Heather Brown - Wild housewife

On the fifth day there was a change in our luck. However, it was for the worse, even though Susan felt fine. In the middle of the most desolate stretch of road I've ever seen, the van broke down.

Neither of us knew the first thing about cam. All we could do was pray for some sympathetic motorist to come along and rescue us.

"When was the last car you saw, Susan?" I hopefully asked my glum daughter as we sat by the roadside in the scorching sun.

"Hours ago," she sighed in something that sounded like utter defeat. "To tell you the truth I can't remember any traffic since we got off the Interstate. I don't even think the Highway Patrol bothers with this God-forsaken highway."

"Somebody will come along," I said forlornly. "They have to."

"What makes you so sure they'll stop?"

"Because it's the decent thing to do," I said with a wavering voice.

"Since when does decency have anything to do with what people do," Susan contemptuously sneered.

"I'm positive you're wrong," I insisted, but inside I was wracked with doubt. My daughter had me feeling as though I were hopelessly naive to hold out a shred of hope.

"Okay," she said calmly, "here's a chance to see who's right. There's someone coming from the east."

I looked to my left. Sure enough, through the wavering lines of heat rising from the broiling asphalt road was the distorted form of something on wheels descending from the horizon.

We waited and waited for the lonely vehicle which seemed to be our only hope. During this interim Susan never displayed the slightest glimmer of hope. I prayed her pessimism was misplaced.

Then, gradually, the motorist neared us. It was a truck. We could see the exhaust of the diesel trailing behind the cab.

I waited breathlessly. Susan, on the other hand, was as cool as a cucumber. She apparently had no doubt how things were going to turn out and wasn't about to excite herself unnecessarily.

"Here it comes," I said with a false show of confidence, and stood up to stretch my thumb in the standard hitchhiking gesture.

Suddenly the cab of the truck was filling up the road. I could see the driver's face as clear as day. He didn't even look my way.

"There it goes," Susan noted glumly.

He hadn't even slowed down. It had been like we weren't even there.

"I hope you're satisfied," I turned and snapped at my daughter, as though she were somehow responsible for the selfishness of the trucker.

"I didn't make the world," she reminded me. "I'm just a realist. People are no damn good-you're not going to get anyone to do anything for you unless they think they're going to get something in return."

I slumped to the ground.

We had to wait at least another hour before a new speck appeared at the top of the horizon. By this time I was just as cynical as my daughter, but willing to make it work to our advantage. With a pregnant daughter as my responsibility, I was prepared to humiliate myself, if need be, to get us to safety.

"Mom, what are you doing?" Susan asked as the approaching car came nearer.

"The only thing I can," I replied, unbuttoning my blouse without hesitation. "If we want a ride, at least one of us is going to have to stop having such a defeatist attitude and work at it."

Her eyes grew big and round as I tossed the blouse to the roadside and started unhooking my bra. For the first time since the van had broken down, Susan's face was showing something besides resignation.

"Mom, are you doing what I think you're doing?" she asked with a kind of awe.

"You're damn right," I replied, sending my bra fluttering into the air like twin parachutes so my bare tits were hanging from my chest. "If the next driver is a man, I'd like to see him pass us by without looking after I'm stripped."

"But he'll think you're willing to have sex with him just for a ride," Susan protested.

"If that's the way the world works, then I'll just have to adjust to it," I summed up the dilemma. "When you're drowning, the worst thing you can do is struggle-and the way I look at it we re drowning on dry land,"

She thought about it while the car drew nearer and I went to work removing my panties from beneath my skirt. My plan was to stand in the middle of the highway and lift my hem, flashing my pussy and jiggling my breasts in plenty of time for the driver to stop.

"Then you're determined to do this, Mother," my daughter nervously concluded.

"Just watch me," I replied over my shoulder, as I walked out into the middle of the highway.

There, in plain view, I straddled the white line and hoisted my dress to my waist. Right away I could feel the sun baking against my exposed crotch. The solar rays were glimmering off the sleek triangle of my sweaty muff.

Here came the car. It must have been doing ninety. By the time I could make out its dimensions it was too late to get out of the road.

"Mom, look out!" Susan shrieked in alarm. "It's a cop!"

As if I couldn't see the lights on top and the black and white exterior. It was probably the worst choice I could have made for my desperate stunt, but it was too late to back out now.

In a split second of terror I could see the face of the driver. His expression turned to incredulity and then alarm under his ten-gallon hat. Then his teeth ground together as he frantically twisted the wheel to the right to force the cruiser off the road and try and keep from reducing me to a grease spot. The squealing of the brakes seemed to ricochet through the air.

The next thing I knew I was enshrouded in a blinding swirl of dust. The acrid stench of scorched brake lining hit my nose like smelling salts.

When the flying dirt settled down and the view was clear, I sighted the patrol car in a ditch. A frantic Susan was pulling open the door on the driver's side, trying to see if anyone was injured.

"How… how does it look?" I anxiously called.

"There's two of them!" Susan yelled back.

"They're both out cold."

"Any blood?"

"A little. But it only seems to be from cuts where their heads bounced against the dashboard and knocked them out."

I walked over to the wreck. Considering the speed at which it had been traveling, it was a miracle the car wasn't tipped over or demolished.

"What'll we do?" Susan wanted to know. "If we stick around they'll find us here."

"But there's no place to hide," I pointed out. "The nearest cover is in those mountains ten or twenty miles away. We've got to make a stand to save ourselves. It's the only way out of this."

It was clear that Susan had no idea what I was talking about. How do two apparently helpless women make a stand against two armed Highway Patrolmen?

Despite my scare, however, I was brimming with confidence. If I was willing to flash my tits and pussy in the path of a speeding car just to get a ride, I was willing to do even more to keep Susan and me out of jail.

"Mother, what are you doing?" Susan gasped with astonishment, as I brushed past her and knelt by the side of the unconscious driver of the patrol car.

She had perfectly good reason to register alarm. I was unzipping his fly.

"It's the only way," I assured her. "We've got to fix it so that when they come to there are no complaints."

"How is taking off his pants going to accomplish that?" Susan wailed.

"Very simple. If you were a man and woke up with a naked woman servicing your prick, would you be angry?"

"No," she admitted. "I'd probably think I'd died and gone to heaven."

"Good girl," I chuckled as I slid the patrolman's trousers and underpants down his legs so I had access to his exposed cock and balls. "This is survival time. We're either winners or losers, Susan. Which do you want to be?"

"A… a winner," my daughter stammered, in awe of my firm resolve.

"Then open the door on the other side of the car," I snapped without hesitation. "Pull down the other guy's pants and start blowing him the way I'm going to do to the driver as quickly as I can wrap my lips around the head of his dick."