Daddy's Little Girl
Copyright© 2012 by Submissive Romantic
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - This is the story of a lady trucker and the teenaged boy she rescues. But who really rescues whom?
The low rumble of the engine increased in pitch, and then momentarily ceased, only to start over as the driver shifted into a higher gear. This occurred time and time again as the truck increased its speed, until it was comfortably cruising down the New Jersey Turnpike at sixty miles per hour. At four o'clock in the morning the traffic was pretty thin, just a few other trucks on the road heading south. It was still dark; probably two hours before dawn, she thought.
Gail Brown was a trucker. She had been a trucker for almost half of her life. Her Dad had been a trucker. It was he who had taught her how to drive an eighteen-wheeler. In fact, this was her truck; the tractor, that is. She worked as a long-haul trucker for an oak furniture manufacturer located in Phoenix, Arizona. Each week she would drive her Kenworth cab from her home in the desert south of Phoenix to the company warehouse, pick up a loaded trailer, and drive to the east coast distribution center located in New Jersey. She would drop the trailer at the loading dock, then drive her cab around to the other side of the terminal and attach to a trailer loaded with oak boards brought in from North Carolina. After an overnight layover, she would begin the three and a half day trip back to Arizona.
Her father had first started with the company in the fifties and had helped set the route and the logistics for the company. Gail began coming along for the ride during the summer when she turned sixteen. It was a way for her to stay close with her Dad and to put as much distance as she could between her and her abusive mother.
She thought about that as she approached the exit for the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Her Dad had married her Mom when they were both a year out of high school. Her Dad was a big man, about six three, with dark hair and eyes. Her Mom, on the other hand, was a petite natural blonde with blue eyes. They made a very attractive couple; in fact it was their looks and the sex that went with it, that was the basis for their marriage. They had very little else in common. Dad was a go-getter; while not highly intelligent, he was very street-smart, with a sharp business mind. Her Mom had made it through life on her looks. She was to put it bluntly, a dumb blond.
Gail Brown was a combination of the two. Unfortunately, she didn't get the best of her parents; her genes were all scrambled together. She resembled her father in looks, and had her mother's brain when it came to school work. She did, however, inherit her father's keen business and common sense. Physically she was impressive. She stood six-feet-two and weighted one hundred eighty pounds. She was broad shouldered and had thick arms, a twenty-four inch waist and slim hips, with a tight butt. Her breasts were not large, but sat high on her forty-two-inch chest. She was not an ugly woman; she just looked and acted more like a man. That was what her mother resented the most. She had wanted a pretty daughter to be her girlfriend; what she got was a tomboy who could care less about boys, pretty dresses and girl talk. She wanted to be strong like her father, and she was willing to compete with the boys at all levels. They were constantly at each other's throats.
When Gail was seventeen, just before the beginning of her senior year, she and her father came home from one of the cross-country runs to find the house all but empty. Mom had taken all her clothes and anything else that she liked and walked out. A note was left on the table basically telling them both to kiss off; she was leaving to live with her new boyfriend.
Her Dad was devastated; Gail could have cared less. She took care of him for a week, and then insisted that he go back to work, that she would be fine by herself. She would finish her senior year and graduate. They both knew that she would not be going to college, but when she announced that she wanted to be a trucker just like him, her Dad refused. At dinner that night, she explained that if she learned to drive the truck, they could cut at least a day out of each leg of the trip and that they could spend more time together at home. He saw the logic in that, so he agreed to teach her how to drive the big rig.
She qualified to drive the truck a month later, got her operator's license and soon was taking the night shifts, allowing her Dad to sleep in the berth behind the cab. Her Dad showed her how he exercised each morning and night. He had attached two hooks to the front bumper of the cab. He would attach long rubber exercise bands and do curls, bench presses, military presses and would shadow box with his back to the truck extending each arm as if throwing punches. Gail would copy each movement until she reached her limit. Soon, they were doing the same amount of each exercise. It was clear that she was his daughter.
In fact that was her CB handle: Daddy's Little Girl. If only the truckers out there knew what she looked like, they'd have cleaned up their chatter over the radio when she was driving.
Life was good for the both of them. In fact, because they had longer periods of time being home, Dad was able to go out again. He met a recently divorced woman and began to date again. Gail had not seen her Dad this happy in years.
Then tragedy struck. One evening while they were home between runs, her Dad suffered a massive stroke and died. Gail was twenty-two years old and for all intents was an orphan. Her Dad's life insurance from the company paid for funeral expenses and left her with enough money to live on for a while if she chose to give up truck driving. The day after the funeral, however, she walked in to the company and spoke with the owner. She assured him that she could continue doing the job that her father had done. She explained that she had shared the driving duties with her father for the last four years and was more than capable of handling the job. Because of his long friendship with her father, he hired her on the spot.
"Thank you, Mr. McGuire, I won't let you down."
That was five years ago.