Romance Short stories

[veenabhat]

Midnight Mercy in a Stranger’s Hands 01

Hello friends, today I am going to tell you a story that I consider to be a turning point in my life. In it, I will tell you how I went from being a smart girl from a rich family to becoming the mistress of an ugly old truck driver. So, let's begin the story.
My name is Lavanya. I am studying in Bangalore city. I am 20 years old, and my body shape is 30-28-32. This story is from three years ago. After my mid-semester break, I was traveling by train from Bangalore to Shimoga. I ordered dinner at a junction station.

When I checked my purse, I had only 150 rupees. But I had ordered for 450 rupees. I decided to pay online. I didn't worry much. When the train reached the junction station, the delivery boy brought my order. He said that they don't accept online payments.

This worried me a little. The train was about to stop for 10 minutes at the station. Then I asked the delivery boy:
Me: Is there an ATM nearby?
He said: There is one outside the station.
Then I thought I could give him the money after taking the money from the ATM. I immediately got down from the train and went to take the money from the ATM. When I went there, I saw two people already standing in the queue. After waiting for some time, my turn came. While I was taking the money, the announcement of the train departure came.

As soon as I took the money, I gave the money to the delivery boy and started running towards the platform. The train started to depart, and I was very scared. I started running even faster, but unfortunately I missed the train. Then I was in a state of crying.
But, regaining my composure, I immediately went to the station master and told him the whole story. He assured me that he would do the same as long as I kept my luggage at the Shimoga station. Then I asked about the next train.
Station Master: "There is no train today. The next train will come tomorrow."
I was a little worried, so I asked for a road bus.
Station Master: "There is a highway nearby. You can get a bus from there."
Then I immediately headed towards the highway. The time was 12:30 am.
Silence surrounded me... but it was an eerie silence. In the distance, the horns of trucks on the NH highway were calling "beep beep". Their headlights were painting the road in red-yellow lights. I approached the tea stall nearby and stopped. He heard my story and said, "Madam, the bus is not coming yet as it is night. There are a lot of trucks on the highway. Let's see if anyone can help." He suggested and offered me a cup of tea. I waited for about half an hour but could not get the bus.
After some time, a truck stopped in front of me, and a man of 65-70 years got out of the truck. His belly was very big. He was about 6 feet tall. His body must have weighed more than 100 kg. Thick thick arms, a face full of scars, he was disgusting to look at.
He looked me up and down once. I was wearing a delicate white cotton kurta. Its length was only till between my thighs. It was something I had chosen to keep me comfortable on the train journey. But it was now emphasizing the curves of my body in the cold of this night. I was not wearing a doublet. The V-shaped front of my kurta was vaguely showing the cleavage of my chest. Below, I was wearing a pair of tight black leggings. It emphasized the curve of my waist and the thick softness of my tight thighs, showing the dance of my body with every step. The white bra I wore today, chosen for my small, young breasts, its lace edges peeking out from under the kurta, making my body even more attractive.
Driver: What happened, madam? Do you need any help?
I was a little scared, so I said,
Me: No, nothing, you can go.
Then the shopkeeper told him my story.
Then the driver said, “There is no need to be scared. It is very late at night and you are not safe here. I am also going to Shimoga. If you want, you can come with me.”
I hesitated a little. But then I thought, I don’t know if I will get the bus or not. There was no guarantee that the bus would come. So I told him yes and started to board the truck.
When I was about to board the truck, my foot slipped and I fell backwards. Then the truck driver immediately grabbed my buttocks from behind and saved me from falling. I was now leaning on his shoulder. Our eyes met. He put me down again.
Then he helped me board. Then he also boarded the truck. We left. I was silent in the truck for a long time. Then he started talking. First, he told me his name. His name was Chinnappa.
Then he asked me my name. I slowly told him mine. Then we started talking. Gradually, our conversation turned to relationships and sex. At first I was embarrassed. But eventually, I told him everything, including the fact that I don’t have any boyfriends here.
Chinnappa: “You are so beautiful. I can’t believe you don’t have a boyfriend.”
I felt a little embarrassed to hear him complimenting me. Meanwhile, the truck stopped on a deserted road.
Chinnappa’s eyes were now lustfully observing every line, every bump and crook of my body. With every bump, the hollows of your chest rose and fell, Chinnappa’s breathing getting heavier to the beat.
His eyes started from your face and slowly slid down. That mixture of fear-curiosity-attraction in your big black eyes turned him on even more. That little spot next to your lips – he wants to touch it with his fingertips for a moment. The way your hair is a little messy and falls on your shoulders, a rare attraction to him.
But his gaze now settles on your chest. Those perfect 30-inch curves… holding the fabric of the kurta a little tighter, the V-neck opening slightly as it rises with each breath. Even though the bra still holds them tightly, the slightly raised breasts are clearly visible through the fabric. They bulge slightly when the cool night air comes in – Chinnappa’s eyes turn even redder seeing that.
His gaze slides down – that delicate curve of your 28-inch waist, the kurta sitting a little too short on it, the tiny navel just showing. Then your thighs… those 32-inch thick softness held tight in the leggings. Your thighs move slightly as the truck rises, the dark line of shadow peeking out from under the kurta. His eyes linger there – his breathing becomes heavier as he sees that mysterious shadow between your thighs.
I asked him to escape this awkwardness, “Will you tell me about your family?”
Chinnappa’s voice now continued with a long sigh. He was driving the truck, looking at the distant black road through the front window with his eyes. At that moment, a deep, old wound of pain appeared on his face along with desire. He stopped talking and fell silent for a moment.
"Shri... my granddaughter... she looks just like you. The same big eyes, the same soft smile. When she comes and sits next to me, she rests her head on my lap and asks, 'Grandpa, why are you always away?' I pat her head and say, 'Grandpa, shouldn't you be working on the road, child?' But inside... I know I'm running. When I get home, her mother, my daughter, sees me and bursts into tears. 'Dad, why are you so far away? Can't you be with us?' She asks. I can't answer... because all I know is this truck, this road, this solitude." His voice cracked a little now. A layer of tears glistened in his eyes. But they didn't fall. He continued, his voice dropping even lower:
"After my wife left, I stood on this very road one night and cried. Sitting inside the truck, holding the steering wheel... so that no one would see. That night I knew that I would die alone. Even if I had children, grandchildren... this loneliness would not leave me.
It was 1:30 am, the forest was dark outside, only a small light was shining in the distance. The truck's engine turned off, stopping with a loud noise - the sound made your heart beat faster.
You turned to Chinnappa, your voice trembling a little with fear, and asked:
Me: "What happened? Why did you stop?"
He took his hand off the steering wheel and turned to look at me. There was a small greedy glint in his eyes. But he hid it and said it normally.
Chinnappa: "It seems that there is something wrong with the truck. The engine is making a little noise. I'll look down."
He turned his big body, opened the truck door, and got out. The cold night air outside came in for a moment, stinging my skin. I sat in the seat, checking my phone, waiting. But there was no signal, it was 1:35. My heart was beating "dhad dhad", I was filled with fear of what would happen on this deserted road.
After a while, I got out of curiosity. He was under the truck. Thick hands were playing with the engine, a look of boredom on his face. I came closer and asked.
Me: "What happened? Are you okay?"
He looked up at me, smiled, and said, "It'll take a while to fix it. If you're sleepy, go inside the cabin and sleep. I'll be right here. "Don't be afraid."
I said, "Okay," and went inside the truck and lay down on his bed behind the seat. When I lay down, my kurta rode up a little, and my thighs were visible in my leggings. I closed my eyes. Sleep came in a short time. The worry of missing the train, the journey with this stranger, everything had tired me out.
After a while, the truck door opened slightly. Chinnappa came in like a burglar. Although his footsteps were heavy, the sound of them hitting the ground was quiet. His thick body stopped for a moment in the door frame, but his eyes were fixed on my body.
I lay down on the seat, exhausted. My kurta rode up a little from my body and the soft skin of my stomach was shining slightly in the light. To the rhythm of my breathing, the hollows of my chest were rising and falling slowly, a small slit was visible through the V-neck. My thighs were tight in my leggings, with a dark shadow. They stood gracefully. They trembled slightly when the cool night air came.
Chinnappa's eyes slid over my body. His eyes first on my face, on my big black eyes (although now closed), on the small mole next to my lips. Then down on the small cups of my chest, his breath became a little heavy as he watched them rise and fall. His gaze settled on the curves of my hips, on the soft skin of my stomach. Finally on my thighs. That thick softness, the dark shade that was pressed against the leggings. A deep sadness was mixed with the flame of desire in his eyes. Along with desire, there was a kind of pain, a kind of fear, a kind of fear of making a mistake.
He slowly came to you. His thick hand went down to my toes. At first, it touched my foot, small, soft. His fingers moved between my toes. Like a kind of care, but deep down there was a thread of desire. I still I was asleep. But my body trembled a little. Even in my sleep, my skin responded to that touch.
Slowly his hand moved up. It moved up my legs, gently running over my leggings. His fingers felt the soft skin of my inner thighs, pressing a little. His palm stopped in the middle of my thighs. Gently, but firmly. His fingers circled, coming closer to my most sensitive part. He was feeling the warmth inside through my leggings. My body trembled a little in my sleep, my thighs opening slightly, as if in an unconscious agreement to his touch.
Then... I woke up.
My eyes opened. For a moment my mind froze, then a flame of fear and anger flared up all at once. I immediately grabbed his hand tightly and pulled it away. I pressed his thick wrist hard with my fingers, pushing it away. My voice was angry Came out shaking.
Me: "What were you doing?! I was asleep! What is this?! How could you do something like this?!"