Gas n Guzzle

i’ve had Vanilla-life-interruptus…and Master and I had a long and lovely phone sex session Friday night. I have the very last chapter of Tanked about half done, and simply no time left tonight to finish it. Saturday is a very, very long day, and I’m “offline” from my computer all day.  So, rather than leave you bereft of masturbation material, I offer you this sexy tale. I’ve been working on this one for a few weeks (and whenever I needed a break from tentacles!). It’s different, and very long. A novelty from nilla…a full story in one shot! Hope you enjoy my “spaghetti western”…~n~

Dust kicking up under her wheels, she pulled into the gas station. She was more than half-way to nowhere.  Off in the distance, mountains formed a frame for the  landscape of sagebrush and tumbleweeds. She was headed there, soon as her tank was filled.

Her tummy rumbled, reminding her that it had been a while since she had eaten.  She peeled her sweaty thighs from the seat of her sedan, and wished for the hundredth time that she had air conditioning. Likely her car had been built way before the idea of a/c in a vehicle had even been dreamt of! Taking out the nozzle, she pumped $40 into her tank, then sauntered into the weathered building. Hopefully they’d have a cold soda and something to munch on…it was a long while until she arrived at her destination.

It was hot inside, almost as hot as out. A fan as ancient as her car beat the air to no avail, serving only to push dustmotes through the slashing sunbeam that lit the chip and dip aisle. She opened the cooler along the back wall, and tugged a large cola from the back, feeling the cool chill of the neck of the bottle against her fingers.  She ran it around her face, down her throat, feeling the sudden change in her temperature. She gasped, enjoying the sensation of cold glass against heated flesh.

“Ya look ta be injoyin’ that soda. Kinda wishin’  I wuz that bottle.”

She jumped, squealing. Turning on her heel, she saw the man, old, wizened, as dry as the desert. He was smiling a gap-toothed grin at her, watching as an errant drip from the now-sweating bottle plopped onto her chest, and trailed slowly down into her cleavage. He licked his lips.

It was like a scene from a bad Western. What had her dad called them? Spaghetti westerns! That was it. This guy looked like a bit-player. Except…he was the real McCoy.

“Them real?”

She blinked. He was pointing to her tits. The way he looked at her, so hungry-like was kind of turning her on.  Although he wasn’t much to look at, he was a guy and she hadn’t had a good fuck in weeks. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Might be.” She gave him a slow wink, a smile, and wiped the bottom of the green glass across the top of her breasts. His eyes followed every move of the bottle as it traced along her peaks and pressed down into that shadowed valley. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down sharply as he swallowed.

“Wanna find out?” she said, leaning forward and breathing in his ear. Her tits were inches from his lips. He licked across his bottom lip, which quivered, just a bit.

He pulled back. Glared at her.

“Doan you go makin’ fun of me, you city girl.” He threw it at her like an epitaph. She shook her head.

“You misunderstand. I…” Throwing caution to the wind, she decided to be blunt. He was short, and dried up looking,  but a pecker was a pecker.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He stared up at her, still not certain if she was playing some citified joke on him. She peeled her tee-shirt off and dropped it onto the dusty floor. Her bra may have cost more than the entire inventory in the store, but that too followed the tee-shirt to the floor. Her tits, unenhanced by the knife, sprang free and bounced.

“That ‘un’s bigger than the other one.” He pointed at her left tit.

“Happens that way, sometimes. That’s how you know they’re mine and not something I got in a doctor’s office in LA.” She thrust them out, hands on her hips.

“So…you gonna touch them or something?”

“Be right back, darlin’…I fer sure have a “something” on my mind.” He took two fast steps away. Then darted back.

“Nah, you come with me.” He grabbed her wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, and tugged her down the aisle to the front of the store.

“now, youall stay here, got it? Keep yor hands on the counter, and I’ll be right back.”

He darted off, surprisingly spry for a man of his age. She shivered as the old fan whirled some dusty air over her skin. Her nipples pearled, and her pussy gave that familiar tug of longing. She hoped no one else came in the store; then again, it kinda looked like she was the only one who had been in here in a decade.

There was the sound of  a door opening, closing. Some odd scrabbling sounds, then the squeak of the door again. Footsteps came first, then the man. He was holding something in his hand.

“Now girl, turn ’round here and lemme see those purty titties.”

She turned, curious as to what the hell he was up to.

“I’m not into that tying up stuff,” she warned, seeing rope in his fingers. It was a thin strand but still.

“Nah, for your titties. See this here? Goes right here.” He affixed a silver roach clip onto her left nipple, making her gasp. It pinched but wasn’t unbearable. There was a sudden upsurge in the pulse between her thighs.

“An’ this one gonna go right on here.” The mate to the first clip went onto her right nipple. He took the twine and wrapped it in a figure eight around each end of the clip, securing the clip a bit tighter on her nipple. It was kind of a kinky thrill to look down and see the gleam of metal, and the harsh fibrous twine holding onto her soft skin. There was a thin string between the two, making a small rope bridge between her nipples, and a long tail that hung down from the center of the bridge. The end of the twine hung to the top of her pussy.

“Oh, so purty. Really purty. But! Not done yet! I’m guessin’ yor feeling that in yor pussy, huh?” He peered into her face. She nodded. He smiled his crooked-toothed smile at her.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out another loop of rope.

“Yor not gonna fight, you want to be fucked. This just makes it funner for us. Not gonna tie you up, just put yor hands behind yor back. It makes yor tits thrust out, and yor back arch, and there ain’t nothin’ that makes me harder than seeing a purty gal with her tits poking out like that, and her ass begging for some action.  Turn ’round now so I can show yew.”

Taking a deep breath, and with a bit of reluctance, she did. She had come in for soda and chips. Suddenly she had pinchies on her nipples, and a growing wet spot on her shorts. He tugged her hands to the small of her back, and made quick work lashing her wrists together. Then pressed her down to the counter.

“Bend over now, tha’s it.”

He came around the counter, and wiped the soda bottle over her nipples. There was a faint chink as the bottle hit the clamps and she moaned. Pleasure, cold, and pain. She shivered.

He tugged on the string between her tits, and she bent down.  As quickly as he had tied her hands, he tied that dangling piece of rope to a nail on the far side of the counter. She couldn’t fully straighten. Squatting, he rummaged under the counter, mumbling to himself.

“Here it is!”

He rose, brandishing  a metal box. It looked like an old tackle box or something. It was battered and bent and rusty in places. He placed it on the counter. If she laid down across the counter, the sharp bits of twisted metal would poke her belly, and rub against the underside of her breasts.  It kept her leaning, but not quite touching.

“We called that ‘perdictament bondage’ back in the day,” he said, his voice cheerful as he came out from behind the counter. “Yew can’t lay down ’cause it hurts to lay on the box. Yew can’t stand up ’cause it pulls yor purty nipples.”

She heard the rasp of a zipper, then the sound of jeans hitting the floor. In a moment his hands were reaching around her,  working her zipper, tugging her shorts down.

“No panties? Well ain’t that convenient?” He laughed, rubbing his hand over her ass. “In between the two places, the nipple pain and the getting poked with the old metal box pain? That there’s where the pleasure point is. We’ll find it. Oh, and sure enough yor lil pussy is …why it’s plumb soaked!”

She expected to feel the piercing of her hole with his shaft. Instead there was a sudden sharp crack. She yelped, jolting. Forgotten was the clamps on her tits, which bit down hard. Pain in her nipples, pain on her ass.

“You hit me!”

“Yup. Gorna do it again. Been a long time, girl…but it shore feels good to have such a willing and ready slut. Yew know yew are one, doncha? Shirt n brazeer down the aisle there, shorts round your ankles? Pussy drooling down yor thigh?”

There was another crack of his belt against her exposed ass. She remembered the nipple clamps this time, and pressed down onto the box. Rough metal pressed against tender skin. She lifted up again. Her thighs trembled with the strain.

She didn’t know how many times, nor for how long he hit her. Her ass was a throbbing, welted parcel of pain.  She felt the heat of it, imagined it was glowing. She was crying, snot and tears dripping onto the counter, when she felt his cock pressing into her. He sighed loudly.

“I fuckin’ love pressing mah belly up against that burnin’ ass ‘o yors. Feels so good, that heat. Makes mah cock fair to sizzzzzzzle as I slid into yew. Yor so fuckin’ wet, so tight…” He stopped talking, moaning instead as he pressed deeply into her tight, wet hole.

Her eyes opened wide as he speared into her pussy. Omygawd! He was fucking huge! He kept pressing and pressing, delving deeply into her belly. He hit her cervix, and kept pressing. Withdrawing, she swore she could feel every vein, every gnarled inch of flesh. Long, thick, impossible. That an old troll like this would have a cock like a porn star…she almost blacked out as he drove his dick deep into her, piledriving her pussy.

Bang! against her cervix, Bang! her belly hit the metal box. Pain, pleasure. Her nipples throbbed, her belly throbbed, her pussy throbbed.

Lights danced before her eyes as he folded her tied wrists up over her back. She arched, offering more of her opening to his ravaging tool.

She came with an explosion of colors. When she roused, he was still fucking her, grunting with pleasure. It didn’t seem possible, but he grew thicker, each driving thrust taking more and more effort to jam inside of her.

He stiffened, his fingers grabbing her lower arms, and squeezing. With a wheezing cry, she felt his cock pulse in her gut, heaving and throwing great quantities of cum into her.

When she roused again, her arms were free, her nipples were free. She lay draped over the counter as limp as a rag doll.

The strange little man was nowhere to be seen. Shaking her head to clear it, she walked down the aisle, leaking cum, to retrieve her tee-shirt and bra. She found her shorts over by the silver rack of nuts, which she found rather amusing. Her shirt was still on the floor, but the bra had gone missing. That funny old coot had stolen her bra! She thought about banging on the back room door, but decided against it. Let the old guy keep it. He’d certainly given her something delightful in trade! She dressed quickly, leaving fifty bucks on the counter for the gas and treats. She stood a moment, rubbing her aching nipples through her tee-shirt, now smeared with dust and grime, and chugged the cola down. She was fucking parched! Snagging a bag of chips, she headed out to her car, started it, and drove off in a cloud of dust.


Nightfall, another small town

She sat at the bar, nursing a beer.  The hotel was closing up for the night, nine-thirty on a Thursday. She shook her head. Small towns. Still, she was only crashing here for a night before she moved on.

Rising, she turned to go back to her room, almost bumping into a myth. Yeah, he was tall, dark and handsome. What was it about the desert southwest that grew them out here? This was so spaghetti western!

“Miss,” he tipped his hat at her. She smiled, then attempted to move past.

“whoa, lil lady. You were at the Gas n Guzzle earlier today.” It was said as a statement of fact. For a moment she was bewildered. Huh? She had many miles under her wheels today…oh. The fuck station. That’s how she’d thought of it all day.

She nodded.

“You left these behind.” He handed her the alligator clamps with the string. She blushed.

“uh…” she stammered, “those…aren’t mine.”

“nope, weren’t. But. They are now. I kinda figured that, since you gave ole Ernie a helluva sendoff, you’d earned ’em.” He smiled at her, his teeth white as snow against his tanned face. Her pussy woke with a soft “rawr” as she looked up into eyes as dark blue as the desert sky. He took her hand, folding the clamps into it, and curling her fingers around them, hard.

“Send-off? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

He took her elbow, steering her out of the bar. The bartender threw him a look of gratitude.

“You gotta room?” He was tugging her towards the stairs as he asked.  She nodded, confused. The second floor stair door closed behind them as she fumbled the key out of her shorts pocket. He took it from her fingers, and inserted it, slowly, while holding her eyes.

“Hmmm…a perfect fit…”

There was an underlying sensuality to that statement. Again, her pussy twitched. Dumb. Dumb dumb cunt. Her mama had always said she had no brains when it came to men.

“I…uh…” He pushed her to the bed in the center of the room, and sat her down upon it. He stood in front of her, long, long legs encased in tight denim. Why, she could almost see the outline of his…no. She wasn’t going to look.

But it was a really big cock.

“Went by the station not long after you left, I guess. Found Ernie on the floor in the backroom.  He was laying there, with a big ole smile on his face and his cock hanging out of his pants and dangling to the side. Uncle Ernie had the biggest cock in the county.  I could smell cum…and not just his. Lots of sticky stuff on his hairs, if you know what I mean. Then I moved him a bit. Found this in his hand.”

Reaching into his back pocket, he tugged out her bra. She blushed.

“I wanted to say thanks to the woman who gave Ernie one last good fuck.”

“Wait. A last fuck? You mean…he’s……” her voice dropped to a whisper. “…dead?”

“As a doornail. Don’t worry ’bout it…we all knew it was a matter of time. I’d say you gave ole Ernie plenty to smile about. He was a big porno star in the 80’s. Guess you could figer that out with the clamps and rope and all.”

“Rope? I didn’t say anything about rope…”

“Nope. You shore didn’t ma’am.” He broadened his accent to sound like Ernie.

“But you know, ole Ernie, he loved his porn…” He fished a disc out of his back pocket, handing it to her.

She stared at the disc, at the cowboy holding it with that grin. He hadn’t. Had he? That fucking old coot! He’d gone into the back to turn on a video recorder? That wiley old fox.

She laughed. She wanted to be mad. But she laughed until she flopped back onto the bed, holding her belly. She laughed right until Cowboy laid on top of her, silencing her with his mouth on hers.

“I think scene one needs some ….editing…” he drawled against her lips.



The pick-up truck might have been white, once upon a time. It jolted across the dirt road, and pulled up behind the Gas n Guzzle. He stepped out of the truck, tall and lanky, pushing his hat back on his head. Using his key, he opened the back door, and entered the storage unit. Where once there had been dingy lights and moth-eaten curtains, there was now a gleaming window and tidy racks waiting to restock the shelves out front.

He stepped out the side door, and into the store proper. Going to the back of the store, he opened the cooler and snagged a cold bottle of pop. He sauntered up to the front counter, and put the cold bottle of cola down, and winked.

She looked up at him, and slid the bottle closer. Lifting it, she traced a path along the top of her low-cut tee-shirt, leaving a dewy path.

And smiled up into eyes as blue as the desert sky..