Tami looked out the window, her head jerking slightly. She couldn’t deny that she was starving, though she wondered if these dildos would leave any room inside her for food. “Y - yes. Ohhh . . .” She had a craving for a hamburger and fries. Anything was better than sitting here with nothing to distract her from . . . Wanda had been cruel. After Tami’s first orgasm, shortly after they got back in the car, Wanda had kept the buzzing low and then turned it off and on and intervals. Right now it was off. The result was that Tami was suspended in a state just short of orgasm, a very uncomfortable feeling.
Tami thought of saying, “Mr. McMasters, Wanda has been keeping me frustrated. Can you tell her to make me come four more times so we can end this session?” Bizarre. But if they were going to be in the car away from watching eyes, she would much rather have the five orgasms over with so she could take these horrid things off and sit again in simple nakedness.
“Daisy & John’s Diner”. A safe choice, McMasters thought. As the old Cadillac pulled up besides the pickup trucks the girls saw a couple of tractor trailers parked out back. As if Tami were dressed perfectly normally, McMasters got out and chivalrously opened the door for her as Wanda went on ahead.
Tami, too, tried to act normal as she walked in behind the others into what was a pretty big diner, with a long counter, the usual Formica tables, and stuffed animal heads hung on almost every available wall. Obviously a place where hunters ate; during hunting season this place must be crammed. Today, though, there were only a few tables occupied.
As she followed McMasters and Wanda to a table in the back, Tami’s brave deadpan facade was shattered by the looks she got from the other diners. She was instantly aware again of the kind of appearance she presented -- barefoot, filthy with grease and grime, and wearing a freakishly small bikini. And if they only knew what was inside me -- ! She glanced at a teenage girl in jeans, T-shirt and sneakers, sitting at a near table and some kind of bell rang in her mind. Then she realized it -- the girl looked a lot like Tami Smithers. And was about her age. And was wearing a T-shirt, jeans and tennis shoes, the kind of clothes that Tami herself used to wear. What was so horrifying was the look on the girl’s face -- a look of shock and disgust. Tami blinked back a tear, thinking of how she used to be, trying to remember how it felt to wear those clothes . . .
Of course the other two worked it so that Tami was sitting on the outside, so that anyone walking in could get a nice side view of her near-nakedness from down the aisle. A hard-faced, 40-ish waitress gave them menus, looking at Tami and saying sternly, “I don’t know if the manager will let you stay here dressed like that, Miss.”
“Well, that’s how she wants to dress,” McMasters said evenly. The waitress shrugged and walked away.
Tami was reading the menu, trying to think of the pleasures of eating, when --
Bzzz -- zzz -- zzz --
Tami’s head shot up and she glared at Wanda, who had one hand under the counter, obviously working the remote. Tami succumbed to one second of giving a pleading look at Wanda and then, realizing that it was pointless and not wanting to give Wanda the pleasure of begging, she looked back down at the menu again, moaning softly under her breath. “Zhhhh . . . uhhhh . . .” Her legs jerked apart and then together as her arousal level leapt up from its plateau and quickly ascended --
“What’ll you have, folks?” The waitress was back, looking at McMasters. He ordered a tuna melt. As Wanda gave her order, speaking very slowly, Tami blinked and shook. She was about to go over the waterfall again -- gotta hold it down -- a quick jab from one of the bristles in the bra caused her to involuntarily grab one of the tiny nipple cups, the one over the nipple that was black with grime, as if she were about to rip the infernal torturing thing off --
“And you, Miss?” the waitress said with a sigh, looking at Tami.
The menu became a blur as Tami’s eyes crossed. With her first contraction her knees jerked up and hit the bottom of the table, causing silverware to clatter and people to stare. And it was while experiencing an orgasm that Miss Tami Smithers gave her order through gritted teeth. “A b - burger de - LUXE . . . with . . . oh . . . w - with f - fries . . . oh! oh! . . . Well . . . DONE . . . c - . . . coke . . . please. . . OH! . . . God . . .”
The waitress stopped writing and looked at the girl, whose spasms were tightly controlled but disconcerting, with a mixture of distaste and concern. “Is she O.K.?” she asked McMasters.
“Nerves,” he said quietly. “We try to ignore it. She’ll be O.K.”
The waitress, having seen many strange things in her life and knowing that some things just should be left alone, nodded and finished writing and then was gone.
Tami closed her eyes and took some deep breaths as the orgasm subsided.
Bzzz -- zzz -- zzz --
McMasters got out his little datebook and started chatting idly about the next few days. “We have a trade show in St. Louis on Wednesday,” he said. “And then . . . ever been out west before?” He looked up affably at Tami, expecting an answer.
“N - no. Never been outside . . . ohh . . . N - New England.”
Wanda allowed that she had been to California a few times to see relatives, and also went to the Grand Canyon during a family vacation.
Bzzz -- zzz -- zzz --
“Lots of animals in here,” he said, looking around at the walls.
Was Tami going out of her mind? As she crested into another orgasm she crazily decided to join in the banter. “That -- moose -- MUST -- have been . . . ohhh . . . hard to . . . c - c - catch . . . ohhh . . .” There was a purpose to this: she was trying to take her mind off her orgasm. Could she put her mind somewhere else and leave her spasming body behind?
“No, that must be an elk,” McMasters said, looking along with Tami at the big antlered head, though his gaze was even, while Tami’s head jerked from side to side. “An elk’s bigger than a moose, right?”
“No . . .the moose -- IS -- uhhh . . .the . . . b - b - b - . . .” she gulped and breathed quickly, planning to space her words between the spasms. “Biggest member . . . of the . . .DEER . . . f - family . . . ohhh . . .”
She just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t get used to these orgasms. Each one wrung her heart and emotions to the core. As her second orgasm in as many minutes ended she bowed down as if praying, covering wet eyes with one trembling hand, and stayed like that as the food was served.
Bzzz -- zzz -- zzz --
She made it through the meal, careful to stop chewing when another orgasm came. Her third Daisy & John’s orgasm came in the middle of the fries. Finally, blessedly, her next orgasm, the fifth and last of the session, arrived when she was in the middle of the pickle. As the buzzing stopped and the last spasm spent itself, the sweating girl put her head in her hand and sighed thankfully. When she removed her hand tears could be seen going down her face, tears which she quickly wiped away with a napkin. Her body now quiet and still, she sensed now that the burger and fries had “hit the spot”. She also became aware of the stares she had attracted from almost everyone in the diner.
The waitress silently came by and left the check. As McMasters got out his wallet he said quietly, “Tami, why don’t you remove the apparatus in the bathroom.”
Feeling the sweat drying all over her, Tami walked up, stiff from having to endure all those spasms in a seated position, and like a robot padded stiffly on dirty bare feet to the little rest room. She mechanically got up on the toilet seat and undid the panties and shitted out the big rectal dildo, then withdrew the pussy dildo. She sighed gratefully at feeling her inner cavities close, then realized she had to pee. She took off the bristle bra and, doing the best with a dirty mirror and a soap dispenser that was reluctant to give up any soap, managed to wipe away the worst outrages of the grease and grit from the tire-changing job, her breasts jiggling as she scrubbed and scraped them with the rough paper towels.
She found herself standing in the bathroom totally naked, holding these huge dildos in her hand. She couldn’t just walk out there like this. Or could she? She shook her head, cursing fate for the predicaments it put her into. Glumly plunging into what she could not avoid, she walked out to McMasters and Wanda, who were finishing up at the cash register, as everyone stared at the totally nude girl carrying the big dildos.
The manager was out like a shot. “Hey Miss -- what the hell -- ” But of course “that greasy naked slut”, as everyone would refer to her in wonderment around the diner when the story was told again and again for months, was already out the door.
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