The Long Road Begins

Written by Steve Parry on Sunday, 25 August 2013. Posted in The Long Road To Hollywood

Chapter 1

The Long Road Begins

I know you are probably not inclined to believe me, but I have no reason to lie to you. Petty games are not my thing, and I usually am a straightforward guy. I am too old to care what the consequences may be for baring my soul, and your opinion of me frankly isn’t that important. My story is, however, and the simple fact of the matter is that the first time I killed a girl it was an accident.

I was in my early 20's, and I hadn’t yet been driving a truck long enough to know how much of a bitch it could be sometimes. Don't get me wrong, it's a good enough way to make a dollar, but it can be tough sometimes. I was what they called an independent at the time, but today I would be known as a company driver. What’s important is that I was not a union driver, and that is why I found myself sitting in a gravel parking lot in Southern California in the first place. At that time, only union drivers could deliver to a movie set, and I was not one. So despite the fact that I was good enough to haul the load there from a sawmill in West Virginia (if I remember correctly) I was not good enough to deliver the stupid plywood to the contractor.

She went to Hollywood to be a star, but she found Jesus. She headed back home to set things right, but she met the Devil.

I was sitting in my truck, probably dozing off, when she knocked on my door and scared the ever living shit out of me. It’s funny to think of it now. Her scaring me, that is. I figured she was a prostitute, so I motioned for her to move on. Not that I was opposed to picking up the occasional prostitute, don't get me wrong. I was just smart enough not to do it in broad daylight parked right off a busy street, but she stood there insistently waiting for me to roll down the window, so I obliged her. She told me that she was needing a ride back to Pennsylvania, was it on my way? Ironically enough, it was, but she didn’t need to know that. I tried to dismiss her, but she was a bubbly little fuck and man, did she love to talk. At some point she told me that if I would give her a lift, she would show me where to get the best burritos this side of the Rockies. I was starving, so we came to an arrangement. She would keep her mouth shut the whole way, and I would get her there just as fast as I could. As it turned out, neither of us would live up to that deal.

I don’t remember where I had to load at, but I do remember that I had to take the load over around Baltimore somewhere. She needed to go to Washington Pennsylvania. That’s where she was from. She had headed west to Hollywood to be a movie star, and it hadn’t worked out that well. She had been selling ass out on the streets when some preacher fuck managed to convince her that her life had some kind of meaning and value (he must have been quite the bullshitter) so she had decided to clean up her act and head back home and try to make things right with her family.

So for the next 4 or 5 days, I’m driving east and popping pills listening to this chick tell me her life story. It’s not really my idea of a good time, but I had given my word, and she had a hot body, so I didn’t kick her out of my truck. What I did do was make it my mission to get into her tight little pussy before I got her home.

That doesn’t sound like too much of a challenge, does it? Just a little pussy. Easy enough, right? So all day long for the first three days I have to listen to how wonderful God is and how she was at the end of her rope, and how Jesus pulled her out of the gutter, and blah blah fucking blah. Every night she had to push away my wandering hands, and tell me to stop being fresh, and insist that she wasn’t that kind of girl. It wasn’t even a full week ago that this slut was kneeling on a street corner sucking on a cock like she was trying to pull a movie contract out of the guys balls, but I want a little tail in exchange for the ride all of a sudden she’s mother fucking Theresa over there in the passenger seat.

The fourth day, I decided to try a new approach. We have one more day on the ride, and she isn’t feeling very well. I decide to play mister nice guy, then maybe I can guilt trip her into one last fuck before she joins the convent when we get to PA. So all day long, I’m polite and act like I’m interested in her life. I ask questions. And not stupid ones either. Meaningful questions, like “How did that make you feel” and “Did he ever apologize” and whatever else I could think of that would make it look like I might really give a shit. And can you believe it was like the little bitch didn’t even notice? All day long I’m on my best behavior and we get to where we are going to park for the night and she starts talking about how she has the flu or something. It’s no wonder, because all she had was the shorts and tank top she was wearing out in LA, and it was cold back in the Midwest. She wanted me to let her wear some of my clothes, but I have this thing about not liking to be touched, so if I let her wear my shit I would have to throw it out, so I told her no. What is it with women wanting to wear men’s clothes anyway? Fuck her, she could freeze. So she did. So now I’m headed into the truck stop to get her a cup of tea. What a spoiled cunt.

I was halfway up to the truck stop before it dawned on me. About 6 months ago, I had a load that absolutely had to be out in Portland like yesterday. I took so much speed that when I got there I couldn’t sleep for the life of me, so I bought some downers from this dude. I took one of them and I was out in no time, and I slept for like 20 hours. Now I’m not a small guy, but I’m not that big either. I’m 6’1” and back then I weighed about 225. This bitch is half my size. So I’m thinking if I slip a couple of these pills in the water I make a tea with and let them dissolve, she will be knocked out in nothing flat and I can do whatever I want with her. She’ll never know the difference, and if she figures it out when she wakes up, I’ll just deny it. I turned back to the truck and got the bottle out of the side box, then headed in to make her some magic juice.

I put six of those pills in her tea, and loaded it up with honey so she wouldn’t taste it. When I brought it out to the truck, she said it tasted funny, but she drank it right down. She said it was clearing out her head a little. I found that to be funny. Clearing out that head? It was a concoction, not a miracle.

I sat in the front smoking a cigarette and wishing I had a CB Radio so I could talk to someone other than her. By the time I’m done with the smoke, it dawns on me that she’s quiet back there, so I look in on her. She’s out cold. I waited up front for about a half hour, getting up my nerve and planning what I would do to her. I was only getting one shot at this, and it had to be right.

When I went back there, she was completely out of it. I played it cool, just to be sure. I got in bed, and scooted up against her. Nothing. I put my arm on her side, and she didn’t budge. I lifted her arm up, a little at first, then all the way up, letting it drop and fall to her side. It landed, and she didn’t even flinch. I slapped her lightly. She didn’t even blink. I slapped her harder, and still no reaction.

She was lying on her side up against the back of the sleeper. I reached my hand up under her shirt and began to fondle her breasts. They were small, probably a B cup, but they were so firm and perky. I moved her hand and put it down my pants, and she still just laid there breathing softly. I put my head next to hers on the pillow, and laid her cheek on mine so her breath would tickle my ear. I began to move my hips as I molested her unconscious body, and the natural curve of her relaxed hand went around my cock, making it feel like she was softly jerking me off. My dick got so hard it hurt as it pushed against my jeans, but I didn’t pull them down because it felt so good the way her hand pushed around my throbbing cock.

I don’t know how long we stayed there like that. I know that her nipples got hard in my hands as I lightly pinched them with my fingers. My neck began to cramp, so I pushed her head back off of mine and began kissing her neck. She was wearing a pair of cotton shorts, and they were loose fitting on her. I reached up underneath them and pushed her panties to the side. I tried to push a finger inside of her, but she was completely dry. I had to spit on it just to get it inside her tight little cunt. She was so out of it that I had trouble undressing her, even though she couldn’t have weighed more that 100 lbs.

I pushed her up against the side wall of the sleeper once I had her clothes off. The light of the setting sun coming through the windshield was just enough for me to see her breasts softly heaving up and down on her chest with every breath she took. I positioned myself beneath her, and began to softly lick her clit with my tongue. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but it was the first time I had ever gone down on a girl since I was about 12 years old. I had been taught how to do it though, and when I had done it before it had turned a dry pussy into a swamp. I knew that if I was going to get my cock inside of her, I was going to have to get her pussy wet. If I just rammed it in there, I would hurt her, and she would know for sure what I had done when she came to.

I swear I must have eaten her out for a good half hour, but she wasn’t getting wet. I don’t know why I kept doing it, but I guess I just liked looking at her in the dim light, tasting her pussy. Finally, I spit on her pussy and began fingering her. I kept spitting in her dry little snatch until my saliva started oozing out of her. I moved up on top of her, and pushed the head of my cock inside of her. I held her legs up with my arms, so that the back of her knees were resting against the inside of my elbows, and I slowly slid the rest of my tube steak inside her. Man, was she tight! I had to keep spitting on her fuck hole to keep her from going dryer than a sandbox. I was beginning to fear that this wasn’t going to work when her clam finally started pumping out it’s natural lube. It was as if her body had resigned to the punishment it was receiving and decided to cut its losses and get wet to keep me from damaging it.

I started to fuck her slow and softly, watching my dick slide in and out of her. She was so skinny that I could see it pushing up against the inside of her stomach. I slowly moved my eyes up her body as I fucked her, taking in her beauty. As I looked at her face, I suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable, but the feeling left as quickly as it came over me. I leaned down and began to whisper in her ear. Stupid stuff, about how beautiful she was. Her pussy kept getting wetter, so I started to fuck her a little harder. I began to be more aware of the situation as I became more and more aroused. Why was I saying nice things to her? She was annoying, and a burden. She was a bitch on her best day, and an insufferable little cunt on her worst.

I slapped her. Hard too. I spit in her face, then used my hand to push it into her mouth. “You like that, you fucking little Jesus whore?” I said as I began to fuck her harder. I put my hand around her throat, and leaned down on her. She couldn’t even struggle. Her breath just stopped. “Look at this, you stupid fuck! You’re fucking pussy is smarter than you are. It at least tries to protect itself.” I yelled at her. I let go of her throat, and she began to breathe again. Not gasping, either. Just slow, methodical breaths that were completely out of rhythm with the hard fucking I was laying on her.

I slapped her again. “Do you like that, you fucking street whore? You Goddamn worthless piece of Hollywood fucking trash? Do you like knowing your place, you fucking cum dump?” I fucked her harder and harder. Her pussy could no longer produce enough juice to protect her, but my fears of getting caught had long since diminished. She was so dry now that she was rubbing my fuck stick raw, but I didn’t care. “Bet they didn’t fuck your little hillbilly cunt like this in Hollywood, did they bitch? Fucking answer me, you stupid whore!” Her eyes didn’t even blink. “How much would you charge for this on a Hollywood street corner, you fucking slut?”

Before I knew it, I was ready to cum. I tried to stop myself, but I had past my point of no return. I lifted her legs up above her head and thrust myself so deep inside of her that even her unconscious body seemed to make an effort to pull away. Over and over I slammed my hips down hard against her bony little pelvis, filling her pussy with my hot, sticky cum. As my load moistened her up, my thrusts went deeper inside her. I continued to push it into her long after I had finished cumming, feeling her tight pussy wrapped around my cock as if it were trying to pull me in deeper. I fucked until all of my energy was spent, and then I collapsed on top of her.

Exhausted, I just laid there on top of her motionless body feeling the odd mix of my hard, deep breaths and her short soft ones. My head pushed up and down on her chest with the rhythm of her breath, while my chest pushed hard against her bare breasts as it struggled to get the air it needed. We stayed like that until my breath came easy and normal again.

My dick was barely semi erect when I finally pulled it out of her pussy. She was so tight that it seemed to grip the head of my cock as it left her, as if some natural involuntary function of her body wanted to detain the offending member at the scene of the crime. I stuck my fingers inside of her, and cupped my hand, draining some of my sperm into it. I reached up and let it roll off my hand into her mouth. She grunted a little and smacked her lips, turning slightly to the side but never waking or opening her eyes. I figured she must be coming to, so I put her clothes back on her the best I could, and found a comfortable spot beside her on the bed and drifted off to sleep. In a state somewhere between the world of dreams and reality, my mind replayed the events of the night. I had no idea how much my life would change in the morning. Sometimes I like to think back to that day, and remember what it was like to fall asleep next to her. There was a certain innocence and peacefulness to me that I haven’t felt since. I hate nostalgia as much as the next guy, but it was my last night of being a kid, so I allow myself the indulgence from time to time.

When I awoke the next morning, she was still out of it. “Damn, that’s some good stuff” I thought to myself as I put on my shoes and prepared to go inside for my morning trip to the bathroom. Does anybody know why you piss everywhere except where you are aiming the morning after a good piece of ass? I think I pissed more on the wall and the floor than I did the urinal, not that they would notice in that fucking shithole. I thought about grabbing a coffee, but then I remembered that when the girl had last been awake, I was being nice to her. On the off chance that she woke up without her pussy feeling like a 3 alarm blaze in a two engine town, I should see if she wanted anything before I took off.

When I got back out to the truck, she hadn’t even moved. She was still laying there with her back against the wall. Looking back on it, I should have known something was wrong right away, because she looked different. She was always so hyper that she looked like she was about to tell you some shit that would blow your fucking mind from the sheer brilliance of it, even when she was sleeping. But not this morning. She looked peaceful and beautiful as she lay there, basking in the sunlight as it flooded through the windshield. I don’t know why, but I didn’t say a word as I reached back to the sleeper to wake her. I just grabbed her hip and shook her a little. When I did, her cold, lifeless arm fell down over mine, and I jerked back away from her so hard that I hit my head on the ceiling.

I opened my mouth to say “What the fuck”, but nothing came out. I tried to reach over to her again, but I stood there frozen in fear. I wanted to jump out of the truck and run, but my legs didn’t work. I just stood there, mouth gaped, looking down at the dead body that had been so full of life just a day earlier.

In my state of full on panic, my mind began to involuntarily perform functions that typically require concentrated effort, and I found myself out of the truck walking toward the truck stop. My thoughts had seemed to fracture into two dueling entities, fighting for control of the situation that had left me unable to reason. No! I couldn’t go into that truck stop. There were people in there who would sense that something was wrong. I turned and headed back to the truck. No! I had to get a coffee. I had to hit the road. If I was late with the load, the customer would call the broker, and they would know something was wrong. The last thing I needed was to have to try to explain this shit to them. Fuck! I stood there motionless, my thoughts stuck in between gears and trying to make sense of the dilemma. Son of a bitch, why did that stupid bitch drink the whole goddamn glass!?! I turned back to the truck stop. That’s it! I would call my boss and tell him I was sick and that I needed an extra day. No! I turned back to the truck. I couldn’t talk to him right now. I couldn’t even control my fucking legs, let alone my voice. He would hear the panic. Get a hold of yourself, you fucking son of a whore!

I don’t know how many times I turned around before I found myself pouring a cup of coffee from a dirty glass pot into a Styrofoam cup. I take my coffee black, but for some reason I was watching my hand pouring milk out of a paper milk pint with some white crust around the spout. I headed out towards the door, raising the cup with a trembling hand towards the cashier without even pausing to wait for the “don’t worry about it” to come out of her mouth. I was half way to the door before her words registered in my head.

“That will be 27 cents” she had said. “I’m a driver”, I half turned my head towards her, not wanting to make eye contact. “That’s nice. I’m a cashier. And that will be 27 cents” she shot back. The rage hit me like a brick. Coffee was always free for the drivers. The nerve of this fucking cunt.

“When did you start charging truckers for coffee” I asked as I dug in my pocket for some change? “We always have” she said through a fake smile. I corralled two dimes, a nickel, and two pennies out of my pocket. I leaned my upper body across the counter and looked her square in the eye as I slammed the change down on the glass counter top. “The next time you feel the urge to make some money screwing drivers, why don’t you take your fat ass out to the back row and maybe one of the old timers will give you twice that for some toothless head, you fucking cunt”.

I didn’t even wait for her to get over the shock and say something back. I stormed out of there, the cowbell on the door putting an exclamation point on my tirade. I fucking hate these nickel and dime sluts that try to milk you for a quarter after you drop a hundred bucks on a tank of fuel. I was halfway back to the truck before I remembered my problem in the sleeper. There was no panic this time. It was more like “Oh yea, there’s a dead slut in my truck”. No biggie.

I climbed up into the old rig and looked back in the sleeper as if to make sure she was still dead. I gasped to myself at how beautiful she was laying there. When her arm had fallen to the bed, her tank top had slid down revealing her right breast. Her skin was so pale, and her hair that had appeared to be dirty blonde before now looked almost black against her cheek. Thinking back on it now, I can’t really remember what she looked like alive, but I can see her so perfectly laying there cold and dead. The purple lips, her nipple now dark standing out against the chalky white skin, the look of peacefulness as she lay there. I was struck with an overwhelming urge to make love to her. Not hard and brutal like before, but real love. Gentle. Kissing her lips. Feeling her skin against mine. I have lived a full life, and have few regrets, but I hate myself for being too cowardly to take her like that. I felt my cock growing inside my pants as I looked at her, but I denied myself. It is perhaps the one thing I most wanted in this life, and it was right there in front of me, but I pushed away the thoughts and focused on what to do with the body.

Needless to say, I work much better on a clear head. This whole situation wasn't nearly the big deal I had allowed it to become in my mind earlier. After all, it wasn't like I had done something wrong here. The whole thing was a horrible accident. Sure, some people would try to call what I did "rape" but she was a hooker, and I was giving her a ride. I had paid for what she was refusing to give me, and that was the real offense. I decided I should just drop her off somewhere where they would know what to do with her. Hopefully I would never even be questioned about it, but even if someone saw me and asked me what I was doing it wasn't like it was something that I couldn't explain.

I remembered that there was a mission in Ohio where I had dropped off some food one time. A real shitty place, over there in Columbus, where the neighborhood was so bad that the nun that ran the place wouldn’t come to the door at night, no matter how hard you banged. I had just left the boxes of canned goods on the door step and hoped that she got them in the morning. It was time to make another drop on the back porch.

I made a couple stops along the way so I got there pretty late. It was shortly after midnight when I pulled my truck around the back of the building and propped the girl up against the back wall.

A couple of days later, I was passing through there listening to the local radio station when some self-righteous broad and her dipshit sidekick were talking about “the girl who froze to death behind the mission”. I guess the local yokels thought she had tried to get in and nobody answered the door. They didn’t even have a clue that she was dead when I dropped her off, and had been for nearly 20 hours minimum.

There was no trace left to indicate that we had ever crossed paths, except for the letter she left in my truck. I told her to mail that thing before we left Cali, but she decided not to because “we would probably beat it there”. I looked up the address a couple nights after she died. I just wanted to see what her sister looked like. It was a farmhouse, and nobody noticed me standing in the corn watching her and her mom swing on the porch. I wanted to fuck both of them so bad I could taste it, but after everything that had already gone wrong I didn’t dare chance it, so I just stayed hidden in the corn and watched them while they swung. Were they talking about her? Where they waiting, hoping to hear a car in the distance bringing her back to them? Would they ever find out that she had died? Did they know already?

I never opened the letter. About a week later, I mailed it from some shit town in Kentucky. I assume they got it, but I have no way of knowing. Sometimes I wonder what it said. I figured that I hadn't fully made things right until I mailed it off, so it had to be done. Now Hollywood could rest in peace, and I could get on with my life.

About the Author

Steve Parry

Steve Parry

Steve Parry is an Independent Contractor with Prime Inc, and a lover of books and writing. These are his stories based on the trucking industry. All writings here are fictional, and are original works of the author. If you enjoy them, feel free to leave a comment and let him know. You may share these stories with your friends and family. You may publish excerpts from these stories with a link back to the article on the site here and with a credit to the author. Republishing of these stories in their entirety is prohibited.

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