Thanks to JS for creating the Body Shifters Universe
It was difficult to say which of them was more foolish. The hitch-hiker or the guy who picks her up? These days, either or both could be modern-day highwaymen looking for an easy mark. But it was my groin that decided for me. She was there in my headlights, all sleek and slick from the pounding rain, the sheer white smock she wore seemed far more appropriate for a wet-T shirt contest than a lonely night on I-55 smack dab in the middle of Mother Earth's pissing match against the slickening asphalt.
She must have known that such flimsy rags couldn't hold up amidst such wind and rain, why wear them? It looked like a nightshirt almost, but clingy in a way that riveted attention to her jutting breasts.
"Where 'ya headed?" I asked. Doing my thirty-nine year-old divorcee best to sound sexy - yet not scary as I hoped my comb-over wasn't too conspicuous.
"Wherever you are, sexy." She purred, not seeming at all distressed. I was somewhat taken aback. Shouldn't she be cold, shivering, eager to get out of the rain. Rather than shaking, clutching or rubbing her hands to keep warm, she seemed mainly to thrust dripping wet chest out towards me.
"Ehrr ... I'm headed to St. Louis..."
"Sounds great!" She smiled with ebullient energy.
If mystery woman appreciated the fact that the heat in my economy sedan was turned up all the way, then she didn't seem to show it. She also didn't seem to appreciate the fact that her sopping wet negligee - see-through night-shirt should had dried out half-an-hour ago. She writhed in her seat, making moon-eyes at me and flaunting her cereal-bowl boobs (still dripping wet) in my general vicinity.
"S-so ... uh ... what do I call you?"
"Stacey..." she answered throatily, her hand gracing my inner thigh.
"Y-yeah ... if you don't mind my saying so - you seem to be ... a little bit ... forward..."
"I know, that's 'cause I'm hoping that once you get me back to your place that you'll spend the whole night fucking me." She declared honestly.
Other than my increasingly hard cock, one thing odd that I noticed was the way that 'Stacey' seemed determined to tidy up the passenger seat. Straw wrappers and plastic bags she would neartly fold and compress out of sight when she wasn't jiggling herself at me. Her amber hair framed a face that was a saucy mix of sultry and petite that was too erotic to be innocent, but with a demure softness that off-set the nervousness some men might feel from approaching such an ultra-babe. Sometimes, night driving like this, it's easy to nod off - highway hypnosis they call it. But here, this was more like highway titnosis - I was actually so distracted by Stacey's groaning, moaning, and fondling of her own body that I swerved a few times - to which she giggled.
"Ok ... Stacey, what's your story."
"I'm looking for a man."
"Any guy in particular, friend ... brother?"
"Oh no, nothing like that - I need a man who craves sex."
The truth hit me like a bolt from the blue - or black and rainy, in this case. "Huh ... well, you're a long ways off the beaten path for a ... erh ... working girl."
"Yes, I had no place to go - but I will work very hard ... very, very hard." again came those soft hands dangerously close to my crotch. I wasn't sure we were speaking the same language.
"N-no ... no ... I shouldn't get involved ... I'm not paying you anything ... I'll just ... find a nice looking motel to drop you off at." She was visibly crestfallen - and still wet - in more ways than one.
"Ahh ... c'mon please ... just gimme one load! Just one load! Just give me a chance!" Her body seemed to flow towards me - and my pants were unzipped more deftly than I'd thought possible, by hands with considerable experience. It was totally unreal - this chick was a total hottie, with her figure, I would have thought maybe Olympic swim-team, so sleek and toned, but with breasts like that - no, she was too busty for anything that athletic, angelic face and hair like a cinnamon river - couldn't have been over thirty - and here she was, her face pistoning on my lap - her ruby-perfect lips licking and sucking my manmeat. The unsought blow-job was surreal - yes, her tongue teased and tormented my member with an incredible, slippery enthusiasm - yet there were also times when her mouth seemed to close around me like a vice - a wet prison of womanly pleasure almost like ... like a pussy? Wait a 'sec, it sounded like this girl was asking for payment in ... what my cum?
"Ohh ... oh man ... I ... I never." Tires screeched - she wasn't helping my concentration. But when she moaned, and started blowing air on my cock to add stimulation, well then It just ... didn't seem to matter. Psycho-nympho from an insane asylum - or hooker on a bad luck streak - I was taking this chick home with me.
There were more things that didn't seem to make sense - if I took time to think about it - which I didn't. She didn't seem to mind the old papers and disarray of the furniture in my cramped bachelor's pad - I was worried that a lot of chicks would get turned off by a lot of disorder - but her only concern was what was in my pants. It was unreal - she practically lead me through the door by my cock! Hand down my pants she pulled me while I tried to point to the direction of my bedroom. For a babe so hot - so eager - well sure, I would have shelled out a couple hundred bucks for the experience. But it wasn't like that; this chick had some kind of pressing, physical need - like ... like she had to get my dick in her for relief! Well, whatever the story - that's what she was getting! Strange, when I tore at her flimsy, soaked nightshirt, it seemed to flow away from me. And as I pressed myself against the tight curves and moist silkiness of her aroused, feminine perfection, her clothes seemed to ... vanish? If there wasn't another pressing concern, it would have bothered me the way her garments just melted away somewhere. But she was naked now, and I savored her spectacular, jiggling-rippling titflesh, the softness of her neck - the toned sleekness of her thighs. I wasn't even paying attention to whether we had landed on my bed - or collapsed in passion on the floor. Probably a lot of both. And when I finally released - when finally I blew my load into a cunt more eager, more grasping than I had dreamed possible - she seemed even more relieved than me.
And man was I late! I had to rush out the door hopping as I tried to get my pants on for another day of Insurance Claim adjustments, with no time to check on my erstwhile lover. She might have been in the bathroom, couldn't check up on her - no time! Well ... could be some kind of grifter or thief - did I dare leave her alone in my house? Ehh ... hardly anything worth stealing anyway...
And hours later, I certainly expected her to be gone when I got home from work. The unbelievable night before had practically been erased from my mind - and it was easier to convince myself that the whole impossible episode had been just a wet dream. Nothing could have prepared me for the unlikely sight that greeted me upon trudging in through the door after another day's semi-honest work: The place was spotless! All the bills, envelopes, discarded paper was gone! Someone had swept the floor, reorganized the furniture, and there was a steaming-hot steak dinner on the table! The apparent culprit, Stacey stood smiling eagerly, expectantly with her hands behind her back, wearing a black and white french-maid's outfit with an unusually low-cut skirt.
"W-wow ... you did all this while I was at work?"
Her head bobbed in agreement. "I hope you like the way I arranged the furniture; I'm going for something of a Feng Shui effect."
"I don't know what to say ... you didn't have to do that ... I just thought you'd gather your things and leave."
"Well ... I was hoping that if I stayed and tidied up, you'd be grateful and fuck me again. "
"I uhh ... no, no ... I've got to budget carefully on my salary - there's just ... you what? You cleaned my place so you could have more sex with me?" She nodded, smiling with her pearly whites.
"And if you don't mind my saying so, the place certainly needs a woman's touch."
My next words died on my lips as what she was saying seemed to hit me. Women that do chores and clean houses in exchange for sex just didn't compute. As my brain struggled to process this insanity, I began arguing without really thinking about what I was saying.
"I can't afford to pay a Housekeeper right now." She raised her eyebrow in puzzlement.
"Sure you can pay me! I know from personal experience that you've got sperm!"
"And ... you mean to say my ... sperm can be used as payment?" The gleam that lit in her blue eyes was almost desperate.
"Of course! Just gimme a week - I'll cook and clean and organize in exchange for your hard cock and your delicious sperm!"
"I don't..." I wasn't sure if I meant to say that I don't believe her or don't believe in my own sanity after hearing such a proposal.
"Just one week, Master." she pleaded.
"Excuse me - Master? And ... and ... where did you get that frilly little french maid outfit?" Stacey shrugged.
"It seemed appropriate." was her non-answer. "I promise, you won't regret it! One week!" Still fearing some voyeristic version of candid camera I felt a great deal of suspicion - yet what could I do but nod in mute agreement?
.... There is more of this story ...