Late 2012. Exhausted after our steamy threesome. Michel, my trucker lover, and my hubby Patrice. Sprawled on sheets. My pussy throbs. Cum drips. Michel grins. ‘Got an idea.’ His cock softens nearby. I tease it with red nails. ‘Spill it, Mimi.’ Banter flies. He suggests I play truck stop whore. Suck his reliable trucker pals. On rest stops. For fake money. No legal bullshit. Calculations buzz. Three blowjobs a day. Beats my shitty 1300 euro office salary. Printer hums in my mind. Coffee stench mixes with cheap perfume. Open space stares. But here? Pure rush. Patrice prints Monopoly bills. Special paper. Secret source. We drive to hidden spot. Old sawmill parking. Off national road. Logs shield us. Gray clouds. No rain. Heart pounds. Adrenaline spikes. Risk of gendarmes. My skirt hikes. Cleavage ready. Patrice lays blanket. First truck rumbles. Momo. Big guy. Eyes light up. ‘Salut, Mimi.’ Laughs echo. He stuffs fake bills in my tits. I kneel. Zipper rasps. Thick veiny cock springs. Kiss shaft. Glossy head. Swallow deep. He groans. Hot mouth work. Sucks him dry. Gulps every spurt. Lips shiny with jizz. Others arrive early. Four more. ‘Party time!’ Jeannot next. Trapu dick. ‘Suck me good, little slut.’ Dirty words ignite me. I dive. Lips seal. Bob fast. He bucks. ‘Fuck, pro!’ Cums hard. I swallow. Clean with tongue. Next cock. Then another. Bills pile in bra. Michel last. Hubby too. Chain of throbbing meat. All feed me seed. Belly full. Office mouse by day. Cum dumpster now.
Six men circle. My fantasy. Kneel center. Cocks surround. Jerk two. Suck one. Switch. Flavors mix. Salty. Bitter. Thick ropes. Hands roam tits. Frots on skin. Gleam trails. Kiss each tip. ‘Closer, boys.’ Mimi eggs. ‘She’s a real cock hog.’ I beam. Slut heaven. Jerk faster. Mouth full. Gush after gush. Splatter face. Tits. Body painted. Radiant. Gleaming whore.
The Building Tension
Parking empties. Sit on log. Count fake stack. ‘Damn, day’s pay. Better than desk drudgery.’ Mouse clicks haunt. Door locks click in memory. ‘Fun game,’ I say. ‘But real cash? Tempting. Screen clients.’ Michel clears throat. ‘Another round?’ ‘Yes. New guys. Surprise spot. Truck cab? Dive motel? Pool? Treehouse?’ Laugh. Rise. Adjust skirt. Wipe lips. Perfume over musk. Drive home. Office tomorrow. Serious face. Hidden fire burns. Patrice winks. Michel smirks. Next thrill brews.