This little encounter takes place before I married my lovely and very understanding wife. These days she and I often talk about it as a “what if...” as in, “Would I do it again?” “Would she do it?” “What might we do instead?” “Is there a way to make it more fun?” “Do you still have her number?”

I should mention that it also occurred before the plague of “risk assessment experts” with their rules, black boxes and cameras have made my workplace less fun.

At the time I was driving a delivery truck (step van) on a regular route to grocery stores. Four days a week my morning stops followed a strict schedule starting at 6 AM with Louies; the man needed his fresh pepperoni. Fridays I had the same route but started an hour earlier: bigger deliveries and more traffic. Afternoons deliveries varied.

One Monday I noticed an “interesting” young woman waiting at the bus stop watching me. I learned her name was Cherry, she had short red hair (dyed) and always wore a pin or bracelet or necklace with a cherry on it. She was not a looker, but no dog either. With her corporate armor in place I could not tell anything about her figure, except she was thin.

On Friday a week later this woman approached me with a proposition. When she started her job, it was a 30 minute, fifty cent bus ride to her work. However, since the city started the bridge rebuilding program to waste tax dollars they changed all the bus routes, so now she had a 90 minute trip, using 3 busses, costing $3 each way. Okay, the bus fares were trivial. But her work hours were a big deal. Her job was on flex time, so the loss of two hours each day, which could be paid work-time or vacation, was killing her. If she was paid $25 an hour (a conservative estimate) that was $250 per week lost.

My schedule was tight, so to hear the rest of her idea I told her to hop on board and I took off for my next stop; Jimi’s was 7 minutes away. It was against the rules to take riders, but nobody checked so I was okay. (Plus it was actually my truck, leased to the company.)

She talked the entire way. What she wanted was a ride with me to her job. Like the bus, I was on a schedule. For payment she proposed to give me a BJ each day. She was very clear about the rules, I had to be clean and there would be no grab ass or anything. Condom or not, swallow or not, that was all up to me, but I could not mess with her outfit or makeup. “No facials!” she said.

I never saw the point of a facial; while accidents happened I never gave one on purpose.

She waited in the truck while I spent 9 minutes unloading at Jimi’s (he was always double-counting the drop), then continued her spiel as I drove to Chuck’s Market, 12 minutes away. Most of that leg was on a parkway that ran along a stream that somebody called a river (steady speed, no cross-traffic) so that was where she proposed to make me smile. A stop sign a block from Chuck’s was where she wanted to pop out, it was a one minute walk to her job. Bushes in the parkway meant she would not be seen getting out of the truck. That showed she had some smarts and had given this some thought. For her it was a total of 29 minutes to work. She understood that if she was late, or if I was not the driver (I might be sick) she would opt for the bus. We exchanged cell phone numbers but not names.

In the afternoon - her trip home - I drove by another spot near her work. If she was waiting I could pick her up and save her the bus trip, but I could not wait for her. She was fine with that. I also said one BJ per day was my limit; she acted disappointed but we both knew better.

I said we would try it on Monday, when I was on my 4-day schedule. No BJ required, “it was a freebie-test run” because I wanted to see if we got along “standing up.”

She smiled and said “Okay.” Just like that, I had a regular date on the clock with a happy ending. There was one added wrinkle - it turned out that she actually wanted my cum as a morning protein snack. I had never been called that before; but it seemed I was a nourishing guy!

Tuesday was weird, as I left Jimi’s I hung out my hard dick (it was VERY hard) for a woman I hardly knew. But dicks are kind of friendly and I was anticipating, so there was no jerk-off Monday night. She said “It is a nice one.” I won’t say she was overjoyed with the job, as her position was awkward, but it was not a hardship. I was quick, she got me in about 4 minutes and handled the oversized load with ease. That first time I asked if she wanted anything else after, like a kiss or a shot of scotch (I brought a flask for her), but she was fine. I always said “thank you” and she always smiled like she got the better part of the deal. There were no other intimacies.

We were not friends, our humor and personalities did not click. Our general conversation was mainly about the city. We only used nicknames, she named me “Buster” after my first performance and liked that I called her Cherry. We agreed to ignore each other if we ever passed in public.

The second week she tried a maximum effort, to show me how deep she could take it. She got me to her throat and had her gag reflex under control, but breathing was hard for her. I admit she was impressive, and I enjoyed it, but I said it was not required and it risked messing up her makeup. She had found a better position on a padded stool so she was more comfortable. It was always good for me. There were times when she asked to be excused or I said it was a free ride (“great date last night, nothing left”). We were very civilized that way.

I did find out she was 25. I gave her a birthday cake to take to work, a fancy one intended for an exclusive hotel dining room, their bakery was on my route and I fudged an invoice. She gave me a chaste kiss for that. It was a surprise, the bosses favorite and was the best cake of the year in her department, spoiling things for everybody else. She said it got her halfway to a promotion! I was Just 23 at the time.

This went on for roughly 6 months, then one Monday she told me she had gotten engaged. They set a date, she gave up her “cherry” (at 25!) and got her diamond. She did not intend to change our arrangement, but on that trip we talked the entire time, because she was so excited and I was curious. It turned out her guy did not like BJ’s, he was an immigrant born in the Middle East who was messed up by his mother.

The next day she complained that she had been run down by 10 Monday morning - with the talking she had missed her protein snack! “Feed me Buster!” she said. I did. We were both happier.

A few weeks later, on a Wednesday, she said that “Tomorrow is the last time for a BJ, because I am getting married on Saturday.” She seemed kind of sad to be getting married, but that was not my business, She was taking Friday off to prepare food for the reception. The wedding was to be an inexpensive informal affair, with family and a few of his friends. For him there would be a bachelor party Friday night, her rule was one stripper and no hookers. He agreed and swore on his honor. Sunday, after the wedding she would move into his place, which was not on my route. I wished her well, I said he was a lucky guy and that I would miss her.

She showed me his picture, he was good-looking and well-dressed with an expensive haircut. She said he was in the food business and owned his own company. I knew every food business in town and I did not know him, but I let it pass. He had spent two years in high school with her and they had one date then. He was two years older, and he called her up out of the blue a few months ago. Things moved quickly. I said she could skip this BJ but she wanted the “last shot of go juice” so she took it with appreciation.

I cold hardly expect an invite to the wedding.

I was surprised to see her on Monday, and with no ring. She wanted to return to our deal, the wedding was off. I was fine with it, but of course I wanted to hear what happened.

The problem was that she did not know her intended. The first danger signs were Thursday night after work, when he said that she would work for him now, they would use the wedding money and she would borrow some more so they would have 2 food trucks in operations. (Yes, I knew the food trucks too, he had not operated one.) He claimed to have bought one truck that was not working, but with a cash injection he could fix things. She objected as she was making pretty good money, but he dismissed her job - he said his wife would not work for another man, as it was not proper. They would live with his mother in her small apartment. Cherry could not argue with him, so she left.

Friday was the bachelor party that blew up the wedding. One of Cherry’s cousins worked at the location and secretly filmed it. First off, there were 3 strippers, and they allowed touching based on price. The girls were not that attractive, but the prices (posted) were not that high. There were also 2 hookers. They charged for their service, but the groom got a free ride on stage from each. One hooker took the groom to start the ball rolling. After removing his pants and briefs she sat him on a chair and dropped her pussy on his prong, right on the stage where everyone could see his hairy balls. He was clearly sober at the time and did not argue. Actually, from the sound of it the act was advertising her services more than anything else; she set up a mattress off to the side of the stage where she took guys while the strippers worked. The strippers made her look good, which was probably the plan.

After all three strippers were done the second hooker led the (now drunken) groom to the stage. This girl was overweight and ugly, but she was also the most expensive. She bent over, with the help of the Best Man, and took the groom “for his first and last anal sex.” He made a mess of it but eventually got in. Once the groom was in the hooker’s ass, the Best Man (a cousin of his who arranged the whole deal and probably overcharged the attendees) enjoyed his prong in the ugly hooker’s mouth, making it a spit-roast. While working to get off the best man announced to everybody that the groom didn’t want oral “at home,” but if the bride wanted any oral service, he was glad to come over and “tickle her tonsils with his long schlong.” (There were pictures, it wasn’t.)