Anything for You


I stared bleakly into space. “So this is how my country repays me. I risked life and limb in Iraq and now I can’t get a job or a place to live.” I kicked at the ground. “Fucking politicians. They send us off to die, and when we come back, they dump us in the trash like a week old newspaper.”

I stopped griping, realizing that talking to the air in front of me wouldn’t help my situation. I shouldered my backpack, containing all my worldly possessions (which unfortunately did not include money), and figured I’d better walk to the next major town.

Unfortunately, when you’re stuck 40 miles north of Chico, CA on Highway 32, “the next major town” is a long way away. I had hitched a ride with a friendly fellow who was supposed to take me to Susanville, where I was hoping to land a job as a prison guard. Guarding prisoners had been part of my duty in Iraq. In fact, I had been a guard at Abu Ghraib as part of my first tour of duty, though I had not participated in the activities referred to as the Abu Ghraib scandal.

His car was a beat-up piece of junk that would have fit in well as part of the original fleet of Rent A Wreck. But when you’re hitchhiking, you don’t have much choice. I gratefully accepted a lift. And then as we went around a turn, my door flew off and dumped me into a patch of trees, which luckily I didn’t actually hit. I was more fortunate than the driver. The car went over an embankment, and the driver bounced his head off a rock and plunged into Deer Creek. As I found out later, his corpse was found in a backwater three weeks after the crash. The impact with the rock killed him instantly.

My possessions did not include a phone, and there were no other cars on the road at the time. So after shaking myself off and realizing that I had miraculously escaped with only a couple of small bruises, I decided I’d better start walking. After cursing out the government.

And as if things couldn’t get any worse, it was cloudy and dark. It looked like rain was coming. Five minutes later, it was. I bowed my head and continued walking as the cold drops began falling on me, thinking back to Iraq and wishing I could transfer the cold rain now to back then (and there) when we NEEDED coolness and moisture.

The road widened. This was a spot where vehicles could pull over, presumably (since there was only one lane in each direction) to let faster vehicles pass slower ones. I swung wide to stay on the side.

There was the sound of brakes and a horn honked. I looked up to see a truck pulled over to the side. The passenger door opened.

“Get in,” barked a gruff, feminine voice. “Can’t have you out in this rain catching pneumonia.”

“Thanks,” I replied, hoisting myself up into the cab. I closed the door and dropped my pack at my feet. “I’m Dan.” I buckled my seatbelt.

“I’m Keisha,” the driver replied. I looked over at her. She was tall, thick, and large-chested. And her skin was coal black. “What were you doing out there?”

“My ride crashed,” I explained, giving Keisha a quick summary.

Keisha got on the radio with someone and explained the situation, then turned back to me. “I got a delivery in Chester at noon. gaziantep escort That won’t take long. Then I’ll drive up to Medford and stop there for the night. Got a delivery and a pick up in Portland.”

She explained that she was an independent trucker. “It’s long hours, but I don’t need a house. This truck is my home, and I make enough to live reasonably comfortably.” For residence address purposes, she used her brother’s house in Ashland.

“What do you do when the truck breaks down?” I inquired.

Keisha laughed. “I take four days off at the end of every month and inspect absolutely everything. I used to be a mechanic, so if there’s any wear and tear or anything that looks like it might need replacing, I replace it at once. And for things like belts, I replace them every x number of miles even if they have no visible wear.”

I must have looked very impressed. Keisha grinned. “So, what about you?”

I told her about my four tours of duty in Iraq. And about how after seeing one-too-many of my friends have their limbs blown off by IED’s or their face turn to liquid from a rifle bullet, I decided to not re-enlist for a fifth tour. And then I got bitter as I growled how just because I have PTSD, no one would hire the veteran. “Bosses don’t want to make accomodations for PTSD. Companies pay lip service to our veterans but do nothing. And don’t get me started about our government.”

Keisha frowned. “Sounds like you have nowhere to go. Well, I’ll let you stay with me until Portland, anyway. That’s a big city, maybe you can get help there.”

I was in no position to bargain. I nodded gratefully and thanked Keisha. By now, we were in Chester.

“You stay here,” Keisha instructed me. “This will be just a few minutes.”

Sure enough, she was back in the truck quite quickly. She returned with two cheap premade sandwiches and handed me one. “The owner likes me. These are on the house.”

I thanked her again and ate my ham sandwich. It had been a while since I’d consumed food. I was also quite thirsty. I didn’t say a word to Keisha, but she passed me a water bottle and produced one for herself. “The owner figured we’d need something to wash down the sandwiches with.”

“Nice guy,” I commented.

“Yeah,” Keisha said. She finished eating and drinking and got back on the road. We didn’t talk much, as she had to focus on driving. We stopped at two rest stops en route. Then we pulled into the truck stop at Medford.

Keisha bought us both hamburgers, two each, and bottled water. Then we both found showers and cleaned up. I used my razor to scrape off my beard.

We got back to the cab, and Keisha insisted on tossing my clothes. I only had the ones on my back. “No offense, Dan,” she said, “but they were pretty rank.”

“None taken,” I replied. I got under the covers and lay on the mattress in the back of the cab, naked and clean. Keisha had on only a T-shirt (no bra) and booty shorts. “I don’t like to wear much when I sleep,” she explained, sliding in next to me and wrapping her arms around my slim frame.

Just at that moment, the radio crackled to life. Keisha reached over and yanked hatay escort it as far as she could towards her, then spoke briefly and put it back.

“We’ll be here an extra day,” she said. “The store in Portland I’m going to had a small fire in the back room. It’ll take about 24 hours for them to clean up.”

“All right,” I acknowledged.

Keisha slid back under the covers. “You seem kind of quiet, Dan.”

I nestled against her. “You’re being very nice to me, Keisha. I have no idea how I’m going to make it up to you.”

She started gently caressing my bare chest. “I might have an idea.”

“I agree to it,” I told her.

“But you don’t even know what the idea is,” she pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter,” I responded. “I honestly don’t know what I can do, so if you have something in mind, I’ll be happy to do it. I was trained to have a code of honor, and even though the big institutions haven’t held to their part, that doesn’t mean I should also stop being honorable.”

Keisha giggled. “You are still a good man, Dan. Circumstances conspired against you, is all.”

I felt myself blushing. Keisha’s lips found the back of my neck. I shivered slightly with pleasure.

“One thing about my lifestyle is that I do sometimes… get lonely,” Keisha murmured. She nibbled lightly on the spot where my neck merged into my shoulder.

“So you want me to pleasure you,” I remarked. “That’s your idea.”

“Yes,” Keisha whispered.

“Then take off your shirt,” I suggested. Keisha removed her shirt and I pivoted in her arms. I kissed her neck and moved slowly down towards her upper chest.

“Take your time,” she husked. “That feels nice.”

I did indeed take my time. I gradually kissed my way to her cleavage, and slowly trailed my tongue along it. There wasn’t much room in the back of the cab, so Keisha and I were naturally pressed together.

When I finished with her cleavage, I kissed my way up the underside of her breast to her nipple and began gently suckling. Keisha’s arms wrapped around my head and I felt her shiver. After a bit, I switched to her other nipple.

It was about that time that I felt something poking against my leg, separated from my bare flesh by Keisha’s shorts. I stopped what I was doing and started to disengage my mouth from Keisha’s nipple to ask her.

Before I could speak, Keisha seemed to know what I was going to ask. “Yes, that is what you think it is.”

I quickly evaluated my situation. Quick evaluations are part of combat training. If I got Keisha upset, she could simply leave me on the side of the road. Plus which, I had agreed to pleasure her, and right now the only thing of value I had in life was my word of honor.

“This doesn’t change anything,” I told her. “Except the details of how you would like me to satisfy you.”

Keisha pulled off her shorts, leaving us both naked. “Go ahead and kiss down to it.”

I did, proceeding slowly down her belly and eventually reaching her organ. “I’ve never done this before,” I informed her. “So you may need to guide me a bit.”

Keisha laughed. “It would be my pleasure… literally.” She spread hatay escort her legs as much as the cramped confines allowed. “Start by kissing the head, then using your tongue.”

I obeyed, first kissing the tip of her pole, then slipping my lips down over it so I could run my tongue in circles. Keisha’s hands found the back of my head and gently pressed downwards. I opened and took a bit more of her in.

“Nice and easy,” Keisha whispered. “Wouldn’t want to choke you.”

I gradually moved my mouth downwards, using my tongue to lick along the sides of Keisha’s member. It throbbed a bit as I did so. Keisha’s soft moans confirmed she liked what I was doing.

After a bit, Keisha lifted my head off her pole. “Rotate your body, Dan.”

I did so. I was now facing away from her. I leaned back and pressed against her. “You’re a gorgeous woman, Keisha.”

Keisha kissed my neck as she slid me along her body. “Says the man who can’t actually seeme right now.” It was true. The only light was the dim starlight that came in through the cab windows. We were essentially doing things by feel.

“I saw you, clothed, when you picked me up,” I reminded her.

“So you did,” she giggled. Her pole was rubbing between my butt cheeks. “Have you ever had anything back here?”

“No,” I acknowledged.

“Then I’ll be gentle,” she whispered. And she was. She moved inward very slowly, allowing me to adjust. And when she was fully inside, she took her time and established a soft rhythm. My own pole was throbbing as she made tender love to me.

“You feel amazing,” she purred. “So tight. I could get used to this.”

“I’m glad you like,” I grinned. Truth be told, the feeling was actually kind of nice now that I was getting adjusted to it.

Keisha wrapped her arms around me and held me close as she pumped into me. She kissed my neck with intensity. “I can’t… last much longer,” she panted. “Too good… too tight…”

Sure enough, she filled me with her seed. My rod throbbed even harder as she did. Keisha reached a hand down to it.

“You need some relief,” she husked. “Why don’t we turn around, and you can fill me up?”

“Good idea,” I replied. We managed to rotate our bodies. I rubbed my rod against Keisha’s pucker. I moved slowly, just like she had.

“Oh yes,” Keisha moaned. “It’s been too long.”

I established a steady rhythm and, in mere moments, was ready to blow. With Keisha’s vocal encouragement, I painted her insides white.

My cock softened and slipped out. Keisha wrapped me in her arms. “That was wonderful, Dan. I really needed that.”

“I enjoyed it, also,” I told her.

The next morning, after we woke, we fucked each other again. Then Keisha loaned me some clothes, and we went inside to eat and then shower. En route to Portland, we stopped and Keisha bought me some clothes that fit.

“I’ve been thinking,” Keisha said as we approached the city. “You have, by your own admission, nowhere to go. I could use an extra body to assist me and a man to be my slave… er, companion… in bed.”

“And in return, you’ll feed me and we’ll live together in the truck?” I asked.

“You got it,” Keisha smirked.

“Deal,” I told her. “It sure beats living on the streets.”

Since then, I have been Keisha’s “assistant”, and have gotten quite used to her filling my ass with her seed. She likes me to fill her, too. It’s not a bad life.

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