Sue's 1962 red Impala convertible had a pillow in the backseat, which Eddie Perry found quite convenient to place under her lower back so she could comfortably recline in the back corner of the seat behind the driver's position. She was maneuvered so that she could spread and bend her legs to enable him, naked, to take most of his weight on his knees, between her thighs, and the rest by pressing the heels of his hands into the sidewall behind her head. He worked his cock inside her after having knelt between her legs and worked her clit and cunt with his tongue and teeth. Her skirt was hiked up around her waist, her panties were on the back floor of the car, and her blouse was unbuttoned and open.
Eddie was fucking Sue.
He already had worshipped her breasts with his hands and lips, and she'd begged for the rest. Eddie had been the dreamboat of Mineral County High School, and Sue deemed herself lucky that he'd gotten around to her. She'd enticed him by showing up in the nowhere bungalow on Highway 95 Eddie lived in in Mina, Nevada, and offering him a ride to "wherever" in her dad's Impala convertible. She did everything she could to signal that he could fuck her, dwelling on the various meanings of "ride."
This is what high school graduates in Nevada between Las Vegas and Reno did after graduating and while waiting for a steady job or the army recruiter to show up—they drove out into the desert and fucked in the backseat of cars.
The other nineteen-year-old, Charlie Tecopa, a Piaute half caste from the Walker River Indian Reservation, was hanging over the back of the front passenger seat, watching Eddie and Sue getting settled into the fuck and biding his time until he could join them.
The three knew each other from the high school in the desert county in west-central Nevada, where they had graduated the previous spring. The three were listed among the beautiful people at the high school, but they'd been in entirely different social sets, with definite cultural barriers. Susan's father, Ted Henderson, was the civilian manager of the Hawthorne Army Depot, with Hawthorne being the county seat and where the Mineral County High School was located. The depot was the major employer in the county, so Susan was pretty much the county princess. She, of course, had been homecoming queen at the school that year.
Eddie, living in the smudge of Mina, southwest of Hawthorne, with its 155 residents, straddling U.S. 95 between Las Vegas and Reno, came from white trash, although being a blond hunk and the star of the high school football team, such as it was, and, of course, homecoming king, had given him status. He had lived in an old Airstream trailer in Mina with his single-parent mother until near high school graduation when the trailer had burned and been gutted and his mother had taken a walk—without Eddie.
"You're of age now, Eddie, so you're on your own, just like I was as soon as I got out of high school," she'd said as she was walking out.
Not long after that he moved in with the owner and waitress of the Railcar diner. Up until then sex had consisted of casual lays for Eddie. Now he was expected to plow a woman on a regular basis—a woman older than he was.
Charlie, whose father was a full Piaute and mother was a social worker from California, lived on the Walker River Indian Reservation to the northwest of Hawthorne. That put him, despite being a beautiful young man, in the lower depths of the social strata both at the high school and in the county. He was a silent fringe walker in whatever social circle of young people was lean and hungry at any given moment.
Being rebels and experimenters all, the three had come together to cross social lines after they'd been freed from peer influence in school. For the past five months they'd met whenever they could to go wild and fuck. The one beautiful thing these three could do in life was to tangle their bodies together and fuck.
Susan had picked Charlie up from his job at the army depot and driven him to Mina, where they'd gathered Eddie up at the Railcar Diner, and then had turned off U.S. 95, west, just north of Mina, and driven a dirt road into what was the rimmed crater of either a large meteorite hit or the remnants of a volcano from eons ago. There was a disagreement in the region which was what. Nobody much came to see it, so it didn't really matter what it was. Features like it were so common in this area that this one hadn't attracted any scientific interest. The Impala fit between a rock outcropping and a small pond in desert-like surroundings, out of sight of anyone not looking for concealment for some purpose of their own.
They'd done this before. Even in this spot. Eddie was handsome, blond, tanned, muscular, and hung. Susan, auburn-haired, "perky," busty, and with full hips, had clutched his buttocks with her hands, arched her back, and was rocking against him as he pumped her. She liked being filled and stretched by a man's cock. She'd done it for the school's football coach and vice principal—there wasn't much else to do out here in nowhere—so age didn't matter much, although she like it best with young guys.
They were young and fearless, living in the sticks, and they'd started this the night of the homecoming dance, as all of the students had expected. There were more fatherless children here—and had been forever—then there were two-parent families. Single parents here were barely thirty-five when they were attending their own children's high school graduations. Thus, they hadn't even considered protection. When they had set up a good rhythm, Dark, slim, wiry Charlie came over the seat into the back, saddled up behind Eddie, mounted his ass, penetrated him, and fucked Eddie while Eddie fucked Susan.
There really wasn't much else to do for a thrill in Mineral County, Nevada, if you were young, beautiful, adventuresome, and horny. And if you wanted to flip off the world.
* * * *
Mina, Nevada, couldn't even claim to be a town. Technically, it was a "census-designated" spot on U.S. 95 between Las Vegas to the south and Reno, via Carson City, to the north. It was laid out as a town, with numbered streets from 1st Street on the north down to 13th at the south end, crossing east-to-west across the portion of U.S. 95 named Frontier Street. This was an overly ambitious undertaking, though, as all of the blocks from 1st Street down to 5th Street were empty lots. The Railcar Diner, one of two restaurants in the settlement, sat on the western corner of Frontier and 5th.
It was called the Railcar Diner because that was what it was built to resemble, an abandoned railcar, when it was built in the late forties. More recently it looked more abandoned than a railcar. It was larger than a railcar, a bit longer and twice as wide, to accommodate a long lunch counter and booths around the front and side walls. The building continued, narrower, off the back, with, first a kitchen area, and then a living-dining room, two bedrooms, and a bath, which was where the owner of the diner, Maggie Bell, a tarty, top-heavy blonde in her late forties, lived, and where Eddie dutifully fucked Maggie at least twice a week to cover his room and board.
The Railcar Diner was one of the fanciful building designs that were scattered along lonely stretches of U.S. highways on the long, dull journeys through the badlands to the West Coast in the first half of the twentieth century. The landscapes through Nevada, Utah, and Arizona were actually spectacular—for about fifteen minutes, and then they began to dull the senses. Nearly all of the residents of Mina had been there well over fifteen minutes.
The people living along the routes west and wanting travelers to stop and buy what they were selling constructed fanciful buildings to entice them: a wigwam here an "old woman's shoe" there. Thus, Mina had its railcar for a diner and, further up the road toward Hawthorne, there was a lighthouse just off the road in the desert that served as a motel, restaurant, and men's club. That would be men on men, not a straight guy's brothel.
