"You need a refill, hun?" the waitress asked, smacking a mouthful of gum as she spoke.

"Huh? Uh, sure..." Brian was staring out the window of the truck stop cafe at the early dawn grey turning into pinks and yellows. His mind was lost in thoughts about his newly-minted ex-wife, and what his life used to be, and what it was about to become. The waitress filled his mug with a lukewarm, golden-colored liquid that, he supposed, bore some resemblance to coffee. He broke open a creamer packet and poured it in, then took a sip. He'd best finish this cup off and get back on the road for the second leg of his long drive across the West. He needed to be in Seattle by tomorrow for a job interview, and if that job pans out, this whole divorce thing might just wind up being a blessing in disguise.

Nonetheless, he thought, as he stared out the window, he actually did miss his wife. Or, at least, he missed the life they had, a comfortable sort of two-cars-in-the-suburbs life. The life was fine, and the wife was fine, too, in her own way, but she'd always been a little chilly when it came to the intimate parts of a relationship, and it'd steadily gotten worse until she had become cold as stone. Maybe if he lands that job in Seattle, he'll find a hot little lady that wants to fuck all day and night. He needs that. He deserves that, right? It should be easy, he's heard that there's lots of girls out there that want an aging, newly-bachelored grump with a nearly-empty bank account for their paramour. Yep.

As he was staring out the window, a car pulled up and a girl jumped out of the passenger seat. She was a little blondie, pigtails bouncing as she dashed around to the trunk of the car and heaved out a large overstuffed duffle bag. She wore thick glasses, high top sneakers, a pleated black skirt, and a white button-up blouse. It as a damned nice ensemble, Brian had to admit. He admired her for a moment, and liked what he saw. She had a sprightly step about her, and a cute smile, and a fashionably nerdy look that he found becoming. Too bad she wasn't ten years older.

"Thanks Chet!" he heard her call out to the driver of the car, her voice muffled through the picture window of the cafe. If Chet responded, Brian couldn't hear it, and the car took off with the girl just standing there, one foot crossed over the other, duffle held in front of her with both hands, pigtails waving slightly in the breeze. Then the girl turned and walked into the cafe.

"Can you tell me when the bus to Cheyenne comes?" she asked the waitress when she got to the counter.

"Sorry, sweetie," the waitress said with her gum-smacking drawl. "It left five minutes ago."

"Oh. But I thought..." the girl looked at a ticket she'd pulled from the front pocket of the duffle, then looked up at the clock. She made a sound like a sigh and a snort. "When's the next bus?"

"3:15," the waitress said.

"Okay. Thanks."

Brian watched the girl walk dejectedly, shoulders stooped, to a table near him. She dropped the duffle onto the floor, then slid into a vinyl-and-chrome chair. She put her elbows on the table and leaned her chin onto her fists.

"Missed your bus, eh?" Brian said to her.

She looked over at him, pretty grey-blue eyes glaring behind her thick set of glasses, like she wasn't too keen on having a stranger talking to her right then. But she did answer. "Yeah," she said.

"That sucks."

She looked away, down at the table, as if she intended to end the conversation, but then she looked back again, with a set jaw and a serious face. "It's my cousin's fault. Aunt Mary told him to make sure we got here in time. But he's such a... a dweeb. Now I have to wait forever for the next bus."

"Well, you want some breakfast while you wait? I'll buy."

"No, I'm fine."

"How about a donut, then? And a coffee?"

The girl made a little sigh, blowing a wisp of hair out of her eyes. "Okay," she said. "Thanks."

She stood up and picked up her duffle and walked over to his table, plopped the duffle on the floor, and sat down. Brian was a bit surprised; he hadn't actually expected her to join him.

He waved over to the waitress, who looked up from the funny pages and made a suspicious, narrow-eyed face when she saw that the girl was sitting at his table now. "A donut, and coffee," he said loudly, his hand out to indicate that he had a new companion who needed service.

Still narrow-eyed, she hollered back, "Glazed or chocolate?"

The girl answered. "Chocolate, please."

"So then," Brian said, "where you headed?"

"Laramie," the girl answered. "You know where that is?"

"Sure. Wyoming."

"Yeah. The bus from here goes to Cheyenne, and then I get another bus from there to Laramie. But I probably won't be able to get that bus now, ‘cause the next bus to Cheyenne isn’t until a lot later."

"Damn, that sucks," Brian said. "Look, I'm..." Right then, the waitress showed up with the chocolate donut and the coffee. She gave Brian a long, sour look, like she wanted him to know that she knew he was a pedophile and that he was planning to rape this girl. "The bill, too," he said bruskly to her, not wanting to engage with the woman any more than was necessary. "I'm paying for both."

The sour look was punctuated with a icy glare and a big, knowing smack of her mouthful of gum.

"Maybe my mom can drive over to Cheyenne to pick me up?" she said, mostly talking to herself. "It's not that far." She poured three creamers and two sugars in her coffee and gave it a few stirs with a spoon. "I better text her." She pulled her phone out of her pocket.

"I'm headed in that direction. I could probably give you a ride, if you want." Laramie was out of his way a bit, but he did want to help the girl out. She seems to have taken the news pretty well, but still, this sucked, big time, for her.

"Really?" she said. Those big blue eyes of hers caught a little sparkle from the florescent lights of the truck stop. "That'd..." She seemed to pause, like maybe she was thinking that getting a ride across the country from a guy she’d never met before probably wasn't such a good idea after all.

"You can sleep in the back seat, if you want," he said. "Or you can sit up front and listen to whatever music you like..." She probably liked country music, he winced to himself. But whatever. "...and keep me company. Company's nice when you're driving all day."

"Um..." she said.

"No problem if you don’t want to, it was just a thought."

"No, it's not... It's just..." She seemed confused, unsure.

"I'll be a little bored all by myself," he said, "but not as bored as you sitting here all day.”

“Yeah…”

“But I'll survive, I think. So long as I don't fall asleep and get in an accident. I'm gonna leave in a few minutes, so if you're gonna change your mind, you have to decide before then."

"I don't need to change my mind, I just haven't made up my mind yet," she insisted.

"Okay. Let's see, I'll give you advice, okay? Now, you're definitely right to think that you shouldn't be taking a ride from a guy you don't even know. But then again, I know the guy, really well, because he's me. And I know that he’s a perfectly nice and trustworthy gentleman. So..."

She giggled. "I don't think your advice is very logical."

"No?"

"But... I really need to get to Laramie today, and, and I guess it's true that you seem nice enough. Promise you won't do anything weird?"

"Weird? Like what?"

"You know, like be a serial murderer..." she said.

"But there's only one of you. I can't commit serial murder with one person. Now who is being illogical, huh?"

She laughed, adorable dimples forming in her pink freckled cheeks. The waitress brought the bill, scowling even more at the fact that the girl was laughing.

"Well, I'm leaving in a few minutes. So ya gotta make up your mind before then."

She took a big bite from her donut and washed it down with her coffee. "I'mb cumbing," she said, her mouth full of coffee-soaked donut.

"Awesome!" Brian answered, genuinely glad to have her company.

Brian waited a couple more minutes while the girl finished her donut, and also watched for the perfect moment when the waitress had left the room. He didn't want her calling the cops on them or some shit like that. Once the waitress had disappeared into the back room, he stood up and tossed a fiver onto the table, and picked up the girl's duffle. "Let's go," he said.

"So, then, what's your name?" he asked as he backed out of his parking spot in the truck stop parking lot.

"Carrie," she answered. She was looking out the passenger window, and he took the opportunity to eye her up a bit, like he hadn't been able to do in a place as public as that truck stop cafe. Her hair, he noticed first; a shiny golden color, shoulder-length, tied back little-girl style in two pigtails held up with plastic-jeweled hair ties. A few strands of hair were loose, like maybe she hadn't done a great job that morning of pulling her hair back. She had a round, pleasant face; not exactly the sort of face you'd call a "classic beauty"--too many freckles, too big of a nose, acne causing a few unfortunate red spots on her forehead and chin. She sported black glasses, thick, heavy, and nerdy, and her lips puffed out unnaturally due to a set of braces on her teeth, probably, based on the swelling, fairly recently installed.

The white blouse she was wearing was fairly nice, a little too business-like to be very flattering; the same for her black skirt, which ended only slightly above the knee. The skirt length, Brian decided, was a damned shame, because her legs were definitely her best asset; skinny, but shapely, even muscular, and oh-so-nicely tanned, a perfect, modest hint of bronze on her calves, a paler white on the inside of her knees. A micromini would look amazingly hot on this little thing. That thought caused a little unintentional stirring in his groin.

"Good to meet you, Carrie," he said. "I'm Brian."

She looked over at him, a bit side-eyed, most likely aware that he was ogling her. "Good to meet you, too, Brian," she replied, with maybe a little hint of coolness in the tone of her voice.

"So..." he said, eyes back on the road. "Laramie... What's in Laramie?"

"My mom. Well, it's where I live, I live with my mom. I was just visiting my aunt and uncle at their farm."

"Cool,” he said. “Did you have fun at the farm?"

She looked at him, blue eyes big beneath her glasses. She dragged her teeth across her lower lip, a glimmer of the braces on her upper teeth showing momentarily. It seemed like she was trying to decide whether or not she actually wanted to engage in a conversation with the man. "It's pretty boring," she eventually answered. "Not that Laramie's all they exciting, but at least it's not the middle of bum-fuck nowhere." He was a bit surprised to hear her drop the f-bomb so casually. Seemed out of character. But then again, he didn't really know her, other than his first impression of her as a “good girl,” a Sunday-school sort of girl. Maybe he was wrong about all that.

"So you don't like Laramie then?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno. It's okay."

"Whaddya do there for fun?"

"Fun?" she laughed. "Not much."

"School, I suppose," he said.

"Yeah, but that's not fun. That sucks!"

"Oh come on, it's not that bad! Okay, it is." He laughed, and she joined him. "What do you study?"

"Everything. I'm going into the eighth grade this fall, and we still don't get to pick our classes much."

Eighth grade, he thought, doing a mental calculation. That means she's twelve, maybe thirteen. That's younger than he'd thought. "What's your favorite class?"

"English."

"Yeah? Are you a writer?" he asked.

"Yeah, sorta. A little bit."

"Cool. What kind of stuff do you write?"

"Poetry, and short stories," she answered. "Mostly science fiction."

"Awesome, I write, too," he told her. "Actually, I write ad copy for a living. I write fiction and poetry on the side, for fun. I'd love to read some of the stuff you've written."

"No way! It’s terrible!"

"Oh come on, I'm sure that's not true," Brian said.

"Maybe I can read some of your stuff?" she asked. "I'm sure it's way better than mine."

"I seriously doubt it's better than yours," Brian said. "But, yeah, you can read some of it. If you want to give me your email, I can send something to you. But then you have to send me something that you wrote."

"Okay, it's a deal!" Carrie said.

"Awesome." He noticed that she had the prettiest smile now, braces flashing. He couldn't help but smile, too. "So, I know a bit about you now. You're a writer! What else?"

"Um... I do gymnastics."

"Really?" Suddenly he understood why she had such nice legs! "That's impressive."

"I guess," she said. "Here..." She took out her phone and fiddled with it for a second. "Here's a picture of me with my silver medal." She handed the phone to him, displaying a photo of her smiling pridefully, holding up a shiny medal that hung around her neck. "I won it for the balance beam at States last year," she said, sounding still as proud as she was when the picture was taken.

"Wow, that's awesome. Congratulations!" Brian said, holding her phone up so that he could look at the picture while still paying attention to the road. The blue and silver gymnast leotard that she wore in the picture matched her eyes quite nicely, and complimented her hair; and, also, incidentally, the leotard clung tightly to her body in ways that awoke Brian's animal spirit. Her curves, though very girlish, were quite endearing.

"Thanks," she said, smiling and blushing, her freckles lighting up on top of pinkish cheeks.

He looked at the picture again. "That's a really cute outfit, too."

She blushed even harder. "Yeah?"

"Yeah..." He handed the phone back to her. "It looks very nice on you."

"Thanks." Even though she was blushing, he could tell she enjoyed the compliment. "I'm also going out for the volleyball team next year."

"Great! I love volleyball."

"That's why I'm so anxious to get home, because tryouts are tomorrow, and it’d really suck if I miss them."

"Cool, we’ll get you home in time. And good luck with the tryouts!"

"Thanks!"

"So, gymnastics, volleyball... What else?" Brian asked her.

"I dunno. Nothing, really."

"Alright.” There was a pause, a lull in the conversation. So Brian added, “Do you want to put some music on the radio? What kinda music do you like?"

"I guess classic rock."

"What's your favorite song?" he asked her.

"I don't know," she said, looking thoughtful. “I guess 'Good Times, Bad Times,' by Led Zeppelin. You know that song?

"Fuck yeah!” he said enthusiastically. “I mean, Yes, I know that song,” changing his voice to mocking seriousness. “I love it."

She giggled. "Yeah, I love Zeppelin."

"Me, too," Brian said.

"Cool!" she said. She seemed to be warming up to him, which was nice.

"See if you can find some decent music on the radio, if you want." She leaned forward and fiddled with the dial. "So, what about boys? You have a boyfriend?" he asked her. "I bet all the guys in Laramie are in love with you."

"No, guys at my school... I guess they don't really 'get' me."

"That's nuts," Brian said. "They don't know what they're missing!"

She grinned as she settled back into the corner of the passenger seat, nodding her head along with a song on a station she'd found. "I don't know," she said. "They like girls that are way sexier than me.”

"Oh come on. You're cute, you're smart, you're an athlete... You're the perfect catch!

She grinned more, and her cheeks got a little pink, but she shook her head. "Nah, you know, they like girls that are bigger than me." She held her hands out in front of her chest, cupping imaginary tits several inches further out from her actual breasts. She gave her imaginary tits a shake with her hands, giggling.

"That's crazy!” He giggled too. “'Big' is overrated. You know what they say, 'More than a mouthful is a waste.'"

Her face got even pinker. "A mouthful? I've never heard that version. I’ve always heard ‘More than a handful.’"

"Well, I like ‘More than a mouthful’ better. But regardless, guys from your school are crazy, if they don't realize how sexy you are."

"Sexy? I don't think so!"

"I do. I think you have sexy legs."

"Sexy legs?" She looked down at her knees, screwing her face up.

"Yeah!" He looked down at her legs, too, then back at the road. "They're very... shapely. Very athletic."

"You really think so?" she asked, still looking down at herself.

"I do!" he answered, trying as best he could to simultaneously keep his eye on the road, and on her legs. Luckily this stretch of the interstate was as straight as an arrow for like two hundred miles, and there were hardly any other cars around. It didn't demand a lot of attention. Unlike Carrie's legs, which demanded a hell of a lot of attention. "You should show me a little more of 'em!"

The blushing smile she gave him was an odd one; lips closed, puffing out from the braces underneath, blue eyes glistening widely behind thick glasses. She spread her legs, just slightly. "Like this?"

"Yeah," he said, his heart suddenly racing. "And maybe, lift your skirt a little..."

Blushing more, she reached down and pulled the bottom hem of her skirt up a couple inches. "Like this?"

"Yeah, a little higher."

A couple more inches, firm thighs half-revealed now, golden tan on the outside, pale white, like a virgin's milk, on the inside. "Like this?"

"A little higher."

"If I pull it up any higher,” she grinned at him, “you'll be able to see my panties!"

"That's okay. I'd like that!"

She shook her head, grinning. “Really? You want to see my panties?”

“Yes!” he said, heart racing again, barely able to keep his eyes on the road at all.

“I don’t think so,” she said, and pulled her skirt back down to her knees.

“Oh,” he said, voicing his disappointment.

But then, she scrunched her fingers under the bottom hem of her skirt, paused for a second, then lifted it up into the air. Brian’s eyes almost popped out of his skull, the road momentarily completely forgotten as her beautiful legs were fully exposed, from the top of her high top sneakers all the way to her panties. White, with pink polkadots, mounding delightfully over a chubby pudendum between her legs.

She didn't hold the skirt up for long, maybe two seconds, before dropping it back into place. "I can't believe I just flashed my panties at you!" she said, her face absolutely crimson red now.

"It was really sexy."

“Yeah? Thanks.” She smoothed her skirt out, making sure it was down all the way to her knees now, her face still bright read.

"I bet you have a nice ass, too," Brian said, looking at the road now.

That same smile, those lips puffing out from the braces, those eyes glimmering behind her glasses. "Now you want me to show you my ass?" But even as she asked the question, she was already twisting in the car seat, lifting a hip to show a buttocks to him. The seatbelt restricted her motion, so she unbuckled it, then turned completely. She gave her butt a little shake, which send rivulets through her skirt pleats. She giggled, then turned back to sit proper in her seat.

"I think I was right, it does look like a nice ass.” The girl giggled, pulling the seatbelt across her body again. “But it’s hard to tell, with your skirt in the way.”

“You want me to pull up my skirt?” She let go of the seatbelt, turned again, and lifted her skirt, just slightly, showing the bottom of her pink and white polkadot panties as they covered her cheeks.

“A little higher,” he said, one eye on the road, one eye on her ass.

She looked back at him over her shoulder. “You always want me to pull my skirt up higher!” But she did. She pulled it all the way up to her waist, having to shimmy a bit when it caught under her hip. She gave it another little shake, round globes of flesh jiggling beneath her panties.

"If you pull the panties down a bit, I'll be able to see it even better," he said.

"Oh god!" Carrie answered. "I don't know..." But she was already reaching for the top hem of her panties with one hand, the other holding up the skirt. She pulled the panties down; not completely, but enough to reveal about half of one cheek, and a bit of the other. The fatty flesh was smooth, and as best Brian could tell unblemished, and was the same white virgin milk of her thighs. This was quickly becoming Brian's favorite color in the world.

After a second, the panties snapped back into place, the skirt fell back down, and Carrie returned to sitting properly in her seat. She pulled her seat belt back on, took a very big full inhale of air. "I can't believe I flashed my bare ass at you! I've... I've never done anything like that before!"

"Then I guess I'm an extremely lucky guy!"

She looked at him and grinned, freckles standing out above her pink cheeks. She shook her head teasingly.

"So then," he said, turning his attention fully to the road again for the time being, "does your bra match your panties?"

"My bra?" she said, her eyes wide as they stared at him. "Now you want me to show you my bra?!?"

"I’m just asking. Is it a sexy bra?"

"No!" Carrie answered. "It's just a normal boring bra, and it doesn't match my panties."

"Still, I bet it's sexy."

That same closed lipped smile, in spades this time. "You really want to see my bra, don't you?"

He looked over at her and smiled.

She gave a sigh, and shook her head, then reached down and pulled her shirt tails out from under the top hem of her skirt. The blouse slowly climbed up her belly, flat and taut, until the bottom of her bra cups were just visible. Then she dropped the shirt. “There. That’s all you get to see. I told you it was just a boring bra.”

“It looked nice to me, but I really couldn’t see it.”

“Fine,” she snorted, and she lifted the shirt again, quickly this time, and all the way up to her neck. She held it there for a second, showing him her bra; it was a plain beige, with very small cups.

“Very cute,” Brian said, staring, his eyes not on the road at all now.

The shirt fell back down again. "Like I said, my boobs are really small."

"They look nice to me," Brian said. "Besides, the sexiest part of a breast is the nipple. I bet you have really sexy nipples."

"Now you want to see my nipples?!?"

“I’m just asking,” he said again, fully feigning innocence. "Are they pink, or are they darker?"

She had her mouth closed tight, lips chubby from the braces underneath. “Pink, I guess.”

"Beautiful. I think that’s the best color for nipples. Are they puffy? You know, do they stand up much above your breasts?"

“I don’t know, I guess they do,” she answered.

“Okay.”

“You really want to see them, don’t you?” she said.

“I wouldn’t mind, if you wanted to show them to me.”

"Oh God," she said, mostly to herself. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this!” Then up went the blouse again, fingers wrapping under the bottom of her bra cups. She lifted the cups for just a split second, just enough time for Brian to notice two blurs of pink in the center of milky white. "There!" she snorted.

"I really couldn't see 'em. It was too fast."

"Oh God," she said again. "Fine!" She lifted the shirt again, and the bra cups, holding them up this time. Her breasts really were tiny, just little nubbins rising an inch above her chest, and most of that was the nipple, a swollen mound of goosed-bumped flesh, pale pink, forming into a cone with a darker, reddish teat at the center. "See?" she said. Her face was bright red again. "They're tiny. Not even a mouthful."

It was all Brian could do, to keep one eye on the freeway. It was impossible for him to keep his eyes off those tiny little titties. "I think they're unbelievably sexy," he said quite quietly, his voice wavering.

"Really? But..." Her voice caught in her throat as Brian reached a hand out and set it gently on a breast. He kneaded it softly with a couple turns of his palm, then, as he lifted the hand away, his fingers and thumb followed the contour, coming together at the tip of her nipple, which he gave a playful little twist. Carrie sat motionless and speechless as he did the same to her other breast. Then his hand fell, to her lap, fingers dancing onto milk-white thighs.

She reached a hand down as well, putting hers on top of his. Maybe she was trying to stop him from going any further, but that wasn't clear to Brian. In fact, it didn't seem like it was clear to Carrie, either, whether she was trying to stop him, or join him, or what her intentions were. And then, like two hands on a Ouija board, mutually moving in the direction of the same desired goal, both of their fingers slid under her skirt and up her thigh.

When together they reached her panties, his fingers immediately slipped under the hem. He felt a clutch of little soft curls there, then reached lower and found the mound of a pussy lip covered in a delicate fuzz of down. Deeper, to her slit, the downy fur now damp, he slid his finger over her clit and down between her lips. Her opening was steaming: wet, and hot.

Her hand, above his but outside her panties, clutched tightly, but now it was obvious that she wasn't trying to make him stop; she was pushing him in as she ground her pussy against his fingers. Almost immediately she began making the sweetest little high-pitched gasping moans, "Ah! Ah! Ahhh!!!" Her legs started quaking, and she whispered hoarsely, "Brian?" Then much louder, "Brian!"

Shocked by her sudden shout, he pulled his hand away. "Huh?"

"I... I hafta... I really have to pee!"

At that moment, an exit ramp appeared ahead, the large sign of a gas station looming above the road. "Here," he said, slowing down to take the exit, "they'll have a bathroom."

The moment he pulled into a parking stall at the filling station, Carrie jumped from the car, barely having gotten her bra situated and her shirt back into place. He watched her dash into the station, run to the counter, and begin talking to the cashier. Suddenly, noticing her agitation, Brian had the frightening thought that she might be telling the cashier that the man in the car was molesting her. But the cashier pointed towards the back of the store, and Carrie ran off in the direction that he pointed. A few minutes later, she returned, walking with less urgency, waving goodbye to the cashier.

As he pulled the car out of the parking lot, he was still feeling a little out of sorts because of his frightening thought that she might turn him in. "I'm sorry if I pushed things, Carrie," he said, "or went too far."

"It's okay," she answered. "You didn't go too far!"

"Really?"

"I just all the sudden really had to pee!"

He put his hand on her knee, pulling back onto the interstate. "Well, I'm glad we found a place so quick then."

"Me too! I was afraid I was going to pee right then, right in your car!" She put her hand on his as it sat on her knee, but now there was no question what her intentions were; she literally shoved his hand up her skirt. She obviously wanted him to finger her some more. When he got to her pussy, he discovered that she was no longer wearing her underwear.

"I took my panties off," she said in almost a whisper, "'cause they were really wet."

"Jesus..." he whispered, overwhelmed.

Their fingers worked together in synchrony between her legs, her fingers spreading lips, his gliding over her slick stiff clit, then both of them together slipping between wet folds, sliding up and down. She leaned her head back, lips slightly open, braces glistening, and let out her little high-pitched moans again. He was paying no attention to the road, just watching her legs begin to shake, and the car suddenly veered dangerously to the side. He had to pull his hand away from her pussy to right the car, but she barely seemed to notice. She just keep her fingers twirling.

Once he had the car back to normal, he reached down and unzipped his pants, then stuck his hand in his fly and fished his rock-hard cock out. Two or three strokes was all it took to bring out a surge of precum that coated his head in wetness. Carrie was staring, right at his cockhead, twirling her fingers, her whole body quaking. Brian knew he would blow his wad with only another stroke or two. He looked around quickly; he didn't want to make a mess, but he had nothing to catch his cum. Not a kleenix to be seen. Except...

"Carrie..." he said, his words a stuttering mess, "will you... will you suck my cock?"

She nodded with surprising enthusiasm, then unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over him. His anxious head was suddenly engulfed in the warmth of her mouth. More precum leaked out, giving the girl her first taste, and a wave of ecstasy flowed through him and it took all his willpower to keep any concentration at all on the road. He felt her suck, and at the same time she reached down to her pussy again. As she diddled with herself, he wrapped his hand around his shaft and gave it a stroke, and another, and then, with his third stroke, he came, heat washing through his body and propelling a huge surge of cum into the twelve-year-old girl’s mouth.

Carrie’s face was a mess, when she sat back up after he was done. Cum coated her chin. There was some on her cheeks, and more leaking from her lips. She pulled her panties out of a pocket in her skirt, then held them up to her mouth and coughed into them. Another cough, and then she wiped some cum from her face as well.

She looked down at the panties. "They're really wet now," she said.

"Yeah." He was barely able to speak. "Thanks, Carrie, that was..."

"I bet you want to keep these,” she said, holding the panties out to him.

"Yeah? Why?"

"I don't know, a souvenir? Guys like that sort of thing, don't they?"

"Yeah, like a trophy. 'The girl who wore these cute panties gave me a blow job!'"

"Exactly!" The both laughed.

"But I don't think I've earned your 'panties trophy' yet," Brian said.

"No? What do you have to do to earn it?" she asked.

"Have sex with you," he answered.

Her face grew red as she looked at him. "Is that what you want to do?"

He quickly nodded. "Yes."

"Won't that be hard to do when you're driving?"

"We can… maybe find a park or something?"

"Um..." She paused for a split second, then said simply, "Okay." He pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly began searching for a nearby park. “Um,” Carrie said, “but, I probably should tell you, I’m still a virgin.”

He looked at her and smiled. “There’s a park up here a ways, we can go there, if you want. But I understand if you don’t want to.”

All the girl did was nod.

He took a blanket from the trunk of his car, when he’d pulled into the little park that he’d found, a few miles off the interstate. They held hands--she gripped his fingers tight, in nervous anticipation--as they walked into a little stand of trees. There he spread the blanket on the ground, then took her in his arms and kissed her. While their tongues flirted, he began unbuttoning her blouse. She joined him, pulling off her shirt, then quickly unfastening her bra.

The girl topless now, he lay her down on her back on the blanket and climbed on top of her. They kissed, then he moved down to her breasts, taking her nipples in his mouth. He gave them each their first man's suck. She squirmed beneath him, spreading her legs wide as she did. In response, he unbuckled his pants and pulled them down to his knees, and then rose above her, pulling her skirt up to her waist as he did.

His cockhead quickly found its mark, soft folds that led to her girlhood enwrapping him in a tender kiss. He slipped into them, between them, among them, pushing in. As his head pressed into the tight flesh of her virginity, she lifted her legs, as if to make his progress easier, and she turned her head to the side and let out a little high-pitched sound, and with a solid thrust of Brian's hips driving his cock forward, her membrane tore. The little girl moaned painfully as he pulled back and thrust forward again, entering her.

He rode her at a steady pace. The fact that he'd already cum, only twenty minutes earlier, cut his anxiety and allowed him to make love to her with a deliberate, solid stroke, and she cooed and mewed underneath him, strong legs still up in the air where they'd been since his initial penetration, now quaking as her body filled with strange and wonderful new feelings.

Ten minutes into the act, and several shuttering orgasms for Carrie that covered both of them with girlcum and left a pool beneath them on the blanket, his pace finally increased, and the woods were filled around them with the steady thumping sound of balls, and cock, and hips, slapping wetly against the young girl's thighs and ass. Finally he wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders, holding her motionless below him. He was slamming hard now, fucking the girl like a whore, and then he came, pumping, pumping, pumping, spurting semen into her twelve-year-old vagina.

They held each other afterwards, kissing. After several minutes, she spoke. "I guess you earned your panties trophy," she said, smiling meekly.

"Yeah, and I was wondering if you have another pair I could earn."

"You want to do it again?" Her nose was scrunched up, her eyes a little narrow, her lips closed around her braces.

He didn't answer. He could tell, from the way she looked at him, and the sound of her voice, that she didn't him want to do it again. And he didn't want to hear that. He didn't want to give her the chance to say it. So instead, he sat up on his knees, took hold of her hips and flipped her over onto her belly and lifted her ass into the air. And then he fucked her a second time, from behind. He drove hard into her spent pussy, his nearly-empty balls slapping repeatedly against her overstimulated clit until together they orgasmed again, and he gave her pussy his cum a second time.

She staggered to her feet when he was done, and pulled on her blouse, her bra forgotten on the blanket. She managed to fasten only a couple of the blouse's buttons, and even those were mismatched, as she started gingerly walking back to the car while Brian gathered up their things. When he picked up her bra, he shrugged his shoulders and stuffed it in his pocket. Trophy number two.

By the time he pulled back onto the interstate, she had her head leaning against the passenger side window, her pretty blue eyes only little slits now. He offered her a jacket to use as a pillow, and she leaned against it and closed her eyes. And soon, she was sound asleep, the sleep of an exhausted girl who had just been violated, twice, and for the first time in her life.

As he drove, and she slept, he carefully lifted her skirt and exposed her little furry pussy. Her pubic hair was matted with sweat and sticky with cum, her lips splayed open and inflamed, the milk-white of her inner thighs no longer virginal, nor white, but glowing a painful red from the rough friction of hard sex against soft skin, and streaked with rivulets of drying blood from her ruptured hymen. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of her as she lay there sleeping, and then took another, this one a close-up of her sex.

He liked his panties trophy fine, and the bra; but this picture was his real souvenir, his real trophy. A perfect image of her once-virginal twelve-year-old pussy, now used and violated and filled to overflowing with his sperm.

"You'll text me about how the volleyball tryouts go?" he asked her when they were only a few miles from Laramie.

"Yes!" she answered.

"And email me a story or a poem, okay?"

"Okay. You promise to come back to Laramie after your job interview?"

"I promise."

"I'll miss you," she said.

"I'll miss you, too."

She had the sweetest smile, braces glittering in the evening sun.

"I have an idea," he said. "Maybe we should pull off onto a side road before we get to Laramie, and find a place where we can be alone?"

She grinned. "You want to fuck me again, don’t you?"

"I do. One last time before I drop you off."

"Okay," she said with a great big smile.

< She was sitting on the hood of his car after he'd pulled over to the side an old gravel road. Her blouse was open and her little tiny preteen titties out to play, her skirt up to her waist, her legs spread wide. He was on his knees, his face in her pussy, lapping at her clit. His hands cradled her soft small breasts, a thumb and finger of each gently pinching her puffy nipples. She was cumming, milk-colored thighs less inflamed now, though still a little pinker than they were before, quaking around his face. Sweet little high-pitched moans escaped breathlessly from her lips.

He stood then, and dropped his pants, and slid his cock into her willing cunt.

"Ohhh," she moaned. "I love this so much! When you come back to visit me, let's fuck the whole time you're here!"

"I like that idea!" he said.

"Let's don't do anything but fuck!"

He started sliding in and out of her and she moaned those little high-pitched moans again, over and over, moaning and moaning. Then, a minute into their copulation, Brian heard the sound of an approaching truck. The truck slowed down as it drove by, two men giving him a thumbs-up sign as they watched him fucking Carrie on the hood of his car.

"Do you think they saw us?" she asked, all breathless.

"Oh, they definitely saw us!"

"Good!" she said with a great big braces-shining grin. "I don't care if they saw! I want everyone to know that I let you fuck me!"

"Baby," he said, feeling his orgasm building, "you're the greatest!"

She grinned even bigger, if it's possible. "You're the greatest, too, Brian! I... I think I'm in love with you."

When he heard those words, he felt the surge, that wonderful surge, his semen exploding from deep inside his body and firing down his cock. "I love you, too, Carrie!" he shouted as he came inside her again.

They kissed for a very long time, a little later when he dropped her off around the corner from her house, promising to text each other, and email each other poems and stories. And promising to fuck again, as soon as possible, and as many times as they can.