TITLE    : Upon a Highway, Traveling West
STORYID  : upon-a-highway-traveling-west
SUMMARY  : Loneliness, lust and lethality on a Texas highway in 1970.
AUTHOR   : slyc_willie@lit
DATE     : 2015-04-01
CATEGORY : erotic-horror
FLAGS    : h
TAGS     : |hitchhiker|oral sex|highway|corruption|blowjob|straight sex|hippie|truck|deputy|reluctance|


<em>(Author's note: this story requires a little patience and faith on the part of the reader to understand why it is placed in the Erotic Horror section. If Literotica had a Mystery/Thriller category, I would have submitted it to that. At any rate, I hope you enjoy this little tale. The idea for it came to me while watching "No Country For Old Men." Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction, with fictionalized characters, and that the views expressed by those characters don't necessarily reflect my own.)</em>



* * * *



<em>West Texas, Early July, 1970 . . . .</em>



Hot southwestern winds sent dust dancing across the simple cross stabbed into the ground. Composed of a pair of dead branches lashed into shape by twine, there was no name upon the cross, no date. But the fact that it lay above a small mound of piled stones provided little doubt that the cross marked a scene of death. Bethany had seen many such crosses across the country; the roadmap of America, it seemed, was a trail of Death's travels.



<em>It's actually kind of elegant</em>, the pretty, sun-warmed brunette thought with a small smile. <em>Simple and direct. "This is where someone died." No fanfare, no procession, just a little marker to let the rest of the world know that "A. Person" spent their last breath here.</em>



Adjusting the straps of the backpack she wore, Bethany continued down the lonely stretch of road, letting the wind do its job of cooling her sweaty skin. Her voice lilted as lyrical words spilled from her lips.



<em>"End of the spring and here she comes back</em>



<em>Hi, hi, hi, hi there</em>



<em>Them summer days, those summer days . . . ."</em>



* * * *



The rattle within the truck was beginning to annoy him. It had begun, intermittently, a few weeks before. Now it was a constant, rapidly-clacking drone of just the right pitch that even Hank Williams on the radio or the wind rushing through the windows couldn't drown out.



<em>Gotta get that checked</em>, Frank told himself. <em>Last thing I need is something loose jumping around in the engine.</em>



Dark eyes scanned the nearly featureless expanses to either side of the highway. West Texas wasn't much to look at in the best of times, and a hot, dry summer day didn't qualify in Frank's mind as the "best" of anything. Especially when he was on the road to El Paso, and it seemed his reflection in the rear view mirror was the only thing close to human he was bound to see.



<em>Come on, God, don't make this another boring trip. Give me something interesting to look at . . . .</em>



His thoughts trailed as he detected a figure strolling along the side of the road ahead. Eyes narrowed. His right hand settled to the edge of the bench seat, fingers touching the handle of the Bowie knife he kept affixed to the underside of the seat. But as the truck ambled closer, the figure coalesced gradually into something unmistakably feminine.



He arched a brow in interest, absently tapping the wedding band on his finger against the steering wheel, and finished his thought: <em>. . . or do . . . .</em>



The truck slowed as it neared the woman, giving Frank time to make a quick assessment. If she was ugly, he reasoned, he could just continue on. But, he realized as the woman turned and her features were revealed, she was not ugly. In fact, she was quite attractive even given the circumstances.



He gave a small smile as the woman waved her arms. The flannel shirt she wore was tied in a simple knot beneath her breasts, showing off a flat midriff and a teasing amount of cleavage that jiggled slightly with her gesturing. <em>Thank you, God</em>, he thought as he pulled the truck over just a handful of paces ahead of the hitchhiker. He watched in the mirror as the woman bounded up, grateful smile adorning her face.



"Oh, man, are you a godsend," she gushed as she reached the open window. The woven headband and wooden beads in her hair loudly proclaimed her as anything but local. The aroma of sweet, feminine sweat wafted into the cab from her sun-kissed skin. She looked to be just a step away from sunburn.



"Your car break down or something?" he asked, though the presence of the over-stuffed backpack told him the girl didn't own a car.



"Nope," she said. "Just making my way west."



Frank's brow furrowed. "No place in particular?"



"California, eventually," she said, eyes drifting around inside the truck's cab. "So, um, you gonna give me a ride, man?"



He chuckled dryly. "Sure," he said, leaning over to pull up the lock. "I can take you as far as El Paso."



She shrugged off the bulky backpack. "Works for me," she said as she jerked open the door and slid in. Frank's eyes fell to the smooth, tanned flesh of her thighs. Her shorts weren't doing much to maintain a sense of modesty. The woman pulled the door closed and offered her hand. "I'm Bethany."



He gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Frank Wesley Tilden," he responded.



Bethany gave a funny smile. "I wasn't expecting a formal introduction," she remarked.



Frank chuckled again as he guided the truck back onto the highway. "Well, this is Texas," he said. "We like to keep to certain conventions round here."



She nodded. "So I guess you can tell I'm not from Texas."



He smirked. "You ain't from any place south of the Mason-Dixon line, I can tell that."



It was her turn to laugh. "Nope. New Hampshire."



"You been hitchhiking all the way from New Hampshire?" he asked, incredulous.



Bethany nodded. "Second summer doing it, too," she confirmed. "It's a pretty quick trip until I get down south. Well, as quick as hitchhiking can be, I suppose. Then it slows down."



"I can imagine," Frank drawled. "So, you're just wandering from place to place, is that it? 'Til you get to where you're going?"



She nodded. "Something like that. You might say I'm on a personal crusade, looking for all the good people in the world."



He made a face. "Found any yet?"



"A few," she said with a sly smile. "Not as many as I'd like, but the others I just leave behind. No sense thinking about them if they aren't worth thinking about, right?"



"Interesting way to look at things."



"Just how I am, man," she said. "Love the good ones, damn the bad ones. 'Course, sometimes I end up doing both at the same time, and then it gets tricky."



Frank wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he looked for something else to talk about. He glanced to the woman's bundle of possessions, which she presently used as a footrest. "Least it looks like you planned well."



She followed his eyes. "Yup. Got everything I need. Clothes, toiletries, blanket and pillow." Her booted foot tapped the top of a handle. "Even a World War Two trench tool, just in case I need to bop someone on the head."



"Well, you can't be too careful, right?" Frank asked rhetorically. "Especially now."



The young woman's brow furrowed. "Why especially now?" she asked.



"Guess you ain't had much chance to read the papers or see the TV much," he said. "But police been told to keep a lookout for suspicious activity on the highways. Seems some folks been winding up dead. They think it might be one'a them pattern killers or whatever they call them."



Bethany pursed her lips for a moment in thought. "Anybody know anything about the guy?" she asked carefully, cautious eyes roaming over Frank. He looked to be in his early thirties, she judged, well-built and rugged. The kind of man, she was sure, who had seen a few bar fights now and then.



"Not a thing," Frank said. He shot her a warning look. "You might want to think about catching a plane to California once we get to El Paso."



She laughed sharply. "Not gonna happen, man, unless good looks have suddenly become currency."



He gave her a flirtatious look. "If that was the case, you could buy your own plane and fly it wherever the hell you want."



Bethany rolled her eyes, but the smile remained.



"So, what's so important about California?" Frank asked, keeping the conversation going. "You got family there, waiting for you?"



"No, just some friends I haven't met yet," she quipped.



He eyed her with mock suspicion. "You one'a them hippie types?"



Bethany chuckled. "I don't care for labels too much," she declared. "I'm young and I'm free and I just wanna enjoy being young and free. Life is for living, man, that's why God gave it to us. You wanna call me a hippie, that's your bag, man. I'm just a woman on the road, living the experience."



Frank shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever tunes your tractor," he said.



* * * *



Conversation flowed across casual and friendly lines as the afternoon wore on. Bethany and Frank learned as much about one another as amiable strangers were willing to share. Enough, at the least, to feel comfortable in each other's presence.



"How often do you make this drive?" Bethany asked after Frank had explained his work.



"Two, three times a month," he said.



"Bet your wife must hate these weekends when you're gone, huh?"



Frank glanced to the ring on his finger. "Sometimes, it's a blessing," he grumbled. He chuckled ruefully. "Absence making the heart grow fonder and all that."



"Still, I admire a man who honors his promises," she said pointedly. "We need a lot more of that in the world. Maybe, if our politicians weren't so damned corrupt, if they were more like the everyday man, we wouldn't be fighting a needless war and have so many homeless people."



He cast the young woman a sidelong look. "I voted for Nixon. I think he's a good man. And I served two tours of duty in 'Nam, '65 to '67. Now, unless you want to get back to walking, I'd suggest we change the subject."



Bethany opened her mouth to retort, but she was aware that she wasn't on a college campus lawn arguing with poli-sci majors. So she kept her mouth shut, giving a simple nod of assent instead.



A small collection of buildings ahead indicated a town, with a wind-beaten yellow and white Shell sign standing prominently against the sky. Frank glanced to the fuel gauge on the dash.



"Gonna fill up," he announced, pulling off the highway and into the gas station. "Maybe you want to, uh, use the facilities?"



Bethany perked at the idea of cleaning herself of highway dirt. "You're not gonna take off and leave me here, are you?"



Frank shrugged, parking the truck by one of the two pumps. "If I did, I'm sure you could find another ride."



She narrowed her gaze in a semi-playful frown. "Seriously, man."



His only return was a drifting chuckle as he stepped from the truck. Making his way around, he noticed a Dodge sheriff's deputy cruiser rolling in off the highway, making its way slowly across the parking lot. The man within -- typically wearing a broad-rimmed cowboy hat and reflective sunglasses -- turned his head toward Frank, assessing him.



Frank just gave the deputy a customary nod and thin smile.



Behind him, the passenger door popped open, signaling Bethany's departure from the truck. Frank watched the deputy, noticing the way the man did a double-take at the sight of the hippie girl, the way his features twisted in a frown.



<em>Great</em>, Frank thought. <em>I might not be a big fan of the hippies, but a lot of these small towns downright hate them. This better not mean trouble.</em>



"I'm gonna use the bathroom," Bethany announced, hefting her backpack.



For a moment, Frank considered telling the girl to get back in the truck and driving off. The tank still had a few gallons left, after all; they could make it to the next town. But that would look suspicious to the deputy, and Frank new it.



"Don't take long," he cautioned.



"Aw, you miss me already?" Bethany asked playfully before heading across the parking lot . . . and right past the deputy's car. Frank watched carefully. The deputy pushed open his door and eased out, shaking his head in what Frank took to be disgust. The deputy looked after the girl as she stepped inside the small store, then turned and trained his attention on Frank.



* * * *



Gas station hot dogs weren't Bethany's idea of fine cuisine, but food was food and she had not eaten since early that morning. Feeling fresher from a quick wash-up in the station's ladies' room, she paid for a quartet of hot dogs, some chips and a couple of sodas before heading back outside.



But she paused for a moment when she saw the uniformed man standing next to Frank at the truck. Her features soured briefly. <em>Wonderful . . . .</em>



Frank noticed her approach, as did the sheriff's deputy, who turned to look the brunette over.



"Where you headed, young lady?" the man called in an authoritative voice.



"West," Bethany answered simply. She did not like that the deputy barred the way to the passenger side of the truck.



"Holy Jesus," the man grumbled. "What is it with you hippie kids? I see more of you every year, doing God knows what to hitchhike across the country. You wouldn't be doing anything unsavory now, would you, young lady?"



Bethany indicated her armful of refreshments. "Well, I haven't tried the hot dogs yet," she quipped. "I'll let you know if they're unsavory."



The deputy glared. "You watch your tone, little lady," he warned. "I ain't got no problem taking you in on a count of vagrancy."



Though pride compelled her to snap back, Bethany restrained herself, glancing away.



"That's what I thought." The deputy turned back to Frank. "You don't mind, I'd like a word with your, uh, lady friend."



Frank stayed quiet. Despite the deputy's civil words, he knew the subject wasn't open to debate. Instead, he gave Bethany what he hoped was recognized as a supportive look.



"What's going on?" Bethany asked indignantly.



The deputy turned to face her squarely and settled his hands on his hips. The young woman stared at her own reflection in the man's sunglasses. Though she couldn't see the man's eyes, the sneer upon his lips made her stomach twist.



"Just gonna ask you some questions," he said. "In private. Now, go on and put your things down in the truck."



Bethany frowned, glancing to Frank as if hoping he could or would do or say something. But Frank looked as annoyed and helpless as Bethany.



"Fine," she muttered, and set the collection of food and snacks on the passenger seat, then turned toward the deputy with an expectant look.



"Come on," he said, already stepping away. "Won't take long."



Her face radiating quiet anger, Bethany followed. Her anxiety was piqued once more as the deputy led her not toward his patrol car parked before the gas station's store, but around the side . . . toward the public restroom she had used just minutes before.



Frank watched them go, perturbed as well that the deputy disappeared around the edge of the building. He felt a moment's worth of worry, but forced the feeling aside. <em>No use messing with the law if I don't got to</em>, he thought.



* * * *



With a predatory smile, the deputy pulled open the door to the restroom. A lingering aroma of soap, mingled with less pleasant odors, wafted out as the man stood to the side, gesturing to Bethany. With reluctant obedience, she stepped within, then yelped as she was suddenly shoved from behind. She stumbled several steps ahead, nearly falling atop the room's only toilet.



"What's your deal, man?" she cried, spinning around.



The deputy closed the door and reached up to remove his sunglasses. "Don't you sass me, you God damned hippie. Yeah, I know what you are: a God damned, reefer-smoking, free-loving hippie. Been hearing all about you types, insulting our great nation by burning the flag and dodging the draft. What, y'all think you're special? Don't wanna follow the laws like all good Christian Americans?"



Bethany glared back, trembling with a mixture of fear, anger and revulsion.



The deputy chuckled ruefully, shaking his head. He slipped the billy club from its loop on his belt and lay it across the sink, then took a step backward until he was almost against the door. Bethany watched the man's deliberate movements.



"I've done nothing wrong to you," she said carefully.



"You insult me with your presence," the man spat. "Now, I'm gonna make this quick. You got two options, you fucking hippie. One, you can grab that billy club and hope you can get at me before I draw my Smith and Wesson and blow your brains out all over the toilet."



Bethany swallowed thickly. "Or, two?"



The deputy grinned lasciviously. "Two," he said, reaching for the zipper of his dark slacks. The teeth grated as the zipper was pushed down. "You can find something else to do with that mouth other than talking back."



The anxiety Bethany felt ebbed slowly away as a numb calmness came over her. Now that the parameters had been set, the choices given, she had a better understanding of the situation. She took a breath and gave a small nod.



"Alright," she said, a single word that signaled her capitulation.



The deputy grinned knowingly. "Get undressed, first," he ordered.



Begrudgingly, Bethany slipped off the backpack and set it behind her upon the closed toilet seat. She untied the knot of her shirt and slipped the garment free from her shoulders. She wore nothing beneath. Her breasts sat firmly upon her chest, only slightly lighter in tone than her bronzed skin.



The deputy stared, eyes glazing slightly. "Well, damn," he muttered. "You might be a God damned hippie, but you got nice tits. Now come on, let's see the rest."



Bethany unsnapped her denim shorts and shimmied them, along with a pair of plain white cotton panties, down her toned thighs. She gathered her clothes and placed them on the floor beside the toilet, then straightened before the man, content to let him have a good look.



His eyes fell to the juncture of Bethany's thighs. "Christ, look at that beaver," he said. "How many times you spread that for one'a your hippie friends?"



Bethany remained silent, taking the deputy's words as rhetorical. The man scowled at her quiescence, but his growing arousal mitigated his churlishness.



Three steps was all it took to reach the deputy. Bethany stared into his smug face. He smelled of body odor, cigarettes and cheap cologne.



"Yeah, that's what I thought," he growled under his breath as Bethany lowered herself to her knees. He kept one hand on the butt of the pistol at his belt and watched the girl as she separated the fabric around his growing bulge. "Just a God damned, dick-sucking hippie slut . . . ."



A strong, musky odor emanated from the man's crotch as she extracted his cock through the fly of the man's striped boxers. Bethany wrinkled her nose, thinking the deputy must not have had a shower that day. She took a moment to steel herself as she felt the man's shaft growing rigid in her light grip.



"Go on, you hippie bitch," urged the deputy. "I ain't got all day."



<em>Get it over with</em>, she told herself, then opened her mouth and engulfed the man's cock. She took it to the root with ease, feeling the spongy head against the back of her throat. The deputy's testicles were hairy and matted with sweat as they pressed against her chin.



His left hand went to the back of her head, and he pushed against her face with a groan of pleasure. Bethany sucked, pulling with her mouth, not necessarily wanting to get the man off but wanting the experience to be over. Her tongue massaged the underside of his shaft. She bobbed her head. Her hands clutched his thighs.



"Dirty fucking filthy little hippie whore," the deputy growled, repeating his words over and over as if uttering a mantra. Bethany pumped her mouth faster and harder, feeling the tense throbbing through the man's cock.



In all, it took only a few minutes before the deputy stiffened and he let out a long, low, guttural groan of release. Bethany slid her mouth back to gather the man's ejaculating semen upon her tongue; if it had gone to the back of her mouth, she would have swallowed some and she wasn't about to give the man that pleasure. She lifted a hand, stroked his glistening cock to make sure the man spent every drop of bitter fluid in her mouth, then eased back, letting the softening tube of flesh fall from her lips.

<hr pg="2" />She steadied herself with a hand on the edge of the sink and spat the thick mouthful of fluid to the floor.



The deputy chuckled, reddened face glowing with euphoria. "Free love, right, you fucking hippie?"



Bethany glared up at the man and wiped her mouth. "There's no room in the world for corrupt souls like yours anymore," she declared.



* * * *



A few minutes later, Bethany returned from around the corner of the building, angrily stomping toward the truck. Frank felt at first a sigh of relief when he saw her, then concern.



"Are you okay?" he asked as the young woman approached.



"Oh, I'm just dandy," she said, then let out a short, harsh laugh. "What a pompous prick."



Bethany's demeanor certainly didn't give the impression of a traumatized woman. She looked more to Frank like an annoyed stranger who had to justify herself to a closed-minded jackass. "He's a pretty tense fellow, that's for sure," he said, opening the door for his passenger. "Lots of people around here, they see someone dressed a little differently, talking a little differently and just wandering through . . . makes them nervous."



"Why should that really matter, man?" she asked plaintively. "Aren't we all just basically the same? Black, white, male, female, rich, poor . . . none of that shit matters. What matters is that I'm alive and you're alive and why shouldn't we just enjoy that without worrying about some corrupt backwoods dickhead abusing his authority?"



Frank chuckled and closed the door. "Easier said than done."



Bethany sighed and took up one of the two remaining hot dogs from the seat. It was still slightly warm, but even if it had not been, she would have eaten it only for the sake of eradicating the bitter, metallic taste in her mouth.



She looked out the window toward the gas station while Frank started up the truck. "At least I won't have to worry about him anymore."



"Yeah? What did you say to him?" Frank prodded.



She looked back with a small smile. "I just appealed to his male ego. Works all the time."



Frank chuckled and put the truck in drive. "Let's get going. We might still make El Paso before it gets too dark."



* * * *



As if in ironic reply to Frank's words, less than an hour later the truck sat on the side of the road, clattering annoyingly. The rattle from the engine had suddenly begun to spike just minutes after leaving the gas station, eventually rising to an ominous, mechanical crescendo. With a bevy of curses, Frank had pulled the vehicle over and now cut the engine.



"Damn it!" he bellowed, slamming his hand on the wheel. He pushed open the door, pulled the hood release.



"Can I help?" asked Bethany as Frank headed around the front of the truck.



"Are you a mechanic?" he called back.



"Sorry, that wasn't on the curriculum at UNH," she said in an attempt to bring levity to the moment.



Frank popped his head around the side of the raised hood. "Funny."



Bethany shrugged and took up her can of soda. She watched through the gap beneath the raised hood as Frank went to work on the engine amid muttered curses of frustration, then popped open the door and stepped out.



Her eyes wandered across the desert landscape. For all its lack of features, there was a simple beauty to the scenery, a sense of natural virginity. <em>This is the world without the corruption of man</em>, she thought with a small, sad smile. <em>At least for now.</em>



She turned back to the truck, retrieved her backpack. She took several steps toward a large, lone mesquite tree that offered some reprieve from the late afternoon sun and stopped in its staccato shadow. Setting the backpack down, she took from it a worn checkered blanket and lay it out upon the ground.



Frank lifted his head from the engine compartment and looked to see what Bethany was doing. He frowned in annoyance. "This ain't no damn picnic!" he cried.



She glanced back with a casual smile. "Why not?" she shot back. "Maybe fate wanted us to stop for some reason, how about that?"



Frank sighed, hanging his head. "Please, don't give me that hippie shit now," he muttered under his breath.



Bethany looked across the landscape, raising her arms as if trying to summon the spirit of nature. She breathed in deeply, letting her mind cleanse itself of the <em>unsavory</em> memories of the deputy.



<em>The hell is she doing?</em> Frank wondered. <em>Man, I sure hope she ain't gonna pull out a bag of weed and light up a doobie. That'd be just my luck she does something like that, and along comes Mr. Protect-And-Serve . . . .</em>



He watched the young woman for a few moments. She had fallen into a sort of dance, stepping and swaying back and forth upon the blanket she had spread out. Very faintly, he could hear that she was singing something, but the wind caught the words and spirited them away.



His frustration ebbed the longer he watched. There was a simple, almost innocent sense of freedom about Bethany, he realized. Briefly, his mood darkened as he thought that the world would eventually take that from her, one way or the other. It would almost be better, he thought, if she never left this place.



He stepped away from the truck and approached the dancing brunette. The lyrics fluttering from her lips became clearer as he neared.



<em>"I 'cloud nine' when I want to</em>



<em>Out of school, yeah</em>



<em>County fair in the country sun</em>



<em>And everything, it's true, ooh, yeah, yeah</em>



<em>Hot fun in the summertime</em>



<em>Hot fun in the summertime . . . ."</em>



"Who sings that?" he asked, stopping just a few paces from the woman.



Bethany spun around, smiling. She continued to gesture and move. "They're called Sly and the Family Stone, man," she answered. "But I bet you don't listen to anything that doesn't have a 'twang' to it."



He shook his head with a wry laugh. "You're something else, you know that?"



Bethany shrugged. "I'm just me," she responded simply. "<em>Hot fun in the summertime . . . .</em>"



"This really is your life, huh?" he asked awkwardly. "I mean, going wherever you want, doing whatever you want, not caring about the next day 'til it gets here."



She beamed. "Isn't that what life is supposed to be about?" she trilled. "Why let it get bogged down with responsibilities you don't need to take on? And the ones you do take on, you keep them close, man. You take them seriously and never let them go."



"Even if you made a mistake?" he asked. The thumb and forefinger of his right hand twirled the wedding ring on the other.



The smile faded slowly as Bethany looked to Frank's face. "Then you should be honest with her about it," she said. "You'll only hurt her."



Frank sighed heavily. "It ain't that easy. There's her family, my family . . . people just don't get divorced around here. We stick with it, like the Bible says."



She smirked. "You know the Bible was written over a thousand years ago by corrupt men who only wanted to control people, right?"



He frowned, shaking a finger at her. "Don't get going on that, now."



"All I'm saying, man, is that, do you wanna live your life in a loveless marriage just to make other people happy? Does that make sense to you?"



"That's just the way it is," he said.



"Not where I come from," she said meaningfully.



"Well, I don't live in your world," he said.



Bethany laughed. "It's all one world, Frank," she insisted. "And every year, every month, every day, it gets smaller and smaller. The world's changing, man. You don't have to stick to your little part of it if you don't want to."



He watched her with a wistful smile. "You know, part of me wishes I could join you."



"Well, you can, right now," she declared, suddenly reaching for his hand. Caught off guard, Frank stumbled and almost fell, making Bethany grunt, then laugh as he fell against her. His arms went out quickly to catch the girl. Her hands clutched his shirt, his arm.



Nothing but the wind passed between them. Frank studied Bethany's eyes, finding tiny reflections of himself within. It seemed to him that he looked different in her eyes. Happier. More free.



His gaze drifted to Bethany's soft pink lips. He smiled and leaned in.



"Frank," she whispered.



He paused, anticipating rebuttal. "Yeah."



"Are you sure you want to do this?"



His eyes reached into hers once more. "Yes," he said, then pressed his lips upon her own.



There was a moment of resistance, however brief, on Bethany's part. But it passed with the revelation that Frank was a grown man and more than capable of making his own choices, wherever they may lead. The consequences would be his to suffer, in the end, she knew.



But for now, the rapidly-swelling libido within Bethany's chest demanded satisfaction.



She moaned softly into his mouth, an indication of her compliance. The kiss became more torrid, and while Frank was a bit on the gruff side, Bethany didn't care. She sighed and tilted her head back, letting Frank's lips trail down her neck to her chest. He supported her weight with one hand at the small of her back while the other pulled aside the edge of her shirt, exposing a breast with its stiff, dark pink nipple. His mouth closed around it, sucking.



The lovers lowered themselves to the blanket, ignoring the stiffness of the ground beneath. Bethany's shirt was soon removed, and Frank's hands and mouth went to work pleasuring her breasts. She undulated wantonly beneath him, willing to offer anything he wished to take.



He stopped for a moment and pushed himself up on his knees over the girl, taking in the sight of her nearly-nude body. He practically tore off his own shirt, revealing a chest toned by a lifetime of manual labor. His hands went to his belt, undoing the buckle.



"Let me help," Bethany whispered with an impish smile. She sat up and reached for the snap on Frank's jeans, then pulled down the zipper. The swell of his erection was prominent against the underwear beneath, and after tugging down both the man's garments, it was fully revealed, jutting out thick and stiff.



Bethany cooed, taking Frank's cock in her hand. The aroma wafting from him was musky but not foul, as clean as she could expect from a man sitting in a truck all day. She caressed the pink head of his cock with a swipe of her tongue, and felt him shudder in approval.



"Do you want me to suck you?" she asked coyly, looking up at his face.



He petted her fluttering hair. "Please," he managed to say.



A small smile, perhaps even a sad one, decorated her lips before Bethany, for the second time that day, took a cock in her mouth. At least on this occasion, however, she did not have to suffer the degradations of the man she pleased. That accounted for something, at least.



Frank groaned as his penis was submerged in wet, sucking warmth. Such a delicious sensation had been a rarity in his life, and he was enjoying it immensely. He loved watching the way the thick length of his shaft slid back and forth between Bethany's accommodating lips, the way she serviced him with quiet fervor. One of her hands cradled his testicles, gently kneading them. The fingers of the other feathered lightly around the base of his shaft.



Despite the strength of his libido, Frank remained well aware that they were out in the open. He kept glancing to his right and left, looking down both lengths of the highway for any sign of an approaching vehicle. But fortune seemed to be smiling upon the lovers.



After a few minutes, Bethany released his cock with a wet popping sound and leaned back. "Care to return the favor?" she asked enticingly, lifting her butt off the ground to remove her shorts and panties. She tossed the clothing behind her and out of the way and casually parted her thighs.



Frank gazed hungrily upon the feminine treasure revealed to him. Bethany's pubic hair was wispy and light-toned, framing the sleek, butterfly wings of her pussy. She waited for his next move.



"I ain't, uh, pleased a woman like this much before," he admitted as he doubled over between her legs.



She gave him an inscrutable expression and tapped the top of her clitoris with a finger. "Lick right here," she directed, then slid the same finger down between her slippery lips. "And then all the way down there."



He smiled up at the woman, watching her face as he did as he was told. Her clit was a fleshy but firm bulb against his tongue. He could feel the warmth, smell the aroma emanating from her pussy. Following Bethany's instructions, his tongue dipped lower, between her warm folds. He found the flavor there bittersweet, unlike anything he had ever sampled.



She watched him through fluttering eyelids, propped up on her elbows. Frank licked up and down her seeping lips, sucked on her clitoris when she whispered for him to do so. Though the man was no virtuoso at cunnilingus, his eagerness to please was enough to stir the beginnings of an orgasm.



But then he stopped, easing himself up over the young woman. His engorged cock nudged the hair-lined entrance of her sex. "I want to take you now," he said.



Bethany did not respond, and barely made a noise at all as his cock pushed steadily inside her. She was a quiet lover, Frank realized. She winced silently, bit her lower lip. Her thighs spread further apart, booted heels hooking behind his thighs to urge him to go as deeply as he could.



Finally, she sighed once he was buried within her, a sigh they shared. Frank lowered his head to kiss her, a kiss she warmly returned. He shifted back and forth, in and out, sinking his cock inside her over and over. Bethany closed her highs and gripped his strong shoulders, giving herself to her lover completely.



She began to pant and sigh as her body rocked back and forth upon the blanket. Her pussy sucked insistently upon Frank's cock, clenching it rhythmically as she neared orgasm. With a final wincing grunt, Bethany's mouth fell agape and her body tensed. The orgasm washed through her like a silent, invisible tsunami.



Her eyes fluttered open. She placed a restraining hand upon Frank's chest. "Take me from behind," she whispered heatedly.



The man grinned. "Whatever you want."



Bethany pushed up and turned around, presenting herself on all fours with her hips pushed out and back deeply arched. The view of her sex was almost obscene, a primal sight which encouraged her lover.



She sighed loudly as he eased his cock back inside her body, and pushed back against his every thrust. Her breasts swayed. Sweat dripped from her brow, ran down her body in rivulets. She grunted, clawed the blanket, hissed and groaned. With each increasingly vigorous thrust from her lover, she seemed to become more and more of an animal.



Frank held on fiercely to her hips as his loins smacked against hers. He, too was sweating, veritably sheathed in the fluid leaking from his pores. He felt cramps forming in his hip, his thighs, but he was not about to stop.



Not when he was so close.



So close . . . .



With a suddenly cry of passion, Bethany tossed her head back, hair streaming across her face, and announced her orgasm to the world. Frank followed suit, burying himself to the hilt within her spasmodic womb, emptying his seed inside her. Their shared elation seemed to freeze the moment in time.



Silence returned, with only the dusty wind blowing across them. Bethany slid forward, feeling Frank's tumescent manhood slip from within her. The warmth of their mingled fluids trickled down her thigh. She turned sideways, sitting on the blanket as she recovered her breath. She gathered a handful of the fabric beneath her and pressed it against her oozing sex.



Frank emitted a long, low whistle of satisfaction. "That was . . . how do you guys say it? 'Far out?'"



Bethany responded with a simple smile. "Sometimes," she said, leaning back on her hands. She made no immediate move to clothe herself, as if waiting for something else to happen.



"I should get back to, uh, fixing the truck," Frank said sheepishly. "No way we're gonna make El Paso by night time--"



"What are you gonna tell your wife?"



The question shot through Frank like a bullet. He gave the woman a hard stare. "Now, why you gotta go and ruin a perfectly good moment with a question like that?"



She cocked her head, looking almost frighteningly composed. "I thought you were one of the good ones, Frank," she said sadly.



He averted his gaze, standing and tugging up his jeans. His eyes wandered around aimlessly, looking for something else to focus on other than the brunette's judgmental expression. "Get yourself cleaned up," he growled, then stopped, eyes narrowing as he saw something half-concealed within Bethany's backpack.



She followed his gaze, then chuckled dryly and took out the pair of reflective sunglasses. "I couldn't resist," she said enigmatically.



"Those look like the deputy's," Frank said cautiously.



Bethany slipped them on for a moment. "They are," she confirmed. "Or rather, they were."



He frowned. "How'd you get them?"



She took them off with a tired sigh and reached inside the backpack once more, this time retrieving a large, bulky revolver. "Same way I got this," she said casually, aiming the weapon with a steady hand.



Frank's eyes bulged in alarm. "Hey, hey, what the hell's going on?"



Bethany stood, now holding the pistol with hands, the barrel aimed at her lover's chest. "You disappointed me, Frank," she said with a tone of true sadness. "When you picked me up, you didn't come on to me, you didn't make any rude suggestions. I thought, 'okay, he's one of the good souls.' Boy, I hate when I'm wrong."



"Now, look," Frank said nervously. "I got a wife waiting for me, remember?"



"Were you thinking about her when you were fucking me, Frank?" Bethany asked bitingly.



"Hey!" he snapped suddenly. "You seduced me, you know?"



"How?" she asked. "By dancing in a field? Buying hot dogs? Talking about politics? How did I seduce you, Frank?"



She cocked the revolver.



"Jesus Christ! What about my wife?"



Bethany's response was cold and calm. "She'll be better off without you," she replied, and pulled the trigger.



The single report cracked loudly across the landscape, swiftly swallowed up by the whirling wind. Frank started, and for a moment he thought the girl had missed. But then he felt the heat spreading across his chest, and he looked down to see the large raised welt from which flowed a trail of blood down his chest to his stomach. It suddenly became a struggle to breathe. Blood began to bubble in the back of his mouth.



Strength fled his body. He collapsed first to his knees, and then onto his back. There was no pain, yet. He had been shot before and knew how it worked. In a few minutes, the pain would come flooding through his nerves in waves. He wondered morbidly if he would live to feel it.



The naked woman stepped into his field of view, standing over him. "Remember what I said, Frank. Love the good ones, damn the bad ones."



He nodded numbly, trying to speak. "S-sometimes . . . ." he managed to sputter.



"Yeah. Sometimes I do both, and then it gets tricky." Bethany raised the pistol, aiming it at Frank's head. "I didn't want it to get tricky, Frank, I really didn't. But you made the choice, and for every choice, there are consequences."



The man's only response was a sputtering cough that cast blood from his mouth.



"There's no room in the world for corrupt souls like yours anymore, Frank," Bethany said. She pulled the trigger again.



* * * *



Wiping her brow with the soiled remains of Frank's shirt, Bethany stepped back to admire her handiwork. The dirt-covered trench tool dangled from her hand.



A simple cross of wooden sticks taken from the ground stood over a small raised mound of piled stones and clay. It had taken some work to dig a hole deep enough for Frank's body, but the point was not to make it look like a grave, but just a marker.

<hr pg="3" /><em>Just another place where "A. Person" died</em>, she thought.



She cleaned up quickly, repacked her backpack, and dressed. A quick look through Frank's truck yielded the large Bowie knife attached beneath the front of the driver's seat. <em>Should fetch a few bucks</em>, she thought. She rummaged a bit more, finding scattered coins to add to the cash she had taken from Frank's jeans.



Satisfied she had found everything she could scavenge, Bethany left the truck behind and started walking, once more heading west, and once more with words drifting from her lips.



<em>"End of the spring and here she comes back</em>



<em>Hi, hi hi hi there</em>



<em>Them summer days, those summer days . . . ."</em>



* * * *



<em>Epilogue</em>



"Hey, Earl."



"Yeah, Pete?"



"You seen Deputy Morris?"



Earl didn't look up from the newspaper article he was reading, the headline of which read, "Highway Killer Strikes Again. Police Find Another Body in East Texas."



"He was in here about an hour and a half ago, dummy," Earl responded. "Hey, you read this article yet? They found another dead guy yesterday outside Hondo."



Pete looked out the window of the gas station he owned with his brother. "His car's still here, Earl."



Earl perked up, looking with a frown at the deputy's cruiser still sitting in the parking space before the gas station. He stood and stepped around the store's counter, followed by his brother. They stood at the window, looking upon the car.



"Maybe he's on the shitter?" suggested Earl.



"I'm gonna go look," Pete said. "He probably got hold of one'a your homemade burritos and now he's got the runs."



Earl scowled. "Just go look and see if the man needs help."



Grumbling, Pete pushed open the door and headed out into the heat. He made his way around the side of the whitewashed building to the brown metal door of the restroom, and rapped on it twice.



"Deputy Morris?" he called.



He knocked again once no answer came forth. "Deputy Morris! It's Pete LeFavreau! You alright in there? You outta toilet paper or something?"



Still no response. With an uncomfortable look, Pete tried the handle, finding it unlocked. "Oh, Lord, I hope you didn't have a heart attack or something, sitting on the shitter . . . ."



The sight that greeted Pete as he opened the door was far more gruesome than he could have feared.



Little remained of the man's head that could be recognized as a face, just bloody, pulverized flesh, muscle and bone smeared with congealing gore. Crimson ichor has soaked into the man's uniform. To say the man had been savagely beaten would be an understatement.



Across the dirty porcelain sink lay the weapon which had obviously been used to commit the murderous deed. The deputy's own billy club was smeared with blood and clumps of flesh. There was even a tooth embedded in it. Pete gagged, covering his mouth as bile threatened to rush up through his throat.



Quivering eyes looked to the mirror above the sink, and the message written upon it in blood.



"Damn the bad ones."



<em>-fin-</em>



<em>(I hope you enjoyed this twisted little tale. Please don't forget to vote below, and if you like, leave me a comment.)</em> 

