Dale peeled rubber as he tore out of the garage. At the same time, Danielle's eyes fluttered open. She didn't know where she was. Her crotch felt funny, but after the dream she just had, she didn't think anything of it. She glanced around. A stack of skin mags was beside her. She was half naked on a cot in the back room of some type of warehouse/ garage. She sat up, groggy, and pulled the covers tightly around her as she stood up. In the distance, she heard a semi roaring down a gravel road, and suddenly the night slammed back into her memory.
She sat down on the cot, and shivered. "I...I almost died" she said to herself. She absent-mindedly reached from the half-drank bottle of whiskey beside her and took a long, deep slug of it. A couple seconds later, and it was a fully drunk bottle of whiskey. She let it fall to the concrete floor and leaned forward, hugging her stockinged knees. She knew that chills and paleness were part of shock, but why was her pussy...pulsing?
In the huge, open garage, a single drop of her pussy juice fell to the floor, and it sounded like a drop in a bucket. She closed her eyes, and saw the ocean, licking at her yawning sex. She opened them, and shook her head.
Suddenly, the garage began to rumble. She gasped, and pulled the blanket tight. A huge truck roared into the open garage. On it, five men, two with chainsaws and all covered with woodchips and filth, hopped off. She glanced up at them and blushed.
The first, and biggest, was a 50 year old bearded man. He limped over, tired, to the table and tossed a huge chain onto it. He reached under it and yanked a cooler out. When he opened it, he didn't even look, but just tossed beers back to the others who hopped off the rig.
While bent over, he glanced back, right at Dani. "Well boys, looks like we've got a visitor." he said as he stood to his full 6'4 height. |