You want it in the back seat
From Create Your Own Story
You jump up, pushing the redhead back a little harder than you intended, her tits bouncing. "Hate to waste a perfectly open back door."
She laughs, takes your hand, and leads you and your rigid cock the few steps to the empty back seat. You let her see you ogle her ass and in return she lets you see her eye your prick. At the door she turns, lifts your cock with both hands, and steps against you so that it's trapped pointing up between your bellies. She tilts her face up to you and you kiss hungrily. She breaks off, leading back with her hips, and your cock falls into her hand. She squeezes you.
"I'm very excited. I almost can't decide what to do with you. I want to do everything. But, you have to start somewhere I guess."
"I agree." You turn her around and give her a little push. "Get in there so I can fuck you harder than two humps on a camel."
She bursts out laughing, her eyes squeezing shut. "Desert too long? Looking for an oasis."
"Either that or I'm hallucinating from heatstroke."
Hm, she half-snickers. "Better come into the shade." Lust flushes through your face and chest. You'll come very deeply in her shade.
Did I say the back seat is empty? Empty except for the duffel bag. "Oh, look," she says, "something to prop me up." She bends over, reaches back to the bag, drags it closer to the door. When she leans inside, her panties stick damply where your hand moved them. Oh if those lips could speak. You hurriedly tear off your boots and wrestle off your pants.
She's waiting on her elbows, her knees hanging just over the edge of the back seat. The height of her ass atop the duffel bag, perfection. Your cock is alive. You make a simple detour to lick her deeply. Her hair roughs your tongue like a cat's. You are entering the back seat behind her, slowly getting into position, your body hovering above her back, your knees settling inside hers, your thighs brushing her ass, your face close enough to tongue her ear, bite her lips, her cheeks.
"All aboard!" she says, smiling over her shoulder.
"Going to the end of the line?"
"Yes. Punch my ticket. Please."
You watch her face intently. You wiggle the cockhead against her nest, wet, slipping. Her mouth responds, loosens, but her eyes stay on yours, she urges, "Punch it, I want you to punch it--"
You punch it, once, hard. Her voice peaks with it; her face and shoulders drift down against the seat in a feathery moan. Her back spreads down from you, the groove along her spine like a waterspout under the red dress, her ass perched, caught, lighted, lodged, between the bag and your hips. And you fuck her. The bag is firm and heavy. Propped above her on your arms, smelling her every shiver, you start slow, build it, imagine a lincoln log or lego orgasm assembling piece by piece inside her, placed there with every thrust of your deep hand. You press against her and dig in as far as you can, groaning, and then thrust again, faster after each tilling pause. The walls of her cunt cling and then liquefy. You reach down between you to wipe the moisture away. Thrust. Cling and then melt. You take her by one hip and pull her against you. You get your knees around hers and pull them closed, tightening her around you, grinding. You let yourself down so your chest is against her back, you suck on her neck, thrusting in, through, by, for her the while, her air gushing under your motion like a squeeze-pillow. Then she is struggling and forcing her back into your chest, her elbows straight and rigid, a landslide of animal sounds in her mouth, you take her mouth with yours, you bite the line of her jaw and her and your hands both are fumbling at her tits, fallen from her dress, as you come. The grease from your cock mixes with hers in a warm mess between your legs.
Then the comedown. The lungs easing. You run your hands gently along her arms, up to her tits crushed on the seat. You can feel the forceful beating of her heart.
You realize your hand is holding something papery. You pull it up. You look. It is green. It says, in green letters, that it is legal tender. It says, in green numbers, that it is one thousand dollars of it.
You blink. You've never come money before.
You hear a cool, measured voice. "That was wonderful. And now, please back out of the car, and put your hands up." There over your shoulder, somewhat blurry, is a small, slender, pale brunette, dressed all in black. She is pointing a gun at you.
| Status | ||
| Health | Horny | Location: |
| MP | 0 | |
| Level | 1 | |
