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Lady Luck (VI)
by Charlie Haverson

The following is part 6 of the ongoing story, "Lady Luck" about a happily married trucker who swings with his wife and has a lot of other opportunity on the side. If you missed parts 1 - 5, they are alive and well and living in the archives. But for now, here's where we left off:

"I'as really trying to take aim and situate myself so I could poke her cornhole and ride it true as a piston. But she was moving so much, and you know, it's not all that easy to get it in a butthole if you're used to how a pussy just spreads open to let you in, cuz a ass ain't quite as anxious. It was like I's stabbing at a wall -- sometimes my dick wasn't near the hole and I'd push along till it almost hurt. Next time I could feel the head of my dick push against the soft part where the opening was but it wasn't opening. I'd get about half a second's try and then she'd have shifted again and I just started kind of seeing red. I was going to give up, but I thought I'd give it one real hard try. So I slapped my hands on her rump to hold it still... "

And now for Part 6:]

She's still pumping and twisting on John's pole and damnit, my old peter, straight hard and pointing like a sword, wasn't staying still enough for me to guide it true without my hands. It's flapping out there in the wilderness with bits of cum dripping off the nipple when I hear her going "Oh, Gawd, oh gawd," And she shoves her fingers back in her asshole. She's like jerking up and down on John's belly and I see his ass coming up to thrust hard so's he can come off now, and I'm watching cream flow from her cunt down his jumping balls and I'm watching that tight, squeezy butthole sucking on her fingers like a kid on teat and bad as I wanted to be in there, to be those fingers, I just let go all over the ground. Couldn't stop myself.

After that, the girl was tired and went on off home. Those are the disappointments of life.

When I got back into home territory, I told Mary Louise the whole damned story. Didn't see no reason not to. And you know what? She damned near laughed her ass off. Laughed like a damned hyena. And me who's always been good to the ladies, always treatin em right and so forth; good to my wife, letting her set the rules for our loving and all that kind of thing. So what'd I do to deserve the ridicule of Lady Luck and the goddess of good love, and my own damned wife I ask you?

I think I was about to give up my belief in Lady Luck. Started calling all those "rewards of good love" ideas a bunch of pure hog wash after that. Told myself, when I get back on the road, I'll fuck every lucky lady that sits within ten feet of me. Now mind, I had a change of heart since that time --temper tantrum was all -- and I know right down deep not to ever mess with the lovin goddess. But at the time, like I said, I's feeling real sorry for myself and I wanted to let loose on her. Not to mention Mary Louise's laughing at me like that kind of stuck in my craw and made me want to show the woman a thing or two. In my head I pictured telling her how I'd fucked pretty, tight buttholes from Kansas to Tennessee and how goose-down soft they are and how hard they hugged on my dick, harder 'an her old cunt could ever do. Just to spite her for laughing. Oh, yeah, I rue the day I had those nasty thoughts -- lady luck and the goddess of lady lovin has seen to that...

Whilst I was still feeling sorry for myself, I hit an all time low. Road was lonely. Truck stops were dry. And to top it all off, I had the bad luck of being on the road for my birthday -- fortieth birthday at that. I had a mind to fuck my way across the country -- cunthole or asshole, didn't make no difference. But still, when some lucky lady come up to me at a truck stop, always something wasn't right, and for one reason or another, my heart -- not to mention my dick -- wasn't in it. I actually had a girl jump up on the rig, pull up her top and squish her bare titty into the cab window. Great sight to see, I'll admit. You think for a minute of reachin out and grabbing it so you can feel the soft meat of it in your big hand. But the thought of taking things any further... she had all that energy. And you know, I was just feeling like I wanted something smooth and slow. Just to feel that cushion of pussy hugging round my dick.

Then I started recalling the time me and Mary Louise and this single woman were in 'at gal's hot tub together. There's me and those four beautiful tits bobbin atop the water and their four sweet nipple pits lolling back and forth. Even so, heat and steam made my dick stay kinda low key, and it was like a drugged hard-on, not jumpy with excitement, just lazy-hazy like eating a good meal. Girl's pushing her titties at me and I'm thinking of Mary Louise. I guess my wife and her good ways, and our swinging, made me a certain amount of satisfied. And sometimes my home lovin just looked too good for me to go and put it to any lady that spreads her legs my way. Then I said to myself, maybe it's just I'm getting old. Fortieth birthday and all. That put a damned scare into me. And when I thought like that, I started to think, hell, I can open up that beaver and pump this young chick into tomorrow, ain't no life gone out of me yet. But then there she is all giggly bouncing on my cab with her sassy little titties and I just didn't give two hoots. What come over me, I ask you?

After that, well, the trip dragged on and I's getting more and more down till the big day hit and I woke up in Nowhere, Kansas, alone and wishing for any damned piece of ass and then thinking of calling some high class call girl, cuz what the hell, it's my birthday, right? And Mary Louise called me in the morning and told me she had presents for me and talked dirty to me, and that cheered me up for an hour or two. Then I called her in the afternoon, just to hear her voice and have her remind me it was my birthday. Told her I'd be staying at the same truck stop I always go to about an hour out of Memphis. But really, I was planning on pulling in closer to town, and spending the night in some dirty nasty blues bar where you can feel up the drinking ladies on the dance floor cuz they're all drunk and hard up, and you can go on to grind your cock into 'em while you dance with 'em, so slow you're just about fucking. You can grind 'em right there on the floor till your dick gets rock hard and they know what's going on, but they's feeling it too and just want to keep on feeling that hot bitch way. With the right loose lady, and the right moves, you can even shoot right there in your jeans on the dance floor. But then once again, when nightfall came and the quiet that can get a man all unnerved set in, I was an hour out of Memphis and I checked into the same familiar truck stop I always do. The same exact one I'd a told Mary Louise I was going to stop at. And a little voice said "pussy whipped" and another voice said, who gives a good goddamned. I was just plain tired!

Too tired to go to a club, I mean, and all that extra stuff that you gotta do to get to the good stuff, showering and dressing. But I can't say that I wasn't still hoping to bump into some young, hot thing with her bouncing tits spilling out all over everything, so's to say suck us please! Even though I was too down to really do much scouting. So I called Mary Louise to say I was stopped for the night -- and she didn't answer. I really wanted to hear just one more happy birthday, but oh, well. Don't always get what you want in this life.

Or do you? Because just then I felt someone sitting down next to me, close. You know how you can just feel a woman -- how she moves. And then I could smell her, like spring flowers, the ones with all the excited sap of life in them. There were about five of us on the bar stools and she had sat right next to me when there were enough empty seats so she coulda left some room. She was after something.

I took in her scent for awhile. And when she reached out to take her drink, I dared to look at her hand, inspect the little gold chain around her wrist, the long shapely fingernails painted a pale pink. She had to be fine. Without looking at her, I could also tell she was tall. She wore expensive clothes, nylons on shapely legs and a skirt that showed plenty of leg where she sat, but with her legs crossed below the knee kind of elegant like. Didn't want to turn. She'd singled me out alright. Why make it easy for her? She probably wanted money. She was too much class to hit on a dusty trucker with three-days' ride on his clothes and not expect lots of money. I didn't remember no high class professional ladies at this place. But things was changing everywhere, so... And you know what, I was inclined to consider paying her for it, no problem. It was still my birthday, damn it all.

[To be continued...]