Somewhere in Missouri, south of the Iowa border but still a hell of a long ways to Hannibal (my halfway point on this trip), I stopped at a highway rest stop. The kind that were common when I was a kid, when dad packed us all in the van and traveled all over America. Seems over the last few years, they’ve shut down these roadside parks. But here was one, beautiful as I remember them being, with tall shaggy trees and well tended grass, a clean bathroom and a friendly person behind a desk full of brochures and maps.
I just wanted to get out of the car and stretch my legs, get some fresh coffee, and go pee. And then stretch my legs some more while taking in a healthy dose of sunshine.
That’s when I saw her. A beautiful blond woman, about my age, wearing skimpy blue shorts and a red halter top that squeezed her boobs upward to the point of almost spilling out. She had a lovely tan, hair down to her ass, and a confused expression on her face. She was looking at a paper map. Another thing I didn’t realize they made anymore. Paper maps, not beautiful blonds.
I’m not shy. Quite bubbly actually. I went right up to her. She smelled like sunblock and strawberries.
“You doing okay, there?” I said.
“Hi ya’ll,” she said in a lovely Southern accent. Normally I find accents below the Mason-Dixon line annoying. But from her mouth, she sounded like an angel. “I can’t find Cedar Rapids on this here map.”
I stood behind her and looked over her lovely shoulder. I got a closer wiff of her. Yup, strawberries. And she had a sexy mole on one shoulder.
“That’s a Missouri map,” I said. “Cedar Rapids is in Iowa.”
“Oh shoot!” she said. “I might should find the appropriate map. Thanks sweetie!”
“Is there an inappropriate map?” I winked. Then I gave her directions to Cedar Rapids.
“Yer awful sweet,” she said. “Where abouts you headin’?”
“Mississippi. Going to my cousin’s daughter’s graduation.”
“All ya’ll close?”
Took me more than a few seconds to figure out what she said. “Not really. But it’s my favorite cousin, and her daughter is cute.”
“Two great reasons to travel.” She eyed me up and down. I wore skinny jeans and a black tank top, with rhinestone sandals and a floppy straw hat on my head. From the way her glance lingered, she seemed to approve of my attire.
I hoped she approved of my body as well. I was approving of hers.
She touched me on the elbow. “My name’s Lauren,” she said.
“Glad to meet you,” I said, touching her on the elbow too. “I’m Carrie.”
“Real nice to meet you,” Lauren said, her smile pearly white. She stepped a little closer to me. “Real shame yer headin’ in the opposite direction.”
“I’m in no hurry,” I said. “If you wanted someone to talk to. Or something else.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
I loved the way she said that, how she drawled out “mind.” I had all kinds of naughty things in mind, besides chatting with a lovely stranger. Not my habit of having sex with random people while traveling, mind you. But this sounded like something I might’ve read in the Penthouse Forum, so fuck it.
I glanced one way, then the other. Hardly anybody was around.
Then I stepped a little closer to her. Our breasts were touching tip to tip. She twirled a lock of shiny blond hair on one finger. I kissed her on the lips. Only a gentle brushing of lips. She even tasted a little like strawberry. She touched my hand, wrapping her fingers in mine.
“Maybe I can share my GPS with you?” I said. “It’s in my car.”
“Oh?” she said, puckering her lips for another kiss.
“My car has tinted windows.” I gave her another kiss, this time on the lower lip.
“You got yerself a deal, miss,” Lauren whispered against my mouth.
“I think the GPS is in my backseat,” I winked. I led her back to my green Corolla, hand in hand. When I opened the backdoor for her, she giggled sweetly and slapped me on the arm.
“I don’t see no GPS in the backseat,” she said. Didn’t stop her from getting in. I followed her in, second thoughts on my mind. What if she was a thief? A serial murderer? Too late, she was in my car, and I’ve had self-defense classes. I can kick a grown man’s ass. Besides, there was no way Lauren could’ve hidden a gun or knife in that skimpy outfit.
The interior was already warm from sunlight. I asked if she wanted the AC on, and she tossed her hair and told me to only crack some windows. I leaned into the front seat to turn on the battery and open the windows. For my effort, I got a slap on the ass.
“To the point, are you?” I glanced over my shoulder and wiggled my butt for her.
“You have a problem with that?”
“Only problem I have,” I said, “is that I haven’t been laid in too long.”
“Haven’t we all, sweetie?” Lauren beckoned back to the backseat with a wave of her fingers.
I couldn’t resist. Zippo willpower here, at least when it comes to beautiful blond ladies. I slid into her arms, as if I were made to be there. Her body was slim and hot to the touch, her skin silky smooth. I stradded her lap, and made out with her. Lauren was gentle, good with her tongue, and made soft moaning noises. The entire time she massaged my hips and waist, slowly raising my shirt upwards.
Soon enough, before I even knew what happened, my shirt was off. She unhooked my bra. My nipples were hard, and when she twisted them they were tender.
I made a move to go down on her, but she stopped me.
“No sweetie,” she said, unbuckling my belt. “I want to thank you for being so nice.”
And then she had me on my back. Lauren stripped off her halter top. Her breasts were just as lovely and full as I imagined them. I grabbed them, both handfuls they were, and sucked on her nipples. Then she kissed me on the mouth. Kissed me on the chin. The neck. My breasts, then down to my stomach.
Lauren unzipped my pants and together we struggled to get them off. My panties came off next, with no ceremony.
And then her head was between my legs, lips pressed to my labia, and she flicked my clit with her thumb. She made love to me slow. Licked me, kissed me, sucked on my clit. I became wet for her. When she entered me with one finger, I let out an involuntary cry.
Lauren stopped for a moment, to make sure I was okay. A nod and a smile was enough to tell her so. She continued fingering and sucking me, this time with two fingers and much rough, more desperate tongue action. She ate me like I was the best meal she’d had. I wiggled and bucked my hips, pressing her head down, as if I could get closer to her.
Even with the cracked windows, the temperature in the car seemed to rise ten degrees. My legs and arms were sweaty. The car stank of wet pussy. I was afraid the smell might leak out, telling everyone in the rest stop park what we were doing. Lauren either didn’t think of that, or she didn’t care. She added another finger, going ever deeper.
And then she curled her fingers against my G-spot while frantically licking my clit. I tried to keep the orgasm in, to not let the moment end so soon.
But she was fierce and she didn’t let up on me.
My entire body heated up and then melted from the inside out. I screamed. I shook. My skin was chilled and hot at the same time. My tunnel tightened on her fingers.
When I was done, I heard her say “wow” and then “holy shit, sweetie.” I laughed. I cried a little. Lauren embraced me and kissed the tears away.
“Thank you, sweetie,” she said. “I needed that.”
“No,” I said. “Thank you.”
To my ears, my words were half uttered babbling, but she seemed to understand.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to hit the road.”
“I do too,” I said. I gave her my phone number. Then she texted me, giving me her number.
Then she watched me get dressed. Before she could escape my car, I cupped her face and kissed her on the mouth. I watched her walk away.
Every night on my trip, I got a sexy text message from her. And when I got home, I called Lauren, and we had amazing phone sex.
To this day, we’ve continued to be occasional lovers. All thanks to the beautiful rest stop in Missouri.
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