1. Detours (Part 1 of 3)


    Date: 10/6/2014, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: L8LastNight, Rating: 8, Source: LushStories

    couple as they left and chuckled to herself, “Sweet-pea?” She settled into her stool at the dining-counter. It was well-past lunch time and she hadn’t realized how hungry she was while she was driving. It felt good to get something hearty into her belly other than chips and cookies. She felt content and relaxed. When she had first entered the diner, she was wary of the two men who were from the truck that had buzzed her earlier on. They were sitting in a booth by the window. Though they did give her a silent, lingering look as she walked past them to the counter, they didn’t say anything to her and just continued their huddled, low-hush conversation. They were still sitting there after she finished her meal but they were so quiet, she barely paid them any notice. A few minutes later, after returning from the washroom, Bonnie paid her bill. She was last customer in the diner, it seemed, the two truckers having left in the meantime. “Thanks very much. That was great,” she said to the cook. “Sweet-pea,” he replied with a nod, still smiling. Bonnie chuckled, “Thanks very much… ’Sweet-pea’!” She finished off her coffee and paid her bill. “Take care, now,” Sweet-pea said. She stepped outside and slipped on her sunglasses. Standing by the diner entrance for a moment, she took a quick look around. There wasn’t any sign of the hitchhiker; looked as if he continued on with the elderly couple. Bonnie made her way over to her car. As she approached it, she frowned. Something seemed ...
    off. “Crap! Crap! Crap! ” she fumed as she glared at the flat, driver’s side front tire. She bent down to inspect it --yeah, it was dead-- then stood back up and thumped her butt against her car. She rubbed her forehead, grimacing with frustration. Not that she couldn’t change a flat, but it was still a royal pain in the ass. Heaving a sigh, she pushed off her car, shuffled her feet around to the back, and opened up her trunk. Fortunately, she didn’t have too many bags and other junk to unload onto the ground to get to her spare. “Full-size spare, it’s the only way to go,” her dad had told her, “Don’t want to be caught driving long distances on a spare donut.” “Thanks dad,” she said to herself as she picked up the jack and tire iron and dropped them on her luggage. She reached down to haul out the spare. “Damsel in distress?” a voice chimed in from behind. Bonnie gasped and whirled around. The two truckers stood a couple yards away from her, grinning like cats who had discovered rum in their milk bowls. Their shapes were reminiscent of Laurel and Hardy, one a kind of pointy-faced lanky guy, the other rather round all over with a flat nose. That’s where the similarities with the old-time comedians ended, all of their classic charm and sweetness abrasively scrubbed off the two leering men before her. “Oh, hey,” she said, feigning a slight smile, “It’s nothing. Just a flat.” ‘Hardy’, the round one with his thumbs hooked in his pants pockets, said, “Too bad. Shit happens, though.” ...
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