I had spent the night in Denver and was heading to Jackson Hole Wyoming for a family reunion. That meant driving through Central Wyoming.

If you’ve ever driven through the heart of Wyoming, you haven’t missed much. It is high desert, a barren plateau. There is nothing growing but sagebrush and tumbleweeds ... The continental divide runs through it, splitting several times, creating depression where the water does not drain. It gets so little rain, the water left there evaporates, leaving salt flats. The towns in that area are small, few and far between.

I was driving through this scenic wonderland around noon in mid-August. The temperature was in the upper nineties; that would be in the mid-thirties, on the Celsius scale. I have been told it got down close to freezing at night. I was on a two-lane highway, about a hundred miles from the nearest interstate, when the red temperature light went on on my dashboard. Steam started pouring out from under the hood of my ten-year-old Ford Focus. I sighed and pulled over to the side of the road.

I didn’t know much about car engines, but even I could tell that my radiator had overheated. I got this car used. It was the first car I had ever owned. It had never given me any major problems, until now. I hit the hood release and got out. I gingerly touched the latch that opened the hood and pulled back at once. It was scalding hot.

I went back inside and switched my cellphone from GPS to phone mode, but there was no phone coverage. I let out a sigh. I wasn’t surprised.

I started to contemplate my options. I didn’t want to try walking. It may be twenty miles until I got cell coverage. I had a small water bottle with me, but it wouldn’t be enough in this dry heat. I figured that the best thing I could do is wait for another car to come by and hope they’d be willing to help.

I was not thrilled at that prospect. I mean, being a twenty-three-year-old woman, you had to be leery of strangers, but what choice did I have?

I waited inside the car, but not able to keep the engine running, I had no A/C. The interior rapidly became an oven. Soaked with sweat, I got out, with my now all-but-empty water bottle, and crouched in the scant shade made by my car.

I heard the distant roar of an engine, so I looked down the road. I saw a big rig truck heading down the road, heading north, the same direction I had been going. My heart sunk. I heard both good and bad things about truck drivers. I wasn’t that thrilled at taking my chances with one, but I really had no choice. I stood up and waved at the approaching red eighteen-wheeler.

It slowed down and pulled over about a hundred feet in front of my car.

Climbing out of the red cab was a woman, the likes of which I had never seen in real life. She was huge! She stood six foot two, that was over a foot taller than me, with broad shoulders. She had long wavy red hair, freckles, and a button nose. She was wearing a ball cap that advertised some truck-part company I didn’t recognize, a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves torn off, faded blue jeans, and cowboy boots.

I, by contrast, was dressed for comfort. I was wearing blue gym shorts, a sweated out white tee shirt, and blue tennis shoes.

On one hand, I was glad it was a woman who was driving. But on the other, this amazon had me intimidated. I had butterflies doing summersaults in my stomach. She had muscles bulging out of her arms. Muscles that were not made at the gym, but from hard physical labor. She looked like she should be playing for the WNBA, or at least professional wrestling. Maybe she was really a transvestite, I speculated.

When I heard her voice and saw her move that laid that theory to rest. There was nothing masculine about her, except her size. “Let me guess, radiator leak,” she said in a surprising mezzo-soprano voice.

I put my hands together, as if I was praying. “Thank you so much for stopping. There is no cell coverage. I could not even call for help.”

“I have a satellite phone. It works anywhere. You can use it to call your insurance. They will contact the truck stop down the road, who will drive over and tow your car.”

I shook my head, “I can see I’m not the first stranded motorist you’ve picked up.”

“Lord, no! About every fifth time I travel this highway in the summer, I find someone in distress. “I am Marjorie, by the way.”

I reached out and shook her large hand, “Stacie James, thanks again.”

The large woman gestured to my car, “Go get anything you want to take with you.”

I went back and got my suitcase and cellphone charger. Then I locked up my car.

My rescuer took my case and put it in a compartment that was behind the driving area. Pointing to the passenger side of her truck, she said, “Climb on in.”

Blushing slightly, I said “I’m not sure I know how.”

“No problem, let me show you.”

Walking me over, she showed me the handle to grab on, and the two high steps, that led up to the cab.

The first step was a big one, and I had to strain to reach both it and the handle.

Marjorie put her hands on my rear to give me a boost.

I gasped. Her help was much appreciated, but was she groping me? I wasn’t sure. It seemed innocent enough. The fact that I was starting to get moist from her touch made me question if I was attracted to her. I had never been attracted to a woman, but this one was so unusual...

With one hand on the grab bar, I managed to open the door with the other one, and climb inside.

Marjorie got in on the other side, effortlessly.

Before we started moving, I used my driver’s satellite phone. Within a minute I was on a three-way conversation between my insurance company and the truck stop. The stop which was at the juncture with this state highway and the interstate I was trying to get to, knew “Marge”, as they called her, really well.

We arranged to meet the tow truck on our way up, so I could give the driver, the keys to my car.

“Do you want me to call you Marge or Marjorie?” I asked.

“Marge is what the other truckers call me. You call me Marjorie.”

This almost sounded like a command. “Yes, Ma’am,” I replied.

I also called my dad, letting him know that I would be late He was concerned, but relieved that I had been rescued by a woman. Who knows what would happen if a strange man had picked me up?

As we traveled, Marjorie and I got to know each other. I think we were both in need of someone to talk to.

Marjorie Pullman, age thirty-five, drove around the Western US, going as far east as Denver. Her home was in San Diego, which she usually got to see every other week. She often traveled from Denver or Colorado Springs to Portland or Seattle, using this highway we were on.

I then told her my story. How I lived in Kansas City, where I was just one semester away from getting my Secondary English Education degree.

“So you are going to be teaching our kids reading and writing?” she asked.

“And read. In September I will start my student teaching at a high school. Once that is over, I will be accredited by the state.”

“Well, good for you! It is not my cup of tea, but someone needs to do it...”

About fifty miles into the trip, we saw a tow truck approaching. Marjorie pulled to the side of the road, and the smaller truck parked directly across the road from us.

Getting down from the cab was even trickier than getting up. It was difficult to see the small steps as you descended. Again, Marjorie was there to help. When she was grabbing my ass, she also guided my feet.

I ran over and gave the young driver my car key, and ran back.

Marjorie was waiting for me by the door. “Let me see if I can get up without your help.”

The trucker gestured toward the door. “Be my guest.”

I did fine, until I reached the second step. As tried to make it into the cab, my sneaker slipped on the small notch.

My teacher was there to rescue me. Her hands cupped my ass, with one thumb accidentally poking my slit. Or was it an accident?

I let out a gasp.

“Sorry about that,” she murmured.

The final fifty miles to the truck stop went without incident. I told her about the family reunion that was going to take place at the foot of the Tetons, only a few miles from Yellowstone. My fiance was supposed to be traveling with me, to meet my parents and the rest of my family for the first time. But he canceled our engagement at the last minute. He hadn’t really given me a reason why, just that he wasn’t ready for such a commitment.

“Well, I guess it’s good that he did it before the marriage. A lot less complicated.”

“What about you, Marjorie? Are you married?”

She snorted, “Me? Married? Not hardly! I like my freedom too much. That is why I like trucking so much. I don’t have to lay down roots.”

As we pulled up to the truck stop, well away from the main building, I told her, “I want to thank you so much for rescuing me. I want to buy you dinner.”

“And I want to do you a favor. All that time you had out sweating in the sun had made you a stinky mess.”

I raised my arm and took a sniff. “I didn’t realize it was so bad.”

“We truckers have access to special private bathrooms, where you can shower by yourself.”

“That sounds great.”

“Why don’t you get yourself cleaned up, then we can eat.”

It was around three pm., which was early for supper, so that made sense.

My descent out of the rig this time, went off without a hitch.

“You’re getting better,” Marjorie said approvingly.

I blushed at her compliment.

I retrieved my suitcase, and Marjorie pulled out a small duffle bag.

Once inside the truck stop, she went to a special truckers’ desk and paid for the private shower room. She led me down a hallway, with a number of doors on each side. One door near the end was marked with the word “Lounge”.

Marjorie pointed at it. “In there is a big screen TV, sofa, recliners, some video games, and vending machines. Truck drivers are allowed to drive only so many hours a day, by federal law. When you want to relax, and you cannot drive, you can chill out here.”

We stopped at the end of the hall at Room #7. “Here’s your room,” she said, handing me the key.

Walking in, I discovered it was actually a miniature apartment. There was a full-sized bed, that took up most of the room. There was also a small desk with a flat-screen TV on it. Next to it was the bathroom. It was also cramped, with a sink, toilet and a counter no bigger than a TV tray. On the far side was the shower. It was about as big as those old phone booths.

I left my suitcase on the bed, and stripped off my sweaty clothes in the bathroom.

As I was about to step into the shower, Marjorie entered the room, also naked. She evidently had disrobed in the bedroom.

I stood there frozen at the tall woman’s naked body. She had a flat stomach and wide hips. Her bush was a furry auburn color. Being a foot shorter, my eyes were lined up against the bottom of her neck. Just below that was a pair of incredible DD breasts. They were full and pert, without a bit of sag. Her freckles went down her neck to the top of her tits. Her red erect nipples were pointed right at me. I guess her loose plaid flannel shirt had covered up these assets.

Compared to my B-cup breasts and narrow hips, I felt so inferior.

Marjorie smiled, “Like what you see?” I guess it was obvious that I was staring at her boobs.

I blushed and changed the subject. “I-I didn’t know you would be bathing too.”

“It has been a couple days since I have had a chance to shower. It makes sense to share. I can wash your back and you can wash mine.”

I couldn’t come up with any objections, so I pushed aside the curtain and stepped in. My savior followed me in.

It was a tight fit. We could move around without our bodies touching, but it took some effort. True to her word, we took turns washing backs. I went first, running a soapy washcloth over her massive back. I had to reach a bit to get the top of her shoulders.

When it was her turn, she started to talk. “You know when I said you stank in my truck, it wasn’t sweat I smelled. It was the scent of pure female arousal.”

She reached under my arms and started stroking the sides of my small breasts. “And when you climbed up and down the side of my truck, I could see up your shorts. You must find me really attractive, the way your panties were soaked.”

I gasped at her groping. “I-I’m not a lesbian. I’ve never had sex with a woman before.”

“But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you? Fantasizing, you’ve masturbated for hours in your bed at home.”

It was like she was looking into my soul. She knew my secrets.

She turned me around, massaging my breasts with her large soapy hands. “I like you Stacie,” she whispered. “You are my type; petite, blonde, and girly. I would love to make love to you. I want to possess your incredible body and make it mine.”

I bowed my head. “I don’t know how,” I whispered. “Will you teach me?”

Putting a finger under my chin, she raised my face until my blue eyes met her green. “Of course, darling. I will make your body come alive in ways you cannot imagine.”

With water pouring on her head, Marjorie kissed me. Her long tongue probed the depths of my mouth. I had never been kissed like that. She left me breathless, and horny as hell.

She adjusted the nozzle so it was pointed at the shower wall. Only a few splatters hit our bodies. The room was full of steam, adding to the feeling of intimacy.

Marjorie dropped down to her knees. “Let me show you what to do, then you can do it too.”

I nodded.

My pussy was neatly trimmed, with just a small tuft of blonde hair above my clit. With long strokes, she licked my gash. When she reached my clitoris, she gave it a flick.

I gasped and my legs almost gave way. It felt so good.

She reached for my left leg and put it over her right shoulder. That spread my pussy wide and pulled it up against her mouth. I couldn’t pull away. She licked and swirled her tongue, exploring every nook and cranny of my lower lips.

Moaning, I clung to my lover’s head.

Abruptly, she pulled my right leg over her other shoulder. I was straddling her face, my feet could not touch the floor. Fortunately, there was a grab bar on the wall, for the handicapped, that I could hold onto.

With her face buried in my muff, she started fucking me with her extra-long tongue. She had moves inside me that no cock could ever equal.

In short order, she found my g-spot. I came hard, and lost hold of the grab bar. If not for Marjorie’s strong arms holding my legs, I would have fallen.

Carefully, she lowered me onto the shower floor.

“That was amazing!” I said, smiling in gratitude. “That’s the first time someone has given me an orgasm.”

Marjorie stood up. “You mean your fiance...”

“The few times we had sex, he lasted only a few seconds. He got off and then got off.”

“What a pig!”

“He had his good points. I think Kyle just didn’t know what he was doing.”

“Don’t say that name again!” she barked.

I was startled. “What? Kyle?”

“He is your past. You are past him. I am your future.”

I nodded, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Now get on your knees. It is your turn.”

With some trepidation, I did so. Marjorie loomed above me. Her vagina was at same level as my nose, so I had to tilt my head up slightly. She spread her legs and her slit lowered a few inches, making the height just right.

With her labia spread, fluid came gushing out, covering my mouth, and I tasted another woman for the first time. It was a little musky, and not as sweet as mine. But it tasted just like I thought it would, for Marjorie.

I had thought that Marjorie did not trim her bush, but that was not true. She trimmed it just enough that thick red hair did not touch her gash or clit. I could munch her muff without getting hair stuck between my teeth. I really appreciated that.

Like with her doing me, she put her legs over my shoulders. But it was more like her straddling me, locking me in place on her snatch.

She was very vocal as I licked her. When she was not moaning, she was giving me instructions of how to please her; whether it was sucking on her large clit or sticking my tongue up inside her, I followed her instructions precisely.

She finally cried out, “I’m cumming!” And she did, squirting her fluid all over my face and chest. I swallowed all I could.

“Whew!” she said, as she got off of me. “That was intense. And that was your first time! You’re a natural.”

I blushed at her praise.

We washed each other again, getting all the new sweat and cum off of our bodies.

She turned off the water. “Let’s go get on the bed, where we can be more comfortable.”

After we dried off, we stepped into the small bedroom, where I was greeted to the sound of my cellphone ringing.

On the line was the tow truck driver. The car was in the truck stop’s garage. All the mechanics were busy finishing up their current projects and would not be able to get to my car until tomorrow.

I told him that that would be fine and hung up.

I looked over at Marjorie, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. She had an odd little smile on her face. “What?” I asked her.

“You are so beautiful. So petite and cute and girly. It is like you have the perfect body.”

I was stunned. Nobody had ever praised my flat-chested narrow-hipped body before. “Oh no! You are perfect, with your large breasts and wide hips.”

She shook her head. “I’m a freak. The other truckers call me Large Marge, when I am not around. They know not to say it to my face. I have trouble finding women’s clothes in my size. I wind up buying men’s clothes, most of the time.”

It was my turn to protest. “You are tall, but I like that. You are like a statue, an idol to be worshiped” I fell on my knees, to make my point.

My lover stood up and put a hand on my shoulder. “I know the answer without you saying anything, but I need you to say it. Do you want to stay with me? You can travel with me in my rig.”

I let out a sigh. “More than anything!”