2. Interstate Cross-Dresser

By Bradley Baddley

I received an acceptance letter from UCLA and decided to take a road trip out to California to check out the scene. I told my parents about the arrest on I-70 and my Dad had a father-son talk with me about my future – it boiled down to: “You’re 18 now kid, and it’s time to get out there in the world and do something with your life besides hanging out in the basement smoking weed and whacking off … ” not in those exact words, but Mom and Dad were both overjoyed at the news of my possibly enrolling at UCLA. I was getting sick of Chesterfield anyway; the same old faces on Grindr every day, and Scruff was downright scary in suburban St. Louis … and now I was walking around with a half hard baloney pony thinking about all the hung studs I might possibly meet in glitzy L.A.

My Dad referred me to an attorney named Arthur Trueheart to represent me in the DUI case. I had a confidential chat with Mr. Trueheart about the circumstances of my arrest and I went ahead and told him about Rumbold whipping out his pork sword in the anal examination room. His dour expression changed to a smile and he said most locations in modern police stations had video cameras recording everything that happened. He said he would make a couple of calls and get back to me the next day … subsequently, he informed me on the telephone that the case had been thrown out due to police misconduct and Rumbold had been suspended. According to Trueheart I was free to travel to L.A. and “have some fun out there.”

It was a lengthy drive out to L.A. from St. Louis – 1,830 miles and I decided to do the trip as Becky, my feminine cross-dressing alter ego. I’m about 98% passable when I dress in drag and the only giveaways are my voice if I’m not careful, and of course my twig and berries when I flash my bubble butt wearing a skirt and no undies … and I just love to show off in public for anonymous studs if they’re hung and hunky …

I packed up my piece of shit Honda Accord with enough stuff for a few weeks with male clothes for UCLA and lots of female clothes for the much anticipated adventures on the way out there. I left smelly St. Louis early on a Tuesday morning wearing a short red mini-skirt with no undies, a tight white halter top with no falsies, white tennies, pink socks and I had my long blond hair done up in pigtails …

I’ve been a constant horn dog ever since I reached puberty, it’s never let up and I love wearing a skirt with no undies because it allows me to play with my meat thermometer while I drive. I like to jerk off for extended periods of time witout letting myself reach orgasm, and after awhile, my joystick starts gushing out semen but I stay totally erect and I keep beating my meat because I never really came … Is it just me?

I-70 between Columbia and Kansas City is very repetitive – you go up and down low hills through thick forests and it seems like every rural exit has huge billboards advertising adult bookstores with peep shows and XXX DVD sales. Does anyone even go to adult bookstores anymore? It sounds so 90s passe – hanging out in a bookstore peep show trying to score dick … like something only authentic hillbillies would do in 2017 … not that I have anything against rural guys and to be truthful country dudes in tight blue jeans driving pick up trucks can be sort of a turn on … as long as they’re not fat and they do have a larger than average package. (I will always be such a size queen!) … but I was anxious to put the “Show Me State” in the rear view mirror, so I passed on checking out the Missouri gay hillbilly scene. (Did I miss anything? The mother of all drunken gay hillbilly gang bangs or anything like that?)

Before long I was driving through Kansas City which is pretty much the last of the big smelly back east cities on the way out west. If you stay on I-70 and don’t take the bypass, you go right through downtown and when you cross into Kansas it smells not as bad as a South Philly refinery, but worse than the Denver dog food plant … and then I was in Kansas … Past Topeka you start the long gradual uphill across the Great Plains – there isn’t much out there after the forest gives way to the prairie grass and it’s flat as a pancake …

Kansas has a lot of state rest areas along the highway. It’s 400 miles of monotonous landscape, and it’s easy to get bored and fall asleep behind the wheel, so the Sunflower State gives you plenty of places to pull off and stop for breaks … I stopped at one of the rest areas just west of Salina and a dude caught me in the men’s room taking a whiz dressed in drag …

“Damn, a girl in the men’s room and you look just like Britney Spears in the 1990s! ”

I giggled and said “Thanks,” he was not bad looking and my roving eyes found a much larger than average crotch bulge … substantial – it appeared to be more than just a half hard meat popsicle. I was still wearing the mini skirt with no undies, so I bent over to tie my shoe in a way that I knew would put my bubble butt and low hanging nuts on full display for Mr. Friendly.

“A chick with a dick!” he exclaimed, “I should have known … no wonder you were pissing in a urinal and have a flat chest.”

“So what do guys do for fun around here?” I asked, still bent over tying my sneak making sure to wiggle my ass around.

“Well I’m straight, but there’s tons of gay guys out here; I know because I drive a tractor trailer for a living.”

“Lots of gay truckers?” I said standing back up after taking way too long to tie a shoelace,”hmmm, Grindr seems pretty dead out here, how does a young TV go about scoring some action?”

“What you do, Becky, is go buy yourself a cheap CB radio at Wal-Mart. When you cruise into a rest area or truck stop, you can find out if it’s what they call a pickle park by going on Channel 19.”

“What do I say on Channel 19?”

“Be as forward as you like, most truckers know channel 19 is gay and the cops stopped hassling people over it a long time ago… ”

Wow. That really sounded exciting! I thanked Mr. Friendly for the info and headed back out on the Interstate and after another 50 miles of endless boring prairie grass and wheat fields, I found a Wal-Mart in the town of Hays, and sure enough, there was a cool little CB radio set-up for just $39.99 in automotive. I had it hooked up in no time and went to Burger King for dinner just as the sun was setting. I ate quickly and then headed out on the highway once again just as darkness was setting in. With my new CB radio tuned to channel 19, the night was bound to get interesting …

To Be Continued …