I had deliberately kept the car a secret, something to add to the spice of the weekend away we had already planned. That was to ostensibly hit the road in the trusty Mazda, just us, no kids and a whole couple of days away with no one to need anything- just ourselves from each other.
It was a silver Porsche 911, rented (of course), but a random, unexpected opportunity that came up. To me it was a portent of the good couple of days lying ahead for us.
You had dressed to head off in a way that always left me hot and ready to lay my hands upon you...a summery short skirt with floating floral patterns, with your delightfully manicured feet in medium heels. Your firm breasts were nicely encased in a lacy push up just peeping above your skirt.
The skirt swirled around your bare, tanned thighs - the heels highlighted your strong calves. I could only imagine, and barely wait, to uncover what sort of lingerie you had laid over your gorgeous juicy bottom, barely covered and so delightfully framed by the colourful swirl of your summer dress.
So when I hit the garage door opener and there was this sleek, hot silver machine sitting there with its inviting black leather interior, I could see it had pushed your buttons too - running your hands over the curves, grinning at the sheer un-adultered extravagant fun such a machine represented, and all for us - just for once, no need to share!
In a spontaneous act of chivalry I held the door open for you, longingly gazing at how that delightful V of your panties flashed at me as you swung your legs in, and you, knowing this and taking your sweet time as you looked at me, pretending to reach down and adjust the strap on your shoe...
"This is going to be fun" I laughed as I ran around the front and jumped into the tight fitting leather of the driver's seat, loving the way you were also snuggling your bottom into the warm clasp of the car's leather grip.
We sat for a couple of companionable moments, relishing the sheer luxury of the machine, its muted stitched upholstery, the scent of new leather, the gleam of carefully polished and positioned chrome throughout.
"Push the button to start us up," I said, breaking our reverie.
"Which one?" you asked, only half-jokingly, and I guided your index finger to the red "Start" button. You prompted the powerful German engine into life with a throaty burble that promised plenty of power, and lots of uninterrupted miles ahead for us.
We headed south, a wide blue sky ahead, some decent sounds on the stereo (Harmin Karden, of course) and not much traffic to hinder us.
The car felt like an expensive well fitted glove that was only made for two - we settled into a comfortable conversation, two friends, partners and lovers who had little time in the past few months to just "Be"...
A 100km later we pulled over at a roadside fruit stall, the engine ticking in the warm afternoon silence, traffic surprisingly thin.
I gazed at you walking over to the piles of fresh summer fruit, idly thinking how close to a juicy ripe peach your butt looked. Nicely cleaved, two delicious curves, begging to be lightly bitten, moving with a hypnotising swing across the tarmac.
I could feel myself hardening, and you caught that hooded look in my eyes, 'cause yes we DO know each other that well! I knew you were playing it up to me when you just flicked your hips a little more, as you strolled past my driver's door..
You playfully lent on the window's edge and grinned..."Hi, you must be doing well, such a nice machine you have here...not much space in the back though," you teasingly gestured at the tiny rear space.
"Nothing ever said you needed a back seat," I replied, my hand easing over the edge of the window sill, lightly running over your thigh beneath the pretty dress, enjoying the form and musculature beneath the skimpy fabric, lightly teasing the bare skin I knew lay beneath.
"Better get some cherries, I have plans for them, and that goes beyond eating them, at least on their own anyway," I joked.
You grabbed a basket, hovering over the summer stone-fruit, carefully picking out the ones that would not bruise so badly over the course of a journey in a high performance German sports car.
As you bent over to pick some out of a low bin, my eyes were riveted to a delightful scene - of your white G string, barely covering the juncture at the top of your thighs, a gossamer thin, lacy promise of future delight.
I quietly opened the door and eased myself out, walking up behind you and gently laid one hand inside your thigh - you jerked up with surprise, a small "ohhh", and a quick glance around. But no-one much about - a near absent teen at the counter, and old lady across the store floor contemplating a watermelon, no other cars coming into the hot carpark.
"What do you think you are doing mister?", you murmured as you continued to peruse the produce, turning over plums, peaches and apples, tip toeing for the far fruit tautening up your bottom nicely under my hand.
You continued trying to coolly assess them as I stroked the inside of your thigh, gently pressing myself against your firm round butt cheek as I breathed in the scent of your perfume and nibbled gently at your ear lobe.
"Would you like some help selecting some peaches?" I whispered.
"I think you have found the one you want," you murmured back, glancing across the quiet store floor, pressing more firmly against my bulging jeans.
I let my fingers stray higher up the inside of your thigh, grazing the soft sheer lining of your panties, encouraged by you pushing your hips down, seeking out their friction against your warmth.
"We have to stop, we will be seen," you urged.
"I know, and what would people say... but it's nice to start things off early," I said.
I glanced around, quickly flicked your skirt up, savouring the delicious vision of your round, ripe bottom, framed by that skimpy G string bisecting your butt cheeks, running my eyes down your calves to those sexy strappy shoes and your painted toenails.
The near nakedness in such a place was a sheer turn on, a reveal of hidden delights no one else gets to share...
"Such delights to explore later," I murmured, stroking your round butt cheeks lightly then pulling your skirt back down, patting it in place.
"We must stop, places to be, things to do," you half heartedly reproached me as you grabbed your basket of fruit and walked to the counter.
We hopped back in the car, hit the road, roaring through the kilometres as we entered the heavily forested mid part of the journey.
