by Horace Baldwin

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, .

Desc: Sex Story: He saw a pretty woman trying to hitchhike her way to New York. He gave her a ride and found out more about the impossible mission she was going to achieve. She couldn't even afford a room for a night in a big city unfamiliar to her. What's he going to do?

Disclaimer: This story is a fiction. It does not relate to any real incidences or real persons. This work contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity. Anyone who may be offended by such contents, or persons forbidden by law or any regulations, should not read or download this story. Re-distribution, posting, and anything other than for personal enjoyment are subject to explicit authorization by the author.

Franc saw her standing on the paved shoulder, right after he made a turn into William Flynn highway.

"Good luck," Franc muttered to himself, "hitchhike isn't a feasible thing nowadays; it's the eighties, not the sixties anymore." He took a look at the dashboard clock, it was close to four-thirty in the afternoon.

Franc was driving from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, back to New York City where he worked and lived. Despite his purpose of going to Pittsburgh was to attend one of his uncle's funeral, he didn't feel sad, not at all. Franc had seven uncles, fifteen if half-uncles were included. Franc had never been close to them, except Uncle Luigi, whom Franc had inherited his wealth.

Franc got out a cigarette, and habitually reached for his lighter from his pocket, although the lighter in his car was equally within reach. His lighter wasn't in his watch pocket. Franc searched all his pockets, he glanced through his car, no sign of his lighter.

"Fuck! Must had been left in that coffee shop I ate the meal," he muttered. It was a Dupont lighter he bought a couple months ago, not very expensive, cost him less than $600, but still upset him for losing another lighter. "May be I'm lucky, may be they didn't know it's a Dupont." Franc told himself.

Franc took the next exit and went back. It was indeed his lucky day. The waitress smiled at him the moment she saw him, and gave him back his lighter. Franc tipped her with a twenty dollar bill and thanked her again.

Franc saw the hitchhiker again when he came back to William Flynn highway. She was still there, same pose with her thumb pointing behind herself. "Since it's my lucky day, I'll make it your lucky day," Franc told himself. He pulled over and stopped his car on the paved shoulder. He saw from the mirror she was joking from behind, carrying a big bag.

"Where're you going?" Franc asked, after the glass on the passenger side window was wound down.

"New York City," she said, "Where're you going?" A pretty face came into his view. She was a typical blonde, long straight hair flowing down beside her face, brown eyebrows, blue eyes, and thin lips.

"May be I'll get even more luckier," Franc told himself. "It's your lucky day, come on in," Franc said, as he pressed the button to release the central lock.

"Seems so, thanks," the blonde opened the door and came in. She buckled up with the bag on her lap.

"You can drop the bag at the backseat," Franc said.

"Thanks," She said, and carefully raised her bag between them and tossed it on the floor behind the front seat.

"How long have you been here?" Franc asked as he merged into the traffic.

"Quite a while," the blonde said.

"It's a Sunday, less trucks, right?"


"I haven't seen any hitchhiker for ages, it's equally dangerous for the hitchhikers and the drivers."

"I hope I don't look dangerous," she said with a smile.

"No, you don't," Franc said, as he took a look at her. She was wearing a loose tee-shirt and jeans, which couldn't hide her nice figure. She looked like she was in her twenties. "I hope I'm not as well," he added.

"Well, you're driving a Mercedes S-class, you don't need to be dangerous to me," she said, and smiled at him again.

Franc turned around and gave her a complimentary look. "You know car pretty well, huh?" he said.

"Not at all," she said, "Everyone can tell this is a Mercedes."

"But not the model," he said.

"They look a little different," she said, "By the way, I'm Debbie."

"I'm Francesco, but call me Franc," he said. He pulled out a cigarette, "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"No, not at all," Debbie said, "Italian?"

"Yeah, you?" He said as he wounded down the glass and reached for his lighter.

"Well, I have all kinds of Caucasian gene in my blood," Debbie said smilingly. "Do you mind if I have one... from you?" She asked.

"No, of course no," Franc said, and passed her the pack.

"I can light up yours for you," Debbie offered, as she leaned forward to press on the lighter in the console.

"Okay, thanks," Franc passed her his cigarette and his lighter.

"S.T. Dupont Ligne series. You live a dainty life," She said, grinning at him. With a melodious "Cling" sound, she flipped the cover open and lighted up a cigarette, passed it to him, another one for herself, and gave him back his lighter. She wound the window down on her side.

"I'm impressed, Debbie," Franc said as he put back his lighter, "What do you do for a living?"

"Singer at a club," Debbie said slowly, "You?"

"Real estate," Franc said. Her profession made him pondered a bit. Why would a singer need to travel with hitchhiking. "Visiting friends?" He asked.

Debbie thought for a moment. "Looking for a job," she said slowly.

"You're moving there?" Franc asked, while trying his best to hide his disbelief.

"Yes," Debbie said, looking out the window. She continued after a while, "and yes, this is all I have. I'm broke."

Franc sensed that it wasn't a smart idea to continue talking about herself. "So you have friends or relatives in New York?" He asked.

"No," Debbie said, after a while.

Franc didn't know how to carry on with the talk. He drove on without saying anything. Franc knew he had probably came along a situations he didn't want to hear.

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Debbie said.

"Very true," Franc said. He believed he had underestimated this woman. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-six, you?"



"No," Franc said.

"Girl friend?"


"I can't believe it."


"You lead a nice life, you have a nice job, and you look... nice."

"I look nice?"

"Well, you're not handsome, you're not muscular, you have a tummy, but you still look nice," She said with a smile.

He laughed. "Actually I had been dating two sisters separately at the same time. They found out, and I ended up with nothing," he said, "That was around a year ago."

She laughed. "Next time go for cousins," she said.

He laughed. "Sure," He said.

Franc kept on driving until he saw a service area along I-78E. "I need to refill the gas and use the restroom." He said, and then pulled the car into the ramp, found the parking lot, and parked the car. They went for the restrooms.

"Want a coffee?" He asked her when her reappeared from the restroom.

"Thanks," Debbie said with a smile. She switched to look at the menu above the food counter.

"Want something to eat?" Franc asked.

Debbie hesitated for a bit, "No," she said.

Franc started walking towards the counter, but stopped on a flash in his mind. He turned around. "Debbie, I hope you don't mind, do you have your meal yet?" He asked.

She slowly shook her head.

"I'll buy you something, what do you want?"

"Anything is fine," she said, and began chewing her lip.

Franc could tell, from the way she ate, that she didn't have food for, well hopefully, just that day. She ate in silence, and he watched in silence, in the dinning area. He started to feel sorry, or worried, or both, about her. He couldn't imagine how she could survive her stay in New York without friends and relatives, if spending for a meal in a service area meant so much for her.

"Thanks," Debbie said, after she finished her meal. Her eyes were a little wet.

Franc patted her on the shoulder. They continued their trip after refilling gas at the service station.

"I don't mean to be nosy," Franc said after a while, "but where are you staying tonight?"

Debbie inhaled the cigarette that he gave her deeply, and said, "I'll figure out."

"How much money do you have?" He asked. He knew he should not have asked, but he couldn't help.

Debbie finished her cigarette slowly before she replied. "Thirty-seven fifty-five," she said, "and, please don't worry, like I said, where there's a will, there's a way."

Franc had a lot in mind which he had wanted to say, or to ask, but he drove the rest of the trip in silence, except the occasionally offers of cigarettes and her thank-you responses.

It was close to ten o'clock when they saw city lights rising from the horizon. Franc was close to home again.

"Debbie, I live by himself, in an apartment. I have a spare room which you can stay for tonight, if you trust me," Franc offered. He had run this idea in his mind several times during the silence trip, and he knew it wasn't a bright idea, but he couldn't scrap the idea; he didn't know why.

Debbie hesitated for a while. "I trust you. You're the nicest guy I've seen in ages," she said in a low voice, "As a matter of fact, I can pay you if you want."

Franc turned over to look at her. She was looking at him. "No," he said. He knew what she meant. In fact, at the time Franc picked her up, that was his wish; he wasn't a virtuous man. However, offering a room for a night in return for sex wasn't the way he would expect or wanted.

"I'm sorry," Debbie dropped her head.

"No," Franc said, as he patted her hand, "to tell the truth, that was my wish when I first saw you through the window. But it's... it's too sullied to do it to you this way."

Debbie had a tiny smile on the corner of her lips, but said, "I'm cheap, I know."

"No, you're not," Franc said, "You're only as cheap as you want, or think of yourself, to be."

"Thanks," Debbie said, "You're sweet." She gave him a sweet smile.

"Will I be too noisy if I ask you about your singing job back in Pittsburgh?" Franc asked, "You don't have to tell me if it's inappropriate."

"I knew you would ask," Debbie said.

"Well," he said with a smirk, "May be we can talk about... Who's your favorite pop singer?"

Debbie didn't responded right away. She looked at the traffic ahead for a while, then said, "I sang in a private club. It was my dream since childhood to become a singer. It wasn't an easy way to get to there, it was a even tougher job to stay there."

She looked at Franc for a while, then returned to look outside the windshield and continued, "Yes, I slept with my boss, that's probably how I got to stay there. In fact I had to sleep with some of his friends and business partners as well. I got tired of it. I wasn't going any where with it. I told him I wanted to quit. I got beaten badly. A week in hospital. The night I got out of the hospital I had to entertain one of his friends in bed. Eventually, I sneaked out. I have to leave Pittsburgh. I don't care how. I don't care how to survive, as long as I'm not in Pittsburgh anymore. After all, I may have a chance to accomplish my dream, once again. I've heard that New York is a place with a lot of opportunities."

Franc listened quietly, he felt sorry for her. He couldn't come up with any words to console her. He also knew her future in New York wasn't going to be a cheering one. He turned around to look at her. Tears were flowing down her cheek. He pulled the handkerchief out from his pocket and passed to her.

"Where are you originally from?" Frank asked after a while.

"A small town in Ohio, about thirty minutes from Pittsburgh."

"Have you ever thought about going back there?"

"No, I'm a disgrace to everyone in that town."

Franc didn't know what to say.

Franc showed Debbie into his three-bedroom apartment in Upper East Side of Manhattan.

"Very nice place, rented or owned?" She asked.

"Owned, in fact I inherited it from Uncle Luigi who passed away about eight years ago."

"I wish I had an uncle like yours," Debbie said, "silly, huh?"

Franc laughed. "Let me show you the room," he said, and led her into the guest room. He showed her the bathroom and told her to take a shower. He went to the bar and poured himself a martini. He went to the sitting room and turned on the TV. His mind was thinking about the miserable future of Debbie. He sighed, finished his martini, went into the bathroom in his master bedroom and took a shower himself.

He returned to the sitting room and found her sitting in the couch. She was wearing a big shirt.

She smiled at him. "I didn't take any of the nice looking garments he bought me," she said.

"It looks very nice on you," he said, "Do you want a drink?"

"A room is already a lot," she said.

"This is not a hotel, you're my guest here. Do you want a drink?"

Debbie gave him another smile. "Whatever you're going to get for yourself," she said.

He poured two glasses of martini. He gave her a glass and sat in the couch. When she raised her hand to get the glass from him, he could see her breast swayed a bit underneath her shirt. He knew she was topless underneath, could be bottomless as well. He started feeling uneasy in his shorts.

Debbie had a sip of the liquor, turned the glass in her hand, watching the fluid swirling in it, and said, "You said you had some wishes when you first saw me, right?"

Franc knew his throat was dry.

"Do you still have that wish?" Debbie asked, and turned to look at him. Her face was a bit pink. He didn't know if that was the alcohol or otherwise.

Franc managed to gulp, and managed to say, "Yes, but... we've agreed that you'd stay here tonight without any obligation."

"I know that. I'm not talking about payment either," she said softly, and looked back at her glass, "I kind of like you."

He put his glass on the tea table, took her glass and put it down as well. He leaned over to kiss her. She wrapped around his neck and returned the kiss with passion. They fondled each other eagerly.

He took her into his room. He undressed her and then himself. He kissed her fervently while running his hand all over her body. She took him in her hand and spread herself, indicating him to get on her. He didn't, he kept on playing with her body; he kissed her all over; he forced his face in between her thighs. He felt she resisted, but he persisted, until she gave up resisting and enjoyed the pleasure he gave her. Eventually she blasted in ecstasy and fell flat on the bed, panting heavily.

"Why did you do that?" She asked weakly, she was laying feebly and wild stretched.

"Did you like it?" He asked, stroking her heaving breast.

"It's been centuries since I last felt like this, but why did you do it?" She asked, stroking his hairy chest.

"To please you," he said, licking sweat off her face.

"Why please me? It's supposed to be the other way round," She asked, caressing his thighs.

"I suppose you'll please me better if you're pleased first," he said, and kissed her.

She smiled, and got on top of him. She kissed him all over, and teased him with intolerable tenderly strokes. She gave him the hottest, most ardent, most intense, and most passionate pleasure he could sustain. Franc could hardly breathe when his climax was over. She collapsed on him. They fell asleep pretty quickly.

When Franc woke up in the morning, Debbie wasn't in the bed, but he smelled coffee and sausages. He got out of the bed, and went to the kitchen. She was there, back in her tee-shirt and jeans, making breakfast.

"Good morning, I hope you don't mind me trespassing your kitchen," she said with a smile.

"Good morning, no, not at all, thanks for doing it," Franc said.

He went to the bathroom, and then went back to the kitchen to share breakfast with Debbie. He noticed her bag was at the entrance door.

"I didn't take anything from your apartment, you can take a look," Debbie said.

"Don't worry," Franc told her. Despite Debbie had just reminded her of some possible loss of properties he might see by inviting a stranger woman to his place for the night, he wasn't worried at all. He didn't know why, but he felt he could trust her.

"So, do you manage your own properties?" She asked.

"Yeah, my dad and Uncle Luigi left behind some properties to me. Nothing like the Rockerfeller Center, just some apartment buildings and a few buildings in Little Italy. I manage them with my own company. I'm also working on a downtown project," he said.

"Well, that's a very nice job," she said with a light smile, "and very nice dad as well as uncle."

He laughed. "What's your plan today?" he asked.

"I'll figure it out."

They finished the meal in silence. Franc was still thinking over something while Debbie was doing the dishes.

"I think I should go," Debbie said, from beside him, taking him back from his thoughts to reality. She leaned to kiss him on his lips. "It's a very sweet and memorable experience to have met you. Thanks again, Franc," she said after the kiss.

"Can you stay for a little while?" Franc asked, as she was walking towards her bag.

She turned around, with an enquiring look on her face.

"Take a sit there, please," he said as he pointed to the couch in the sitting room, "I need to make a phone call first."

Franc went for the phone and dialed a number. "Damiano? S", sono Francesco... é 2F piano ancora disponibile?... Ho ottenuto un inquilino... Per- abbiamo queFranc mobilia da ç?... Potete fornire 2F dFranc queFranc mobilia?"

Franc went over to the couch. Debbie was looking at him with the same enquiring look on her face.

"Debbie, I have a proposal."


"I own some apartments, and I have a vacant one at the moment, it's nothing like this one, but it's okay."

"How much?" Debbie said, then shook her head, "Never mind, it doesn't matter, I still can't afford it."

"Here's the deal," Franc said, "you can have it for six months, rent free. I'm having the superintendent furnishing it."

"And?" Debbie asked, "there's no free lunch in this world, right?"

Franc smiled, and continued, "You're right, I'll be the only man who will stay in your apartment during this period. What do you say?"

Debbie dropped her head and thought for a moment, then said, "I accept it." She raised her head to look at him, her eyes were wet.

"I'll show you the apartment now," Franc said.

"It's Apartment 2F in this building," Franc said, when they were in front of an apartment building in Bronx. They went inside and went up to the flat. The superintendent, Damiano, was tugging a couch into the flat.

They went into the flat, took a brief tour, and stayed in the bedroom where an old bed was already in place.

"How's it?" Franc asked.

"It's nice, thanks,"

"You may need to buy something, like utensils," Franc said, as he pulled out his wallet, grasped all the bills he had there, and gave them to Debbie.

She looked at him, but didn't take the money from him.

"Take them."

Debbie looked at the bundle of bills in his hand, then looked at his face again. "Is this whole thing a business deal or a charity?" She asked.

"I'm a business man. I don't do charities. Tiny ones, may be, but not big ones," Franc said.

She slowly took the money from his hand. "You can have me any time. I'll do it with... with pleasure," she said softly, looking at the money in her hands.

"I've got to go now," Franc said. He kissed her forehead and left the place.

Franc saw Debbie five weeks later, when he stepped out of the building near Little Italy in Manhattan where his office was in.

"Hi, Debbie, how're you doing?" Franc said.

"Hi, I'm fine. How have you been?"

"I'm fine. What are you doing here?"

"To see how you have been. Damiano told me where you work."

"Didn't he give you my phone number?"

"Yeah, he did."

"You could have called him."

"Are you in a hurry?"

"No, why?"

"It was a charity, wasn't it?"

"What charity?"

"The apartment and the four hundred sixty two dollars you gave me."

"No, that's a business deal."

"You never came to the apartment."

"I've been rather busy lately."

Debbie turned away from him and looked at the traffic. "It would probably have made me feel better if you had told the truth. Charity is bad, but not as bad as a charity underneath some candy coating," she said slowly.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Romantic /