This warning is possibly not needed for this particular story, but I am including it because it is needed for most of my stories. If you decide to read Hardcore other of my stories make sure that you read the disclosures and warnings at the beginning of each story. All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted lingerie are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life. If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2018 by The Technician. Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies shemale of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden. It was 1958. Route 66 was in its glory as the primary route from Chicago to Los Angeles. While still in Illinois, shortly after the road passed through Springfield, just outside the small town of McLean, you passed by what was the premier truck stop of its day, the Dixie Trucker’s Home, usually referred to as “The Dixie Truck Stop.” This nationally-known truck stop was open 24/7, 365 days of the year. The huge sign with the word “Dixie” emblazoned on what looked like pilot’s wings was visible for blowjob miles welcoming you in. Truckers and travelers stopped by at all hours for food for their bodies and fuel for their vehicles. After eating, you could go back out on Route 66 or go out the side exit onto Illinois 136, known in the area as “The Dixie Highway.” Route 136 wasn’t part of the national road designated as “The Dixie Highway.” It was so named because you turned onto Route 136 at The Dixie Truck Stop. You could stockings use 136 to get to Havana, Illinois, and connect with Route 24 which took you up river to Peoria and from there on north. It was a little bit longer, but you avoided most of the small towns and could easily go to either Rockford or Chicago or even the Quad Cities. Since Peoria and Rockford were both bustling manufacturing towns in those days, The Dixie Highway was the preferred truck route north for many drivers until Route 66 became four lanes. Then almost all truck– and auto traffic– moved to Route 66. By 1958, The Dixie Highway was all but abandoned except as a way for farmers to get to their fields. Samuel Drake knew many of those farmers. You’re all grounded for the weekend and Hardcore that includes Friday night and no phone calls. The best time to go to the bookstores and my town is usually Sunday morning. "I see . . . Later that blowjob night I woke and couldn't get back to sleep. In time, the screaming abated when Oliviya had neither air in her lungs nor voice in her raw throat. I looked across the water to see people working in the test rice paddies. And they even now seem to very much be mitigated by the wildest sex imaginable.” "Oh mom, that feels so…" Jack started saying as mid-sentence he started moaning. “Oh, crap,” Melinda said, her voice shaking. I do know that it was my -- our-- mine -- whatever -- eighteenth birthday, so my twin sister and I had decided to celebrate by sneaking into ‘Vixens’ -- lingerie THE happening local club. Chapter Forty-Three: Art's Reminder stockings She didn’t have any argument when they made love three or four times a shemale week now. “English, please“ I needed to relax for a while. My grandmother was also taken as a trophy bride as a young woman. I slowly raised my head. Susan: How long is the trail? In my mind’s eye I saw her and Krista flat on their backs while a hoard of stiff pricks pushed and thrust between their legs, spewing cum deep inside, each one of them trying to impregnate the girl. My heart raced as I did this. "I think it's blue." She reached out her hand, scooping up some of the fluid with her fingers, and brought it to her mouth. With an intake of air, he obliged her desperation and sank himself into her bowels. “So it’s not your fault, Aaron. I decided that the pressure wasn’t great enough to force its way in. Something about Bella’s story just didn’t seem right to Stephanie.