I'm just a big guy, with a big truck.  They hired me to drive this model around.  I pick her up at a dirty little apartment, early in the morning, when the roosters are just starting to squawk, and I drive her to various places around this little city in the desert.

Sometimes it's some big house, often with a swimming pool out back, sometimes it's an old warehouse that they call a "studio, and on occassion it's out to some spot in the desert, half a mile or so off the road, so that no one can interrupt.

"It's not sex," the guy said, "you see her, how young she is, you might be worried that you'll go to jail."  I just looked at him blankly, and waited, saying nothing.  I have found this is the best way to get people to talk.

"It's just photos," he said, wiping at the thin moustache on his narrow upper lip, "nothing nude.  Nothing... pornographic.  Right?"  I shrugged, and took his money.

She was always clothed when I picked her up from home, or from a shoot, so all I really saw was her face.  She looked young but not like a child.  She had a big pretty smile, but her teeth were a little crooked, and when I looked at her from a bit of distance I realized that her head was too big for her body.  She was like one of those plastic bobble-head dolls that dinkos put on the dashboard of their shitty little cars.

One night it was dark before I got her back to the rat-hole that they were paying for her to live in, and when I opened the back door of my truck I found her asleep on the seat.  She was bundled up in this dark blue coat that scratch like wool, nothing showing but her feet and her face, her mouth hanging open and a little string of drool hanging down, making a puddle on the seat.

I muttered "Shit" to myself, then I reach in, got my arms under her and picked her up.  She weighed almost nothing.  I held her close to my chest, almost like a baby, because she was so much smaller than me.

The door was unlocked, which wasn't surprising, because there wasn't shit inside worth stealing.  It'd be pretty hard to vandalize the place, too.  There wasn't much furniture, and trash and clutter was strewn about the floor.  There was a room in the back, with a bare mattress on the floor.  I knelt down and put her onto the mattress as gently as I could.

I paused for a moment, looking at her face, mostly hidden in the long shadows cast through the doorway by the light in the other room.  I was sure she was still soundly asleep, but then her arms reached up and grabbed the collar of my shirt.

She was probably trying to pull me down, but all she did was lift herself up.  Her eyes were barely open as she stretched up and kissed me on the cheek, then she dropped back onto the mattress and rolled over and away from me.

I stood up and left, turning out the light, and closing the door quietly.

 

The next morning she wanted to sit in the front seat.  I opened up the back door for her, but she grabbed the handle of the front door and hauled it open.  "I'll sit up here!" she said, and scrambled up into my truck like a kid trying to get to the top of a jungle-gym.  There's a step for the rear seats, but I don't need any for the front.  So, she climbed: hand here, hand there, foot here, foot there, shift one hand, shift one foot, back and forth, inching higher until she should get her butt on the seat.  

I closed the back door then put one hand on the open front door and leaned in toward her.  She faced out the front, her face as blank as mine, and didn't jump or turn toward me when I said, "Don't get pushy."

She said nothing.  The silence hung.  A rooster somewhere back of the building made its claim of masculine superiority.  I closed the door, went around the back of the truck, and got in.

I took her to three different places for photo shoots that day.  Each one was farther out from the city than the last.  By the time she had monkey-climbed up into the front seat the sun was already set, and we had a long drive facing us.

She wanted to lay down to sleep but couldn't.  She tried using tas a pillow the little six-pack cooler I keep on the seat and use as an arm-rest, but it was too high, not to mention rather hard and square.  The arm-rest on the door was too narrow, and there wasn't room between those two to fit even her little figure, prone.

But she didn't say anything.  She fidgetted, and flailed, and eventually just slumped up against the door, her bobble-head bobbling as I drove fast down the gravel road through the desert.

After a few miles I looked at her, sighed, and lifted the little cooler up over the back of the seat and put in on the rear floorboard.  I tapped one of her bony knees and said, "There."

She made a satisfied little cooing sound and slid down across the seat like a cat.  If she could have purred, she probably would have.

After another mile or two, I felt the top of her head bump my thigh.  Then again, and again, and then I felt her grabbing at the outside of my pocket.

"What's this thing?" she said, feeling at the outline of my cell phone.  "It hurts my head."

I sighed again, and leaned back against the seat so I could reach into my pocket and pull out the phone.  I tossed it into a pocket on the dash.

"Mmmmm," she said, and put her head down on top of my thigh, like it was a pillow, "Much better."

I was surprised as how warm she was.  Her head seemed to radiate heat like a kerosene burner.  I started to wonder if she would drool onto my pants, leaving a puddle there like she had on my back seat.

A few more miles, and then we made it back to the paved roads.  The rasping and pops of gravel gave way to the humming of asphalt.  She hummed too, and rolled over onto her other side, her head rubbing on my thigh as her face went from facing the dashboard to facing me.

I looked down, and she had rolled out of her over-coat.  I guess she hadn't changed after the last shoot, and was wearing halter-top made of blue lace, with flourescent pink and green accents.  A horrible thing.

But the tiny blue g-string was a gift from God.

She was so thin, it made her long limbs look even longer.  It made all of her look as long and sinuous as a snake, but with the flawless skin of a newborn.  Her skin was almost too smooth to be real, and seemed to take on a preternatural glow in the mixture of eletronic blue light from the dash and the desert moonlight coming in through the windows of the truck.

The truck bounced over some bump in the road--or maybe over the body of someone I ran down, as I was having trouble watching where we were going.  She rocked back and forth with the truck and her long, long legs slid against each other, as her narrow hips bounced against the seat back.

I was dazed for a moment, then by force of will I snapped my head back to look out the windshield and watch the road.  Damn good thing, too, as I had already drifted a foot over the center-line.  Luckily, there was little traffic on this road from nowhere to no place.

My eyes where on the road, but my mind was on her lying there.  On her body.  On the heat coming off her head in my lap.

And as my dick started to get hard, I knew I was in trouble.  Because it was bent in the middle, pinched in half by my pants when I sat down.  Not a problem when it was asleep, but now it was waking up and what I was feeling was discomfort that would likely turn into pain.

The truck bumped over something else, and she gave another little, "Mmmmm," and stretched out flat down on the seat.  Her head still on my thigh, her body was front down, legs bent at the knees with her toes up on the top of the door panel.

I didn't want to look away from the road.  I knew I should stay with my eyes locked front.  But I had to see.

And what is burned into my mind is the shiny little metal ring at the cross of the "T" that was the back of her G-string.  Three little ribbons of turqouise blue material were bound to that ring.  One stretched off around her waist to the right, and another stretched off to the left.  And the third turquoise ribbon traced a path down the line of her back, down, down, between the gentley curving, smooth, soft mounds that were her ass cheeks, down into the shadows, and into places I could only imagine.

It was only a short look.  A glance.  But the vision was unshakeable and though I turned back to stare out the windshield, what I saw was her.  And the pain grew.

It grew unbearable.  I wanted to do nothing, to not disturb her, or wake her, or have her move away, but I had to do something.  With a little groan I pushed back against the seat again, and slid my hand down as quickly as I could inside my pants and freed my dick, positioning it where it could grow up big and strong.

"What is it?" she muttered, shifting around, and reaching down to pull the coat back over her.

"Sorry," I said, "Nothing."

The silence hung.  There was a moment.  The only sound was the hum of the tires on the road.  And then I felt her hand squeezing my cock through my pants.  "Doesn't feel like nothing," she said.  I said nothing in response, but I reached down and flicked her coat back off her body.

I heard her laugh a little as she hooked her arm up over my leg and pulled herself farther into my lap.  She had to use both hands to undo my pants and the zipper and pull out my cock.

And then her big bobble-head was bobbling up and down in my lap, and I'm not sure how I didn't drive into a ditch, or kill us both by slamming head-on into oncoming traffic.  By the time we got back to her home, she was asleep again, and I was desperately sleepy.

I guess I was too tired to give a fuck, because I looked up at the door that opened into her second-floor shit-hole, shook my head, threw the truck back into gear and took her home with me.

 

 

She's never asked to go back to the crappy little apartment.  They never ask where I pick her up from in the morning, or where I take her to at night.  That surprises me a little.  But I guess as long as she keeps showing up for the photo shoots they don't care.  They get paid, I get paid, and she gets....

I don't know.  We still almost never talk.  We live in the same place, but we don't live together.  There's little physical evidence of her in the condo.  The clothes and make-up and all that are at the photo shoots, I guess.  Maybe they feed her, too.  I don't know, I stay with my truck while she's doing whatever it is she does.  I know it's not sex, like the guy said.  If she was fucking someone else, I'd smell it, or taste it on her.

Whatever it is, it leaves her very tired most nights.  But that's okay.  I've got enough energy to do all of the work in bed.  And she has figured me out so well that she has to do very little to push me over the edge.  She knows that all it takes is a properly-timed, longing glance over her shoulder along with a quiet muttering of "Please, cum inside me, please!" to make me explode, and soon I'll fall shuddering onto the bed to pass out like I've been shot with a tranquilizer gun.

In the morning, I get up long before she does.  I wake her just a few minutes before we have to leave, and she aways smiles at me when I do.  Then she waits by the door until I wrap her big wool overcoat around her, and she'll kiss me on the cheek as I do it.  Sometimes I'll find myself desperate to fuck her in the morning, or between shoots, but she says, "No, they'll be to tell," and so she sucks me off in the truck.

Her smooth, beautiful skin is even more magical to touch than it is to look at.  It's like she's made of silk.  To caress her is to touch the clouds of heaven.  When she's had an easy day, and isn't so tired, sex with her is like fucking an angel.  She is so light, and so graceful it's like she enters a state of zero gravity when we entangle.  She floats and flys and I just try to keep from falling back to Earth.

I'll be standing as she wraps her legs around me, locking her ankles together behind my back, and she leans away from me, arching back and back, and the closer her head gets to the floor the deeper I go inside of her.  Surely there is a womb somewhere inside her, perched on top of that tower of velvet ecstacy that is her cunt, but I have never reached it.  My fingers are laced under her, but she has leaned so far away that I can't even see her belly button anymore, and it's like I'm fucking some creature made from nothing but legs and hips and Oh God! I'm passing out the black is crumbling in at the edges of my vision so deep so good and I can hear her keening, a jerk and she's coming back up rising up like a cobra preparing to strike and she grabs my head and kisses me.  She thrusts her tongue into my mouth, pulls my skull in close and grinds her open mouth against mind to shove her tongue as far down my throat as my cock is up her cunt and 

 

 

I woke up on the floor.  She was curled up next to me.  Nestled in under my arm, sleeping, with a tiny smile on her face.

 Some day she'll be too old, or too fat, or something, for them to take her picture any longer.  I wonder if they'll hire me to drive the new girl around?  Maybe that new one will have some nice, big tits?  Until then, I'll have to work on seeing just how far up inside of this one I can get.