Interstate Reas Area Whore

Driving down the interstate the sign said Rest Area one mile. My heart skipped a beat and there was slight stiffing of my male meat in anticipation of events to unfold. This interstate rest area was always packed full of eighteen wheelers as many as forty. Surely one or two of these truck drivers would be horny enough to over look the fact that this slut had a little something extra a top her nylon covered legs.
I had a black merry widow corset on that pulled my waist in a nice four inches. Eight garters held up my coffee colored FF nylons. I had on five inch red stiletto pumps. My black paten vinyl skirt came to my mid thighs and laced up the back from hem to waist line. The skirt fit like a glove. I had chosen a red silk blouse with flared sleeves and a scooped neck line. My makeup was very slutty. Long false eyelashes, green eye shadow, heavy eyeliner, and my favorite candy apple lipstick. Yes I felt like a slut, looked like a whore in hopes that I would soon be treated like both.

I turned my 1960 VW off the interstate onto the access road to the rest area, my cock stiffened a little more but my red rubber panties held its growth at bay. As always this rest area was packed with eight wheelers and few passenger cars. I parked in front of the restrooms and up from the vending machine area. No one was out milling about. I got out pranced down to the vending machines and brought a coke; then walked back to the pay phone. I lit a cigarette and pretend to make a phone call wondering if I had caught the eye of any of the truckers. After a few minutes I hung up the phone and returned to my car and lit another Misty 120.
A trucker left his cab and walked by my car looking nonchalantly at me as he passed by on his way to the restrooms. A few minutes later he came back out the building and walked straight towards my car, Bingo! I rolled the driver side window all the way down as he approached. He asked if everything was okay. “Why do you ask, sweetie,” I replied.