Bedtime Stories for Grownups
Hot, Strong, and Black, Like God Made It
I WAS IN MY SIXTH YEAR as a long-haul trucker. I’d started as soon as I could get a license and mostly, I liked it. It could get a little lonely, though. I’d never managed to hold a relationship together while driving. My girlfriends thought riding cross-country with me was boring and weren’t interested in waiting at home while I was gone every week. I sure could pick ’em.
I’m not particularly proud of it, but I admit I occasionally stopped at a strip club, just to see if I remembered what a boob looked like. I never bought time with a hooker, though there were always a few hanging around the big truck stops. I did come in my pants during a really good lap dance once, though.
Anyway, I had a week off while my rig was in the shop and had nothing to do but feel sorry for myself. Which is why I ended up at Bikini Baristas, an espresso drive-thru in the unincorporated part of the county but still on a main commuter route. I figured, why not?
That’s where I met Judy.
Okay. Her name was definitely not the first thing I noticed. First was her butt. She wore a one-piece, not a bikini. And it was pretty much transparent. I guess the law just says the tits and pussy have to be covered, not that they have to be hidden. But the back of that outfit was just a string that ran between her butt-cheeks up to the straps over her shoulders. And what a butt!
I confess, I’m usually a face-first guy. If she’s got a nice face, then I’ll consider looking at anything else. The thing is, as soon as she took my order—$10 for a cup of coffee! But I wasn’t really paying for the coffee. The view was worth it—she turned away from me to make my drink and I saw that impressive backside. She wasn’t really a heavy girl, but her ass was generous. And I had an unobstructed view of it.
She had obviously done this a million times and knew exactly what her backside did to guys. She did little dance steps that made it jiggle in just the right way. Then she bent over to break up the ice in her cooler, even though I didn’t order any ice! Wow!
She wasn’t in a hurry to finish my drink and turned back to me to make small talk. That’s when I noticed the top was transparent. Her breasts were beautifully shaped—not huge, but nice handfuls. She asked what I did and where I was headed. Then, with a dreamy look in her eyes as she shifted enough to keep my eyes on her nipples, which were punching the fabric out so I couldn’t miss them, and said, “That sounds so nice. I’d do about anything to get out of this little hut.”
Full stop. My brain whipped around so fast I was dizzy. Then she turned around and I saw that incredible butt again. Blood drained from my head and went south in a rush. I could just see myself waking up spooned behind this barista with my morning wood nestled between those cheeks. My mouth started writing checks I could only hope my body and bank could cash.
“Really? I’ve been looking for a sex slave,” I said. “Want to apply for the position?” The position was going to be on her hands and knees with my cock sawing in and out of that spectacular ass. She whipped around to look at me so fast she almost spilled the hot coffee. I thought she might just toss it at me.
“If the offer was good, I might consider it,” she said, handing me the cup. Oh. My. God! “I’d want to know I was getting a good master, you know?”
“Yeah. I can understand that. I wouldn’t want to buy a dud, either. We should get together and discuss the terms.” Where the fuck did I get the balls to say that? It was so out of character for me. Most of my previous girlfriends considered me a bit of a milquetoast.
“I get off at four. Traci takes over the stand for the after-work crowd.”
“Do you want me to pick you up or do you want to meet me somewhere? Remember, this could be the only time you get to make an independent decision.” I didn’t think her nipples could get any harder, but I swear that bulge in her top just popped!
“Oh, shit! You’re serious. I was just… No, I wasn’t. I’m not making sense. I wasn’t teasing. I was… hopeful. This is so unlike me. I never take chances. Um… Pick me up. I want to know what it’s like to place myself in your hands. You really are serious, aren’t you?”
“It’s not exactly the kind of thing I do on a regular basis, either. But I’ve gotta say, you have the most spectacular, beautiful booty I’ve ever seen. I can’t help myself.”
“I have to serve the next customer. Um… I’ll see you at four… Master.”
Master! Fuck! I made a little kissy face that she mimicked and drove off.
I was glazed over. What just did I do? I picked up a date with a girl who was now showing her tits and ass to the next driver in line. Was I crazy? And, no. It wasn’t a date. It was an interview. I was going to interview a potential sex slave. The image of her ass just kept replaying in my head all morning. This needed careful planning.
I sipped my Americano thoughtfully as I pulled into the carwash. The coffee was pretty mediocre. But I figured I’d really gotten my ten bucks’ worth. And a ten-dollar tip. I needed to make sure she knew I appreciated her. Okay, I was washing the car and vacuuming it out. I needed to make a good but not extravagant impression. I went to my small apartment and made sure the dishes were washed and the bed linens were clean. I’d worry about laundry later. It wasn’t lying on the floor. I didn’t expect I’d bring her back here but I wasn’t ruling out the possibility. Oh, to wake up rubbing that butt!
Choosing a venue for our talk was even trickier. I wasn’t taking her to a fancy restaurant for dinner. I didn’t want either of us to get drunk and make stupid offers. Especially me. It needed to be public enough that she wasn’t afraid to be alone with me but private enough that we could talk without being overheard.
Hmm. Would she still be wearing that revealing outfit? Or lack of an outfit? I got to thinking about a wine tasting room I used to go to with an old flame. It was a nice place but not ostentatious. Drinking a glass or two of wine was a lot different than meeting at a bar and tossing back cocktails. If it went long enough, we could order a sandwich from a nearby restaurant and they’d deliver to the tasting room. That seemed like a good choice. If I picked her up at four, we’d get there by about twenty past. That was a good time as the after-work crowd wouldn’t have claimed the tables yet.
“You actually came!” Judy said as I opened the car door for her. Even a slave deserves common decency, I decided. “Traci tried to convince me no one would make a date like that and show up. She almost had me convinced but then I thought it wasn’t a date. It’s an interview, right? We’re seeing how things would work.”
Smart girl. She had the same idea I did. She’d put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. We’d see how she really felt before I even pulled away from the java shop.
“Are you still wearing that little leotard you had on this morning?” I asked. She stopped midway with the seatbelt in hand.
“Yes. I just put my day clothes on over the top. I usually change out of my work clothes when I get home,” she said.
“Take your T-shirt off. I want to talk to the same girl I talked to this morning.” She stared at me open-mouthed.
“You mean to my tits?” The answer was a bit edgy, but she only hesitated a moment before she lifted the T-shirt over her head. Yeah. The tits were as nice as I remembered. The nipples were still tenting the nearly transparent fabric.
“Now put your seatbelt on. I need to know that if you become my slave, you won’t hesitate to obey me. That was very well done.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered. “Thank you, sir.”
Wow! What a change in demeanor. I didn’t want to lose the bubbly girl who first got in the car, though. Her body was only a part of the package.
“So how was your day? Did you get propositioned much?”
“Oh, God!” she sighed. “They try so many lines. I had one guy who actually asked if I take appointments. I don’t know what I sounded like to you, but I’m not a prostitute. I’ve never heard a line like yours.”
“I didn’t offer to pay you for sex,” I said. “Is it pretty busy during your shift?” I wanted to keep her talking about what she did and not get into our proposition yet.
“I come on after Marcella, who does the early morning crowd until ten. I’d only been on a few minutes before you got there this morning. Lunch is pretty busy. I have a few regulars who come in for their daily dose of T and A. If I wiggle just right, most of them add a nice tip. You know, the ten we charge is split between us and the company. But the tips we get to keep all to ourselves.”
“That’s good to know. I haven’t often been to a bikini barista before.”
“There are a lot of us around. Most of us are on State Highways just outside of town. There are a couple of towns that didn’t have ordinances about public nudity and a few nearly nude coffee kiosks went up and got grandfathered in when an ordinance was passed.”
“What’s the code where you work? Your little outfit is quite revealing,” I said.
“Yeah. There are a couple of baristas who actually wear regular bikinis and you can’t see anything, really. Traci in the evening doesn’t usually show much. Marcella, on the other hand, tends to wear kind of sloppy bikini tops and her nips are always slipping out. The guys love her. Technically, the law just says our nipples and vulvas have to be covered. Sometimes if a guy adds a nice tip, I let things slip out a bit, you know. I think I could wrap myself in saran wrap, though, and still be within the law.”
“Hmm. We might need to try that sometime,” I laughed.
“I wouldn’t need to cover them for my master,” she answered.
Again, her voice dropped almost to the point I couldn’t hear her. I pulled up at the tasting room and went around to open her door. She was pulling her shirt back on. I just stared at her, blocking her from getting out of the car. She got the message and took it back off. She blushed scarlet, but I figured a girl who shows them off for her customers should be willing to be seen in public.
“Dan,” Merrill, the hostess greeted me. “Long time, no see. Welcome back.”
“Thanks, Merrill. We’d each like a glass of the featured Cab. Do you mind if we sit over in the corner?” She looked at me and then at Judy. Her eyes popped open another millimeter.
“Sure, Dan. That’s a good place.” Her eyes raked across Judy’s nipples and hesitated an instant. I thought Merrill would appreciate the view. I’d asked her out once and she told me she preferred girls. I’d just brought in a lovely one.
“How did you know I’d like a Cabernet?” Judy asked when we were seated.
“I didn’t care,” I said, nonchalantly. Of all the things I’d anticipated, I didn’t foresee Judy seizing up in a small orgasm.
“Thank you, Master,” she panted.
“Now tell me why you think you would like to be a sex slave,” I said after she had a sip of her drink. Merrill had paused and her nostrils flared when she served our drinks, lifting an eyebrow at me. I shrugged and showed her both my hands.
“Well, I like sex but I don’t have very good luck with men,” she started. That sounded familiar. “The men I’ve had… been intimate with have either been unable to handle my submissiveness, or have been abusive about it. I admit, I like being ordered around and not required to make my own decisions. That’s one of the things I like about the espresso drive-thru. I don’t make any decisions. The men just give me an order and I make it.”
“Just men?”
“No. I have a couple of women who come through the drive-thru and they like to look and have me wiggle my butt as much as any men. Anyway, I crave being told what to do, but I’ll get up and walk as soon as a man gets abusive, either physically or mentally.”
“Good. I need to know that you are capable of acting independently. I’m gone much of the time and don’t want you to be open game for the hunting season.”
“Master, if we reach an agreement, I will be open game for whomever you choose, but no one else.”
“Really? You don’t mind me inviting a friend to enjoy your sweet ass?” I asked with a big grin.
“If it is someone you want to share with, I would gladly share,” she said. “I don’t want to be passed around as a party favor or to pay off your debts. I’ve been there and done that and don’t plan to do it again.”
“You know you have really beautiful breasts. I love the way your nipples jut out,” I said. She caught her breath. I waited for an angry response. In vain.
“Thank you, master,” she said quietly.
“This is not supposed to be a one-sided interview. What questions do you have for me?”
“Oh. Well, if I were to become your sex slave, what would be my duties other than to let you fuck me whenever you want?” Good question. This was something I’d rehearsed.
“I’m a fan of science fiction,” I said.
“If you don’t say Heinlein, I won’t believe you.”
“Heinlein, Isaac Asimov, Jerry Pournelle, Stephen Donaldson, Neal Stephenson, and others. But I also read erotica.”
“Is there an overlap? Alien sex stories?”
“Sort of. Years ago, I came across a… I can’t call them a series because there are dozens of authors and hundreds of stories… I guess it is a science fiction universe in which many authors participate. But it has some fundamental characteristics that everyone who writes in it has to be faithful to. It’s called The Swarm Cycle. Many things I won’t bother to explain, but suffice it to say that qualifying volunteers can choose anywhere from two to ten concubines, depending on their qualifying score. The concubines are the ultimate sex slaves. Their very lives are in the hands of their sponsors. I’ve often fantasized that I was a sponsor and had my own concubines. That is where my concept comes from.”
“Maybe I should read them in order to understand what you are talking about.” I was really beginning to like this girl.
“I’ll give you the web address. You might not be interested in the whole cycle, but the first two stories by a writer named Thinking Horndog, who founded the universe and set the basic rules, would be good as an introduction. They are titled “Average Joes” and “Pickup Number Eighteen.” Those two stories would ground you in the universe.”
“I like sci fi. I’ll read them. Later tonight if I’m not doing something else.”
“We’ll see,” I said. The image of my cock nestled between her buns crossed my mind again and I forced myself back to the present. “The definition, basically, is that you do whatever I want done. However, I take pretty good care of my possessions. My truck is in the shop receiving an /annual overhaul to make sure it is in peak running condition. My car, you note, is clean and well-maintained. I don’t have many things, but I take care of what I have. That doesn’t mean I do foolish things. I don’t repaint my car every thirty days, or spend my Saturdays with my head under the hood of my truck.”
“I would be at the same level as your car and truck?”
“Essentially, yes. Your duties, aside from keeping me sexually satisfied at all times, would include making sure my home is a neat and tidy place for me to return to, seeing I am well-fed—healthily—and being pleasant company. You would raise the children and teach them to be respectful, adventurous, and creative.”
“Children?”
“If I decide we are in this relationship for the long-term, I will take great pleasure in knocking you up.”
“Oh. Wow. That’s a lot to take in.”
“We’d have a fair probationary period before we decided on that.”
“Okay. Wow.”
“Judy, we should stop for now. We both have a lot of information to assimilate. We’ve had a pleasant glass of wine. As much as I want to sleep with my cock between your butt cheeks, I think we need to sleep alone tonight and you can let me know in the morning if we should continue our conversation tomorrow after work. Does that suit you?”
“Yes, Master. I would like to think about what you’ve said and read those stories. And…”
“Yes?”
“And masturbate for a while. I want to know if I see you in that fantasy.”
“Believe me, I will be doing the same thing.”
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