Night Riding a Love Story

The night is warm and damp, as the car headlights push their way through the darkness. We have been driving all day in the summer heat, and even the wind pouring in through the open windows can't dispel the mugginess that lingers in the warm leather of the car seats and the sticky air. You make a sound, and I glance over towards you, slouched uncomfortably with your head on your arm against the car door, trying restlessly to sleep. I can see by the light of the moon the shimmer of perspiration on your upper lip and forehead, the shadows of your breasts through your clinging blouse. With my right hand, I quietly clear away the empty bag of nachos and canned cheese dip, the empty coke bottles, onto the floor in the back seat, wishing to disturb you as little as possible. You sigh restlessly in your sleep again, tossing your head in the wind. I curl my fingers around your arm, making little murmurs of encouragement in my throat as I slowly pull you over to cradle your head on my lap. I cannot hear your thanks through the rush of the wind, but as I caress the hollow of your throat and the curve of your lip, I can feel the vibration of your mumbled relief through the material of my jeans as you kiss my fingertips in sleepy thanks. Quite enough for me as I smile inwardly and squeeze your shoulder gently in acknowledgement. And the night passes on....

I must turn in to get gas at a truck stop, and as I turn in, the changed feel of the car and the bright lights overhead are enough to awaken you somewhat. I gently slide out my legs from under you as I go to pay, and to use the restroom.

But as I pull back onto the road, I find the interlude has roused you, and you curl over on your back, looking lazily up at me. As you arch, catlike, you trail your fingers around my face and lips. I rub my cheek against the back of your hand as I cup your face in my fingers. But you are more awake now, and a mischievous impulse makes you nip my fingers and suck them deeper into the hollow of your warm mouth. I let my fingers stay there, my eyes on the road, enjoying the moist sensation as you suckle and lick, exploring my palm with your tongue. As I slowly withdraw my fingers from your lips, I can see the muted lights of the dashboard shining off your saliva, as I bring them up to my face. I slip my fingers inside my own mouth, tasting you, and licking my fingers dry of your essence. I look down, tugging your ear, as I see you smile impishly before settling yourself again for sleep.

But it is my turn now to tantalize, and I am not inclined to let you off so easily. But I wait a few moments, and as you twist about with your head in my lap, I can feel the pressure of your head increasing slightly against the hardness in my jeans, almost deliberate in your motions. I wonder if you realize what you do and what you feel. Finally, you seem comfortable, twisting over on your right side with your face nestled against my stomach, and your right arm curled around me, between my back and the car seat. It is a good position, and I receive pleasure from feeling the weight of your head on me, and your warm breath through my shirt on my skin. Your face is illumined by the moon, some strange moonchild, peacefully asleep in a great beetle with eyes of fire that rushes onward through the night.

But as I said, it is my turn now, and I am not content to let you sleep so quickly. I luxuriate in the feel of your silky hair shining gold and brown through my hand, and the smoothness of your cheek. You have cooled somewhat, and your blouse has loosened its grasp on your skin. With my finger, I begin tracing the outline of your face in the caresses that you love so much. I feel your lips quirk in a smile, and you move over onto your side more, and raise up your face, to receive my touch more fully.

"That's what you think, eh?" I mumble softly to myself. I intend to make you think again, and I trail my fingers down the curve of your neck to the hollow of your throat, where they linger momentarily. I encounter the cotton fabric of your shirt about your collarbones, and I beging walking my fingers down...

"Security, keep an eye out. In this rough terrain, no telling what we'll encounter."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n Kirk."

"Mr. Spock, any anomalies with the tricorder?"

"Readings show two perfectly shaped mounds ahead with a valley in between. Not natural, Captain. Request permission to ascend to the top of one mound for a better view."

"Permission granted. But we'll go as a group—I need to see what lies beyond anyway."

"Captain, the mound grows softer the higher we go."

"Explanations, Mr. Spock?"

"Not enough data, Captain. However, it appears safe to proceed."

"Very well, Mr. Spock. Let's go."

"Captain, we are now at apex. Ground is swaying, sir."

"Yes, so I noticed. Explanations, Mr. Spock!"

"No seismic activity evident...nor volcanism either, Captain. However, there appears to be a rhythmic thudding deep below and speeding up. I am at a loss to..."

"Captain, the ground is rising around us? Some kind of cone shape!"

"No volcanism, eh, Mr. Spock? Certain we haven't started to light any fires underneath?"

"Captain, we have just been swatted by a giant hand!"

I quickly jerk my hand back towards safer territory, but as I withdraw my chastened fingers hastily, I feel a hand clasp mine to moist lips where I feel a muffled giggle, as my fingers are warmly kissed, then firmly replaced back on top of the explored area. Mmmph, permission granted to go on, apparently. Seems as though somebody's not quite as sleepy as all that! I look down at your face, grinning, while you look up at me and nod at me with a smug challenge of the "And what are you going to do about it, buster?" sort of expression on your face. Vixen! You weren't nodding at me to give me permission; you knew full well what you were doing to me. You grin back, continuing and exaggerating the motion, rubbing harder against the now prominent bump in my lap. I growl at you softly, and I start tweaking your own hard little bump in self-defense. You close your eyes and a satisfied moan emerges from your throat as I trace circles around your erect nipple. Then I slide down the valley up the opposite slope to bring your other nipple to life. Soon I can feel both nipples engorged and hardened as I pull the roughened fabric of your blouse across your sensitive areas. You have turned over completely on your back now, all pretense aside, eyes closed and face intent on your pleasure.

I am taken over with excitement now; momentarily dizzy with smoldering lust suddenly awakened. I want you badly, and my desire betrays itself in the fumbling of my fingers and increased pressure, almost pinching, as I roll your nipples between my thumb and forefinger. The atmosphere is charged with mounting lust sparking back and forth between us, a heightened trembling anticipation, a wanting of the most primitive sort. You can feel it too, and you are shuddering in response and in increased desire. But I am determined to make you wait, to draw this interlude out into a painful scream of ecstasy, and I shall, I will take my time with you. I slowly draw away my hand from your soft breasts, and resume caressing your face. You moan, wanting more, and I feel the fingers of your right hand tightening around my waist, an almost pain that is pleasure, as you move your face against my hand, arching your back slightly, offering me your breasts more fully, twin globes of pleasure mutely begging for my touch. I am a shaft of steel on fire, throbbing deep in my loins, and I am gasping in sympathetic motion with your breathing. Urgently you seize my fingers with your hungry mouth and suck hard, and biting, not gently. But this only turns me on more, to make you wait and shudder for my touch. Your will gives way and you reach up with your left hand to reach for my lap hoping to hasten my pace. In vain, because I was waiting, and grabbed your hand in mine. I bring the fleshy part of your thumb to my mouth, and bite, hard, in remonstrance, making you gasp. Then placing your left hand firmly under my legs out of reach, and with your right safely pinned behind my back, I place my wet fingers back into your greedily sucking mouth. Looking over you, your body is staining against your captivity, proud breasts jutting strongly upward in the moonlight, swollen nipples angrily outlined by your blouse, and the hollow of your hip undulating gently, thighs pressed tightly against each other. You blouse has become undone, and the lacy material of your bra peeks out, exposing the upper swell of your breasts to my hungry eyes.

The slurping sound of your warm wet tongue exploring the crevices of my fingers has become quite loud. You are bobbing your head up and down, I starting reciprocal actions with my fingers, and the similarity of the fucking actions is lost on neither of us. My fingers are quite wet, and I trail them back down your neck, to the gaping vee of your shirt. The moisture is cold on your skin, gleaming wetly, and you squirm. I lightly scrape the hollow of your breasts with the nails of my fingers as I undo one button, then another, then one more, until you are completely and helplessly exposed to my marauding fingers and avid gaze. There is a gap between a bra cup and your nakedness, inviting an exploratory finger underneath. I reach out my stroke, so close, but bypass your nipples on down to your stomach, leaning into you as I do so. I return by way of your side, into the ticklish regions along your left breast. You twist to push into my cupped hand, but I dance my fingers nimbly along your armpit, making you writhe. Then back again, closer, and closer, circling around, closer.... Suddenly, I cup one breast, pushing your bra out of the way, then quickly release. I spit into my hand, quickly cupping your other breast, then describing a rotary motion, only my slick palm touching around your nipple. Your nipples have contracted in the shock of cool moisture, crinkly, engorged with blood and lust, and deeply sensitive, erect, like miniature penises. You are twisting from side to side, mutely asking for more, hands fisting and opening where your wrists are pinned. So close (yet so far away) to release. I excite you further, caressing the soft undersides of your breasts, circling my index finger around the aureolae, pulling, tugging, almost pinching your nipples, then squeezing you gently, harder, gently, then pressing the nipples down into your breasts as I rotate my palms firmly. Your eyes are tightly closed, and you are biting your lips and arching your pelvis and back, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to release the pressure. I am utterly certain that if the windows weren't down, the car would be permeated with the odor of your arousal.

Suddenly, I reach over, placing my hand with firm pressure at the juncture of your thighs, where your skirt has rucked up shamelessly with your bucking hips, showing the flashing of white cotton panties glowing in the moonlight. I am instantly gratified with a feeling of moist heat radiating out from your mons, and your panties indeed are soaked through. I push firmly with the heel of my hand directly over your clit, folding my fingers over into the cloth covered area of your labia and deep into your cleft as I cup and squeeze the so sweet softness of your mound in my hand.

The moment you felt my touch, you arch completely off the seat, spreading your thighs even wider in offering to my rapacious hand. You open your mouth in contorted cry of almost release, grinding desperately against my palm in expectation of deliverance.

However....however, I had immediately lightened my pressure after first contact, letting my fingers ride lightly after the first firm pressure, scraping my nails against your cleft, feeling the slick wet extrude against my fingertips from the cotton, even as I pull my hand back away from your mound, away from lips, away from clit, away from touch so urgently needed.

I hear your cry, a high intarticulate falsetto of dismay and gasping hunger. That hunger strengthens you, as you struggle against trapped hands and bound desire, and you turn your head and bite savagely at my chest, demanding from me what I refuse to give. I arch in unexpected pain, giving way immediately to lust flaring up in response to your own primal need. You hands are freed in that maneuver, and you instantly flip around, not to use your hands on yourself, but to rip at my belt and jeans, body trembling, fingers shaking as they seek button and zipper. You bite me again to force up my hips as you yank my pants down as I yowl and jerk up in response to your lust. Your nails scratch red trails down my skin along my hips and outer thighs as my penis springs free from its cotton prison. Immediately, my penis is engulfed by your mouth, biting, sucking hard, enclosing me in wet heat and lapping tongue, revenging yourself upon me for my torture, uncaring of my own pain.

You plunge your face deep, my penis going all the way into your throat as you bring your lips and nose against my pubic hair. You come up perhaps an inch and furiously plunge back down again, multiple times, letting the head of my cock release cascades of saliva from your throat to coat my shaft, as you twist your body around on your knees and elbows to better gain access to my penis, now claimed by you as your own, unheeding of my own gasps and moans as you dig your nails into my hips, my buttocks, my thighs.

Just as I begin to find a rhythm, you stop, bringing your face up to mine, starting out with a kiss, plunging your tongue deeply into the recesses of my mouth, throwing yourself on your side, moving your head out of my range of vision on the road, with my left arm following the crook of your head and neck. Still determined to extract payment from me for my teasing, you bite my lower lip as you lower the back of your head against my shoulder, forcing my lips to follow your own. I am unable to defend against you, my hands necessarily holding the steering wheel, unable to tear my eyes from my driving, which had became much more erratic over the last few seconds of your aggressive counterattack. You grip my head in your hands and nip at my ear lobe as you suck and thrust your tongue into my ear, undulating your body against my penis and chest. As I moan, you whisper fiercely in my ear, "You had better finish me off right now, or I will ensure you have blue balls for the rest of this vacation! And rest assured, you will not enjoy it!"

More easily done than said, my dear! As you had brought your face up to mine issuing your ultimatum, I was already snaking my right hand from the steering wheel down your tummy, fingers slipping under the elastic of your panties, middle finger slipping directly into your dripping cleft, and pussy hair plastered flat against your pubes. Even as you speak, your voice breaks up into a wailing moan as I circle and pass my fingers directly across your engorged clit, once...twice...thrice...and you erupt into a cascade of gasping cries as your body convulses and your thighs clamp down convulsively on my hand. I don't stop however, as I wedge my hand even more firmly into your pussy, plunging three fingers into your slick cunt as orgasm overtakes you. I plunge my tongue into your mouth and suck your lips into mine, our teeth clicking hard as you scream wordlessly into my mouth, bucking and shaking against me as the tremors course through you, and you push your slick cunt back against my hand eliciting continous aftershocks as I respond, massaging your labia and pressing firmly against you as you undulate your mons against me, gasping in my ear.

I have slowed the car to a crawl by this time and managed to steer onto the shoulder with my knees, as I hold you close to me as you begin to weep. I am whispering that I have you, that you are mine, to let it come all out and how beautiful you are to me as I slowly brake the car to a stop. We hold each other for long long moments as I kiss your tears away and suckle gently on your lips with my own, softly and tenderly as our tongues touch sweetly and delicately, as if in apology for the furious passion and pain inflicted before. I sweep your hair back from your face so we can see each other's eyes as I tell you I love you quietly...smiling as our hearts beat as one.

End.

I welcome constructive criticism and positive feedback.