Stephanie fucks on the breakfast table & in the river.
He was carrying a bottle of beer in one hand, his other hand stuck in the back pocket of his blue jeans. He had on a green John Deere T-shirt. His hair was long, dark brown, and pulled into a pony tail. His eyes were bloodshot and he seemed to be squinting all the time. I guessed he was in his mid-thirties. He had a slight paunch but broad, powerful shoulders. I noticed he was wearing black and white Keds running shoes.
Keds exchanged a few words with Nick, then opened the back door of the van and sat down on the bench beside my wife. The van rocked slightly as he got in. I could smell booze on his breath. He looked around the van for a moment, then at my wife. Carol sat with her hands between her knees, looking down. It was a defensive position, I thought, but it had the effect of squeezing her breasts together, which looked like an invitation. My cock was pumping.
"Well, he was right, lady," Keds said. He ran a hand through his hair. "You are something special." He lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a long pull. Then Nick got back into the driver's seat.
"Ain't she a piece?" Nick said, then looked at me and winked. "I'm tellin' ya." He was talking like a hillbilly.
Keds was leering at my wife. "So, how much is this gonna cost?" he said after a minute.
"Like I already said, you can look all you want for twenty bucks," Nick said. "It'll cost you fifty if you wanna touch."
Keds tilted the bottle back and poured the rest of the beer into his mouth. He dropped the bottle on the floor of the van, then sat up and reached behind him. He pulled out his wallet and handed Nick fifty dollars.
"I been on the road for ten days," he said. "Night and day. It's been a bitch. I've been dreamin' of tail for some time." He smiled at Carol, then at Nick. "I guess now I'm gonna get me some."
My wife looked at Nick, a question on her face. He smiled at her, then turned to Keds.
"You be nice and gentle with her, my friend," Nick said. "She doesn't do this every day, you know. We'll be keepin' an eye on you." Nick slipped a tape into the cassette player and pushed the play button. I recognized the music. It was from the seventies, Fleetwood Mac, I think.
Then he opened the door, looking at me and gesturing with his head for me to get out as well. I closed the van door behind me and looked around the parking lot. Nick walked around the front of the van and came up to me.
"Make sure nothing weird is going on back there," he said. "I'll be back in a sec." He poked me in the stomach with one finger, smiled and walked back towards the trucks. I took a deep breath. It was late afternoon, and windy. There was a line of poplars along the far edge of the parking lot and the sound of their leaves rustling rose and fell with the wind.
I walked around the back of the van and looked through the large windows. The curtains blocked some of the view, but I could easily see both benches. Keds was sitting on one and looking at my wife, who was laying down along the other bench. She was still in her bra, pantyhose and heels. I leaned into the side of the van to get a better view. I could feel the bass lines of the music vibrating through the van's metal body.
My wife lifted one leg, bent at the knee, then extended it towards the ceiling, running her hand along the nylon from calf up to her thigh. She repeated the motion with her other leg. She was looking at Keds the whole time.
He was watching her intently as well, occasionally nodding his head slightly. From time to time he would reach down and rub the front of his pants.
Suddenly there was someone standing beside me. "What's to see in there?" I jumped, startled. Nick was standing there with another guy. He was the opposite of Keds - short, skinny, probably fifty years old. He had a thin, dark mustache and a receding hairline. He was smiling at me, like he'd caught me in the act. He reminded me somehow of an old Desi Arnaz of 'I Love Lucy' fame.
"You can look for free for two minutes, then it's twenty bucks," Nick said.
Desi nodded at Nick, looked at m