Arkansas: The Story of Kelly

I had been walking alongside the highway for almost forty minutes. It had been a relatively successful trip until this time. Every time I stuck my thumb out, it seems I had a ride within five minutes. They were mostly short rides. I preferred it that way. It felt to me the way I feel when I order a sampler item off a menu in a seafood restaurant. Rather than spend two and a half days talking to a truck driver from Chicago and looking at sound barrier walls along the interstate, I was able to meet local after local and see their world they way they did as they drove through it every day.

I enjoyed the time spent between rides. I immersed my self unapologetically in my ego, imagining the questions people had as they saw me standing there. I was clearly not a local. I was clearly not a bum. I inhaled the dusty smell of the roadside gravel. Nothing else smells like it or sounds like it as it is crunched under the soles of a walking man's boot. I felt like the king of the world. Nobody knew where I was except for people unaware of who I was. I was a thousand miles from home, with no time constraints to speak of and no need to adhere to any particular route. For me, this was heaven.

But today, things had begun to move along a little more slowly. I was getting more of "them". The lane changers, people finding it necessary to switch lanes as they passed. I suppose a Hollywood film, somewhere along the line, had made them aware of the importance of going to extreme measures to avoid being chopped into little pieces by a hitchhiker. Every once in awhile, one would reach across and lock the door of their passenger seat. This was smart. With such speed limitations as there are on highways, I could easily latch on to a passing car in my quest to cannibalize a random motorist.

Then, there were the signalers. Some would wave. Yes, it's so good to see them. Such friendliness helped restore my faith in mankind whenever I began to get that "stranded" feeling. Other gestures were less life affirming. It often amazed me to see how much information a driver might try to squeeze into a gesture.

A pointing finger, with a shrug, "I am only going a little further and then turning, my friend. Otherwise, I would gladly give you a ride. I am a very charitable soul, usually."

A woman throws her hands up and tilts her head with a sudden twitch, "I have to pick up the kids, the grocer was missing key ingredients I need for my salmon loaf and my husband is ignoring calls I make to him on his cellphone...and you want me to pick you up on a hot day and let the air conditioning out of the car?!?"

Sometimes a gesture wasn't necessary. Blue-collar workers in brand new trucks did not pass by because they are afraid of being assaulted by me. They passed because they worked hard for what they'd acquired, and they'd be damned if they were going to act as the enablers to some immoral hippie, slacker too lazy to get a job and buy a reliable, American made vehicle. My faith in humanity, on occasion, would plunge to all new lows. People refusing to make eye contact, children exercising a confidence never displayed except in the backseats of their parents' cars while on vacation.

On this particular day, as I stared through the clearing dust of some pranksters who'd pulled over just to see me run before speeding away, I was in particular need of something to restore my faith. I knew, in my brain, that it was just a matter of time. I needed more than the usual. Sometimes, a car full of girls would drive by. True to their natures, being in a group emboldened them. Girls in pairs would look. Every once in awhile, they might even wave. Women alone would never be so daring. But groups...that's where the ego boosting behaviour thrived. Whistles and mischievously flattering shouts and offers, none of which amounted to a sock full of gravel, were often just enough to maintain a little smile.

Today was different. I was overcome by too many discomforts at once. I'd awaken too early, after making camp too late. I'd run out of water and been afraid to use the water I'd used to bathe as drinking water. Gas station bathrooms offered hygiene, but I was not so courageous as to drink from such a place. I was hungry, and my money was serving no purpose, as I hadn't seen a food-serving establishment all morning. What's more, I was suddenly horny. Why not? What is a general sense of dissatisfaction if it is not multifaceted?

I was suddenly aware of the emptiness of the highway. I could see the heat rising from the pavement as I cast my eyes toward the horizon. There was no car in sight either behind or in front of me. I stood still. Cicadas and katydids were the only interruptions in the silence. A red winged blackbird settled on a power line and cocked its head to look down at me. I whistled at her and she returned the gesture. I felt relief as this melted my bad mood away. I knelt down in the gravel, allowing the discomfort of the stones on my knees to remind me of the blessing of a sensory existence. I bowed my head down to the gravel like a Muslim would during his daily prayers. I rested my lips on a large piece of gravel and inhaled the scent of the ground with both my nose and mouth, much as I would inhale the essence of a woman to whom I might get so close. I clutched the stone in my hand and stood. I kissed the stone and held it up for the blackbird to see. The moment was blessed, and I would hold onto the rock as if it were a talisman. I closed my eyes and turned my face up to the sun. The heat on my face washed over me, lending a seamless cohesion to the potpourri of other sensory input. It was time to start walking again.

Just as I had decided I would be content to walk for hours, I heard the familiar sound of tires peeling along the asphalt in the distance. For some reason, in wide-open spaces such as I'd found on this Arkansas highway, the sound of tires preceded the sound of an engine. I turned to confront the approaching car. As it appeared over the horizon, it was too far to even determine a colour. Then I saw it was blue. That felt right. It was a blue, Subaru wagon, as dusty as everything else I could see. A flash of long, red hair framed a pale, white, porcelain looking face. I made certain that my arm was extended confidently. I made eye contact, and it seemed we smiled simultaneously. I became aware that I'd snagged a ride just before the woman made a move to pull over.

She gauged her braking power adequately to pull up right alongside me and reached across to open the door. As I ducked into the wagon, saying my obligatory thank you, I noticed that she was stunning. She had freckles all over the bridge of her nose and a few peppering her cheeks. Her hair was a red cascade of tight little curls. She was probably a good five years older than my age of twenty-two, but I'm not sure how I could tell.

She smiled brightly and asked, "Where are you headed?"

"Further than you could possibly be going." was my reply. She began to talk. I was usually the talker, but she was off to go camping somewhere. Her husband was to meet her at a rendezvous point somewhere in southern Missouri. We talked about camping. I showed her my tent and we discussed the relative merits of different camping gear. She stopped speaking after she asked what sort of adventures I'd encountered. I didn't know where to start. I was too distracted by the possibilities toward which my mind would not stop steering me.

I swear I had only glanced. I have never been an ogler, but she was staring at my eyes at just the right moment. Her breasts were covered only by a thin layer of a white t-shirt. She was small breasted and was wearing no bra. In an instant, her nipples showing through the t-shirt had captured me. I broke my eyes away in an instant. When I looked up, she was staring directly into my eyes.

"My husband wants them enlarged."

"Surgically?" I asked.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to do it. I want him to be happy." but her voice sounded disappointed in his shallowness. She looked down at herself, pulling the shirt down to snug it up against her body. I felt myself shift in my jeans. Her image in that moment burned into my mind. Her pouty little expression, as she cast her big, brown eyes toward her breasts...her little splash of freckles, her faded Levis' stretched over lean thighs. I had a sudden urge to lift her shirt and see between her legs.

"That's ridiculous." I said, "Surgery? You look fantastic. He's delusional if he thinks you need changing."

She turned her face up to me, twisted her mouth to one side and said, "They are small. He's willing to pay for it all."

"Well, I would hope but..." I released an exasperated sigh and stared stonily out the front window. I was playing her. I needed her permission to continue, so I was acting as if I'd realized that I should not.

She bit, "But what?"

"But you are amazing. It's like adding a magic marker moustache to a perfect portrait." She concentrated on the road for a minute. I looked over at her, but she stayed focused on the road.

"You're sweet," she said, "but really, he knows. He has to look at them everyday."

I resurrected my gesture of exasperation. "Has to? Fuck...I'd feel blessed to endure such torture. That is, after the initial stages of delirium." She smiled in appreciation of the compliment. After another brief moment staring out the window, she turned to face me again. Her eyes were examining my face as if to look for a sign. They were asking a question...at least, she was making it appear so. Her mouth dropped open a small bit, but she stopped the words from coming out. Her breathing was accelerated. So was mine.

After her dramatic pause she looked back out the window, "Would you tell me?"

"Tell you?"

"How they look." As she said the words, my head started to spin. Was she going to show me her tits? Was she going to let me fuck her? I had to make her bring it a little closer to clarity.

"I told you. They look great. Smaller breasts are perfect for your frame. It would take away..."

She interrupted, "No, I mean if I show you, will you tell me honestly if they are...if they..." she sighed. I could not tell if she was being coy or baiting me to volley her serve.

"If they look OK?" I finished.

"No, if they turn you on?"

She had turned down a side road. I was now as delirious as I'd implied I might be, and I hadn't even seen her body yet.

"Of course I will, I'll tell you..." I almost said I'd tell her what I thought of anything she'd show me, but it truly seemed too crass. It would have changed the atmosphere. It lacked the innocence we were both feigning. She must have known. She didn't ask me to continue.

There was a pair of tire tracks worn into the weeds of a clearing in a cluster of trees. They were just dense enough to offer privacy. She turned into the clearing. I doubted my skills at being opportunistic. How quickly should I move from compliments and affirmation to letting her know that my mind had crossed into a primal state? Would she only leave the window of opportunity open for a few seconds? How long would my eyes need to confirm my belief that her breasts were enticingly delicious looking? She pulled to a stop and turned the key. She whipped her head toward me in the way a woman does when letting go of anger in favour of surrendering to sexual tension. Her hair spilled over her face. One eye shown through, and it seemed to be telling me that I was about to be granted a very special privilege.

She crossed her arms to grasp the bottom edges of her t-shirt, and pulled it suddenly over her head. In an instant, she looked truly insecure. Her eyes were begging for the words, searching for an affect on my physiology. It was there. I looked at her body. Her breasts curved perfectly in a gentle swell from the bottom of her nipples to her torso. Her nipples were light pink and puffy. I thought of cotton candy. Her abs were defined and her jeans were so thin that I felt her womanhood was being offered to me. I wanted to kiss her. I couldn't find my words. Her breathing had become extremely rapid. There weren't going to be any other signs.

I reached my hand across to her and lightly touched my palm to the nipple of her left breast. My head felt unstable on my neck as it swayed out of synchronicity with my breathing. She drew in a deep breath and locked her eyes with mine. I slid over to the edge of the seat and slid my palm down dragging the skin over her nipple. I closed my fingers as I pulled away, allowing them to all draw in to gently pinch it just as my hand pulled away. There were goosebumps all over her skin and her nipple had hardened. I moved my face in to meet with her other breast. I mimicked my previous finger motion with my lips. As my lips closed on her nipple, I pulled away, not letting her breast leave contact with my lips until the force of their pressure was no longer enough to pull.

I moved my face up to hers. I came close to touching her lips with my mouth, but raised my hand to pull her hair to my face. I closed my eyes and felt its softness on my lips and cheeks. I rubbed a lock of her hair over the lid of my closed eye. I wished to be able to experience her forever. I brushed her hair away and touched my lips to hers. Our mouths opened and we just stayed still for a moment. I felt her tongue reach out to touch my top lip. I kissed it, then pressed my lips back to hers and teased her tongue with the tip of mine. The kissing became more serious. I placed my right hand on the top of her thigh. My thumb almost reached between her legs as my fingers enjoyed the feeling of the flesh of her hip. I'd squeeze her hip as I kissed her deeply; shift my hand a bit more to the outside, just to feel the exquisite bone structure of her curves. Another change of facial position and I 'd slide my hand inward. I pressed my thumb to the seam of her jeans, pressing where I knew she was becoming sensitive. She pushed herself against my thumb, so I massaged her through her jeans as my other hand moved back to her breast.

I moved my hand back behind her head and grasped a large handful of hair. Responding to a slight pressure, she allowed me to pull her head back away from my face. I kissed her chin, then drew a line, with my tongue, from her chin and down her neck. There were freckles on her shoulders. I had to kiss them. Her shoulder was almost small enough to suck. I took her triceps between my lips, then rubbed my lips along her arm, back to her shoulder. My motions were becoming less patient. I flicked each of her nipples with my tongue, then licked one as I moved away from her breast to the top of her tummy. The muscles of her abdomen formed a small channel down the center. I traced it with my tongue until I reached her belly button.

Now, she was humping my hand furiously. I was echoing her movements and could sense she was approaching orgasm. I used my other hand to unbutton the top of her jeans. Now she was moaning. It almost sounded as if she was crying. As her skin was revealed, I was captivated by its whiteness. I found the top edge of a pair of bright blue, silk panties. I knew the contrast with her red was going to be magical. The panties were thin enough to push down some with my tongue. As she gyrated her hips, her body would press against my face. She bucked hard and I appreciated the give of her flesh, as otherwise I might have been injured. She pressed her pussy so firmly against my hand that I could feel my hand pushing between her lips, even through her jeans. I turned my hand to press my wrist against her pussy as I opened my hand to support her ass. She was easy enough to lift slightly to my mouth. I went down on her through her jeans. She cried out almost immediately. She was cumming. I wanted so badly to drink from her, but I had to make sure she had finished. Her gyrations were almost abusive to my face, but it was glorious to me. As her cries receded to shaky breaths, I grabbed the top of her jeans and pulled them quickly down to her knees.

I grabbed her hips and pulled her to my face again, this time with only thin, soft silk separating me from her. Her panties were warm and wet. I relished her taste. She began to wiggle her legs to get her jeans off. I backed up and raised her legs to remove them. When her legs were up, I could see her ass and the beautiful space where her thighs parted into nothingness. I pushed her legs higher as she bent her knees to accommodate for the lack of space. She put he feet on my shoulders as I leaned in to taste her once more. I was suddenly aware of the limitations of our environment. I moved my face back and forth one last time and moved up to meet her face again. My dick was practically bursting out of my pants as I pressed it to her for the first time. She pushed back with almost a grunt. She put her lips to mine and sucked her own taste off of my face.

"Let's spread my sleeping bag on the ground outside the car." I suggested, almost with a commanding tone.

She reached behind her and pulled the door handle. She fell backwards and started laughing. Her laugh erupted from a face no longer in view. All I could see were her tits, tummy and blue panties that I was dying to slide down her thighs. She shimmied her way out of the car, letting her back rub right across the ground.

I grabbed my backpack to remove my sleeping bag, and she said "Don't... just fuck me."

I stepped out of the car and helped her to her feet. I sat on the driver's seat, in the open door of the car and pulled her close to me. I pushed my palm against her mons veneris and she pushed back. I tugged the little blue panties down. She was trimmed neatly and her hair was so short as to allow a view of all her skin. I could see her lips part as she stepped out of her panties. She dropped to her knees and lifted my shirt. I raised my arms and allowed her to remove it. I pulled her to me again, just to feel her skin against mine for a moment.

"Stand up." she instructed. I did, and slid my shoes off as I did. She unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down to reveal that I was exposed above the top of my underwear. She darted her tongue out to clean up some of the wetness that had formed at the end of my dick. She closed her lips over it as she slid my underwear down to my knees. The cool air felt good, then she wrapped her hand around the base of my dick and stroked it as she drew more of me into her mouth. Her lips formed a perfect seal around the ridge of the head of my dick. At this moment I moaned in approval, so she kept them like that and used her tongue to stimulate me. Her hands cupped my balls and I could feel her fingers lightly massaging underneath them. My hips jerked forward, pushing myself a little further into her mouth. She responded by sucking me deeply and slowly into her mouth. I could feel her throat tighten around my dick and was expecting her to pull back. She didn't. The tight feeling moved its way up the shaft of my dick until it felt like I was being constricted from its tip to its base. She began to move her throat muscles. It was more than I could bear. At the very moment her eyes moved up to meet mine, I released myself into her throat. She couldn't have even tasted it, as my dick was pushed so far beyond her mouth. She began bobbing her head up and down, just as I entered my overly sensitive, post-orgasmic phase. She started handling my balls a little more roughly. I was going to cum again.

"I want...I want to cum in your pussy," I gasped. She pulled me out of her mouth and continued stroking me with her hand.

"Not yet." She stroked me as she put the tip of her tongue back to the end of my dick. Once again, she just closed her lips over my head. As she stroked vigorously, I knew I was close again. The orgasm started, but it was if it was locked in time. I had spent so much only moments before. I was barely in her mouth. I felt like I was in mid-explosion. I moaned, as she had earlier, almost crying out. Again, I came. She swallowed enthusiastically, and continued working by dick until every twitch and convulsion had subsided.