Taking the M40 was a big mistake.
Or at least, so I thought. One minute, I was motoring along at a comfortable 95, and then the traffic slowed and came to a standstill. Within minutes, the queue stretched into the distance in front and behind, and the news came over the radio that a car transporter had caught fire, just before the next junction.
Some 15 miles ahead.
At least it was dark. I turned off the engine, reclined my seat a little and undid my belt and shoelaces. This was going to take a while. My mind drifted and I started to daydream of you. Of your delicious blonde hair, of how you love me to pull your head back whilst I kiss your neck, and how wet you were when I fingered you right there on the leather sofa in the pub last night! Almost without thinking about it, I unzipped my trousers and eased my cock into a more comfortable position. I lowered the windows to let in a little air on this hot and humid summer night.
I had still been able taste you on my fingers as I drove home. The thought of how excited you'd been had me harder than I could remember for days, and I grasped the shaft of my prick, gently masturbating inside my boxers. My breathing deepened, quickened.
I was torn from my vision by the sound of stilettos on the road alongside the car, and hastily withdrew my hand from my shorts, covering my groin and zipping up my flies. A shock of dark hair filled the window, and I turned on the interior light to get a better look. My heart leaped into my mouth and my pulse raced. She was young, elegant, extraordinary. By the smirk on her face, it seemed she had guessed what I'd been up to before I'd lowered the window. She leant against the sill, and the smell of her perfume drifted into the car.
"Sorry to disturb you," she smiled. "Do you have a light?"
"Don't smoke, I'm afraid". I grinned sheepishly, feeling something like a teenage schoolboy, caught by the French mistress. I decided to take a risk. "Anything else you need?"
She looked straight into my eyes.
"Not just yet. These damn traffic jams are so boring. When you're in the car on your own that is."
"Why don't you join me until the queue starts to move?" I suggested. "We could listen to some music, and I have some barley sugars..."
She looked at me in astonishment. "How did you know I'm absolutely mad about barley sugars?" She laughed. It was like water, tumbling over rocks. "Actually that sounds just a little sad, don't you think?"
She walked round to the passenger door and climbed into the car. "Which is yours?" I asked.
"Directly behind you," she replied.
She must have been able to see straight through the rear window, all the time I'd been daydreaming of you. She drew her legs up onto the seat, and her light, flower print skirt rode up above her knees, as she wrapped her arms around her shins. She wore black shoes, four inch heels, and my cock began to regain a little of its former glory.
