The snow was coming down in gusting sheets blowing across the road so hard that it was amazing I could even see to drive. Even with the wipers on the high speed setting, the windshield seemed to add more and more snow as I pressed onward and upward towards McKenna's Pass. Mountain roads at night are bad enough to drive on, but with the heavy snow and the hidden patches of ice, I needed my head examined for taking such a risk, but it was a risk I was more than willing to take. As it was, I had been on the road all night trying to reach the tiny hospital--or what passed for a hospital in this backwoods area--and my dying sister.
By this time I was ready to find some strong, black coffee and a couple of eggs for a quick midnight snack. What I really needed was some rest before tackling the last fifty miles or so to the small town of Dunbarton Bridge and the Dunbarton Community Hospital. My eye lids were getting more than a bit heavy. I had planned on using the interstate to within a couple of miles of Dunbarton Bridge, but this early snow storm had closed the interstate nearly two hundred miles from my destination. If I had been smart, I would have found a room for the night and waited for this snow storm to blow over. I wasn't very smart.
The sun, if it could have been seen through the falling snow, would have set about four or five hours ago. The only difference I could see was that the road, if I were still on the road, was a bit harder to see than a couple of hours ago. Still, I craved some black coffee to prop up my eyelids for that last fifty miles or so.
Rounding a curve I thought I had seen some colored lights up ahead. With all the white around me it was hard to tell. As I drew closer, I saw that it was a roadside restaurant all lit up like a Christmas tree. It was the first sign of human habitation that I had seen in over an hour of horrible driving and a very welcome sight to my tired eyes.
The big sign out front of the restaurant said "Roxy's Bar and Grill" and thanking my good luck, I pulled in beside a green Chevy that had to have been a classic. Taking another look at the nearly half dozen cars in the parking lot, I realized despite the heavy covering of snow that each one of them was a classic. There was another old Chevy, a Nash Rambler, an Oldsmobile, a Ford pickup truck and, of all things, a Studebaker sitting in that lot. I felt that I had died and gone to a classic car lover's heaven. I loved the old things. In fact, I restored classic cars as both a hobby and a business. I bought them, restored them, and sold them for ten times the price I paid. But these cars all appeared to be in mint condition.
Shutting the engine off, I noticed that I had almost no gas left in the tank. Then I debated for a few moments on how to best get from my car to the restaurant's front door. I was wearing nothing more than a pair of loafers and light summer clothing. So fast was my getaway from home yesterday after the phone call that I didn't even have a summer jacket to put on. I hadn't given a single thought to what the weather might become in the late fall in the mountains, but this storm defied the predictions of every weatherman in the area.
I decided that a mad dash for the front door would be my best bet and put action to my thought before I could change my mind. By the time I reached the front door--a distance of only twenty yards or so--I was totally covered in snow and looked like a rather thin scarecrow. The door opened into a vestibule and I stood there a moment to catch my breath and let some of the snow melt off my clothing. As I was standing there, I noticed a calendar and some posters on the wall. The calendar was from 1962 and the posters appeared to have come from the same era. I didn't really give them much more than a passing thought since I had been in many restaurants that catered to the nostalgia of "the good old days."
As I entered the inner door to the vestibule, I found myself face-to-face with people dressed as they would have more than forty years ago. I thought that the nostalgia angle was getting to be a bit much if even the customers dressed to the period. I really felt like I was out-of-place with my "next generation" clothing.
Maybe I should, at this point, describe myself. My name is Dan Turner and I am in my mid-thirties, five foot nine inches tall and about one hundred ninety pounds of hard, decent looking body with blue eyes and sandy brown hair. While I admit that I am not the most perfect male specimen, I feel that I can hold my own on a soccer field, basketball court, or a hockey rink. I love competitive sports and they tend to help to keep me in shape for the things I enjoy. I have never smoked and only drink occasionally to be sociable.
There was one odd thing about this restaurant and that was that if, while not overly crowded, the people generated a lot of loud noise just to be heard over the volume of the jukebox which was blaring out Beatle tunes from the early-1960s mixed in with some vintage Elvis and Manfred Mann.
I sat down at the counter and the waitress came up to me to take my order.
"What'll have, mister?" She almost screamed at me.
"A black coffee and some of that pie over there" was my response in a moderately loud voice.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you."
"A cup of black coffee and some of that pie over there" came out of my mouth at a little louder a level than my drill sergeant used on me way back in my army basic training days.
"Well, ya don't have to whisper."
"Why don't you turn the music down?" I yelled at her.
"Can't--the volume thingy is broken" came her equally loud reply. She left and got me a cup and a plate with a slice of apple pie on it. After she placed them on the table, she poured black coffee into the cup and set the pot back on the burner.
I realized that I was very hungry and finished my pie in record time. The coffee followed. Then I realized I was getting very drowsy and asked for another cup of coffee. I fell asleep before the cup was refilled.
**********************
When I awoke, the first thing I noticed was a mouth covering my cock and trying to suck my cum right out of my balls. The second thing was that there was no loud music blaring. The third thing was when I glanced down and saw the red-head from behind the counter bobbing her head up and down along the length of my cock and found there was another woman making fucking motions behind her. That woman smiled when she saw I was awake.
