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He was headed out to California and he only wanted one thing from me. I was naive enough to not understand what he wanted and in truth, I wasn’t attracted to him. We stopped at a truck stop just past Barstow and he gave me a shower ticket after fueling up. I was so grateful for the chance to get clean that I took it without question, taking only my smaller bag and leaving everything else in the truck’s cargo compartment under the bunk of the sleeper cab. When I got out of the shower, he had gone, taking my clothes and everything else with him. I was left with a pair of pleated front dress pants, grey, with no pocket in the back, a frilly pair of scanty panties, and a button down shirt, no wallet, no money and a very small duffle bag. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the pants showed off my ass and I think the truckers that I talked to thought I was a boy-whore wandering around the lot.

I know now that I was so lucky. I could easily have been taken advantage of and I wouldn’t even have known it. I was lost, bereft of even my meager possessions and scared half to death. A kind trucker took pity on me and offered me a ride and some money for helping unload his truck when he got to Oregon. He smoked a joint with me there in the parking lot and I fell asleep in the passenger seat of his truck, my head bouncing on the glass as he drove down the road. I awoke when he stopped to pick up a girl who was hitchhiking by the side of the road. She was a Deadhead, a girl who followed the Grateful Dead around and sold things at the shows to make a living. The two of them had sex that evening in a rest area while I sat outside the truck and smoked some of the best cigarettes I had ever had. He was a Canadian and just an overall decent guy. He offered to take me up into Canada with him, but I had no ID so I couldn’t cross the border.

To this day, I wish I had his name and address. I would send him something, even if it was just a meaningless piece of paper with some stupid words of gratitude on it. He saved my life that day and I wonder sometimes if he realized just how important his simple acts of kindness were to me right then. I suspect he didn’t know. He paid me 40 dollars for unloading his truck and we parted ways at a truck stop somewhere in Oregon. I got kicked off the parking lot while I was trying to find a ride and wound up on the freeway entry trying to thumb a ride out of there. The cops came along after about 15 minutes of me trying to hitch a ride and told me I couldn’t hitchhike where I was. I spent most of the next day with my thumb hung out, ready to run into the bushes if I saw a cop.

I finally got a ride from a trucker who had seen me from the parking lot of the truck stop. I didn’t realize what he wanted from me and when I did finally understand, I reacted badly. He left me by the side of the road out in the middle of the desert, not too far outside Needles, right at the border of California and Arizona.

A driver who had just parked in the pullover to catch a nap allowed me use his radio to get a ride. I pretended to be a truck driver, aged 25, who had just gotten fired through no fault of my own, looking for a ride home. I’m pretty sure the guy who let me use his radio was wise to the fact that I was lying out my ass, but he never said a word. The driver who picked me up was needing someone to spell him in the driver’s seat in a bad way. He’d been on the road for almost 31 hours running on nothing but adrenaline and coffee and was due in Maine in 2 days.

I have to mention that at this point, I had never driven anything more than a tractor( a small Kubota we called tractor-san) and a pickup truck. The poor guy must have been seriously tired because he actually believed that I was as old as I claimed to be and that I held a valid CDL. I didn’t know to release the parking brakes before leaving, otherwise things would have probably gone just fine.

I gingerly slipped the rig into gear and eased up on the clutch while gunning the accelerator. Suddenly I was riding a bucking beast! The truck jumped and shuddered before the engine just quit with an awful agonizing lurch as I dumped the clutch in terror.

The driver was practically purple with rage, yelling at me and just barely restraining himself from physically assaulting me. It turns out that I twisted his driveshaft. It’s a good thing he was an owner-operator, because a trucking company would have fired him for that. As it was, I’m sure I cost him quite a lot of money. I was just glad to get another ride from there while he was screaming and cussing at me.

His name was Lewis, and I found out later that he had the most beautiful penis I had ever seen, not to mention the second largest. Right then, when he picked me up, he just said he wanted some company because he had a long drive ahead of him. He was a slightly built man, probably about 5 foot 8 inches in height. He had the cutest receding hairline(you should know at this point that I had and still have a major case of the hots for Patrick Stewart as Captain Jean-Luc Picard.).

We actually made it into Texas before I succeeded in seducing him. He let me drive his truck most of the way across New Mexico, but the throttle was on auto and he only really let me sit in the driver’s seat and steer while the truck did the real work. Apparently he wanted me as badly as I wanted him, because shortly after we crossed into Texas he told me that he was going to take a nap and started to get undressed. By the time he got down to his underwear, I was literally panting with my own lust and arousal. I hated so much to disappoint him, but I had to tell him the truth.

“Dude, if we’re going to do this, I need to take a shower first and like, get clean(I knew enough to know that neither one of us would enjoy the experience if I was dirty). He agreed and I spent almost an hour in the private shower room of the truck stop making myself ready for him. He was everything I had dreamed he would be. He was gentle and passionate and just the most marvelous and attentive lover. We went into the truck stop afterwards and he treated me to the best steak they served. I was falling in love with him and I was ready to tell him I would be his little trucker whore forever if he wanted me. I would have had his babies if I could have.

He broke it to me as we were passing through Houston after dropping the load off. “I’ve got to stop for a week and spend some time with my wife.” I couldn’t even answer him, I was so crushed. After a few minutes, I choked something out through a sob. ”Just drop me off here, please.”

He pulled the truck over to the side of the road in the emergency lane and put the blinkers on. “I’m so sorry, I thought you knew that this was temporary thing. I fuck around on the road, but I love my wife.”

With those words, he left me on the side of the road on the outskirts of Houston. I couldn’t blame him, I had demanded that he drop me off there. So there I was, standing on the edge of the freeway in a pair of tight grey dress slacks, wearing a white button down dress shirt and a pair of brown suede hush puppies with my thumb hanging out on the side of the freeway. It can’t have been more than 30 minutes, but it seemed like hours before someone finally picked me up. It was a bunch of what I guess were Mexicans in a pickup truck. I stretched out in the bed and slept all the way through the rest of Texas.

I know the guys in the truck were saying things about me but I didn’t understand them. I herd the word “puta”, but I didn’t know what it meant. Even now that I know they were calling me a whore, I can’t say they were wrong. I was a whore for the next 2 and  ½ years. I was a whore who was faithful to the man who paid her way, but I was no less a whore for all of that.

I don’t remember the name of the first guy anymore. I know he picked me up in Texas while I was trying not to cry after being dumped on the side of the road by Lewis. He took me up to Newcastle, Delaware with him and we had a wonderful weekend together cruising around the country side together in his Fiero and he made love to me in the most delightful, out of the way places. I fell in love all over again. I remember he had these insulated mugs from Snap-On, the tool company, that had these incredibly beautiful women in scanty clothes on them. I wanted so badly to be one of those women.

I spent just under 3 weeks with him before he basically told me to get the fuck out. I was devastated. I have no idea really where I went for about the next 3 months. It was a blur of truck stop to truck stop. I know I whored myself out for a meal many times, but to be honest, I have blocked those memories, so I can’t tell you about those experiences. I’m sure they were humiliating and demeaning, but I can’t share them with you because I don’t remember them.

I do remember one time that I got stuck in a truck stop outside of Little Rock for several days. I had been stuck there for almost 3 days and I was getting desperate. I sucked some guy’s dick back behind his truck after he bought me a plate of biscuits and gravy. It tasted so nasty and slimy that I puked up the food after I was done. I puked on the guy’s shoes and he hit me for it.

Then I met Doug. I didn’t have to seduce Doug, he did all the work He knew just how to turn me on and he sent my world spinning. He owned and drove a 1976 longnosed Peterbilt with a modified V8 cat engine under the hood. When after a few months on the road we went to his home on the Flathead reservation about 90 miles northwest of Missoula, I was enormously grateful to have his grandmother accept me almost like I was her stupid daughter. His mother and his grandmother never treated me like anything other than their exceptionally retarded girl-child.

I was in love with Doug. In truth I was more than in love with him. I lived with Doug for almost a year. I won’t say that it was the greatest year of my life because I shared many bad habits with him. It was in a truck stop just outside of Oklahoma city that I first injected cocaine(a bit too much, as it turned out) and Doug held me while I puked out the door of the sleeper compartment. We did a lot of coke together, although we never ever shared needles.(To be honest, I wonder if that really mattered since we never used condoms and I was his little fucktoy).

We were both madly strung out on crank(Crystal Meth, for those of you who don’t know what it is)We’d picked up a load of heavy machinery in Michigan, Hydroelectric generator parts bound for a dam in Idaho. Neither of us had slept for around 70 hours when the electrical systems on the truck began to fail. The headlights got dimmer and dimmer and the CB radio faded to the point where there was no reception. It was snowing so heavily that we could not see much beyond the hood of the truck. We were headed down out of the mountains around Flagstaff at the time. Luckily the systems in his truck were old enough to where we could switch the engine over to manual ignition and continue, using just our headlights with all the other electrical systems on the truck blacked out.

Doug didn’t trust me to drive, so we pulled over and spent a very cold night huddled up together while the snow came down so heavily you couldn’t see the end of the truck’s hood. The blower for the heaters ran on electricity so we couldn’t have any heat that night(I think the outside temperature was like 10 degrees Fahrenheit. Minus 15 Centrigrade, I think)). Anyway, it was really fucking cold. We kept warm by injecting the last of our supply of crank. I have to tell you, injecting ice cold crank into your veins is not an experience you would want to have.

The water we used to dissolve the drugs was right on the edge of freezing so when we injected it, it was like jumping out into the snow and rolling around, except it was inside your body. The only good thing was that it made us both horny and we warmed up by fucking.

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