Oh my, look at that picture! It was taken in my junior year of college by my roommate Gwen when the two of us, along with a mutual friend Sarah, decided to head to Florida for spring break. None of us had much money, so we decided to hitchhike to and from. This photo was actually taken in Florida on the way back home, accounting for those tan legs and sun-kissed hair.

Shit, there were so many firsts on that trip. It was my first time hitchhiking. It was my first time sharing one bed with two other women. It was my first three-way. It was the first time I had sex with three different men over two days. It was the first time a man came on my tits, and the first time a woman ever licked it off.

That picture is thirteen years old. After you hear my story, I bet you will agree that I haven’t changed all that much. Except of course my hair, which is much darker now, and way shorter. Also, I could still wear those shorts.

So, yeah, I’m Fay Hillman, of the New Jersey Hillmans. That’s my maiden name, Hillman. I was married for eight years, but I will get to that. Right now, I guess you can call me a trucker’s girl.

A little over three months ago I got divorced from Jim Shepherd and I needed to get out of dodge. More specifically, I needed to get the fuck out of my old life and into something new for a while. So I got a leave from my job, packed up some clothing and three of the twenty-some pairs of shoes I own, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. Then I climbed into my white BMW and drove straight west. I was counting on US Interstate 80 to take me to something different.

It fucking well did. It took me to Billy. He’s the trucker for whom I am the girl.

My old life had Jim, and while he added some weirdness, it was really kind of boring. I am an accountant by training, CPA and all. I have a degree from Rutgers and a great job with one of those accounting firms with initials for a name. In my job I build complicated spread sheets that tell executives how to make money without being arrested for financial fraud, as if that actually ever happens.

I still have the job, but I am on something called a sabbatical, which is another name for a leave with half pay and benefits. I am good at my job, and the company likes me enough to have given me the break I need. In eleven years I had risen to the rank of senior manager. I made enough to pay cash for my own beemer. I made enough to pay off half the condo that Jim and I bought in Red Bank. Did I mention the shoes? Yeah, I did well.

Credit my mom. She raised me by herself. Mom cut hair for a living. She owned a salon. She was a great hair cutter, and really good at business. She was very proud that she could, in her words, “stand on my (her) own two feet.” That’s what she taught me to do. I also stand on my own two feet. I didn’t depend on Jim for anything, really. I could always just leave him, and be OK. Why did it take me so long?

Mom was a superstar single mom and she worked so hard to stay alive until she saw me graduate from college. Goddamn pancreatic cancer.

So, yeah, I drove west. That first day I got close to Cleveland. I’d been to Cleveland for work lots of times. My company has a big office and clients there. But, I never got out to the Interstate, so it was all very foreign for me. I needed to get some food and stop for the night, so I picked an exit that seemed to have hotels and restaurants and pulled off the highway. Unfortunately, most of the restaurants were chains. Boring! So, I did the thing any New Jersey girl would do in that situation. I found a diner.

This place was called Rosie’s, and it was part of Love’s truck stop. It had a neon red coffee pot in the window. Right inside the door was a “take a seat” sign. I didn’t want to sit alone at a table, so I headed for the counter. It turned out to be a good move. I will never forget the details.

I sat on a high, red vinyl covered, round stool and took a menu that was tucked between a red napkin dispenser with “Coke” written on the side and a fresh bottle of Heinz. The decision was easy, I was going for the burger basket and a Sprite. I put down the menu and looked for the server, and saw that she was busy with a group of four men who I guessed were truckers.

She was flirting, and they seemed to love it. I watched the action for a while, gradually getting impatient for the server’s attention. Finally, she cut herself free from the four, and after noticing me glaring at her, came over to take my order.

After she finished, I glanced over at the four men she had been entertaining. Three of them were busy stuffing their faces. The fourth was not touching the fried chicken in front of him. He was looking at me. I hadn’t noticed this at first, but shit, he was gorgeous.

He was Tom Brady, but better. He had great hair, soft eyes, a square chin, dimples, and a trim, muscular build. He wasn’t dressed like the other three. Even though he wore jeans, a plaid work shirt, and boots, he looked perfectly put together. He would be the stranger in the porn film who easily gets laid. He would be the guy in the restaurant that the group of women in the corner can’t ignore or stop giggling about. He could be the next Marlboro man. This gorgeous, huggable, kissable and, likely, fuckable man was looking at me.

He winked. I quickly looked down, but also, I smiled at the counter. When I finally felt I could glance over at him again, I saw that he was gnawing on a piece of Rosie’s chicken, but he was also still looking at me. This time I didn’t break the gaze, and I smiled again. He pointed first to himself, and then toward me, with a questioning look on his face. I nodded. He said something to the dude next to him and took a punch on his upper arm in return. He grabbed his plate, silverware and cup of coffee, and moved it all over to the place next to me.

I was happy. I was also terrified. I had been driving all fucking day. I was not Fay, all dressed to party. I guessed that my eyes would be glassy and red. My lipstick, I knew, would be long worn off. My perfume would by now be impotent, and my jeans and top must be rumpled. Nonetheless, I persisted.

After wiping his hands on a napkin, he extended his right hand to me, and said, “Hi, I’m Billy.”

“Fay. Nice to meet you Billy,” I replied.

He settled on to his stool, leaned back easily, and muttered one word. “So?”

“Yes?” I countered.

“Come here often?”

“First time, actually,” I replied, thankful to have an easy question. I could not ignore his eyes.

“Ah, well. What brings you to Rosie’s? I mean, you don’t look like a trucker, and you aren’t on Medicare?”

I chuckled at that. “True enough. But Billy, I am from New Jersey.”

“Ah, the diner thing, right?”

He got it. I felt a warm rush spread through my body.

We fell into an easy conversation. I filled him in on my divorce, my job, my sabbatical and my plans to just drive west and get away for a while. He seemed both a little amused and a little impressed. In return he revealed that was single, five months out of a serious relationship, and that he owned and drove a truck for a living for a company called Swan Logistics. To my surprise, he also revealed that he had a degree in engineering from the Colorado School of Mines and that he had worked as an engineer before deciding to try life on the road. Interesting guy, this Billy.

I nodded, smiled, and pretended to understand it all. I am sure my story confused him as well. We talked until we had both finished our food. At that point, Billy asked if I had a place to crash for the night. I told him, truthfully, that I had used an app to book at a hotel right next to the truck stop for which I had “points” to cover the cost.

“Ah,” he said, “I remember points. I used to earn them too when I traveled for my old job, which was a lot! Can I walk you to your hotel?”

I was taken back by the question, and he seemed to realize it.

“Just to make sure you get there OK, Fay? Nothing more.”

“Well,” I said, “that’s really nice of you, but I have my car just outside and I want to take it over to the motel.”

“Ok,” he said, “I will walk you to your car, then.”

On the way out, he held the door and followed my lead to the car. “Wow!” he said. “Nice wheels.”

“Thanks,” I said. I didn’t mention paying cash for it.

“So, where’s your truck?” I asked?

He pointed off in the direction of what appeared to be a huge parking area full of large trucks.

“Just over there.”

“Ah,” I said, “let me drive you. I have never seen a semi close up, would you let me take a look?”

“Sure.”

We climbed into my car and he directed me through the sea of trucks. There must have been hundreds of them. The cabs glistened, reflecting the bright lights that illuminated the parking area all night. It was an impressive and, strangely, beautiful scene. After we turned down an aisle between two long rows of semis, he pointed.

“It’s the one with the dark blue cab and the bird on the box.” I quickly found it. The huge swan painted on the side of the trailer stood out.

“Wow,” I said. “You actually drive that thing? It’s really big!”

Billy smirked. “Does size impress you, Fay?”

I know I blushed, but I also did not take the bait. I let his comment drop.

He continued. “Just pull your car up in front of the cab. It will be fine there while I give you the fifty-cent tour.”

He walked me around his truck pointing out details about the tires, the suspension, the air deflectors. Yes, air deflectors. Aerodynamics? I pretended to care. Our walk finally ended at the cab.

“Want to see my office?” he asked while pointing at the cab?

“Please,” I replied.

He opened the driver side door and took my hand as I climbed the step required to get in. I stopped on the step when I saw the interior.

“Wow,” I said, “it’s kind of like an airplane cockpit. So many buttons and meters.”

“It does have a lot of technology, but it’s actually not all that complicated,” he replied. “Hop in.”

I climbed into the seat and felt dwarfed by my surroundings. I knew I could not drive this thing. My feel barely reached the pedals.

Billy must have sensed what I was thinking and he pushed a lever on the side of the seat. It moved me forward and down to where I would feel far more comfortable as a driver. “Better?” he asked.

“Much, thanks.”

I glanced around, and saw that between the two seats was a space, and behind that space was a curtain. What’s that?” I asked?

“Oh, this rig has a sleeper,” he explained, “That’s how you get in, just pull the curtain to the side.”

As I pulled the curtain, Billy reached in and pushed a few buttons on the dash. The compartment behind the curtain lit up. I stood and moved between the two seats to take a look. The sleeper, as he called it, was like a New York studio apartment, but actually much nicer. It contained a couch that could serve as a bed, a small refrigerator and microwave, a flat screen TV and all around the top of the compartment were storage cabinets which, I suspected, were filled with Billy’s clothing and belongings.

“Wow, this is really nice, and really impressive!” I said with complete honesty. “I had no Idea that these trucks were like this.”

“This is nothing, Fay, you should see the sleepers on the Kenworth 900’s. They have kitchens and showers.”

“Is that your goal, having one of those?”

“No,” he answered with a grin. “This is perfect for me. Even better, it’s paid for.”

“It must have cost a fortune.”

“Well into six figures,” he replied, “but I bought it from the bank after the first owner went bankrupt. I could pay cash, so I got a great deal.”

Impressed, I arched my brows.

“Yeah, I made good money as an engineer, and because I spent so much time on the road, most of my expenses were covered by the company. I had saved most of what I had earned.”

I realized that he and I had much in common. We were road warriors. We were good at what we did, frugal, and probably a little bit restless as well.

Involuntarily, I yawned as my body reminded me that it had been a long day.

“You better get to your room, Fay. Tomorrow is another day.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I badly need a bed and a shower.”

“Me too, he said, but I think sleep will come first, I will shower in the morning.”

“Where?” I asked.

He pointed back to the truck stop. “In there. Most of these truck stops have showers. For a few bucks, you get a towel, some soap and a chance to stand as long as you want under some lukewarm water.”

“Sounds lovely,” I said sarcastically while making a face.

“It’s not so bad,” he replied.

Suddenly it hit me.

“How about you come over to my room in the morning and take a shower there? I am sure it will be much nicer, and also much warmer.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Fay.”

“Nonsense, I replied,” as I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “What’s your cell? I will text you my number. Call me in the morning and I will give you my room number. You can come over with a change of clothes and shower. Then we can say our proper good byes.”

He smiled, shrugged and asked, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” I replied, as I climbed out of the cab.

“It might be early, say around seven? I need to be in Denver by Thursday.”

“No problem, Billy. Call me in the morning.” He gave me his cell number and I texted him mine.

With that, I climbed into my car, gave him a quick wave and drove to the motel, which was actually right next to the truck stop and connected by a service road. When I got to the room I stripped, put on a white ribbed tank top and a pair of boxers, and climbed into bed.

My phone startled me awake. My hands fumbled to find it on the nightstand, but I succeeded.

“Hi, Fay?”

“Hi Billy,” I replied sleepily.

“Does the offer to shower at your room still stand?” he asked.

“Of course,” I replied as I searched for the key envelope and room number. “It’s the Hampton right next to the truck stop and an easy walk. I am in 312. Just knock.”

“I laid back in the bed and almost immediately dozed off. His knock awoke me. I climbed out of bed and flipped the light switch. I avoided glancing at the mirror knowing that I would probably look like shit. I turned the deadbolt and opened the door.

“Mornin’ Fay,” Billy offered with a lilt.

He was standing there looking handsome with a small gym bag and wearing black sweats. His face glistened.

“Morning. Have you been working out?”

“Yeah, I ran. I need it to keep by girlish figure,” he said with a grin.

“You’re disgusting. Now I can feel guilty and fat all day because I didn’t run.”

You look fabulous. And to be honest, it was my first run in a week. I needed it badly,” he said apologetically.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said while pointing to the bathroom. “The shower and plenty of towels are in there.”

“You have no idea how nice this is for me Fay,” he said. “Thank you.” With that, he leaned in and gave me a peck on my cheek, headed into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him.

I toyed with the idea of climbing back into bed, but instead I opted to sit on the edge facing the mirror. I ran a brush through my hair and repaired, as much as I could, the damage that had doubtless occurred yesterday and overnight. I heard the shower stop running, and shortly after that, the bathroom door opened. Out came Billy, naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Fay, the hairdryer here isn’t working. Is there any chance you packed one? “

Did I even hear that? Shit, I could barely speak. There he stood, naked from the waist up. His abdominals were taught and defined. His pectorals, likewise, with small hard nipples. It was not that he looked like a body builder. Rather, he looked more like Michelangelo’s David. His muscles were defined but not chiseled. Nothing bulged. At least nothing I could see. He was, in a word, beautiful, even with a mop of wet hair.

“Yeah, it’s at the very top of the bag over there,” I finally managed as I pointed toward my duffle.

He turned away from me and headed to the bag, giving me a chance to inspect his back. It was subtly muscled and strong. I wanted to touch him, but resisted. Billy quickly found the dryer, turned and walked over to stand right in front of me. He looked down and made eye contact.

“You are incredible, Fay,” he said with a smile as a hand reached down to touch one of my shoulders. “Thank you so much.”

I held his gaze for a long moment before I leaned forward and tugged lightly at the towel around his waist. It fell to the floor. I did this without a thought or a plan. It was all so automatic.

His cock was semi-erect. I found that comforting, because at that moment, I knew he might share my desires and intent. I wrapped a hand around the shaft, and with the other, I reached around him and gently pulled him toward me. His ass was firm and muscled. I checked it out in the mirror behind him.

“You have a runner’s butt,” I said as I gave it a little squeeze and looked up. My eyes would not leave his while I took him.

I leaned forward and guided my lips to the tip of his cock. I kissed it, first gently, and then more firmly. I took it into my mouth and teased it with my tongue. My hand, still wrapped around the base of his shaft, squeezed more tightly as he hardened. I immediately detected the drop of pre-cum that resulted. It tasted fresh and slightly salty.

I took more of him into my mouth. My other hand left his ass and cupped his firm balls. I guided the index finger of that hand to his perineum and gently massaged. I was rewarded with a soft moan.

I dug the nails of the hand that was wrapped around his shaft lightly into its underside; I heard another moan and felt him harden further as a second drop of pre-cum met my tongue. I began to slide my mouth up and down the two inches of his cock that extended beyond my grasp. He began to subtly rock forward and back, matching my rhythm.

“Fay,” he said hoarsely, “that feels amazing.”

I hummed in reply. His cock seemed to like that. A lot.

I squeezed and caressed his balls as I sucked gently on his cock, my cheeks caving. I pressed the nail of my index finger into his perineum. He moaned again, and began to rock more urgently. I released all but my thumb and forefinger from around his shaft, and slid that hand up against his pubic hair. I let the newly exposed inches of his cock enter my mouth. I could feel its tip press against the back of my mouth, but not enough to provoke a gag.

As I continued to deep throat him, he tossed the hair dryer on to the bed and reached down and let his fingers tangle in my hair. Then he dropped them down further to gently caress my cheeks. He was not going to “fuck my face” as would have happened with Jim. He would be tender with me.

I let him set the pace as his cock gently slid in and out of my mouth. I caressed its underside with my tongue. I nibbled it from time to time. I wanted this. I didn’t want it to stop, and it didn’t for what seemed like hours. But then, he groaned loudly, and began to cum in my mouth.

As I sucked him harder, I felt waves of cum splash against my tongue. I let it fill my mouth. I savored its taste. I squeezed his balls urging them to give all of it to me. I moaned. I sucked. I loved this. I kept him in my mouth until I was sure his orgasm had ended. Then, I swallowed as he watched. He tasted wonderful.

Billy stood in front of me for at least a minute. I smiled up at him and continued to hold eye contact. Finally, he grasped my shoulders and eased me back onto the bed. He sat, and nudged me up toward the pillows. Then he lay next to me and wrapped his arms around me as I rolled my chest against his.

We kissed for a long time, first gently and then with our tongues hungrily exploring. I am sure he could taste his cum on my lips and tongue. That would have stopped Jim, but it did not stop Billy. He began to stroke my bare arm. I rolled to my back, and he took the invitation as I intended. His hand traveled down to my abdomen and found its way under my top. It then, slowly worked its way up to my breasts, and once there, it first found one, than the other hard nipple.

He played with each of my nipples in turn, making sure not to neglect either. I moaned. He had no way of knowing that he could have made me cum, had he continued with my nipples. But, his hand left my breasts and returned to my abdomen. He lifted my top, exposing my breasts. I helped him along by slipping it up and off.

His lips and tongue found my nipples, and he masterfully nibbled and sucked them. My rapid breathing and soft moans were all the encouragement necessary. I was in heaven with this gentle, skillful, beautiful man.

His free hand slid down my abdomen. My hand joined his and guided it under the waistband of my boxers and on to my mound. Again unlike Jim, he didn’t dive right in. His hand petted the wisp of public hair that remained after my grooming. His fingers stroked the soft skin in the creases where my torso met my legs. I bent my knees and let them fall outward, giving him more room to play.

I was just getting to the point where I would beg him to touch my clitoris, when he did exactly that. That, as they say, was the tipping point. My back arched and my hands grasped hard at the pillows over my head. I moaned loudly as my orgasm exploded. I was very wet for him. His fingers entered me easily as my orgasm continued. I saw stars. No, really. I actually saw stars.

I don’t know how long my thrusting and moaning lasted, but I know my orgasm began to recede at about the time I felt his lips touching mine, and the tip of his tongue entering my mouth. He removed his hand from my lady parts and again pulled me against him and held me tight as we continued to kiss.

“Good?” he asked?

“You need to ask?” I countered. “It was the best, Billy.” I felt him smile against my lips.

We lay there for a long while, kissing and hugging, before he again nudged me on to my back. He had plans. His face began to move down my body. First, he visited my breasts and took good care of them. Then he ran his tongue slowly down my abdomen. Then he came to my navel, which he circled and licked. It was then that I reached down to his head and stopped him.

“Billy, I have not showered since yesterday morning. Are you sure you want to go there?”

He answered with actions as I felt my boxers being lowered and taken off. This was so no Jim.

Much like his hands, his mouth and lips were in no hurry. They teased and caressed me all around my slit. When his tongue finally found its way there, I was ready. Again, I exploded, and I fucked his face. Hard.

When I finally regained my composure, I told him I wanted him inside me. He said he would need a condom and did not have any. I told him that I didn’t either, but that there was no chance that he could make me pregnant. Thankfully, he did not ask why. There was a back story to that that I was not ready to tell.

He explained, apologetically, that he always wore a condom with women he had just met, and hoped I would not be offended by that. I wasn’t. It made perfect sense to my brain, if not to my pussy. Again, he wrapped me in his arms and we kissed.

Eventually, it was me who called time.

“Billy, it’s getting late. Do you need to be on the road?”

“I do.”

His words hit me hard. Suddenly, I felt empty. I tried to cover the feeling with a question.

“So I know you are headed to Denver. Will you go straight there today?” I asked.

“No, I need to make it into Missouri tonight. That way I can make it to Denver tomorrow.”

After a moment of silence, he asked my plan for the day?

Again, automatically, I crafted my answer.

“Two choices,” I said. “I can either keep driving on I-80 and see where that takes me, or I can discretely follow your truck, desperate woman that I am.”

With that he raised his head and looked straight at me.

“Are you serious? You would consider following me?”

“Yes, I would,” I murmured sheepishly.

He paused for a long moment.

“Fay. I have an empty seat in my cab, and some space in the sleeper. Would you ride with me?”

And with that, my heart skipped a beat, and my life changed.

Billy has shown me Denver, the mountains, the desert and the pacific. He has also shown me the trucker’s life. The sleeper is actually very comfortable, and lends itself to lots of body contact. It also offers some interesting hand holds for whomever is on top. No complaints there. No condoms either.

Turns out, I can get pretty wicked on the CB. At last count, I think I made three truckers cum with just my voice. Billy loves that. We have also attended a few wild trucker’s parties. Billy and I are monogamous, but I have seen a lot of sex right in front of me. But, those are all stories to tell another time.

Right now we are headed to Nashville with a load. Billy said we should go honky-tonking tonight. We will, but not before I do some boot shopping. You can’t have enough shoes.

I have three more months of paid leave, then I owe my company six months in return. My boss said she’s good with me moving from Jersey and basing out of Denver. Billy is too. It could happen. I still stand on my own two feet. I have the freedom to leave. Billy gets it. Just now, I don’t want to leave.

The only thing I really miss is my mother. She loved the girl in the picture and she would love the girl in the truck, too. She would like Billy a lot. She would call him a “keeper.” She would still be proud of me.

So, yeah, that girl in the picture is inside of me. She took to the road and it changed her life a little. After the mistake of staying too long in a bad marriage, turns out she did it again, and it changed her life. I don’t ever want her to leave me.