Sheila was 58, fit and excited. Her football-sized cunt was throbbing as she sat in the diner waiting for the other party to arrive. She discreetly part stood up and adjusted her seat and in doing so managed to spread the massive cushion like lips of her cunt wider, letting some air in and making it easier to sit on the hard plastic seat. She hoped her clever adaptation of panty liners within special panties did their usual job and prevented her profuse natural juices staining her shorts. Her brand new combat shorts had extremely wide legs, needed for both general aeration in the extreme heat and the fact that her minge expanded as other body parts did in hot weather.
Bruce, her 15-year-old mentally retarded son, played with his toy car on the table top, making whirring and rushing noises through his gaping misshapen teeth. Sheila reached across and wiped a green bogey from his prominent nose with her finger, releasing it onto a tissue nearby. She corrected the angle of his wire spectacles where she had knocked them askew.
The only other occupants in the road side truck stop was the owner Fat Bruce, a tall fat old man with stubble on his chin, hair sprouting from his armpits and poking from behind the grubby vest. His bald head was almost continually being scratched by his stubby hairy fingers as he chatted to a blousy bleached blonde called Slack Sheila, whilst leering down her front. She perched on a bar stool, smoking cheroots and frequently reaching under her mini skirt to flap away the odd fly. The white skirt matched her shirt that hung wide open and revealed her sagging tits, which swayed near down to her navel when she moved. Fat Bruce particularly liked the way her nipples were about an inch long and never decreased in size. They were mounted on two large low slung balloon like bosoms which were hung from her chest by two flattened sacks of stretch marked flesh.
“Flies bothering your fanny Slack?” he grinned.
She nodded and chuckled. “What else mate? Makes a change from you bothering it Fat Bruce. Anyway you know what I’m waiting for and what he likes.”
Fat Bruce grimaced and shrugged, having put up with the stench of her pussy since she had entered the diner. Flies were the main pest in the otherwise relatively clean diner. They would infiltrate the heavy fly curtain whenever someone entered or left.
Near the window, Bruce flapped at two buzzing round his chin and knocked his Pepsi glass over, spilling the remains. It startled Sheila, who was dreaming of the next few days and achieving one of her ambitions in life. Bruce slid to hide under the table, licking his fingers which in turn were scraping the Pepsi drips off the edge of the table. Sheila waited for Fat Bruce to bring over some paper towels and mop the slops and as he did so she smelt his raw rancid body and noticed the gravy stains on his vest and the less distinguishable marks down the front of his trousers.
He smiled pleasantly, second nature to this antipodean nation, during his chore - smelling the exotic, cheap, sticky aroma of Sheila’s perfume, so alien in this dusty outback location. He took a peek down the front gape of her sharply pressed khaki shirt, inwardly laughing at the pseudo country getup she affected. A silver-haired townie out to see what Donkey Bruce can do for her, he chuckled inwardly, but look at the size of those hooters. He’d love to sluice his gallons of cum into there before slicing her prissy middle aged little twat with his monster tool, he mused. Enormous shelves of pale flesh oozed loosely within the confines of Sheila’s city bought garment, creating a cavernous cleavage which reminded Fat Bruce of the arse crack of his mare. Only this morning he had fucked his diminutive cock into Big Sheila’s vagina, before he had ridden her the two kilometres into town to collect some mail.
“This is Dicksinard WA?” Sheila asked rather impatiently, looking at her watch, as Fat Bruce turned away, but not without peering down at Bruce, whose hands were now way up under his mother’s shorts.
“Yes, Dicksinard, Western Australia. 740 k from Perth and nowhere near anywhere else,” he chuckled, thinking Yep! Another sucker for Donkey Bruce’s charm.
There’s only one reason lone women turn up at this God-forsaken truck stop. This one was different in that she had the youth with her, but he was obviously baggage she couldn’t leave behind although a lot of lone men turned up here too. No - the youth wouldn’t be here for that.
“Your boy OK under there?” he asked.
“Yes - Bruce come out of there. The man is not angry about the drink. Bring him another one will you and me too, please,” she added, watching her retard son unfold his skinny frame and clamber back onto the seat and curl up grinning inanely at the fat man.
Fat Bruce did notice the impressive bulge in the boy’s shorts before turning away mystified. Bruce smelled his fingers and his mother grimaced good-naturedly at him. She had enjoyed his little play with the swell of her cunt lips as they bulged down her inner thighs. Sheila gazed out at the dusty lifeless scene outside the truck stop, thinking what a God-awful place to meet someone when it was so important that discretion was paramount. Still - these stupid outback folk wouldn’t have a clue as to her visit. Bruce murmured something into his chin and she smiled across at her son. He wouldn’t be needed for tonight bless him, she chuckled inwardly.
Fat Bruce took the drinks over and made no comment. On his return to the bar he whispered to Slack Sheila and they both cackled.
“Another city sucker out for some strong meat,” he murmured, coming round the front of the bar and sliding his pudgy fist inside Slack Sheila’s thighs.
“I hope you washed that after you’d touched up Big Sheila? She looks like she’s in season if you ask me,” she added when he stuck his finger straight into her pantyless crotch.
“So you’ve been in the stables this morning eh?” he asked impatiently as he fumbled amongst her labial folds. “And since when have you worried about a smelly finger?”
“She is my horse remember. Oh never mind but hang on I’ll have to undo the knot first. You have no idea how painful it can be when that skin is pinched,” Slack Sheila added impatiently, as his fingers foraged in the sticky mess of her cunt.
She twisted on her stool and parted her legs wide and delved into her crotch, pushing Fat Bruce’s mitt away. Grabbing the two floppy ends of her labia, which hung a good four inches from her puss pouch, she gently parted them and untangled the following layers to expose the glistening opening to her enormous gash. Old sperm, discharges and sweat intermingled in entrails like a spiders web across the cavernous orifice as she indicated with her blood shot eyes to Fat Bruce she was ready.
As her partner shoved his hand in again, there was this huge roaring motor sound outside and from a swirl of dust a massive rig emerged to a noisy hissing halt.
“Fuck, it’s Donkey Bruce,” Fat Bruce whispered, just as he had his fist inside Slack Sheila’s minge. “You know he’ll want to shaft you in the toilets to get in practice before doing her,” Fat Bruce scowled at Sheila, who was watching the front door with great interest. “He’ll want you straight away. Fuck! Just when I was starting to get a hard on.”
Slack Sheila shrugged her shoulders as his fist slopped out of her, thinking that Fat Bruce hadn’t had a hard-on for months, at least what she thought was a hard-on. She also watched the door with feverish anticipation. After the fly screen fluttered to virtual stillness again, she looked at the massive frame stood with just a few fronds of the screen draped delicately over his brawny brown shoulders and then straight to the lower spot and saw the thick tube running down the inside of Donkey Bruce’s jeans, just passing his knees. She licked her lips, squealched her purposely unwashed quim off the stool, winked at the rugged farmer and slunk out the back.
Sheila gaped in awe at the dark hulk stood in the doorway. He looked about 6 feet 12 inches tall and 5 feet wide. Bare arms stuck out from his sides at near 45 degrees, unable to hang straight due to the bulk of his pecs and adjacent biceps. The torn tee shirt was like a limp rag over the sweating glistening torso and his jeans were cinched tight under a distinct beer belly with a wide belt and huge silver buckle in the shape of a kangaroo. His face was hidden under the shady brim of his bush hat but she saw the glimmer of a smile and gleaming teeth. She ignored his lower carriage, the dusty frayed jeans and scrubby tan boots, not noticing the extra bulk of his left leg. She wasn’t interested in the content of Donkey Bruce’s trousers.
“You er ... are you Mr Donkey Bruce?” she asked quietly.
He stepped closer and doffed his hat letting the shock of black unruly hair fall round his round pugilistic face. She noticed the big front facing nostrils each side of his stubby bulbous nose, thick wide lips and those dark twinkling eyes.
“Yeah mate, but you can call me Donkey,” the Aboriginal guffawed loudly, sharing his mirth with Fat Bruce who was already waddling across with a large cola.
Donkey Bruce grabbed the drink and swallowed it in one as Sheila spoke.
“Can we go? Get away from here?” she whispered anxiously.
“Need to piss Donkey?” Fat Bruce asked slyly, having heard her. He winked towards the rear door. Sheila recoiled at the crudity, but Donkey just laughed.
“Nah mate. Lady wants to go. Splashed me boots up the trail anyway. Thanks mate,” he laughed, slapped a dollar on the table for his drink, then indicated that Sheila follow him as he stepped to the front door.
She grabbed Bruce by his bare arm and dragged him out in her wake. Fat Bruce gathered up Sheila and Donkey ‘s cash as he watched the threesome climb into Donkey ‘s rig which roared off after Sheila had checked the lock on her car. Then Fat Bruce remembered that Slack Sheila would be waiting in the toilet, bending over a pan with her butt in the air and the folds of her fly-blown fanny hanging down her stinky thighs expecting Donkey’s tool to slide effortlessly in. He chuckled, undid his flies and stealthily crept out the back. Why on earth he had to put up with her slavering over a smelly Abo’s filthy cock when she could have his every time, he couldn’t work out.
The journey was short, silent and full of heightened tension. The rig was manoeuvred into a quiet trail and Sheila was led round the back of the rig. Bruce trotted along happily vacant, gazing at the wilderness around. A door and ramp were opened and she was led up to peer inside the black hole of the 40 ft trailer. Bruce scampered about in the scrub until he found a bush he liked, slid his shorts down and squatted, taking a dump.
“Gosh! He is big,” murmured Sheila as her eyes adjusted into the dark box, ignoring the low dog-like defensive growls. She sniffed the air and found the dung smelt good, inoffensive, knowing the animal was a bark and leaf eating veggie.
“Nothing but the best mate, genuine Western Grey,” chuckled Donkey. “I’ve covered his sharp bits and he’s muzzled and I’ll be here all the time ... er ... that’s if you want me to. Not nosey or anything ... but you know...”
Sheila nodded and answered gazing at the near 7 foot long beast from snout to tip of tail.
“Probably best if you stay just until I get him settled. But I’ve handled bigger boys than these you know.”
“Yeah so I’ve heard. You’re quite a legend,” Donkey breathed. “At least so your letters tell me.”
“We still haven’t agreed your fee Donkey,” she said sweetly - preening, thrusting her monstrous bosoms at him. She knew her literature was good. He gazed down at her and clasped his enormous callused hands over her tits, weighing the two bazongers. She backed off immediately, brushing his mitts away and he scowled.
“It’s negotiable, that’s what I was getting at mate,” he added, stepping forward again. “Always did like mature white ladies.”
“I’m not into men,” snarled Sheila strongly, her eyes blazing back from studying the 170lbs of animal fidgeting in the box.
“Ah well. The fee is 1000 bucks,” he said equally harshly.
Sheila gasped. “A grand, surely not? You always indicated 5 to 700 on the phone and email.”
“Well, that depended on the right deal for you. I’ve got that - you must agree mate,” he winked inside the trailer. “It’s still negotiable if I get a piece of the action like this.”
Donkey grinned, stepping close and flinging his huge arms round the startled city dweller. He pulled her tight to his chest and grasped her buttocks. Sheila panted in his inescapable hug, feeling the skanky trailer air steaming up through her shorts and into the massive slash of her creaming cunt which was hanging open due to the clutching paws of this rough man.
“I’ll give you 625 and that’s it,” she declared bravely, feeling the bulge of his genitals rubbing against her belly. She shuddered at the horrid thought of what they would be like. He held her still and they stared into each other’s eyes searching for weaknesses. Her boobs pillowed up to her chin and heaved as she dared to out stare Donkey Bruce. Outside in the scrub, Bruce yelped and disturbed their stand-off and then after glancing outside he suddenly let Sheila free. She shuddered like a bitch shaking off a dog as he spoke.
“OK mate - 625 it is.”
Sheila nodded and took a step inside the trailer. Once she determined she was free from other outside interference, she drew off her shirt and shorts including the carefully discreet extraction of her specially made knickers with their in-built pads and stood in her socks and boots. Donkey Bruce whistled in awe at both her bravado and mature nakedness considering the disturbed movement deeper in the trailer.
Donkey studied her as she calmly took the occasional tiny step forward issuing small hissing and cooing noises. The blinding outside light illuminated the rear of her body as he scrutinised Sheila. She certainly wasn’t sylph-like. Stout without being fat, 5 feet 10 inches tall and weighing around 195 lbs, Sheila’s huge tits which ballooned out and down to her navel and baggy cunt were the prime reason for her weight. With flat wide dimpled nipples, there was no extra added teat bulge to the abundant milkers, just pure bosom. Her buttocks were almost cute and not as droopy as you would expect for her age. Her legs were pin-up proportioned with slim ankles and tiny feet. What was the most astounding feature was the extra sort of sack hanging between her legs that stretched from her belly through her crotch. The front of it was a mass of grey black curly hair, but the gash below was totally bare to the world.
Donkey wondered what her arsehole looked like in comparison. He had heard about this woman’s legendary appetite for bestial sex and on seeing her cunt, he realised that the stories of her having gorillas, rams, boars, chimps, dogs, horses, bulls, donkeys, snakes, lions and even an elephant must be indeed true. Her final letters to him confirmed the latter that had penetrated her every day for a week only three weeks prior in India. She was something else and something he had never encountered before. He fondled his cock and found it lengthening down his jeans. He did need a fuck.
Sheila offered a delicate hand forward. Her strong hard arm seemed disproportionate. There was a rustling in the depth of the trailer and gradually Sheila approached the kangaroo finding it was quite still and studying her, albeit with it’s great long pointed snout lowered as if in a non- confrontational stance. She took in its long broad tail and wide haunches that could spring it into massive leaps over rough terrain and that could kill humans as well as animals with one kick. The white flashes on it’s throat, chest and belly softened the charcoal brown mass of its bulk. There was no fear as the city dweller slowly passed one hand through her dripping crotch collecting her pussy juices and then offering it to the marsupial. Its muzzled snout flared, twitched and sniffed. Sheila noticed Donkey ‘s protective cover it’s sharp clawed paws and saw that he had even bound it’s legs partly so that it could not freely kick although it could move about. She smiled smugly and stepped nearer, lowering her head and offering her side animal like in a less dominant stance. Letting her outstretched hand slowly droop to her crotch, so that the kangaroo’s snout followed it, Sheila finally stuffed her hand between her wide legged stance. The black wet nose immediately began to snort and lick at the rich juices festooning her massive minge. Carefully Sheila squatted, the head of the kangaroo following her open crotch and finally she slid alongside the great long lower limbs of the outback king.
Gulping her phlegm back in nervous but positive thoughts, Sheila ventured a hand under the beast’s belly and felt it stiffen slightly, but she stroked it lightly feeling her way back as it licked hungrily at her gaping cunt. Soon the kangaroo’s testicles dropped into her hand, loose, soft and easily clutched within the small delicately pouched sac that hung ahead of its sheath. She always thought it strange, when studying the species, that it’s balls were way ahead of it’s cock as against the opposite layout of most male beasts. She never questioned why, but it heightened her resolve to fuck one of these unique creatures one day. The day had come as she rolled the neat bollock package as it relaxed into her hand. Her fingers traced up the hanging folds of skin that connected it to the main underbelly and found the cute depression that housed the sac when the animal was tense. It was so soft to her touch and she found the kangaroo physically softened in it’s body movements as her careful and exceedingly experienced fingers traced round it’s bollock housing.
Donkey watched, recognising a true bestial expert and left her, sliding quietly from the trailer, knowing she was in control. He found Bruce on his haunches, rubbing his balls and sobbing. The youth looked up as Donkey approached and spoke.
“Stung me. Stung me here,” he quivered, his lips dropping globs of saliva from his gaping ugly mouth. He indicated his balls and a spiky plant and Donkey squatted to eye level with the youth to not dominate him.
“Aha. Let me see Bruce,” said Donkey gently, sliding his hand up the youth’s thigh.
His hand slunk inside Bruce’s shorts and he gasped as he found the immense cluster of bollocks and the thick tube of his dick loosely coiled. He pushed the youth back roughly. Bruce merely lay spread-eagled on the dust as Donkey fumbled the lad’s shorts off.
“Fuck! You’re hung sonny,” he breathed in admiration as he fondled the sweaty space under Bruce’s sac.