Girls under Glass (the Professorís Secret) Part Eight:

Truck Stop

by Zapped

Once again, the 'good professor' has been busy. Read the previous part here.

   On a chilly night in November, a black Dodge Tradesman van pulls into a truck stop for gas, on the outskirts of a nearby city. As the headlights fade out, the driver side door eerily creaks open and the driver climbs out.

   “Hmm, better lube that door up soon,” thinks Jack Claussen to himself, as he twists off his gas cap and reaches for a nozzle.

   The man cusses out loud as his eyes focus on the price per gallon advertised directly above the pumps. He exhales, then mumbles under his breath: “What a frickin’ racket !” as he inserts the nozzle into the nearby empty tank.

   The old man begins to rub his weary eyes with his free hand, as he patiently watches the digital numbers in the “price per gallon” column speedily add up.

   A steady ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump sound emits from the pump, as it slowly fills the van’s twenty gallon tank.

   Soon, the old man attempts to shake off the November wind that blows all around him. He notices a refueled milk tanker slowly working it’s way through the gears, as it heads back towards the Interstate.

   Moments later, a Mayflower truck comes down the entrance ramp to the filling station, now applying its “Jake Brake”. The resulting noise is so loud, that it completely drowns out the “clacking” high-heeled boots that approach the professor. The old man jumps a bit as an unseen hand touches his elbow.

   Claussen quickly turns his head in fright, only to be greeted by a friendly smile of perfect white teeth. A fairly attractive African American woman (possibly in her mid twenties), asks “Hey baby, how ya’ll doin’?”

   The woman quickly slips her cold hands back into the pockets of her opened black leather jacket. She shrugs her shoulders to try to shake off the cold, which causes her massive chest to heave out against the heavy fabric of her tight white knitted sweater.

   Claussen is caught off guard at first, but quickly recovers by asking, “What’s a pretty woman like you doing out here in the cold, practically in the middle of nowhere?”

   The old man winks, then quickly looks her over, noticing her black leather mini-skirt, matching knee-high boots, and the slight sheen from her nude pantyhose.

   “Well you know baby… I’m just lookin’ for some warm company,” the woman says, now biting her lower lip and rocking her frame slightly from side to side.

   Claussen laughs, then asks, “So what’s your name there, lonely girl?”

   “Well you can call me Missy,” replies the woman.

Claussen: “Missy, huh?”

   “Yep. Everybody always tells me: You know, ya’ll look just like that rapper…. Missy Elliott. So, everybody started calling me Missy, and now you can too!” declares the woman.

   Claussen cracks a smile, and then extends his free hand to the woman. “And so I shall,” he says reassuringly.

Missy: “Soooo… are you lookin’ fo’ some action tonight or wha' sugar?”

Claussen loses a bit of his smile, clearing his throat. He considers for a moment, how he will let the girl down . . .

   “Ah… listen Missy, you’re a very sweet girl. Please don’t take this as an insult, but I tend to chase after girls that are considerably thinner. Now, I’m not saying that you aren’t pretty by any means. . . Just maybe a little bit bigger than what I would be usually attracted to.”

   The woman’s body language quickly turns from friendly to standoffish as she places both of her hands on her hips.

Missy: “So let me get this straight . . . Ya’ll sayin’ I’m fat?”

Claussen: “I wouldn’t say that you are overweight . . . just maybe a little extra baby-fat here and there.”

   The old man begins to chuckle after his last statement, but notices the woman’s dejected expression and soon stops in fear of possibly getting his ass beaten.

   “No, but seriously though . . . you’re a very attractive girl, just not my body type,” repeats the professor.

   The two stand in the dim light of the truck stop, in a momentary period of awkward silence . . .

“Whateva’ ,” says Missy, now giving the “hand to the face” gesture. “Dats’ cool, not all guys is into big girls (the women pauses briefly, then adds) . . . But look, if you inta thin girls, than I’ll just hook ya’ll up wit Cherri. Lawd knows, she’s got one o’ dem tight lil’ bodies.”

   Claussen exhales, thinking that he just dodged a bullet, but then quizzically asks “Mmm, who is Cherri?”

Missy: “Cherri . . . my home-girl. She’s right over there.” (The woman points off into the distance, towards the far back corner of the filling station).

   Claussen squints, then glances between the gas pumps to see the woman standing alone, in a tan waist-length jacket made of suede and trimmed with white fox-fur. Her tight white stretch pants are glued to her firm African American booty, which pokes out ever so slightly from beneath the hem of her coat. Steam comes from her mouth, as she digs into her hand held leopard-print purse, searching for a cigarette.

   Before the professor can reply, Missy has already started on her cold walk back to the corner of the parking lot towards her friend.

Missy: “Call me fat . . . sheeiit, I’d give that old man a heart attack. This coochie is too damned fine, for his tired old ass!”

   Professor Claussen watches Missy saunter back across the parking lot, admiring from afar how the woman’s full, but yet firm backside shifts beneath her tight leather miniskirt.

You know, she would almost do in a pinch,” thinks the dirty old man to himself.

   Missy finally reaches her friend, and starts to give her the scoop: “Hey baby, there’s some old dude over there lookin’ fo’ some action. He says he’s only into skinny girls . . . Something’ bout’ I’m too big a woman to handle.”

Cherri: “Say what? . . . Did you bitch-slap his ass?”

Missy: “Yeah, yeah . . . Whateva’, ya’ll know how some of dem’ guys is funny. Anyway, it sound like you his type.”

   The two women share drags off of the same cigarette and occasionally look back in the professor’s direction.

   On the other side of the parking lot, Jack Clauseen looks at the progress of filling the gas tank; only nine gallons are left to fill . . .

   The two women finish their smoke, then Cherri turns to her friend and asks, “I don’t know . . . Didn’t that girl that disappeared uptown last week, get into a van?” The woman squints her eyes looking at the vehicle in the distance . . .

Missy: “Who you talkin’ bout, Lakeesha?”

Cherri: “Yeah you know, the girl wit’ tha’ corn rows.”

Missy: “Dat one who used to have a thang for otha girls?”

Cherri: “Yeah . . .that tough lil’ bitch.”

Missie: “Hell they haven’t found her yet? Dam!. . .  She been gone this long, she probly lying in a field somewhere, or under it!”

Cherri: “Yeah, well . . . you know tha police ain got a workin’ girl at tha top of no priority list.”

“Yeah, you know it” Missy says, now looking across the parking lot at the beat up van herself, then offers: “Well, This ol’ dude is harmless lookin’, believe me.”

Cherri pulls her suede jacket in tight to her shapely body, then thinks silently to herself “Damn it’s cold out here tonight!

   The two women shiver in place momentarily, and then Missy breaks the silence once again.

Missy: “Come on girl, it will be an easy trick. Beside, the guy is kinda’ cute . . . well in a elderly gentleman type of way.”

   Cherri rolls her eyes, then yells out “Say wha?. . . Dam sista, you know ya shit is cold, when you lookin’ forward to a pair of old sweaty balls slappin’ up against you!”

   The two women break out in laughter, giving each other the “high five.”

   “Girl, your one cold hearted bitch!” says Missy with a big smile.

Cherri: “Well you know, sometimes ya gotta do whatcha’ gotta do!”

Missy: “And don’ I know it, sista!”

   Cherri shakes her head, and twists her body as she laughs hysterically. After a few seconds, she begins to calm down then says “Oh hell, why not?” The woman quickly primps her hair, then heads of with her boots “clacking” in the professor’s direction.

   “Two gallons left” is showing in green digital lettering, just before Claussen turns his head to view the approaching woman. At first, he can only make out the shadow of a the shapely girl . . .  but once she walks beneath the pump’s overhead lights, her exotic looks soon come into view. At first glance, Jack quickly thinks: “Holy shit, she’s built just like Beyonce’!

   The stunning woman wastes no time . . .

   “Heeey, how ya’ll doin’ ? By the way, my names Cherri!” beams the woman, now showing a slightly gap toothed, but glistening bleached white smile.

   Claussen thinks to himself, “Wow, another set of pearly whites . . . these girls really know how to invest in their business!”

   The old man nods his head, then blurts out “Yeah, so I heard. It’s truly a pleasure! So how are you doing this evening?”

   “Aariiight!” replies the girl, now “crackling” her gum in between her teeth, and looking the man over as if to “feel him out” . . .

   As Claussen plays with the trigger on the pump handle (trying to land on the $80 mark), Cherri scans the parking lot with caution, then begins to unbutton her suede jacket.

  The professor places the nozzle back into the machine, grabbing his gas cap off the pump. As he does, Cherri opens the front of her jacket and steps up close to the old man. She cups both of her firm breasts with her hands, jiggling them up and down beneath her sparkling red sequined top, then asks “Soooo, we gonna get this party started or what?”

   The professor, not expecting to see such a sight . . . (particularly at a service station), drops the gas cap at the woman’s feet. The old man clumsily fumbles around, reaching for the cap on one knee. Now kneeling at just below the woman’s waistline, he slowly arches back upward. His nose is just mere inches away from the small imprint of her womanhood, which stretches a noticed cleft in the thin material of her pants. Claussen finally stands upright . . . in more ways than one!

   “Umm, ahh . . . (Claussen swallows hard) . . . Now, ah . . . what are you exactly willing to do for me anyway?” he asks, with a sheepish smile.

   “Baby, I do it all and then some” states Cherri, without batting an eyelash. (She crackles her gum to stress the point).

Claussen: “Ah, umm . . .ok. So, where should we . . . uh, do this?”

   Cherri shrugs her shoulders, then says “Hell, we can park over there behind that row of tractor trailers. Those dudes can sleep through anything, man!”

Claussen: “Ok, ok . . . Ah, well so let’s get over there.” The professor yanks the door open on the van, offering the front seat to his newfound friend.

Cherri: “Say . . .shouldn’t you pay for ya gas first?”

   Claussen wipes his brow, and then feels his cheeks start to burn . . . “Ah, right . . . I knew that!”

   Cherri smiles, crackles her gum while scrunching up her nose in a teasing way. She then waves her hand, as if to send the man off, and commands “Well, go on then!”

   Claussen’s heartbeat picks up the pace, as he quickly walks towards the building to pay for the gas. As he reaches for his wallet, he notices that he foolishly still holds his gas cap in his hand!

   Cherri shakes her head, then heads back towards her co-worker, who waist in the back corner of the parking lot.

Claussen: “Ok, now settle down Jack . . . She’s just a truck stop hooker. You don’t need to be acting like a total idiot!” he thinks to himself. But as he’s paying for his gas at the register, the thought of grabbing another tight black booty begins racing hot-laps around in his head!

   The professor walks back out to the van, quickly looking over to the far end of the building to confirm that Cherri is still there. She is.  His door squeaks open as he climbs back inside. The professor pauses for a moment, just before turning the ignition key. His heart rate kicks into overdrive as he wipes his brow once again (despite the cold weather outside). He cracks a smile, twists his body in his seat, then climbs into the back of the van for a moment. As he looks over his equipment, he mumbles to himself: “Just in case.”

   The professor quickly jumps back into the driver’s seat, fires up the engine, and then drives down past a row of parked tractor trailers.

   Cherri stands at the edge of the curb, as she takes her last drag off of a Newport. She hands what’s left of the butt to her friend, then says under her breath “This won’t take long.”

Missy: “I don’ know, girl . . . Some of them old dudes can be pretty kinky sometimes. Especially when they get they paws on some Viagra!”

   The two women break out in laughter, then Cherri turns to her friend and says “Sheeiit, I should be so lucky!”

   A moment later, Cherri steps off of the curb, then walks up to open the passenger side door of the van.

   From Claussen’s seated point of view, he gets a clear shot of the round brown globes tucked just inside of Cherri’s sequined red top!

Cherri: “Ok sugar, now drive on through until ya’ll find an empty spot between two tractor trailers.” A moment later she adds, “And pull in tight. That way the police will actually hafta get outta’ their car to be a bother.”

Claussen: “Woah, the cops?” They actually cruise on patrol through here?”

Cherri: “Yeah, thass right. What . . . Did ya’ll think we in Vegas? I don’t need to be gettin’ busted again!”

Claussen: “Ah right . . . Your absolutely right. Ah, how about . . . Those two moving vans over there (points to a narrow opening between two trucks).

   “Hell yeah baby, that should work,” assures Cherri, now applying a fresh coat of “frosted pink” lipstick upon her full, supple lips.

   Claussen wheels the old gas company van into the secluded spot between the two freight trucks, then shut off the lights and kills the ignition. He anxiously turns his head to admire the ebony-skinned vixen, that’s seated on the passenger side.

Claussen: “So Cherri darling, how are we going to go about this . . . You know, the money part?”

   “Relax sugar,” requests the woman, now checking her stacked hair extensions in the rearview mirror. She pulls the front of her coat open, letting it hang from the swells of her breasts, then pulls it off of her arms and flips off against the seatback. She then turns to Claussen, blowing a small pink bubble with her gum. She immediately sucks it back between her lips, then crackles it once agin in her gums.

Cherri: “Cash up front, Mister. The more of me you want, the mo’ you gonna spend!” The woman winks, arching her back slightly so that her breasts expand against her top, causing the curve of her rump to flex against the seatback. She adds, “And believe me sugar, I’m worth you every penny!”

Claussen licks his dry lips, then swallows hard in anticipation . . .

   Cherri cracks a smile, then says “ I just got three rules: . . .one, no kissin’ on the mouth. Two, nothing’ gets squirted in my hair, an three . . . Nothin’ goes in my ass! Got it?”

   Claussen, (now ready to rock-n-roll), smiles in agreement, then says “But of course not, my dear.” He quickly pokes into his back pocket to dig his wallet out . . .

   The two come to a monetary agreement, and then begin to climb into the back of the van.

   Claussen, courteously allows the lady to go first . . . then enjoys Cherri’s rearview, as the tight fabric of her white bellbottoms flexes in time with her tight buns.

   Cherri quickly unwraps her heavy wool scarf from around her neck, then folds it into a square and places it on the floor in the corner of the van, next to some old camera. She then reaches around her back to pull off her red sequined top . . . (Claussen watches patiently from a few feet away, noticing that her breasts barely give beneath). She slowly pulls the top up over her arms, as well as her head, eventually adding the removed item to the clothing pile in the corner.

   The poor overhead lighting of the parking lot creeps through the van’s windows, but only offers a hint of just how tight the woman’s body is . . .

   Cherri slides her thumbs into the waistband of her bellbottoms next . . . rolling them down over her hips, then bending completely over to pull them off of her calves and feet. She carefully folds the pants into a perfectly neat square, placing them on top of the pile. The ebony beauty tilts her head back off to one side, then coyly smiles across to the professor. The woman winks, then reaches behind her back to unclasp her lacy, fluorescent pink bra. She reaches inside the cups and pries them off of her breasts, then carefully folds the undergarment in half to add it to the pile.

   Claussen admires the way her breasts hang in place, almost like two perfectly formed teardrops . . . on the verge of rolling off of her toned, light brown torso.

   Cherri grabs hold of both of her jugs; twisting her dark brown nipples playfully between her fingers, as if rolling two pencils in sharpeners . . . They both spring to life, pointing outward with joy. The girl bends her neck downward at an angle, extending her tongue to its fullest length. Like a snake tasting the air in the summertime heat, Cherri begins to playfully lick her own nipples . . .

   “Damn you’re good . . .” states Claussen, now bedazzled by the woman’s activity.

   Cherri let’s go of her jugs, and then swallows the spittle that remains on her tongue. Unexpectedly, she claps her hands loudly together, reaching for Claussen’s belt buckle. She yells out excitedly “OK honey . . . Let’s see whatcha got!”

* * * * * * *

   A good sixty five to seventy feet away, the woman that goes by the name of Missy, rubs her hands together, then pulls her black leather coat in just a little bit tighter. She begins to get a strong craving for another cigarette, as she briefly scans the parking lot for the possibility of another horny customer. In silence, she thinks to herself: “Hopefully somebody with a working heater in their car, dammit!” She laughs slightly, until a brief flash in the corner of her eye, catches her attention . . .

   “Damn . . . I wonder if that dirty old bastard is there taking pictures! Missy yells out, “You go, boy!” She laughs in the cold air momentarily, until she pulls back her sleeve and looks at her watch. “Hmm . . . Been at it almost fifteen minutes in there!” she mumbles to herself, before rubbing her runny nose on her finger.

* * * * * * *

   Meanwhile, back in the van . . . .

   Cherri’s vision is suddenly one ultra-wide screen of blue. Although blinded, her nerve endings seem to have been tweaked up a bit . . . She notices a slight tingling sensation, traveling from her head, and working its way down throughout her supple, toned body. Within just a few seconds, the sensation begins to intensify. The woman fells lightheaded, yet her body feels heavy . . . As if walking across the bottom of a pool in eight feet of water. Each nerve ending seems to be pulsing together in unison . . . Making the prostitute feel almost ecstatic.

   “Holy shit! What brought all of this on?” thinks the girl . . . But oddly enough, she finds it hard to remember exactly what it was that she was doing before the sensation took her over.

   Soon a familiar thumping sensation begins to pulsate in her groin area, as her nipples begin to slowly ache. The waves are beginning to crest so frequently now, she feels as if she could faint . . . Yet she wasn’t quite sure if she was even fully conscious at this point.

Cherri finds herself short of breath, as if each effort to inhale and exhale required more and more strength. She wants to ready herself for the orgasmic impact that she knows is coming . . . yet her body refused to interact with her thought process . . .

   Cherri attempts to tighten up her tush, but suddenly loses any type of control . . . Her ass begins to spasm for a torrid minute or two, as she drowns in the waves that ripple through her body. For a brief moment, she thought she sees the outline of a body standing in the middle of the blinding blue light, however the continuing spasms soon bring a galaxy of stars throughout her vision.

   The spasms inside her buttocks began to slow briefly . . . As she feels the sudden sensation of being pulled forward and back . . . Followed by a noticed pressing sensation at the sides of her head. Cherri all at once, feels the urge to gag; however her reflexes seem to be slightly out of sync, and are reacting far too slowly to allow that to happen. A short moment later, a warm . . . rather soothing . . . sensation, much like that felt when swallowing cough syrup, is noticed.

   “Did I have a cold?” thinks the woman numbly.

   The cough syrup sensation continues, occupying her consciousness for several seconds, until her throat feels strangely full . . . .

   Eventually, Cherri feels the cool winter air that surrounds her beginning to creep back into her opened mouth and lungs. She notices movement ahead of her, shifting back and forth in the blue light’s brilliance . . . And waits patiently for that figure to come into focus. However, the strange sensation that nearly devastated her before once again begins to tingle between her legs. As the girl finds her rhythm once again, the blue light suddenly begins to fade into total darkness. . . . If the girl were to be granted one last wish, it would surely be the ability to relieve the numbing sensation between her legs.

   Cherri’s last thought before surrendering to the darkness is: “But whose going to get me off? I can’t be just left like this! I just . . . desperately need to . . . to get off!”

   Claussen (having just pulled himself out of the woman’s still gaping mouth), steps clumsily backward with his spent member drooping down between his legs. He grabs the nearest item . . . The woman’s white bellbottom pants, and wipes his drooling member off on the thin white material.

   Cherri remains perfectly balanced on her knees before him. Her head remains arched back and craned slightly upwards . . . Her determined dark eyes stare up at her lover’s last known position above her. A pool of semen can be seen slightly seeping back into the woman’s throat . . . Her hands remaining posed with her fingers gripping some unseen wind instrument.

   Claussen leans over the kneeling figure’s shoulder and admires how the center strap of her pink thong disappears deep down between her ebony ass cheeks. The old man reaches down over her back and slowly caresses the curve of her tush with his opened hand.

   Suddenly, a knock on the van’s door interrupts the erotic interlude. The professor quickly pulls his pants on in panic!

   “Yo Cherri, how’s it goin’ in there girl?” yells the unexpected intruder.

   Claussen suddenly feels a head-rush coming on. He quickly looks around for his trusty camera, yet it’s nowhere to be found!

   “Yo, baby girl . . . I need a cigarette, so I’m comin’ in for just a minute.” declares Missy, now grabbing and pulling up on the door handle outside.

   Claussen yells out in vain, “Wait a minute!” but the woman rudely decides to let herself in anyway.

   “Hey, can I grab a smoke real quick? I mean I don’ wanta hold ya’ll up or nothing,’” says the woman with a beaming smile.

   Claussen wipes off his brow, and then extends his sweaty hand to pull the girl up inside of the van.

   The poor lighting of the parking lot briefly reflects off of her co-worker’s nearly nude body (as only her pink thong is intact at this point), but Missy isn’t aware that anything is wrong at first glance . . . She notices the sweat glistening across her friend’s abs, stomach and teardrop shaped breasts.

Missy: “Damn girl, you actually workin’ up a sweat in this weather?” Cherri remains holding her stiffly kneeling position, with her arms and hands raised in what Missy recognizes as the familiar gesture of a blowjob.

   After there is no reply, Missy asks “Cherri baby, are you feelin’ ok?” She looks at her friend with suspicion. “Baby did you take somethin’?”

   The somewhat larger girl takes a step closer to take a look at her friend. As she reaches out to wave a hand in her coworker’s face, the extra weight slightly shifts on the van’s suspension . . . As a result, Cherri begins to unexpectedly tilt forward, falling head first towards her! A quick thinking Missy, catches her friend underneath the armpits, then lets out a shrill scream!

   “What the f*ck, man? What the hell did you do to her?” Missy’s breathing gets heavier, as her heart rate (much like Claussen’s) picks up the pace . . .

   The professor suddenly spots his camera beneath the discarded red sequined top. He quickly reaches down and picks it up, winding the camera frantically . . .

   “Yo! I said, what did you do to my home girl you mother fuc . . .”

FLASH!!!

   Missy is suddenly halted in time . . . Now surrounded by the same eerie blue light that overtook her friend just minutes before!

   For the first few seconds, all Claussen can see through his goggles are the woman’s glistening white teeth . . . Frozen in mid sentence.

   The old man sets his antique camera down on the van’s floor, then quickly exhales in relief. He waits for a moment to catch his breath, and then steps around the newly frozen woman to release her friend from her grip. Claussen wobbles the kneeling girl steadily back upright, until she balances on her own. He then turns and steps behind Missy, pressing his groin up against the woman’s full backside, then leaning her back until she comes to a rest, flat on the floor of the van. Her large breasts shift back beneath her sweater, like two large bowls of jello, until wobbling to a stop on her frozen body. Missy’s pretty round face stares up at the ceiling of the van, with a noted look of dismay . . .

   Claussen then bends over and picks up Cherri by her thin waist, admiring how her taught rear end only slightly jiggles as he moves her about. Cherri ends up lying beside her friend, flat on the van’s floor as well. She stares up at the old man with glazed eyes that are slightly rolled back in their lids . . . Her mouth still retains a perfect “o” shape.

   Claussen manipulates both women’s arms, until they rest straight at their sides. The man stands back up with a sly grin, as his legs straddle both of his unexpected acquisitions. He carefully steps over the pair and then plants himself back into the driver seat.

   Moments later, the beat up van creeps back out onto the interstate. In the back, the frozen cargo helplessly wobble against each other, shoulder to shoulder . . . As they await their arrival at their newly chosen destination . . . .

 

Continued in Long Term Vacation...


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