Road Trip
The events of that momentous Friday night stayed with me for a long time. At such a young age you don’t think that you might just have had the most exhilarating and sexually-charged night of your life. It was certainly a high bar but, fuelled by the giddy excitement, I viewed it as only the start. What was beyond dispute was that the adrenalin produced by such a hedonistic encounter was irresistible and addictive. Whether this thrill was to damage my pure and normalised romantic sensibilities was not something to debate now. Many years later I was to re-visit this, but at this juncture I was way too enthralled to resist further temptation. I had experienced the irresistible appeal of sexual inhibition and it seemed way too alluring to let go now.
I wasn’t sure if I’d hear from my muse again. We had made no arrangement and I suspected it was a one-off. I was wrong. About three weeks later I received a letter. I recognised her handwriting and my pulse raced as I opened the envelope. What I read was pleasing and very complimentary. I blushed. Apparently she had loved our ‘first’ encounter and was very pleased with me. ‘I particularly liked the way you dealt with my husband’, she said. I didn’t remember ‘dealing’ with him at all apart from being flaunted like a prize. But perhaps she was referring to the bed-creaking Olympics that we had so mutually enjoyed, with her husband a furtive witness hiding in the oppressive darkness of the bathroom.
Whatever it was she would very much like to see me again and would I be prepared to travel to the Midlands to see her. Does a donkey like carrots? Apparently we were to meet in a well described lay-by on the A511. Not the most glamorous of locations but this was a lady that had particular tastes and, after the charades of our night in Northampton, this was an invitation that needed no second thoughts. I felt sure that this was to be another chapter in my education. Noli cedere cognoscere………….
I drove up in the afternoon for our 7.30pm rendezvous. I didn’t want anything to go wrong. It was late summer and the temperature was still mild but by the time of our designated meeting it would be twilight. My reconnaissance was well-rewarded. I found the lay-by in the late afternoon and surveyed the landscape. It was on a remote stretch of road set back from the main carriageway with a view into a valley on one side and the one lane highway on the other. While it was designed for car drivers to take a rest or refresh themselves it was not intended to provide much privacy. I decided not to wait in this spot but to bide my time elsewhere and arrive exactly on time.
There was a car in the lay-by when I arrived at exactly 7.30pm. I was half expecting it to be the familiar sports car whose front suspension I had successfully road tested in the pub car park in Northampton several weeks earlier. But it wasn’t. It was an up-market, comfortable four door family vehicle with a familiar driver. I parked behind and walked into the saloon. I was greeted by a passionate kiss that aroused my already inflamed libido. She was dressed coquettishly. A short hemline, a tight dress, stockings and high heels. Her make up perfect, her scent that of a garden rose. I was intoxicated all over again. Apparently we were to drive to the nearest village where there was a restaurant because she was hungry. Upon the word ‘hungry’ she looked me straight in the eye and raised her eyebrows suggestively. To show I understood the connotation my trousers bulged affirmatively.
We drove about 8 miles and, for now, settled for food. I sensed that while we were both ‘hungry’ our appetites were distracted. The wine was helpful as was her suggestion that I should stroke her inner thigh beneath the table. To the stocking tops and beyond. Soft, pliable skin yielding to my inquisitive and persistent probing. We talked fitfully. Small talk. She had no desire to give much away and I was too distracted by the shape of her breasts beneath the tight silk of her blouse to be overly inquisitive. There was electricity in the air that impregnated our social intercourse. Words were superfluous as the tension built.
We left after about an hour. Her words ‘I hope you like dessert’ as she paid the bill were pleasingly reassuring. She asked me to drive her car back to the lay-by. I was pleased to be of service but should have known there was a motive. After a couple of miles I felt her hand on my thigh. It didn’t stay there for long as it seemed compelled to move higher and take on the zip challenge. Her fingers were very adept and she soon had my fully erect shaft in her hand. I was fully exposed and her long painted nails surrounded my erection and encouraged it to grow to its fullest potential. I tried my hardest to concentrate on the road ahead but the intervention of her soft mouth and wriggling tongue on the head of my member was somewhat distracting. She used her tongue to tease the glands and embraced as much of my length as she could manage into the inner recesses of her welcoming mouth. I could feel her saliva dribbling down my erection and I could feel her commitment to the task. The rhythm was insistent and the combination of her mouth and tongue were persuasive.
Luckily the journey was not long but I could feel a loss of self-control. The body often delays things until an appropriate moment, and so it was. Just as I pulled the car up behind my own parked vehicle in the lay-by I could feel myself lose control. She had one hand on the base of my shaft and was urgently pumping it into her mouth as if feeding herself. She need not to have worried. I came with a violence that only accompanies extreme provocation. My gratified and exultant moans were accompanied by little affirmative gasps of satisfaction which escaped her throat as I flooded her mouth with a reward. This seemed to greatly please her and she swallowed with the pleasure of a connoisseur. Her eyes alight, her demeanour that of a connoisseur of fine wine, her libido alive. This was a woman who knew what she wanted and was taking great pleasure in getting it.
However, it soon became clear that this was only the starter, the aperitif. ‘Put your hand up my skirt, where I like it’, she whispered hoarsely. If I ever needed reassurance that she was aroused the dampness of her knickers provided ample evidence. I slid the thin material down her shapely legs to gain better access and had no trouble locating her most erogenous zone. She was kissing me insistently and soon her need for something more definitive took over. She straddled the gap between the front seats and re-located herself on the leather bench in the rear passenger section of the car. I followed obediently. Anyone who has tried to get undressed in the rear of a car will know that automotive designers never factored such an eventuality into their creative considerations. Two people frantically trying to free themselves of unwanted garments, while almost on top of one another, was not suited by the unfriendly geometry.
On this occasion urgency outscored finesse and the frenetic coupling that followed was conducted half dressed, half undressed. Though such niceties were rendered irrelevant by the sheer intensity of the union. I was on top and commanded to give it my all. I had no intention of disobeying and, despite my six foot plus frame being cramped by spatial inadequacy, found a way of inserting my entire length deep into her hole of lust. Having recently come, while I was satisfyingly stiff, I was in no condition to come again immediately so I was able to prolong the shafting. This seemed to greatly please her as the mutterings of ‘You Bastard’ seemed to imply. This turned to ‘Do Me’ and then ‘Oh My God’.
What was also a factor in our mutual exultation was risk. While this was a country A-road there was some traffic. When cars went by their headlights swept our vehicle inquisitively. What was visible via the steamy, rear windows was not clear. I was, however, conscious that my partner did not find this an inconvenience or an intrusion, in fact the opposite. It was as if this just acted as an aphrodisiac. Danger, risk, reward.
I pounded this gorgeous creature for what seemed like an age, the suspension giving us a great ride. Her gasping and screaming came in guttural bursts as things neared their climax. Eventually I was reloaded and ready to fire. It came in a prolonged burst of ecstatic pleasure and seemed to affect both of us simultaneously. Somehow the discomfort and inappropriateness of the cramped surroundings seemed only to intensify the experience as did the location. Miles from anywhere, yet yards from discovery.
She thanked me as we lay together…..sweaty, steamy and dishevelled…..but rewardingly so. ‘You can go now’ she said as if dismissing me from a charity fundraiser. In order to recover my composure and most of my clothes and the contents of my pockets, which were spread unevenly around the interior of the car like a dropped pack of cards, I had to open the rear door and reassemble myself outside. I said my goodbyes and walked back to my car.
Although it was dark I noticed that another car had parked very close to the scene in the lay-by. It immediately occurred to me that someone had been watching. It also occurred to me that this was a very sleek sports vehicle not dissimilar to a car recently parked in a car park outside a pub in Northampton