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It was nearly midnight when I climbed out of the battered, dust covered Greyhound. I had spent what seemed to be a lifetime in my cramped little seat, tossed to and fro by the rough desert roads, drifting in and out of the kind of restless sleep one only gets on some form if mass transit. Another no-name speedbump of a town now stood before me, and I kept an eye out for what it might have to offer me as I stretched my legs and picked up my olive green duffel which contained every one of my worldly possesions.
After walking a few silent blocks I managed to find a run-down motel that looked like it hadn't seen a renovation or even routine maintenance since about 5 presidents ago. I checked in with very few words, and walked along the ugly tan stucco building until I found my room, the utterly unremarkable room 140. A bed, a nightstand featuring telephone and a lamp, and a ugly green astroturf of a carpet comprised the bedroom, and after seeing the unkempt shape that was in, I was hesitant before looking into the bathroom. The bathroom was spartan, to say the least, but everything worked and was clean enough for what this room was costing me. It wasn't the Hilton, but it would do. The sheets on the bed seemed clean, and the bed along with a working shower were all I was going to need until the next afternoon, when I got on another bus and continued on to my next destination.
I dug a change of clothes out of my bag. A wrinkled tan button up shirt and some fresh jeans. I hung the shirt up on the inner doorknob of the bathroom, and got the shower as hot as I could stand it. A quick shower to simultaneously wash the grime of travel of and steam the wrinkles out of my shirt, and I was ready to explore this town a little before settling in for the night. A beer or two would be good tonight.
I walked back toward the bus depot, remembering a small dive bar I had seen earlier. A neon sign advertising some cheap domestic swill barely shone through the dirty and nicotine stained window. A few eyes appraised me as I walked in the door, late night drinkers, all wary of the newcomer, as if I would steal their precious medicine. I approached the well worn bar and ordered a cold Budweiser from the grizzled old barkeep, and pulled up a stool on the side of the bar facing the entrance. Could never be too careful, even in this part of the world. When the beer arrived it was cold and incredibly refreshing. That first frosty sip was just what the doctor ordered on a warm night like this one. That's when she walked in.
"Give me a Beam on the rocks, Ray. This fucking shift is killing me, I swear.", She said, digging through her purse and pulling out a fold of wrinkled ones and assorted small bills.
In steady, seemingly rehearsed motions the bartender, poured and served her drink with an efficiency that belied his years.
"I told ya, Nance, you should quit that damn diner and come work here. Could use a pretty lady 'round here." replied Ray, towelling off the bar's dark surface.
Ray was right. She was a little bit more than pretty, even with her hair tousled after what sounded like a long shift at a diner. She was petite, with a dark head of wavy hair and tan, sunkissed skin that glowed in the dim barlight. She had those vauguely latin features you see in people in the southwest. High cheekbones, slender, elegant nose and piercing brown eyes. Through her blue jeans and form fitting tank top, an hourglass shape that would make said time piece jealous. The fact that I was able to take all of that in in the time it took her to take a draw from the bourbon, spoke volumes about the current state of my love life. Maybe it had been too long since I had been with a woman.
"Right, Ray. I think this place is kind of beyond my help. You could get supermodels working here and It'd still be ugly as sin." She said with a wink.
"Besides, this crowd doesn't exactly tip all that well, from what I noticed" she told him, scanning around the smoky room, eyes meeting mine for just a beat lonnger than the rest.
"Well the offer stands, Nancy. Just say the word." Replied Ray, apparently taking no offense to the semi-harsh appraisal of the establishment.
"That strumpet is always in here waving her pretty little tits around, just beggin' for someone to fuck her brains out and then get their brains blown out by her crazy beaner husband.", A voice muttered behind my shoulder.
"The name's Dale. What's your handle, stranger?" The voice said as I turned around to face it.
"Lately I go by Jack, Dale. There a reason you decide to tell a stranger these intimate details of some woman's life?" I said to the hunched over form named "Dale".
"Just talkin' out loud I s'pose", he said.
"I'd be careful with that. A man might take you for a racist, Dale. Not to mention a gossip.", I told him, a little bit aloof about it maybe, but my point got across just fine.
"Like I give a good god damn what you think of me, one way or 'nother. You wanna shot a whiskey or no, Jack?" He replied, feathers seemingly unruffled by my gruffness.
"I'll take one if you will. I've never been one to turn down a free drink, no matter the buyer."
"TWO SHOTS A JACK FOR ME AN' JACK, RAY!" Dale bellowed to the barman.
While Ray did his subtle, efficient drink pouring, the woman met my eyes again.
"Jack is it?", she didn't wait for me to answer, just continued to speak, her eyes narrowing as she spoke.
"I've never seen you in here before, so it's only fair to let you know, your new friend is a grade A douchebag. Sherrif caught him stealing dirty magazines from the quickstop a while back."
To this, Dale's eyes moved to the floor and he seemed to be even more stooped over and diminutive than before.
"The company you keep and all." She said with the slightest hint of a sultry smile.
My non-reply was a non-commital raising of my eyebrows and a cheers to Dale, before downing the Jack Daniel's. The whisky's sweet burn warmed my throat and stomach. It was welcome and pleasant.
"Silent type, Jack?" Nancy said, while lighting a marlboro light from a crumpled soft pack.
"What's to say?" I responded. "Obviously I don't know the locals and their individual backstories that well."
"Well, you'd be better off buying a lady a drink than accepting one from that pervert." She said.
Dale crumbled some more. Before long he'd have to be swept off of the floor with the peanut shells and cigarette butts.
"I have a policy. I don't buy drinks for strange women. It's a conflict of interest." I told her.
"Well, well. First off, my name's Nancy. You're Jack. So that takes care of the 'strange' part. Now tell me, Jack, why's it a 'conflict of interest'?"
Her body language was slowly changing. Her interest in the new guy was growing. Maybe she liked the way I dealt with her, maybe she found something appealing about my Six foot 5, 198 pound frame. The petite ones always went for it, from my perspective it seemed like a mismatch. Who wants to feel overwhelmed by a prospective lover?
It looked to me like Nancy would. She was leaning forward, doing that flirty tuck-the-hair-behind-the-ear thing. I was starting to wonder just how crazy this husband of hers was.
"Well, First off..." I smirked, "Nice to meet you, Nancy. You already know my name. As far as the conflict of interest goes, it's like this: If I buy you a drink, you're going to expect that I'm going to want it to be followed by some conversation with you. So basically, I'm paying money out my pocket, albeit indirectly, in exchange for your time. Now think about what that says about you. Now, if I'm willing to pay you for your time, what does that say about you? It's a bad scene, and the conflict is, I wouldn't mind a bit of conversation with a stranger, but to pay for it is out of the question. Makes both of us look bad, doesn't it?"
"I never looked at it that way. I guess maybe you're not so much the silent type, judging from that spiel." She smiled.
She had some spunk, I had to admit to myself.
"You asked. Now how about you buy a round for you and I, and maybe I'll return the favor if I stick around long enough?" I asked, holding up my now empty glass.
"Sounds fair." She replied.
Dale chimed in with, "But Jack..." to which I replied,
"Fuck off, Dale."
The look on his face was something I'd have liked to savor, but I was thirsty, and Nancy awaited at the other end of the bar.
"A round on me, Ray." She said as I approached.
"So you make it a habit, buying unfamilar men beers?" I asked as Ray did his thing behind the bar, trying not to be obvious in his eavesdropping, as bartenders do.
"Only when they're tall and handsome.." she paused expecting and failing to get a reaction. "And a little bit of a smartass."
I sipped the fresh beer. It tasted even better than the first.
"So you usually drink beer while a woman drinks the hard stuff?" she asked, taking a long draw off of her new Jim on ice.
"Felt like beer tonight. If I'm gonna drink whiskey from a rocks glass, it's usually something single malt, and it was usually distilled around the last time this floor got mopped."
Nancy laughed and her eyes lit up, but did not leave mine for even a heartbeat. It was just as intoxicating as the shot was earlier, but the warmth I felt was localized a bit lower.
"There you go with that smartass stuff again. You're a handful." she said.
"Maybe more. How about I buy us a round of something a bit stiffer?" I was pushing it with the innuendo, but something told me that's what she was hoping for.
"What did you have in mind, Jack?" she asked me coyly.
"Hey Ray, two double shots of Wild Turkey, the 100 proof if you have it." I told the antique proprieter.
"That oughta teach you to make light of my drink selection." I told Nancy.
"Lesson learned, hun. I'll watch my mouth from now on." she said with a blush and a smile.
The night went on, drinks were poured, tossed back and the conversation flowed as freely as the booze. The banter was witty, and my assumptions about this girl being a firecracker were confirmed, especially when she requested a spanking to make right her statement about Bruce Springsteen being "The King". I told her that Elvis was the King, Bruce was and still is the boss, just like me. That elicited a giggle accompanied by afformentioned request to be spanked. Before we knew it, the lights came on and Ray was instructing us to "Drink 'em on the way to the door!".
I set my glass down and looked Nancy in the eye for a three-count before saying, "Let's go. Now."
Without a word, she gathered up her things and we were out the door. A few quick minutes later and we were behind the closed door of my motel room.
"Lose the wifebeater." I demanded.
Nancy hesitated before a quick look at my stern face let her know I meant business, then complied, pulling the thin fabric of the garment up over her head and letting it fall to the floor.
"Now the jeans." I told her, while I unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it down.
"On your knees." I said.
She got down on her knees and looked up at me, awaiting her next demand.
"Undress me. With your mouth." I ordered.
A faint "Oh.." escaped her before she got to work on my belt buckle, then my button, then my zipper. Soon I was towering above her in my boxer briefs, already at half mast.
"Now the underwear. Pull them down and start sucking." I uttered down to her, which was greeted by an enthusiastic moan.
Nancy slid my boxer briefs down to my ankles and looked up at my half hard cock appraisingly for a brief moment, then got to work. She held the base with her hand while she took the length of my dick into her warm, wet mouth, tentatively as it began to harden.
"Get that shit hard. Don't fuck around. This isn't a game." I said to her, enjoying the way my cock grew with every stroke of Nancy's mouth.
"Now rub your clit with your other hand while you suck me. That's it. Get that pussy wet for me." I gasped, as she shoved her hand down the front of her black panties and massaged herself with slow, circular motions.
At this point, my cock was completely hard and Nancy was stopping just short of gagging herself on its full length.
"So you like to fuck men behind your husband's back, Nancy?" I said as I grabbed her head with both hands and forced her to take all of me into her throat.
"Uggmm.........." she attempted to reply, gagging on my cock. I thrusted into her throat at a quickening pace. Her mascara started to run and her eyes were begining to tear up.
"That's what a fucking slut does, Nancy. I'm going to punish you for every time you've ever even thought of being with another man. This is just the begining." I sternly said to her, at which point her demeaner changed from confused and overwhelmed to frightened and incredibly turned on.
"There's no safety word. There's no telling me to please stop. You belong to me tonight, and I'm going to make you pay for what a dirty little fucking whore you've been. Do you understand?" I asked, while pulling her face away from my hard cock.
"Yes. I understand." She panted, drooling mucus and saliva over her red lips.
"Good. Get on the bed, on your back."
She did as instructed and I violently tore her panties off of her, ripping the fabric into two separate pieces, then lowered myself onto her. Without warning or preamble I drove all 8 inches of my hard cock into her. She gasped and grabbed onto my ass with her legs as I selfishly rammed into her with all my length, relishing the hot, tight sensation of her pussy.
"Oh christ...Fuck!" she stammered as I fucked her mercilessly.
"Shut your fucking whore mouth. Don't talk to me. Take your fucking punishment." I grunted to her, driving deeper and harder into her petite frame.
She let out tiny moans and whimpers through closed lips. But I could tell she was about to orgasm. Her breaths quickened, and just when I sensed she was approaching that lovely point of no return, I withdrew.
"On your hands and knees. Now." I commanded her. I spit on my hand and moistened my fully engorged dick while she assumed the position.
I then preceded to take this whole thing to the next level by shoving my fat cock into her unlubricated asshole.
"Ahhhhh!!!!!" She squealed, totally caught off guard by my intrusion.
"Shut the fuck up, bitch and take it. You've earned this."
I thrusted and thrusted into her small asshole, all the while she let out stifled groans into the crook of her arm. I gripped her by her rounded hips, admiring the way her heart shaped little ass jiggled with every painful thrust.
Once again, her breathing sped up, and her faint little groans became breathy moans of pleasure. She was about to cum, but too soon for my taste. I pushed myself off of the bed and stood, glowering down at her.
"You think you get to cum tonight? Is that what you think, cunt?" I demanded of her.
Without waiting for her to respond, I said, "Now suck your dirty fucking cheating ass off of my cock!"
She turned around, now seated at the edge of the bed and I grabbed her by the hair and powered her face into my crotch.
"You like the smell of your filthy asshole? Do you? Now suck it off."
She gagged and made gutteral, animal noises as I pulled her mouth back and forth on my shaft, poking her throat with every hair pulling stroke. Tears filled her eyes once again and spit and vomitus escaped around my cock. She was indeed being punished, and even through her runny nose and watery eyes it was clear she was loving every fearsome second of it.
"You actually fucking like this, don't you whore?" I screamed at her. She continued to gag, and looked up at me with lust and panic and fear in her eyes, her face a mess with bleeding mascara running down her cheeks and snot running down her nose and spit and pre-cum and mucus hanging from her chin.
"Well like this:" I said as I held her down face close to my groin, her lips at the very base of my throbbing cock, choking her, gagging her as I shot a huge, unwelcome load down the back of her throat. After my trembling cimax subsided, i pushed her back onto the bead and immediately retrieved her top from the floor.
"Now clean yourself up, you piece of shit," I said to her while I preceded to shove her tank top into her now disgusting face and smothered her with it, wiping all the nastiness from her onto it.
"Now get dressed and get the fuck out of here. Make sure to give your husband a sweet little open mouthed kiss when you get home." I grunted to her.
Nancy slid the soiled wife-beater on and bent down to pick up her jeans.
"No. You don't get dressed in here. Get out." I ripped the jeans from her hands and walked across to the door.
"Put them on outside. You deserve to feel shame. GO!" I opened the door and heaved her jeans out into the parking lot. She hastily followed, averting her gave from mine.
I slammed the door behind her, and went into the bathroom, to start a hot shower. Glancing back at her torn panties, and the wetness on the bed and carpet, it occurred to me that this nomadic life on the run did have its perks.
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