The CB Conversation and Whore session

We both woke up early. My body still felt sore from the gangbang the night before—my ass and pussy aching slightly—but my mind was already elsewhere. I figured there might be a few truckers lingering around who’d be interested in a morning blowjob. After all, I was chasing cash, and by the end of this journey, I wanted a nice stack in my pocket. Adam was getting dressed.

“How about seeing if any guys want a morning blowjob before they hit the road?” I asked.

“You are insatiable,” he said with a wide grin. “But I’m sure a few of them would be into it. Let’s grab breakfast first, though—I’m starving.”

We headed to the diner, and a few of the guys from last night were already there. They smiled and waved at me, and I returned the gesture with a flirtatious smile.

We ordered our usual: coffee and pancakes. As I looked around while eating, I spotted some truckers I didn’t recognize. Maybe they were just passing through, grabbing a bite to eat before continuing their haul. The diner and motel being open 24 hours meant people came and went at all times.

As Adam finished his last mouthful, I nudged him.

“It’s $25 for a swallow. If they want a quick fuck, $50,” I reminded him casually.

“Don’t worry, I remember,” he replied with a smirk.

He walked over to a small group of truckers, showed them something on his phone, then pointed over to me. Nods and smiles followed. A few minutes later, he returned to our booth.

“Alright, we’ve got about 30–45 minutes before we head out. I lined up four guys—three want blowjobs, one wants to fuck. That’s $125 total.”

“Perfect,” I said, pleased with the haul. “I’ll do the fuck first. Who is it?”

Adam pointed him out. I stood, walked over to the guy, leaned close, and whispered in his ear, “Come on, honey. Take me to your truck.”

He got up immediately, slid an arm around me, and said with a grin, “Yes, ma’am.”

His truck was parked just around the side of the diner. He unlocked it and helped me climb in. I moved into the back, slipped my panties off, and asked, “How do you want me—on my back or all fours?”

“On your back is fine, sweetheart,” he replied, already undoing his trousers.

I lay back and spread my legs. He pulled his pants down and slid right into me. We both groaned. It hurt a little—still tender from the night before—but I was soaked with leftover cum.

“Fffuuuccckkk, that’s wet,” he groaned, thrusting into me hard. He didn’t last long. After a few minutes of hard, sloppy strokes and shared moans, he let out a deep, guttural groan and came inside me, unloading fully. He stayed inside me a moment, gently groping my tits through my top with a look of satisfaction.

“Christ, darlin’. That was awesome. Just what I needed before hitting the road,” he said.

I smiled, and he pulled out and zipped up. I thanked him and climbed down from the truck, heading back to find Adam.

“That didn’t take long—good,” he said. “The next three are in these trucks over here. Everyone’s already paid.”

He pointed them out—they were parked side by side, which made things easier. I knocked on the first truck’s door. The guy opened it with a grin and motioned for me to come in. I climbed in, shut the door behind me, and knelt between his legs. He leaned back as I unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock, and got to work.

“Mmmm, that’s it, suck it, baby,” he moaned as I worked his cock with my mouth, slurping wetly, my head bobbing steadily up and down. He was rock hard in seconds.

After a few minutes, I noticed his breathing shift—deeper, heavier. I could tell he was getting close. I sucked him harder, tightening my lips around him, and that was all it took to send him over the edge.

“Yyyyyeeeeeaaa…mmmmmm,” he groaned, his cock twitching as thick spurts of cum coated the inside of my mouth. It was a decent load, warm and heavy on my tongue. I didn’t stop. I kept sucking until the last pulse finished, then pulled off him slowly, swallowing every drop. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and smiled up at the trucker.

“Thanks, honey,” he said with a satisfied grin.

“Anytime,” I replied smoothly, slipping out of his cab and heading to the next.

The next two went much the same—quick, eager, and generous. I did what I was good at, and left each man with a smile and an empty sack. By the time I finished with the last guy, my belly was full—part breakfast, part cum.

I found Adam waiting nearby. He glanced at me and asked, “All done?”

I nodded, licking my lips for emphasis.

He handed me the cash as we walked back to his truck. Another $125 in my pocket. Not bad for a morning's work.

We got into Adam’s truck and headed out, I sat and watched the scenery go by, I knew Adam was probably quite horny as he’s not had any action since yesterday and watched me get my brains fucked out, then knew I was sucking and fucking four guys this morning. So I decided I would give him some relief very soon, I just wanted my breakfast to go down. My ass and pussy were starting to feel normal again, my pussy was soaking, I lost count of how many dumped their nuts in there. After about an hour of general chit chat, I leaned on Adam, head on his shoulder, and I put my hand on his crotch. he was hard, so I pulled down his zipper and pulled out his juicy cock, the tip was wet with precum, I immediately got cock in my mouth.

“Oh yea, been dying to get some action”, he groaned as I swallowed his cock, I slowly worked his cock, saliva running down his shaft, lots of wet slurping noises, Adam groaning heavily, it wasn’t long before he was ready and put his hand on my head and he groaned and unleashed a torrent of hot spunk into my mouth, warm jizz coating the inside of my throat and mouth, “mmmm,hhhmmmmm”, Adam was groaning, he gave me huge spurts of nut. Once he stopped, I sucked hard on his cock and swallowed everything he gave me, pulled his foreskin up to get the last drops of jizz to appear and licked them off his tip, popped him back in his shorts and sat back.

“Boy, I needed that, watching you get hammered last night was amazing to watch and very slutty, I would have jumped on you last night, but I could tell you were exhausted”, he said.

“I was, and I loved every minute of it, you can arrange another tonight at our next motel if you like, I’ll see if we can get a freebie again”, I said with a devilish grin on my face, “Boy, you are something else, you know that”, he responded, I just smiled and blew him a kiss. We chatted for a while longer, and Adam turned on the radio, and he caught some truckers talking about me. This is how the conversation went.

[CB crackle… static clears. Male voices mid-conversation.]

BigRigRed: “…swear to God, Lenny, that’s what I heard. Girl out there ridin’ shotgun with some loner—name’s Adam or somethin’. Heard he lets other men… You know. Join in.”

LoneWolfLenny: “I heard she sets up in motels, leaves the door cracked. Cash up front. Whole damn story sounds like road legend bullshit.”

MudflapMike: “Not a chance. I ran through Cheyenne last week—got fuel next to a silver Tacoma with a girl hangin’ out the passenger window, looking like she owned the world. No shorts, no shame. That was her.”

BigRigRed: “You sure? Damn. If that’s the one, I heard she doesn’t even flinch when a guy drops his pants. Just smiles and asks how long he’s got before the next one knocks.”

LoneWolfLenny: “Jesus. What kinda man lets that happen?”

Brief static, then a third voice comes in—smooth, quiet, unmistakably amused.

DevilDriver88 (Adam):

“The kind of man who knows what she wants—and doesn’t stand in her way.”

[All chatter goes quiet for a beat.]

MudflapMike: “…Well shit. DevilDriver, that you?”

DevilDriver88:

“Heard my name floatin’ through the static. Figured I’d set the record straight—since y’all seem to be tellin’ my story for me.”

BigRigRed: “So… it is true?”

DevilDriver88:

“Depends what version you heard. But yeah. She’s not shy. Not tame. And not anyone’s but her own.”

“We pass through towns, we check into rooms. She makes her choices, and sometimes those choices involve a few extra shadows on the wall.”

LoneWolfLenny: “And you just sit there? Watch?”

DevilDriver88:

“Sometimes. Sometimes I hold the camera. Sometimes I hold her hair. Depends on the night. Depends on how polite the guests are.”

MudflapMike: “Hot damn. She got a schedule?”

DevilDriver88:

“She’s selective. Cash clean. No drunks. No drama. If she opens the door for you, you better act like it’s a goddamn church and you’re lucky to pray inside.”

BigRigRed: “And what if we cross paths out there?”

DevilDriver88:

“You bring green, she’ll bring the heat. You treat her right, she’ll ruin you real sweet.”

[Pause. Whistles. Laughter. The quiet awe of men realizing they’re talking to the source of the myth.]

LoneWolfLenny: “Shit. DevilDriver, you ever thought about writing a damn book?”

DevilDriver88:

“Nope. But I’ll let you know where we’re stopping, probably going to be somewhere near Joliet, Chicago.”

The CB chatter erupts in whoops, whistles, and low curses of admiration. The CB crackles again. The truckers are still buzzing, their voices layered with intrigue and heat.

MudflapMike: “Alright, Devil, since you’re spillin’ secrets—what’s a man gotta bring? Don’t wanna show up short on the dollar and get the door slammed in my face.”

BigRigRed: “Yeah, let’s talk business. What’s the cost to run a lonely trucker?”

Adam keys the mic again—slow, deliberate, no shame in his voice.

DevilDriver88 (Adam):

“Simple system, boys. Don’t want confusion on the highway.”

“Full ride—bare, no limits, anything goes? That’ll be a hundred even. She’ll leave you wrecked and grateful.”

“Quick fix, in and out, no story to tell? That’s fifty.”

“And if all you want’s her mouth wrapped around you while your rig idles—twenty-five will do the trick.”

There was a short, dead silence. Then a long, low whistle over the air.

LoneWolfLenny: “Damn. Cheapest religion I’ve ever found.”

DevilDriver88:

“Just be clean, be kind, and keep your hands where she wants ‘em. She doesn’t do mess or disrespect. You screw up, you’re out. Period.”

BigRigRed: “And she really doesn’t mind bare?”

DevilDriver88:

“She wants it that way. Says it’s more personal. Says she likes the risk, likes the heat.

MudflapMike: “You ridin' tonight?”

DevilDriver88:

“Always. But tonight’s hers. If she leaves the light on at the next stop, you’ll know she’s ready.”

The CB goes quiet again, but the energy lingers. Every man listening is now somewhere between turned on and haunted.

LoneWolfLenny: “God bless the I-80…”

DevilDriver88: [Last click of the mic. Voice low, steady, final.]

“She ain’t a secret, boys. She’s a storm. And she’s only just gettin’ started.”

I took hold of the CB mike and started to talk to the guys, hoping to drum up some business

Kaylee: “Mmm… y’all boys really can’t stop talkin’ about me, huh?”

The line goes dead quiet. Every rig along I-80 is tuned in, frozen.

Kaylee: “I love that. Love knowin’ I’m makin’ you shift in your seat just from my voice.”

“You want the full ride? I’ll ride you raw, make you beg, make you promise to never pull outta me again.”

“Or maybe you’re shy. Want me on my knees while you keep one hand on the wheel? I’ll take it all, baby. Swallow it like it’s mine.”

I let out a soft, dirty little laugh.

Kaylee: “Fifty gets you quickie. Hundred gets you 30 minutes, anything goes.

“You bring the cash…”

“…and I’ll bring the sin.”

I click off. Static hums like an aftershock. Someone coughs. Someone whistles low and broken.

MudflapMike: “Jesus Christ…”

BigRigRed: “I’m gonna see you later, sweetheart.”

DevilDriver88 (Adam): [Calm, amused, deadly sure]

“Told you. She ain’t just a story. She’s an experience.”

The world slid past in long stretches of heat and blur, the way only highway miles could melt time. Kaylee had my bare feet on the dash, toes painted cherry red, the wind teasing my hair from the open window. I watched the road roll out ahead like it was pulling me into something inevitable. Adam’s hand rested on my thigh, fingers warm and lazy. It wasn’t possessive—it never was. Just grounding. Like he liked to remind me he was there, even when I was drifting in her head. I began to think to myself “He never asks why I do it. Never makes me explain the ache I get when eyes linger too long or when silence stretches too deep. He just feeds it.”

It wasn’t long before we passed a sign for a truck stop, and we were both getting hungry, some nothing town with fuel, food, and the kinds of men who'd been driving hard and lonely.

That was when Adam spoke, voice low and knowing. “You hungry, baby?”

I turned to look at him, lips already curving. “For food or trouble?”

He smiled. “Little bit of both.”

We pulled in slowly, engine humming beneath them. I scanned the lot—four semis, a handful of pickups, and a couple of men standing out front smoking like the world owed them something. Adam parked under a leaning light pole and cut the engine. Before I could move, he leaned over, brushing his lips against my neck. “Give me five minutes. I’ll bring you a snack.”. I shivered, not in fear, but excitement, because I knew exactly what that meant.

I went into the diner and sat in a cracked vinyl booth, ordered food for both of us, a Burger and fries for us, Coke for Adam, and a shake for me, I stared out the window watching the world pass by in faded denim and leather vests. Then the bell over the door chimed. Adam came in with two men. One was a little older—grizzled, heavy boots, that trucker slouch like he’d lived behind the wheel too long. The other? Younger, twitchy, couldn’t keep his eyes off her legs. Adam slid into the booth beside her, kissed her cheek like it was a normal Tuesday. “They’re clean. Tipped in advance.”

I looked at the men, slow and deliberate. "I'll be quick. Don’t want my fries gettin’ cold.”

I told the younger one to come in first, and I headed to the restroom. I didn’t ask his name.

He followed shortly behind me, and we barely got in the room, he locked the door and turned before I had him against the wall, unbuckling him with practiced ease. I dropped to my knees, lips wrapping around him like I was born for it. I worked him fast, deep, and wet—because I knew exactly what men like him needed: relief, not romance. It wasn’t long before he came in my mouth with a stifled groan, hands clenched at his sides, and I swallowed without flinching.

The young guy zipped himself up, and the older one was waiting. I gestured with my finger for him to come in, and he closed and locked the door. He was already unzipped. He was rougher, grabbed my hair, and grunted my name like a curse. I let him. He tasted like cheap coffee and loneliness. I loved it. It didn’t take long for him to unload down my throat, which I swallowed every drop he finished. I pulled back, licked my lips, and stood like nothing had happened. I thought to myself, “Two mouthfuls. Fifty bucks. Not bad for 15 minutes' work.”

Adam was right where I left him, scrolling through his phone. My fries were still warm. I slid in beside him, kissed the corner of his mouth, then took a sip from his drink. “Took fifteen minutes. They’re lightweights.”

“You good now?”, I grinned. “For now.”, He reached under the table, hand finding my thigh again. “If you’re still hungry later… I’ll find you a third.”, “only if we have time” I said, I didn’t want to hold up the journey too much. We headed out to the truck and carried on our journey.

The sun was starting to dip when they hit the on-ramp, the I-80 stretching ahead like a promise whispered into skin. My legs curled up on the seat, denim shorts riding high, boots kicked off, the wind playing in my hair as they cruised west. Adam drove with one hand on the wheel, the other draped over my thigh, thumb stroking idle circles. It was like that with us—constant contact, no need for words unless we wanted to play.

I watched the sky go pink around the edges, watched the hills roll by like old bones, and felt that itch building again. The one that came after too much quiet. The one that tasted like need. Adam didn’t have to ask. He always knew.

"You feelin’ it?" he asked, eyes still on the road. I turned my head toward him, lips tugging into a grin. “Yeah. You?”. He smirked. “Thought you might be ready.”

I watched him lean forward, reach for the CB mounted just above the dash. His voice dropped into that low, easy register—the one he used when he wanted the world to lean in close.

DevilDriver88:

“Breaker one-nine, breaker one-nine—this is DevilDriver callin’ out westbound on the I-80. Got somethin’ warm ridin’ shotgun tonight, and she’s feelin’ generous. If you boys got green and clean, and your hands know how to treat a lady—well, we’ll be stoppin’ soon.”

“Room details comin’ at mile marker 220. You want in… you be ready.”

He clicked off and looked over at her. “That sounds good, baby?”

I felt my stomach flutter—excitement and desire winding together like smoke in my lungs. I reached for his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Let’s see who shows.”. They pulled off at a quiet exit, the kind that only locals and long-haulers bothered with. A cheap motel sat behind the gas station, neon sign buzzing, vacancy light flickering like it knew what was coming.

Adam got the room with ease, cash, no questions. Room 12. Ground floor, around the back where the trucks could idle close. Inside, I stretched across the bed, arms above my head, the scent of motel sheets and summer dust making my thighs ache. Adam opened the curtain just a crack—just enough for the boys to know which room to knock on. Then we went back to the truck, Adam got in and keyed the mic one more time.

DevilDriver88:

“Room 12. Rear lot. If you’re clean, respectful, and got your bills folded tight, come on down. Anything goes, but house rules apply. She’s ready for you.”

He set the CB down, turned to her with that look—the one that said this is all yours, baby. And it was. We headed back to the room and I stripped down slowly, and walked barefoot to the mirror to reapply my lipstick. I blew a kiss at my reflection, then turned to face the door, already hearing the first diesel engine pull into the lot.

I stepped in first, hair a little wild from the road, heart already thrumming. Adam was behind me, calm and slow, locking the door like there wasn’t a storm about to blow through the room.

I dropped her bag on the edge of the bed and peeled off my top, no hesitation. No need. By now, I knew what my body could do. What was it worth? How it made men lose their voices and empty their wallets. How it made Adam look at me like I was art and sin all in one breath.

“Light the candle,” I said.

He did. Just one—on the dresser near the window. The room stayed dim, shadows licking the corners. The curtain stayed cracked just enough for a glow to spill into the parking lot. An invitation. I slipped into my thigh-highs and nothing else. Straddled the bed backward, facing the door, legs open like a billboard. I caught Adam’s gaze from his seat in the corner and smiled.

It wasn’t long before the first knock came soft. The guys paid at the door as Adam let them in. First was Ethan, he was young, sweet, barely legal, and shaking. He came inside me so fast I was still getting wet when he moaned and let go. I smiled, stroked his cheek, and sent him off with a kiss. Then came the Diesel Twins, laughing, loud, ready. One fucked my mouth while the other bent me over the side of the bed. My throat was raw and my pussy full by the time they switched. They came almost in sync—one deep, the other dripping off my chin. I wiped my mouth and winked at Adam. He was already hard under his jeans.

The Silent One didn’t say a word—just unzipped, gripped my waist, and drove in bare. No tenderness. Just need. I liked the way he didn’t look away even when he came, face tight, jaw locked. Three more came in together—a trio of Midwest boys who smelled like tobacco and sweat. I dropped to my knees and let them take me however they wanted. One behind me, one in my mouth, and the third jerking off until he couldn’t take it anymore and shoved himself in me right after. My body buzzed. My skin is slick. My thighs sticky with cum.

Next was The Sweet Talker kissed my hand, called me beautiful, made me come by fucking me slow, whispering in my ear like it meant something. I almost believed him. Almost. Then came the Brutes—two thick-fisted men who held me down and fucked me like I wasn’t real. I let them. Moaned louder than I’m meant to. Came with my face in the pillow and my ass high, both holes raw and tingling. The Dirty Talker told meI was a cumdump, a filthy little hole, and I moaned every time he said it. He spit on my chest, slapped my ass, came in me with a growl and a grin.

Two married men followed, separate but the same—quiet, ****, wearing guilt like cologne. Both came in missionary, one with trembling hands, the other with tears in his eyes. I didn’t ask. I didn’t care. They were paying to use my holes. The Watcher only wanted my mouth. I sucked him slow, deep, no teeth, no sound. Took every drop. He paid double and whispered “thank you” like it was church.

By the time the last two came, I was sore, soaked, eyes half-lidded, skin humming. One took me from behind, the other fed me his cock like I was made for it. They didn’t rush. I let them use me fully, body wide open. They were getting their money's worth from me.

By midnight, the room was wrecked. The sheets were ruined. My body was used and warm, spent but electric, and all my holes and stomach full of cum. Adam ran a washcloth over my thighs, body, and cleaned between my legs like he always did. Gentle. Silent. He helped me into bed after putting fresh sheets on. I curled against his chest, sticky and smiling.

“You alright?” he asked. I kissed his jaw. “Better than alright.”

Outside, the parking lot was nearly empty. They'd come and gone like a dream. Tomorrow, there’d be another town. Another room. Another round. But for tonight, I was full. And happy. I had another $1650 to my name, not bad for a day's work. I sank into a deep sleep ready for the next day.