Climb under the car with the brunette
From Create Your Own Story
"So, being down there gives you some heart's ease..? Mind if I climb under and experience it for myself? No funny stuff, darlin', promise."
Her body shifts slightly in a way that you can barely make out, but lights a matchstick flame deep in your belly. She says, "It's a free country. Isn't that what they say in Texas?"
"They say that all over, in my experience." You briefly consider how to slide under the car. On your stomach would be easiest, but your Panhandle -- being, shall we say, unannexed? -- wouldn't appreciate being dragged and squashed on the pavement. So, on the back, and you'll just have to keep him from bumping the underside of the vehicle. On the back means too that she's likely to see your erect cock.
"I should warn you, I ain't entirely decent."
A beat passes as she looks back at you. "What is the nature of your 'ain't entirely decent'?" She puts on a fair imitation of your newly-acquired southern lilt.
"Eh.. the old Jacques Pepin, is the nature of it. Can't seem to get him to fit.. the usual place."
"Ah. Him. Well.. I can handle a little ain't-entirely decency, as long as you're not indecent.."
You lie on your back and edge under the car, using one hand to move and one to hold your cock against your belly, away from the undercarriage. It's a bit of a tight squeeze. You stop within arm's reach of the woman, and relax. With the car right over your face, the motor rumbling quietly, you close your eyes. "It is rather soothing." Though, you mean it's soothing in a Sunday morning, no need to be anywhere, not-entirely-sure-whether-I'm-horned-up-or-just-have-to-pee, wood in bed kind of way. The luxury vehicle's bass gurgle vibrates along its pipes, just above your chest and stomach. You are tempted to press your cock into that tremor. You imagine it as warm, metallic but gentle, slowly spreading along your limbs.
"You sound like you're from Texas." In the closer space, various new bedroom notes, a skytrail of smoker's rasp in her voice, reach you. It feels like her lips are the merest inch from your ear, speaking hints and secrets.
"I'm from wherever you want me to be from, ma'am."
"Aren't we mysterious. What if I want you to be from Texarkana? Can I call you Arkana?"
"May we, ma'am."
"May we? May we what?"
Various suggestions for what we may leap to mind, but you just chuckle, "Mais oui, madame." You open your eyes again, look at her. Her eyes meet yours squarely under the frame of her black bangs, do not pull away. "My French never was that good."
She smiles. "All right, Arkana. Hm.. French.. "Jacques Pepin".. aren't you getting Texas confused with Louisiana?"
"Not particularly. They speak good Cajun down there. I speak terrible French. And men cooks are a Southern thing. We like a good beef bourgignon as much as any Frenchman. Always were ahead of the North in that regard."
The conversation pauses. There is something about her body, how she is lying next to you; you think of the subtle movement of her black-garbed form from just a minute ago; something pivoting filmily from the bay of her haunches. An instinct tells you to wait, remain quiet.
- Let the pause between you and the brunette play out.
- Ask the brunette her name, as a southern gentleman does.
| Status | ||
| Health | Horny | Location: |
| MP | 0 | |
| Level | 1 | |
