Drive Through Tales Ch. 01

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Once upon a time – and no doubt it was a dark and stormy night – Henry Mann was driving from work, on his way to the empty apartment he now called home. It was late, he had worked long into the evening finishing an assignment for a new client, and autumn leaves blew in little gales across the streets as he drove, covering the yellow painted lines on the roadway and hiding the boundaries of the pavement in drifts of harshly lit reds and golds and browns. A crescent moon peeked out from behind low-scudding clouds as they streaked across the night sky.Pumpkins sat on porches, grinning ghoulishly into the night.

Henry’s wife of nearly twenty-five years had left him almost six months ago, left him for a man half his age, for a man, she said, whose cock still worked, and who knew how to fuck the shit out of her. What little there was left of Henry’s deflated manhood had on that April Fool’s night vanished like a faint tendril of winter’s mist on the warm breeze that had crushed him in it’s passing.

Henry Mann was a commercial photographer – and don’t get your hopes up thinking that Henry spent his days photographing exotic models on distant beaches for glamorous magazines. No, indeed not, for our Henry photographed small machined fittings and plumbing fixtures for various mechanical engineering and contracting companies around New Jersey and eastern Pennsylvania. The closest Henry had ever come to exotica had been, oh, almost ten years ago when he had been given an assignment by an agency to shoot various items of lingerie for a regional department store. He had been told to make some of the items ‘look sexy’, but he had no idea what the client wanted in that regard. Lingerie simply hadn’t been sexy to Henry Mann.

He had, of course, never done another shoot for that client.

Oh, where was I?

Oh, yes. Driving home on that dark and stormy night.

Henry had, however out of character this may seem, been modestly successful in his dogged way, and had made a comfortable living shooting ball valves and toggle switches; his wife had taken remarkably little of his in the property settlement agreed to in mediation. She had agreed to split the proceeds after the sale of their house, and she had allowed him to keep his various photographic odds and ends that he had accumulated over the years. Henry’s pride and joy, his old tangerine colored Porsche 911 T she had allowed him to keep, as well. And in this, his faithful steed, he was driving home when a modest hunger pang hit. As Henry kept almost no food in his little apartment refrigerator, he decided – despite earlier declarations to the contrary – to stop again on the way home for yet another hamburger or bucket of chicken.

He made out the orange and yellow sign of a hamburger stand up ahead, and signaled to make a left turn into the little restaurant’s parking lot. After waiting a moment for traffic to clear, he pulled into the lot, and on seeing a crowd inside, drove around the back to order from the drive through lane. He waited behind a car ahead of his, then moved forward when his time came. He studied the colorful sign for a moment, but still managed to jump a bit when the girl’s voice came over the tinny little speaker. Even so distorted, the girl’s voice was attractive, and suggested honest happiness in the tone and flow of her words.

Henry ordered a Super-Sloppo with cheeze-whiz, fermented fries, and a chocolate coconut oil milkshake, and proceeded to the drive-up window after being told this delightful culinary concoction would set him back a little less than five dollars.

As Henry drove up and stopped at the little window he caught sight of the girl whose voice was so alluring. Actually, the first thing he noticed was the girl’s red hair. But really, red doesn’t do justice to the color of this girl’s hair. Her hair was a rich auburn – chestnut color, hung well below shoulder height, and was as straight and shiny as a summer’s rain shower. Henry was, frankly, speechless as he approached the drive-up window. Henry was a photographer, after all, and he appreciated visual perfection above all else.

The girl’s name, Henry read on the little plastic nameplate on her uniformed breast, was JOY, and he was surprised to see a face that reflected genuine warmth and happiness as she went about taking people’s money and giving them their change and their meals. And she was no less happy and warm in her dealings with Henry, who was her next customer.

JOY was the first female he had seen in six months that did not make him flinch and want to run away in terror. And while he could not really tell her age, he suspected that she was either in high school, or more likely, just graduated from some dead-end school into this dead-end job. It was a miracle that she still had a smile on her face.

He handed over his money to the girl, and tried to make contact with her hand – he wanted to feel her skin – wanted to touch JOY. When he did, they both jumped from a little electric shock, and she laughed out loud at the infinitesimal jolt. She canlı bahis handed Henry his nickel back, and passed over his milk shake, and told him it would be a minute more for the burger. Henry just smiled at the girl, but his heart was beating faster as he looked at her. Finally, she handed him a little white sack with his dinner in it, and Thanked him, wished him a Good Evening. “You too,” Henry had said – perhaps wistfully – as he slipped the old Porsche into gear and pulled away.


Two nights later Henry found himself sitting in line at the burger stand’s drive through ordering another burger, fries, and shake. JOY was there – he could tell by the voice on the tinny little speaker. As he pulled round to the drive-through window, he felt happy anticipation at the prospect of seeing JOY once again.

And she remembered him!

She said – in happy welcoming tones sure to warm the darkest warrens of even the most jaded soul’s heart – ‘Nice to see you again . . . that sure is a neat car!’

“Oh, thanks, I’ve had it forever. Wouldn’t part with it for the world.”

And she had taken his money, given him his change, and his shake, then the little sack of food. Then she had told him Thanks, Good Evening, AND ‘Hope to see you again soon!’

“I hope so too,” Henry had said.

Who was that jaded philosopher who once wrote: “All the lonely people, where do they all come from?”


He went again the very next night, but JOY was no where to be found, and he drove home in a very deep funk.


It was almost a week later when Henry once again drove through looking for JOY, and she was there that night. She recognized him again, and appeared to brighten when she saw him, but only just perceptively so. She was obviously very upset about something as she took his money and handed him his meal in return. Henry felt he needed to say something to cheer the girl up – give her something to feel good about, so he said “You know, you have the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen. I would love to photograph your hair through the twilight sun some day.” She had smiled a little when he said that, then written something down on a scrap of paper and handed it to him as he sat there looking up at her.

Henry had driven away, then stopped under a street light to look at her message. In fat round and ultimately schoolish-feminine little handwriting he had read: ‘I need a ride – could you pick me up a little after eleven?’ Henry looked at his watch; it was not quite eight, so he drove home, and quickly ate his almost-cold dinner. He grew increasingly uncomfortable, nervous really, at meeting JOY in the flesh, and he thought he might not go, might not pick her up, but he dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it had come to him. But he took a shower, shaved the course stubble from his pale face, and put on some after-shave lotion. He cleaned his little apartment, more out of anxiety than any unrealistic expectations about where the evening might lead, and then brushed his teeth, hoping that his unrealistic expectations might indeed lead the girl back to his little apartment.

A few minutes before eleven, he hopped into his old Porsche and drove off toward the burger stand.


He had parked opposite the little drive through window where she could see him, and he waited. Ten minutes went by, then fifteen, and no one came. It started to snow. He was about to start the car and head home when he saw her walking out of the building. It was the first time Henry had seen the girl from the chest down. He could see she was a young girl about five feet tall, fairly small chested, but fairly broad in the bottom, but not too badly so, he decided as she drew nearer the car. She came to his window, and he rolled it down.

“Is this O.K.?” she asked. “I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything.”

“Where do you need to go, Joy? It’s no trouble at all.”

“Well, that’s the problem. Maybe a hotel or something. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Well, come on, then. Let’s go get you fixed up for the night.”

She had walked around to the passenger door, and Henry had leaned across and pushed it open for her. Joy had plopped down onto the old cracked leather seat, and said, “This is nice. What kind of car is it?” He pulled out of the lot and headed down the road.

“Joy, what’s going on? Are you in trouble?”

She looked away out her window, and did not say a word.

“O.K., Joy, where to?”

“I don’t know, I’ve got about twenty bucks. You know any place where I can stay for that?”

“No, not really. What about your family? They live around here?”

“Yeah, but they threw me out.”

“How old are you, Joy?”


“You sure?”

“Wanna see my driver’s license?” She said with a touch of anger in her voice.

“Any friends you can stay with?”

“Nope. Listen, you can just let me out here, O.K.?”

“Joy, I’m not going to just dump you out on the street. It’s late, and it’s snowing outside.”

“Yeah, bahis siteleri well, I got no place else to go. I’ll just get out here.”

Henry pulled the car over to the side of the street. Joy started to open the door.

“Are you hungry?”

This stopped her. She hesitated, then said, “Yes.” She was near tears. But defiant, too.

“Can I get you something to eat?”

“Yeah, O.K., sure.”

Henry pulled back into traffic and headed on into town toward a 24-hour diner down by the train station, and he pulled into the head-in parking space in front of the restaurant. He went around and opened Joy’s door – she apparently couldn’t figure out the latch mechanism – and helped her out of the car. He held her hand as they walked across the slushy pot-holed asphalt toward the steps that led into the diner.

Henry ordered them both coffee as they looked over the grimy little plastic menus. Nothing looked good to Henry.

The waitress came and took Joy’s order, and poured their coffees. He passed on food.

Henry studied her face as she sat there under the harsh florescent light. Despite the green cast to the light, she had a remarkably cute face accented by a broad little band of deep freckles across the bridge of her nose and scattered across her cheeks. Her eyes were blue-green, and her hair was still outrageously attractive, even under the horrible lights.

“By the way, my name is Henry Thorndike. I’m a photographer. What’s your name?”

“Pleased to meet ya, Henry. Just call me Joy, O.K.?”


Her dinner came, a bowl of stew and some corn bread. Simple, country food, he thought. Maybe she’s not from around here.

“So, Joy, where are your folks?”

She ate a while, turned over his question in her mind, apparently deciding whether or not to answer. “Kentucky,” she finally said. “I was let go tonight . . . fired.”


“No reason, but I guess because I wouldn’t screw the manager.”

Henry nodded his head. Same old bullshit, things will never change. Men and their victims.


They walked out to his Porsche after she had finished eating, and he helped her into the car. It was snowing harder, and was really cold now. There wasn’t train service any longer in this part of Jersey, and buses hardly ever any came out this way anymore.

He started the car, and the old motor sprang to life. “O.K., Joy. Where to?”

“Well, I’d say your place or mine, but . . .”

“Yeah, well, that kinda narrows it down a bit, doesn’t it.”

“Henry, can I go home with you tonight. Just, you know, what ever you wanna do is cool, but just please be nice to me, huh?” She said this with a mischievous little grin on her face.

“Yeah, O.K., kid.” He drove on back to his little apartment, and helped her out again, and held her hand over to the little covered walkway that led up to his apartment. He put the key in the door and led her into the warm room. He turned on the single overhead light, revealing a spare room with photos covering almost every square inch of all the walls. All of the photos were of trees bare of all leaves, each taken under leaden skies; they were dark, moody black and white shots, all selenium processed to give a very subtle slate gray hue to the scenes. They were all uniformly depressing; they drew you in to an alternate interior landscape of the mind where hope and happiness were but footnotes to an earlier life, a life that had been written, and discarded.

Joy walked around the room, looking at the somber scenes that revealed a world literally devoid of all hope and joy, and she looked back at Henry Thorndike, and she understood. She understood she would be safe here, that Henry was a man who had been beaten, indeed, was her’s for the taking. He was a man incapable of hurting another human being, she knew, because he understood what pain was on that most intimate scale. She was suddenly hungry again.

She walked over to him and pushed him down onto the little gray sofa behind him, and she knelt between his legs. She moved over him, undid his belt buckle, unzipped the trousers and pulled them down to his ankles. She did the same to his boxer shorts, then took his limp cock in her hands. She sucked on it for a few minutes, and felt it coming to life. She worked on it slowly but roughly, pinching and biting it as she sucked on it, and it would flinch and harden the rougher she was with it.

Joy moved into the zone of instinct that had been honed by years of bitter experience under her father.

“You better get hard for me now, little man, or I’m going to hurt you. I’m going to hurt you like you’ve never been hurt before.” She leaned forward and slapped Henry Thorndike for all she was worth, and drove her mouth back down on his cock. She grabbed his sack of balls and twisted them tightly, causing him to moan loudly, then she bit the tip of his cock savagely. Henry’s cock grew harder with each new torment. “That’s it, little man, get hard for me,” she said gently, then she reached up and knocked bahis şirketleri him on the side of his face with her open fist. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you, little man. Now. Do it, or I’m really, really gonna hurt you . . .” She jacked his cock with her fingernails, leaving little red streaks up and down the shaft of Henry’s now rock hard cock. She stuck the thumb of her other hand up Henry’s asshole, then roughly stuck another finger up, then another, and another.

She felt Henry going rigid, and threw her mouth down on his pulsing cock as it erupted. She felt the cum leaping to the back of her throat, and she swallowed it greedily. Henry was convulsing, shivering as his first orgasm in years caught him by surprise. Joy was surprised herself when more and more cum streamed into her mouth, and this she held under the warm confinement of her tongue. She pulled her hand roughly from Henry’s ass, and moved up to his face. She pulled his mouth open with her shit-stained finger, and placed her head about a foot above his, then let the warm cum in her mouth stream over her tongue and down into Henry’s waiting mouth.

“Swallow it! All of it!” she yelled at him. “If you spill a drop you’ll be eating your cum for a week, and nothing else!” So of course, Henry let a couple of drops spill from his mouth. “So that’s the way you want it, huh, Henry boy. Well, O.K., you’re gonna get it now!”

She pulled him down to the carpet and stood over him. She pulled off her little blue burger uniform and threw it aside, then took off her little black sneakers and the sweaty gym socks she wore under them. She still just stood there, smirking, looking down on Henry with amused disgust on her face. She placed her foot on his neck and placed a little of her weight on it, then a little more, until he choked a bit, turned red faced, then she relented, and stuck her pointed foot down into his mouth.

“Suck on it, Henry. Suck on my sweaty smelly foot. That’s right. Use your tongue, Henry, yes, that’s the way, get between the toes, you worm, suck the lint out from between my toes.” She forced more of her foot into his mouth, until her forefoot was jammed all the way in to the back of his mouth. “Suck it, bitch, suck it hard!” she yelled again, then roughly pulled her foot from his mouth.

She stood up on his chest with all of her weight, then she walked down his body to his cock, and kicked it. “Oh, you like that, don’t you, worm!” She kicked it again, and this time it twitched, coming back to life. “Oooh, worm likes that! Henry must be hungry!” She knelt down over Henry’s face with her knees on either side of his head. “O.K., hungry Henry, eat my ass out, eat it out of me, Henry.” She placed her asshole on his mouth. “Henry wants to eat some more Henry-cum? Hum-m-m? Well, then, Henry can jerk off now while he eats Joy’s ass, and if Henry is a real good boy then maybe Joy will let Henry eat some of her shit! Would Henry like that?” Henry moaned loudly, his tongue dug deeply into her ass. “Well alright, then, Henry, jerk that cock for me!”

Henry pulled on his cock slowly, stretching and tearing at it deep from it’s rooted base. “That’s not jerking it Henry . . that’s pulling at it like a little girl . . . are you a little girl . . . are you going to be my little Henrietta? That’s it, worm, jerk it good now!”

Joy now had almost all of her weight pushing down through her ass onto Henry’s mouth, and Henry’s tongue had pushed up into her asshole about an inch. He curled his tongue up into a little probe, and sent it into her as deeply as he could. He felt a little rock hard turd up there, and this sent him into a frenzied spasm of jerking.

“Um-m-m, does Henry feel his little treat coming? Does Henry want his little treat now?” She could feel his jerking increase, and she looked around to see him jerking his cock so rapidly his hand had all but disappeared into a blur. “Oh, well, I guess he does! Well, every good boy deserves favor, huh, Henry? You ready for a little treat?”

Joy lifted her body ever so slightly from his face, but not so far as to keep his searching tongue from her asshole. He still licked at it desperately. She focused on the need deep within her bowel, and forced it to move. “O.K., Henry, open wide, here it comes!”

Henry probed with his tongue, felt her external anus swelling as the little turd made it’s way down her chute. He kept his tongue over the hole itself as the little rock hard turd poked through her anus. “Open your mouth, Henry! Wide! Do it now!”

The little bit of shit dropped from her anus into his waiting mouth. “Swallow it, Henry! Now!” She felt him forcing the turd down. “O.K., now Henry, here comes another one!” Henry moved his tongue to her anus again, probed inside with his tongue again, and was startled to feel a much bigger turd moving down toward his mouth, but he was now so excited he could think of nothing else than eating her shit.

The swelling around her anus was now much more pronounced as the huge turd made it’s way toward his waiting mouth. He tongued the rock hard boulder as it poked through into air, and he didn’t need to be told twice to open wide, nor to swallow the turd as it dropped into his mouth. Joy ground her asshole on his face as she felt him swallowing.

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