The headlights came up behind me fast and close. Afraid I
was going to be rear ended, I pulled over and let him
pass. The green Border Patrol van sped past me. “Asshole!”
I thought. “He didn’t have to do that.”

Ahead almost out of sight, the van pulled over, U-turned
and came rushing back toward me. This time I pulled over
and stopped. “What the hell is going on?” I thought. I
turned the headlights off and watched the van disappear
again in the rear view mirror. The van had turned around
in the distance behind me and was headed back more slowly,
sweeping the bushes along the shoulder of the dark country
road with spotlights. They were still well back when two
small figures darted across the road, almost running into
my dark colored truck.

“Over here! Aqui, aqui!” I shouted at them. Don’t ask why.

I don’t know myself. My shouting stopped them in their
tracks. They looked at the van approaching behind us, then
at me and must have realized their options were becoming
very limited at that point. I reached over to open the
passenger door and two darkly dressed figures jumped in
and closed the door.

Quickly I started the truck and slowly drove off so that I
wouldn’t attract attention. The van continued its search
with the spotlights and soon disappeared from view behind
us.

With the initial excitement over, reality began to sink
in. If the Border Patrol caught me helping illegals, I
could be arrested. Worse, who the hell are these people?
They could beat me senseless and take my truck!

“Gracias, senor. Muchas gracias,” said a shaky young
voice–the voice of a woman.

“Si, gracias, senor,” the other figure said, also a young
woman.

I looked at them blankly in the dim light from the
instrument panel. I began to relax.

“No problem, uhhh…de nada,” I answered. Growing up in
California, you can’t help but pick up some of the
language, but I hadn’t picked up much.

“My name is Martin,” I told them, pointing at myself.

“Como se llama?” I asked them.

“Graciela…Gracie,” the one next to me answered. She
pointed to her friend. “This is Marisa.”

They were dirty and their clothes were torn, but they
certainly weren’t much of a threat to me!

“Do you speak English?” I asked them in general.

“Si, a little,” Gracie said. “Marisa, no English.”

“My God! How old are you guys?” They looked too young to
be crossing the border like this alone.

“Diez y nueve,” said Gracie, nervously slipping into
Spanish. “I mean 19. Marisa is 18.”

“Where are you going?” I asked. “Do you have a place to
go?”

“We have relatives in Fresno. I live there. I went back to
Mexico to bring Marisa. Can you help us?”

Obviously, I had jumped into this whole thing without a
plan. I was winging it minute by minute. When I picked
them up, I had no idea what I was going to do beyond
getting them out of their immediate predicament with the
Border Patrol. I looked at them now. Young, tired, scared
and probably hungry.

“Look. I don’t know how much I can do. Fresno is a long
ways off, and I have to work tomorrow. I’ll get you a
motel room so that you can clean up and get some rest and
we’ll decide what to do in the morning. OK?

I found a quiet motel along the old highway. It was cheap
and out of sight. The women stayed in the truck while I
registered.

I asked the clerk for a room towards the back. He handed
me a key and I walked back to the truck.

“Room 124,” I told the women absently. I drove around to
the room and parked just outside the door. Gracie and
Marisa got out of the truck and grabbed the small duffels
they had thrown in the back of the truck. I hadn’t even
noticed that they had bags with them.

The room was clean with a queen bed, a small TV and a
couple of unmatched chairs and a table. Gracie and Marisa
stood just inside the door, not sure of how to act.

“You guys get cleaned up and I’ll go out for some food,” I
said. They looked at me like frightened puppies as I left,
probably wondering if I would come back for them. I did,
of course, twenty minutes later with a sack of tacos and
three cokes. “Hey, what the hell,” I thought. “Everybody
likes Mexican food, right?”

The bathroom door was closed, but I could hear Gracie and
Marisa chattering happily and excitedly to each other in
Spanish. Half of what they said I couldn’t hear, and the
other half I couldn’t understand. I turned on the TV and
flopped down on the bed. It had been a long day. The water
droned in the bathroom, the TV droned on the rickety table
and despite my hunger I began to doze off.

“Martin,” a soft voice called.

“Martin,” another even softer voice. Both pronounced it
“Marteen”, accenting the last syllable. I opened my eyes,
temporarily disoriented.

“Holy shit!” I cried. Gracie and Marisa jumped back
startled. I looked at them standing there, dressed only in
men’s white T-shirts with their long, dark hair falling
damply over their small shoulders.

The two scruffy, dirty illegals had changed into pretty
little angels. Their young, almost virginal beauty took my
breath away.

Gracie came over and sat on the edge of the bed. I could
see the V of her pussy hair against her clean white cotton
panties peaking out from under the loose T-shirt. Marisa
sat at the foot of the bed nervously knitting her fingers,
too shy to look up.

“You have been so kind to us, Marteen,” she began,
stroking my hair with her long fingers. “We may never see
you again after tomorrow. It would be sad not to thank you
for saving us from la Migra.” She leaned down and kissed
me softly. I held her face and pulled her down to me. My
tongue slipped easily into her willing mouth.

“We should eat. Me and Marisa have not eaten since
morning. We will need our strength. You too, Martin.” She
looked at me coyly, then upended the bag of cold soggy
tacos in the middle of the bed. We all sat around the pile
of tacos cross-legged and ate them greedily.

“I’m still hungry, Martin,” said Gracie after we had eaten
everything.

“Hey, I’ll get more tacos if you want,” I told her. But
that is not what she was hungry for.

Gracie gently pushed me back on the bed and opened my
shirt. She kissed me slowly on the mouth, then moved down
to kiss my nipples. Her tongue flicked against them. I
could feel the ends of her still wet curls trailing over
my chest like dozens of soft artist’s brushes. They left a
cool wetness, which did nothing to quench the heat that
was building between us.

I leaned up to remove my shirt. I flung it to the floor
and Gracie pushed me back down. My button fly jeans came
open easily in her hands. She hooked her fingers over the
top and pulled them down with my briefs. My hard
unyielding cock caught temporarily in the waistband of my
briefs, then sprung back, whacking my tight belly with a
loud plop.

Marisa had moved to one of the chairs and let out a little
cry. I looked over to see her staring at my enlarged cock
pulsating near my belly in time with my racing heartbeat.

Gracie grabbed the root of my throbbing cock with her
small fist. She squeezed it gently and watched the head
grow larger and more purple. She wrapped her small mouth
around the tip and took in as much as she could–barely
more than the hooded tip. Not able to take my engorged
dick very far into her small mouth, she opened and closed
her mouth, squishing her soft hot tongue against the
sensitive underside. Her saliva ran in warm liquid
rivulets down my shaft and over my tightened balls.

Every so often, she would relax her grip allowing the
blood to drain from the swollen head, then draw it into
her mouth until it touched the back of her throat. Then
she would squeeze the base again, forcing the blood to the
tip. The pressure from her grip expanded the head and
forced my cock out of her little mouth until only the head
remained. She then resumed her tongue squishing movements.
No woman since has ever been able to duplicate the
sensations for me. Lord knows I have had them all try.

When I had any control of the situation at all, I would
glance over at Marisa sitting cross-legged in the chair
staring at my dick. One hand gripped the chair arm
tightly. The other hand had disappeared between her legs
under her baggy T-shirt. Her raspy breath left little
doubt what she was doing under there. I was a little
surprised that Marisa never made a move to join us, but
Gracie’s skill commanded all of my attention, and I soon
quit wondering about it. Marisa seemed to have her own
interests well in hand, but her eyes never left my cock as
Gracie’s talented mouth continued to work.

“Mmmm. My mouth is tired!” said Gracie coming up for air
and laughing playfully. In a flash, she pulled off her T-
shirt, slipped out of her panties and grabbed the base of
my cock again. This time, though, she straddled me, still
squeezing my cock. Skillfully, she rode down on it until
it was in her up to her tight little fist. She let go and
sat down on my throbbing dick until I could feel the bones
in her ass jamming into my hips. She rode up on my cock
until I was sure it would pop out, then just in time would
sit back down on it and slid it in until the head
stretched against her button-like cervix. I don’t think I
have ever been so deep in a woman before.

I reached for her beautiful young breasts, the size of
large firm apples and just as sweet. A perfect handful. I
glanced over at Marisa and she had pulled up her T-shirt
and had cupped both of her breasts. They looked like twins
of Gracie’s, and she was mimicking with her hands what I
was doing to Gracie, but she never looked at me.

Gracie pounded up and down on my dick with the energy only
a teenager could have. Watching her round young tits
bobbing up and down, watching Marisa squeezing her own
firm apples, it all became too much. I let out a little
grunt and Gracie, quick as lightning grabbed the base of
my cock, pulled it out, gave it a couple quick strokes and
I exploded.

A long, white hot arc of cum shot into the air and fell
the length of my chest. Gracie kept pumping it and
laughing, obviously delighted with the spectacle.
God, sex with her was hot. There is nothing like a sexy,
turned on Latina woman. Nothing. “Unless,” I thought, “it
is two Latinos.”

“Isn’t Marisa going to thank me too?” I said jokingly.

“Martin…” Gracie looked at me frowning. “Marisa is… a
virgin. You cannot ask her to do that.”

“I was only kidding,” I said lamely. “I didn’t know.” I
felt like a jerk.

“It is OK, Martin. I am not angry.”

Marisa said something softly without looking at either of
us. Gracie answered back a bit sharply. It was too soft
and too fast for me. I couldn’t make out any of it with my
limited Spanish, but I could tell that were arguing about
something. Maybe Marisa was upset that Gracie had had sex
with me.

Gracie had the final word, but looked resigned. Marisa
came over to the bed on the opposite side from Gracie. She
lay down next to me and kissed me softly on the cheek.

“What gives?” I asked Gracie who was still laying next to
me.

“She insists on thanking you herself, Martin,” she
explained.

“She says she has saved herself for the right man. Now she
is 18 and who could be more right than the man who has
saved us.”

“I don’t know, Gracie…” I stammered. “A virgin?” I
couldn’t believe I might turn down every man’s dream.

“You will be gentle, Martin,” she began, then paused, “and
I will help.” She laughed softly and deliciously, and so
did Marisa.

Gracie climbed over me to Marisa. She reached under her T-
shirt and slowly removed Marisa’s white panties. She
twirled them around her index finger several times,
laughing and flung them across the room. Marisa lay there
smiling with one finger in her mouth. She nibbled on the
tip, looking at Gracie expectantly.

“Hmmm,” I thought to myself. “Marisa may be a virgin, but
this is not the first time she and Gracie have done this.”

Gracie spread Marisa’s legs gently and began a trail of
soft wet kisses along the inside of Marisa’s thigh.
Marisa’s firm little ass squirmed excitedly as Gracie
continued toward her waiting pussy. When she reached it,
Marisa arched her back and moaned slightly.

I could take no more as a spectator. I leaned over and
kissed Marisa’s partially open mouth. Her tongue
immediately darted into my mouth and I sucked on it
gently. I could tell how well Gracie was doing by what
Marisa did with her mouth on mine.

I reached under Marisa’s T-shirt for one of her beautiful
golden breasts. They were so warm and soft. I pulled her
shirt up, and she leaned up slightly so that I could
remove it entirely. I leaned down to suck on her perfectly
round aureole, the color of dark chocolate. Her nipples
were already completely erect as I expected them to be.

Gracie continued working on Marisa’s beautiful young
pussy, but reached over to stroke my dick. She soon moved
her luscious mouth from Marisa’s wet cunt to my cock, but
instead of repeating her earlier trick, she ran her
partially opened lips along the shaft like it was a warm
living harmonica. All the while, her fingers were busy in
Marisa’s snatch to keep her sexual excitement at a fever
pitch.

Marisa had waited 18 years and she was not going to wait
any longer. She put her arms around me and urged me to
mount her. I looked down at Gracie, sucking hungrily on my
dick. We exchanged glances that told her Marisa was not to
be denied any longer.

“Gently, Martin,” as I climbed onto Marisa in the classic
missionary position. I bore my weight on my elbows and
knees and slowly lowered the head of my cock to Marisa’s
virgin entrance.

Gracie knelt by us holding my cock with one hand and
reaching around behind to hold my balls with the other.
When the head contacted her warm soft mound, Gracie gently
pulled it through Marisa’s slippery lips to moisten it
thoroughly with her juices.

Gracie had complete control. With her little fist around
my cock, she prevented me from entering Marisa too quickly
or too hard. With her other hand on my balls, she urged me
forward.

Watching Marisa’s face, Gracie expertly guided me in with
a minimum of pain and a maximum of pleasure. Since I was
so large for these small women, Gracie would coo softly to
Marisa in Spanish to relax her, then urge me on with
pressure on my balls from behind. After a few minutes of
this deliciously slow work, Marisa winced sharply and I
slid in freely. Gracie realizing what had happened, let go
of my dick and let me take control. I think I could have
done a pretty good job of it from the beginning by myself,
but this was so much more interesting and exciting.

I stroked in and out of that beautiful tight pussy that no
man had ever known before. Gracie left us so that Marisa
could experience a man completely for the first time. She
curled up in one of the chairs to watch, pleased that her
friend seemed to be enjoying it so much.

I certainly was enjoying it. Marisa’s pussy would
occasionally spasm so hard it was difficult to push
against her grip. When she would relax, I would stroke
faster, and slow up when the spasms came. At first, I
thought she might be coming, but the spasms were protests
from muscles unaccustomed to a man. The sensations became
more and more intense.

“No cumming inside of her, Martin,” Gracie admonished from
the sidelines. Just when I thought I might be too late, I
pulled out and shot my load. The first spurt hit Marisa
right in the face. She screamed, then laughed
uncontrollably. Gracie chimed in as well. I was too busy
bathing Marisa’s bronze body with cum to laugh, but when I
had finished I laughed too! I wiped the head of my dick
off with my hand and pushed it slowly back into Marisa’s
sopping little cunt. There was no resistance.

Gracie jumped onto the bed and wiped my cum from Marisa’s
face with her finger. Dripping with cum, she touched her
finger to Marisa’s lips. Marisa flicked at it tentatively
with her tongue to taste it, then sucked Gracie’s finger
clean. Both girls laughed again.

Gracie went into the bathroom and came out with two hot
washcloths and dry towels. She handed me a washcloth, then
carefully almost ceremoniously cleaned up the cum and
blood from Marisa’s beautiful young pussy, now a woman’s
pussy. She dried her carefully, put the towel underneath
her to cover the bloody spot on the sheet and lay down
beside her.

I cleaned and dried myself and lay down on the other side
next to Marisa. Gracie’s small slender hand lay on one of
Marisa’s soft warm breasts. I lay my hand on top of hers.
Within minutes, their soft rhythmic breathing told me they
were fast asleep.

As exhausted as I was, I lay there for a while thinking
that for the first time since meeting these girls, I had a
plan. I wondered how long it would take me to find work in
Fresno.