I joked. The look on her face said that she thought I was serious for a moment, then she clued in. I slipped the Kenworth into gear and pulled out onto the highway.

She really was pretty, once she’d lost that scowl from when we’d first yelled at each other. I guessed she was about 5′ 6″, somewhere around 125 pounds, all packaged in a body that just wouldn’t quit. I’d describe it as being “substantial, but not fat”. If she was ever aiming for the front cover of a fashion magazine, she’d need to shed. maybe, twenty of those pounds. But on Linda, that extra weight looked so delicious. Everything was in proportion; her bust, her waist, her hips, even her soft, smooth butt. It was her face that got my attention though. Soft, smoothly oval, and framed by her straight shoulder-length auburn hair, those high cheeks and an upturned button nose screamed femininity. Her pouty lips invited a man to taste and kiss them until Hell froze over. Her eyes? Probably the lightest colour of blue I could remember. They beckoned and called me to dive into them, to seriously consider spending the rest of whatever lost in their mysteriousness. I’d looked at that face for a whole ten seconds, and was quite prepared to surrender my entire being, with absolutely no reservations whatsoever.

I could hear the sounds of doors and drawers opening and closing in the sleeper, wondering what she found so intriguing about my personal possessions. One drawer in particular held her interest longer than the others, and I had a pretty good idea which one it was. I refer to it as my library where there’s everything from National Geographic to various porn magazines. When you spend most of your life on the highway, you tend to develop widely varied interests, but pursue none of them seriously. That drawer was the fuel that powered my imagination some days.

Linda crawled back into the passenger’s seat and gave me a stare of curiosity.

“What?” I shot at her.

“Nothing,” she mumbled back, “but you have quite the collection in that one drawer. Rather explicit, aren’t they?” I wasn’t in the mood to explain myself in too much detail.

“Yeah, well, you spend as much time out here as I do, it’s nice to remember what the fairer sex looks like.”

Linda didn’t quite smile, but it wasn’t a frown either; more like a knowing smirk that left me with a feeling somewhere between being accepted and having just been tried, judged and convicted. I shrugged and got on with winding back down that damned excuse for a highway.

We’d made it almost to the bottom of the hill, and I started grabbing gears as we built up speed again. By the time I got into “eighth-direct”, we were zipping along at a decent clip. Linda seemed to be fascinated by the transmission with eighteen gears in it. Then she did something that almost got us killed.

She leaned over and kissed me!

My shocked reaction made me jerk the wheel, and I could see the rear trailer twitching in retaliation. It wasn’t what I’d call a kiss of pure passion, but I wasn’t expecting it, either.

“Okay, I give up. What was that for?” I asked her. “I mean, it ain’t gonna break my heart being kissed by a pretty young thing like you. But maybe give me a little warning next time? I’d hate like hell to fall off this goat trail and get us both killed to death.”

“Just for being so helpful, for saving my ass out here in the middle of nowhere. Besides, I think you’re kinda cute, in a rugged sort of way” she returned. I could feel the beginnings of my face changing colour as the blood started to flow. I felt something else receiving extra blood flow, too.

“Yeah, well, I always was a sucker for a damsel in distress” I told her.

We arrived at Muncho Lake. I made arrangements with Gordie to retrieve Linda’s car, fix the damned thing, and phone me when it was ready. He had all of my phone numbers that work in this god-forsaken piece of real estate. Besides, he owed me some favours for all the errands I’d run for him. Make that several dozen favours.

Linda was going to be late for her first day of work in Whitehorse, but that couldn’t be helped. I’d asked her what the attraction of Whitehorse was for her. She told me her story about having landed a summer job at one of the hotels.

“Where you working up here, out of curiosity?” I opened my inquisition.

“At the Golden Nugget hotel. They were looking for someone to work in the front office, and the money sounded real good. Why? Am I walking into a lion’s den?” she wanted to know.

“Nah, Byron’s a pretty good shit. If you like shit, I mean. He’ll work your ass off, but he’s a fair man. Just don’t let him get you into a corner, or you’ll find yourself being . . . .” I left the rest to her imagination.

“You know Byron Cooper?” she asked.

“Byron? Yeah, I know him. Hell, if I ever collect all the money he owes me, I’ll be able to retire. He’s a little tight when it comes to money, but he’s a good man to work for. Shit, he’d give you the shirt off his back in the middle of a snowstorm” I stated. It was all true, too.

“Does that mean I’ll have trouble getting my money out of him?” The concern in her voice was obvious.

“Nah, you won’t have any real trouble. He might hold back on some of it until you leave, but you’ll get paid. Tell ya what, though. Remind me to give you a couple of phone numbers. If that old reprobate gives you a hard time, call me. I’ll straighten that old fucker out for ya.”

“Ryan! Language!” I reminded myself.

“I’m gonna have to wash my mouth out with diesel!” I apologized. “I’m just not used to having women on board, I guess.”

“Don’t worry about it. My Dad was a longshoreman, so I’ve heard it all before. Many, many times, too. Matter of fact, if you want to see the air turn blue, just get me pissed off. Dad’s language really comes out then” she said. I wasn’t sure if I was off the hook yet, but her open honesty was making this girl a whole lot more appealing.

Over the next 175 miles to Watson Lake we discussed everything from her life as a student in Vancouver to my travels around the continent. There were a few of the world’s problems that we didn’t solve, but they’re of little consequence. By the time we’d reached that highway junction, I’d become quite comfortable with her company. I think she was getting used to me too, as she went into more detail about her life than most people would. By the time she’d finished her life’s story, I’d have killed to be twenty years younger, and been a part of that life.

We shot right through Watson Lake, which is about half the size of a folded postage stamp. If it wasn’t for the junction with the Cassiar Highway, it’d probably dry up and blow away.

Four hours later found us coming down the hill into Teslin. As we started over the bridge, the cell phone on my dash rang. To this day, I’ve never figured out why phones always ring only when you’re busy. It’s a narrow bridge that should have been replaced years ago. Only concentration keeps you on the top side of it.

“Hello? . . . Yeah, I’m just into Teslin. Why? . . . Switching with who? . . . Where? . . . Yeah, okay. When’s he supposed to be there? . . . Two days? You’re out of your . . . Aw shit, John. You know how much I just love Washington State! How come you’re doing a switch? . . . Yeah, alright. Dave’s got my cell number. Have him call me when he gets to Carmacks. I’ll meet him at the scale . . . Yeah, you’re right, you do owe me. Big time, for this one . . . Yeah, just leave the information with Travis in Whitehorse . . . Yes, I’ll call you before I leave. You know that . . . John, I keep telling you, ‘This is my second trip over this piece of road, and I love it!’ . . . Yeah, okay Bud. Talk to ya when I get pinned up.” I hung up the phone, shaking my head as I digested the information just given to me.

“What was that all about?” Linda wanted to know. I felt like telling her it was none of her business, but she’d be nice company if I was going to be stuck in Whitehorse for a couple of days. No sense cutting my nose off to spite my face. I explained that I was staying in Whitehorse and waiting for a couple of trailers bound for Seattle. It would be at least a full week before I’d get back to help her retrieve her car. She wasn’t too happy about it, but there weren’t too many alternatives.

It had been a long day. I was hungry, tired, and frustrated with the lack of miles I’d covered. Linda wanted to know why I looked so grumpy. When I spilled my tale of woe, she suggested that we eat here in Teslin, maybe grab a nap, and worry about the last one-hundred-and-fifty miles when I was rested up. I liked her thinking, until I remembered that one of us would end up snoozing while sitting in a seat. When I mentioned that fact to Linda, she flashed me a wicked grin, but said nothing.

There aren’t too many places to park an eighty-five foot long rig in Teslin. The Husky truck stop is about it. That’s where I aimed for, and we went into the restaurant run by an Inuit I’d known for a few years. Willie spotted me as we walked in, and almost ran over to give me one of his deathly hugs. We’d helped each other out during a bad snowstorm one winter, and I was now his friend for life. You couldn’t have asked for a better friend, either. I had an idea that would introduce Linda to the Yukon in ways that no tourist would ever experience. I had some other ideas, too, but they’d have to wait.

I asked Willie to make up a special dish that only he can do. Linda had no idea of what she was getting in to, and I wasn’t about to ruin the surprise.

“What’s this?” she wondered as she studied the slab of meat Willie placed in front of her.

“Caribou, “I informed her, “one of the delicacies of the Great White North. I figured that if you’re going to get to know the territory, you might as well start with something local. Try it. I’ll bet you’ll love it before you’re finished.”

Linda cut off a small piece of the meat and tasted it tentatively. I don’t know what she was expecting, but with every chew of the tender cut, her eyes opened with greater and greater enjoyment. Caribou has the same flavour as very tender beef if it’s properly grilled at low temperature.

“Damn, this is good!” she exclaimed, and she dove into her meal with renewed vigour.

“Thought you might enjoy that” I chuckled, then attacked my own dinner. Willie had found two of the most tender pieces of caribou I’d ever had.

After eating, we returned to the truck. Linda had suggested a nap earlier, and between the long and unproductive day and a full stomach, it sounded like an excellent idea. I told her that I was going to curl up, and that’s when she sprung it on me. She’d picked up a small stick-on sign in the gift shop that read, “Sleeper capacity – one wide, two high”.

“Should I put this over the bunk, or outside on the sleeper?” she asked mischievously. I couldn’t help myself, so help me. The laughter inside me burst out and filled the cab. But as I caught that glint in her eye, I understood that she wasn’t kidding. That sobered me up in a rush. I looked her in the eye, just studying this young girl that had infected my life.

“You’re serious, aren’t you? About the sign, I mean, “ I asked her, “and not just where you want to put it, either.”

She leaned over the shift and gently planted those soft lips of hers on mine, bringing back sensations I hadn’t had for a long, long time. “Very” was all she said, then sat back and waited for me to make the next move.

“Ladies first” I offered. This wasn’t something that happened every day, at least not to me. I wasn’t sure, but this might just be a dream. Except, in a dream, young girls didn’t get up and crawl into my bunk. This one did. In a state that can only be described as shock, I crawled in behind her, pulling the curtain closed behind me.

Linda was standing to one side, unbuttoning her shirt as I turned around. Still in a dream-like state, I followed suit. By the time I had my shirt off, she’d undone her denim jeans and was wiggling her hips as they slid down her soft, smooth legs. There she stood in front of me, wearing a light blue lace bra and matching high-waist panties; the ones with the french-cut legs. I wonder if she knew how much those turned me on? The effect was hypnotic, literally. I just stood there, my eyes rivetted on this vision of loveliness before me. She giggled, then reached for my zipper and the button on my pants.

“What’s the matter, Ryan? Never seen a real girl before?” she teased me. “Come on, Big Boy. Don’t be bashful. I don’t bite, ya know.”

I was still having a hard time believing this was real. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion as she convinced my pants to drop to my ankles, leaving me in just my briefs. I sat on the lower bunk and pulled off my boots, socks, and anything else wrapped around my feet. Linda cleared the debris, then pushed me sideways so that I was laying full on the bunk. She sat beside me, then laid down, all in one fluid motion that only a woman can accomplish. Her arms encased me as her lips attacked mine once more.

God, that kiss! It was electric. It was hypnotizing. It was intoxicating. It was definitely addictive.

She started kissing me softly and lightly, then became more insistent, her tongue demanding entrance. Once granted, it searched and swirled everywhere, its touch all-encompassing, drawing out feelings in me that even I didn’t know I had. I couldn’t get enough of her. I hadn’t even considered the rest of the package.

I wiggled an arm under her and around her back, holding her waist. In one swift and unannounced movement, I rolled her over top of me and against the rear wall of the sleeper. Adjusting my position accordingly, we ended up laying on our sides, lips locked together, bodies pressed against each other’s warmth. My hand sought her breast, feeling its firmness through the lacy fabric of her bra. I squeezed and fondled its feminine mass, gently at first, then with more urgency as Linda moaned her delight. She broke our kiss, and I softly ran my tongue in, around, and behind her ear.

“Y-e-e-s-s-s-s!” she hissed, then pressed her tit harder against my hand. “Damn! I’ve been waiting to feel that hand on me since Watson Lake!” she declared.

I could feel her nipple becoming turgid under the fabric, and flicked my finger back and forth over it, eliciting another moan of pleasure. There was just something erotic about the firmness of her orb and the texture of the fabric. My cock was rock-hard, and that fact wasn’t lost on Linda. She was rubbing me with her pussy, and despite two layers of cloth between us, I could feel her slit open and wrap around my shaft. Her clit had become swollen, and was tickling the underside of my cockhead at my most sensitive place.

“You keep that up and you’ll have me creaming in my shorts” I growled in her ear. She giggled in response.

“Hmm, never done that before,” she whispered, “might be fun” and she increased her tempo.

“Two can play that game, ya know” I whispered, then rearranged myself so that my cockhead was now pressed against her clit, dragging the silky material of her panties over her engorged nub. The result was almost instant, and Linda began to rub herself against me with increased urgency.

“Oh God, you’re gonna make me cum in my panties!” she groaned, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Told you two could play that game.” I went back to nibbling on her ear, which seemed to agree with her, or so her increased moans indicated. I had never considered the ear to be that much of an erogenous zone before, but hers would sure qualify.

“Ryan, you bastard, you’re gonna make me wet my panties, aren’t you? But damn, that feels so good“ she growled. “Do it, then! Hump me until I cum! Make me wet myself!” and she pressed even harder against my cockhead, increasing the speed of her hips as she smeared herself up the full length of my shaft. If she wanted wet panties that bad, I’d happily accommodate her request.

I shifted myself again so that her stimulations wouldn’t make me cum. I wasn’t ready to end this. Not yet, anyway. The heat radiating from between her soft, smooth thighs convinced me that I would do whatever was necessary to save my seed for the inside of that burning pussy. But I would make her cum like this.

I didn’t have long to wait. Linda rubbed herself against my shaft with more intensity and demand. Within minutes, she was moaning, groaning, and mewling louder and louder. As she approached her climax, her breathing became shallower and more ragged. Her insistence became stronger. The pressure of her clit on my shaft was almost painful on my cock.

“Y-e-e-s-s-s-s!” she hissed, “Make me cum, Ryan! God, I’m so close!”

I pressed against her clit as hard as I could without causing injury. My efforts were rewarded with the sensations of Linda’s climax racking her body in spasms of ecstasy as she tensed against me. She sharply gasped as her overworked sex quivered and twitched against my cock. Her mewls grew into demanding screams of delight. I could feel the wetness of her girl-cum seeping through the material of her panties, and my briefs, its heat drawing my full attention. It was all I could do to keep from adding my own juices to hers.

Slowly Linda drifted down from that sexual peak. When her eyes opened and were able to focus again, she sought my lips, pressing herself against them with a level of demand that was almost beyond comprehension. Her tongue became determined that she would have me, at her pace, and in her own time. But she would have me, and leave me with no say in the matter. I gave myself to her as her tongue twirled and twisted inside me, possessing every part of me.

That kiss lasted for several minutes. I would have happily made it go on for hours. Linda eventually broke the lock of our lips, then looked deep into my eyes, our noses touching tip to tip. She was too close to my face to focus clearly. I didn’t care. The softness of her skin on mine was about all I could take.

“You’re a miserable son-of-a-bitch, you know that?” Linda whispered. “Making a girl wet her panties. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself, Ryan Blackstone!”

“Linda, if I was looking for a word to describe my guilt, I think the word ‘None’ would come springing to my lips” I softly informed her, then added, “and I’m not gonna feel guilty about this, either.” I moved my hand off her bra-entrapped breast and down to my groin, then released my cock from the confines of my briefs. Easing the leg of her panties away from her radiating entrance, I pushed my cock against her pussy lips. She was soaking wet, her juices smearing in welcome over my cockhead, blending with my own pre-cum. We were both so covered in our lust lubricants that my cock slipped into her cunt with virtually no resistance. My lust-filled body yelled at me to sink my shaft deep into her as fast as I could. I resisted the impulse, slowly entering her warmth until, several seconds later, I felt our pubic bones crush against each other. Linda sharply inhaled several times as I filled her femininity with swollen manhood.

I detected her hard clit twitching against the base of my cock, pleading for all the consideration I could give it. I pushed myself to the full depth of her pussy, staying there as my cock basked in the moist heat of her cunt. The flutter of her vaginal walls felt rivetting on me, gently massaging my cock. I had no idea whether or not Heaven existed. This was close enough for me, though.

“Oh God, Ryan!” Linda squeaked softly.

I slowly withdrew my cock until only the head remained inside her, then just as slowly, re-entered her. She whimpered as I withdrew, but moaned in delight as I filled her pussy to the hilt. Repeating the movement yielded the same results. Those sounds were so sexy, so appealing. I continued fucking her slowly until her rocking hips demanded that I increase the speed of my cock’s strokes in and out of her cunt.

Somehow, I ended up with Linda laying on my chest. Don’t ask me how she got there; she just did. My first realization of this change in our position came as she took over control of our movements. She was hungry and horny, rocking her hips on my cock like a demon possessed. I knew I was going to cum quickly if she kept up that pace. I wanted this experience to last.

“Slow down, girl,” I pleaded softly, “I want to enjoy this, savour it, feel every bit of you. Linda, let’s make the most of our short time together. Who knows when it might happen again, if ever.”

In consideration, Linda did slow her assault on my cock, and I loved her for that. Loved her? Yeah, at that moment in time and space, I did. Little did I know then where that word would take me. Or even “Us”, as it turned out.

The slowed rhythm of Linda’s cunt as it softly stroked my cock was Heaven on Earth! All my feelings and concentration seemed to be centred in the nerve endings in my shaft as I felt, enjoyed, and savoured the textures of her cunt on me. Damn, she was exquisite! I found myself meeting her rhythm stroke for stroke almost involuntarily. I could have stayed inside her heated cunt forever. Unfortunately, with her clit pushed tightly to my pubic bone, she began to climax again. Not that I resented her cumming by any means. If it were possible, I’d have her cumming during every second of our coupling.

By now, Linda was laying flat on top of me, rocking up and down with her whole body, her soft breasts gently rubbing against my chest, her velvety cunt sliding up and down the full length of my cock. She’d established a firm grip on my shoulders to give herself leverage. Her nostrils were buried in the skin of my neck, allowing those moans and grunts of her lust to permeate my auditory senses completely. As her breathing became faster and more ragged, those moans became louder and more frequent. I could hear her orgasm’s imminence as much as feel its approach with the contractions of her vaginal walls on my cock, and I wanted her to have this experience, to be able to give her the pleasure that her body screamed for. God, I wanted to give all that to this lovely young woman, so badly!

Linda’s lustful demands had her rocking on my cock at an ever-increasing pace, and me fucking her cunt harder and deeper to give her that climax she so desperately sought. I could feel the beginning of my own cum lift my balls. The insistence to cum with her overrode everything else in my mind, and I slammed myself into her with all the force I thought she could endure, humping and pounding her soaking wet cunt is a valiant attempt to draw her over the edge, to ensure her own orgasm. As she achieved that plateau of pleasure, her body tensed and began to quiver, imprisoning my cock deep inside her. I continued to pound into her cunt in an effort to help her prolong the beauty we’d found together.

As she squeezed me tighter and tighter, my own cum swept over me, the perceived pressure of my seed growing as my body demanded its release into Linda’s waiting womb. A part of me insisted that I just had to cum, to flood her warm depths with that boiling spunk that my body had prepared to deposit in my new-found lover. Another part of my consciousness cried to lose itself in the delicious sensations of being manipulated inside Linda’s intoxicating womanhood.

The pressure eventually won out, being spurred on by the sounds of Linda’s grunting and gasping as her own orgasm continued to build and flow through her body. As I fought valiantly for breath, my throbbing, pulsating cock exploded inside that velvety sheath that had captured me. Linda’s quivering was all the impetus my cock needed to fill her cunt with that part of me that creates new life in a woman. Lights started going off in my head, blinding my perception of everything else except our coupling, and the woman that had attached herself to my groin. The experience was so intense for me that, for a few brief seconds, it felt like our souls had melted and flowed together, the boundaries of our individuality blurred beyond recognition. In those few moments, I’ve never felt so close to another human being in my life; I was in no hurry to have that sensation end, either.

The post-coital glow of our union lasted for what felt like hours. If I’d had my way, I’d have done anything to keep my cock hard for as long as possible, just to extend that glow, and to bathe in Linda’s warm possession of both my cock, and my very existence. At that point in time, nothing else mattered except this mystical creature laying on top of me; the rest of Creation became completely irrelevant and outside my comprehension.

I felt Linda’s lips nuzzling my earlobe as she slowly came down from that sexually-induced high. Her warm breath in my ear sent addictive shivers through my body. I softly kissed whatever part of her that was close enough to reach, tasting the saltiness of sweat on her skin, and loving the very sensation of it.

“Damn, Ryan, but I could get really used to that” Linda whispered in my ear between applications of those butterfly kisses she was bathing my ear with. “I’m no virgin, but you found a place inside me that even I didn’t know existed. Thank you for that, my lover.” I wasn’t ready to break our union just yet, but kissed her soft lips lightly as an unspoken reply of acknowledgement.

Like everything else in life, all thing must come to an end eventually. For Linda and I, it was the soft thumping of someone slapping the side of the sleeper with their hand. Damn! Both my mind and my body cursed a blue streak at the intrusion. Linda groaned, then slowly released my softening cock from the refuge of her now-oozing cunt, moving the leg-band of her panties so that they captured our mingled love juices against her pussy. The reminder to her of implications surrounding the ever-expanding wetness against her crotch elicited a moan of approval.

She eased off my stomach, then wrapped herself in one of my shirts. To this day I can’t remember if it was a clean one, or something that might have been on the verge of being labelled as a new animal species. On her, it looked like a small pup tent. Now sufficiently covered to imply modesty, she crawled out of the sleeper and kneeled on the driver’s seat to access the side window. The sight of her firm feminine ass stirred up an unrequited lust in my body. The sounds of the glass retreating into the door reminded me that there was an outside world; the one I resented for intruding into the small world Linda and I had shared.

“Pardon me, Miss, but I just wanted to give you this” a voice at ground level apologized. Linda must have accepted Willie’s offering, for it was a second or two before she started to giggle, but her laughter was unrestrained and genuine.

“Thank you, Willie,” she gleefully cooed, “ and I have just the place in mind for this. I’ll pass it on to Ryan, okay? This’ll make his whole day.” She rolled the window back up, then struggled off the seat as she turned to re-enter the sleeper.

“Whatcha got there, Sweetheart?” I asked her. “That sounded like Willie. I thought that Nig-nog knew better than to wake me when I’m in the bunk.”

“Yeah, that was Willie,” she chuckled, “ and he passed on this. I think it should go on the side of the sleeper where that little door is, don’t you?” My curiosity was running rampant, only to be satiated as Linda turned another bumper sticker around so that I could read it. The sight and the wording forced a genuine full-bellied laugh from my insides. That damned Inuit had gotten me again! It also convinced me that Linda would get her way, and I’d allow her the honour of putting the slogan in a location of her choice. The small sign read, “If it’s a-rockin’, Don’t bother knockin’”.

“Shit, I gotta teach that stupid Nig-nog how to read!” I muttered between breaths.

Linda crawled back into my waiting arms, pressing herself against me in an effort to share our loving warmth. I held her tightly, strongly induced by the same motivations as her.

“Ryan Blackstone, if I have my way about this, that sign’s gonna get a real good work-out,” she softly cooed in my ear, “especially whenever you’re parked in Whitehorse over the next three months!”

As Linda adjusted her body so that I could breath, I covered us both with the blankets now pushed to the bottom of the bunk. Her softened breathing let me know that sleep had wrapped itself around her. Moments later, it had captured me as well.

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