tagMatureBack Seat Drivin'

Back Seat Drivin'

bypullmepushyou©

My first real job was at one of the area food-chain stores, located in a neighboring town. I was seventeen when I started, bagging and picking up stray carts in the parking lot. I wasn't all that enthused about having to work, but if wanted to get my own car I was going to have to buy it. I stuck it out for four long, wet months, hoping to work at a cash register when I turned eighteen so that I could make more money. I was told that it had something to do about a state law. The day after my birthday I told my supervisor the good news. Well, I guess good news traveled slowly in this store because it was a few more months before I got a chance to work at one of the registers. I finally got the word that he was supposed to train me, but that never happened. Instead he had his best cashier Sally teach me.

I learned that Sally had been at the store for quite a few years. She was forty years old and had lived quite an interesting life by anyone's standards. She was married at seventeen, pregnant at eighteen, divorced at nineteen. She danced and tended bar at a strip-joint further out in the valley for five years after that, but quit, saying that the drive back home was too far after a long, long night. That was when she started to work at the store. Oh yes…two more things. She became a mother-in-law at thirty-five and a grandmother when she was thirty-six. Sounds familiar, doesn't it. Anyways, Sally was the stick that stirred the drink at this store. She was always joking with customers and workers, helping to make the eight-hour days go by as fast as they could. I guess her bar-tending qualities followed her to the local grocery.

She was also a little "crude", if that's the right word. She was sort of rough around the edges, not displaying a polished image that most women try unsuccessfully to exhibit. She drank, she swore, she smoked…she did what she felt like doing. If you didn't like it, well, you could always leave. Very few people did. She had the ability to somehow know how to act around whomever she was with, never really offending anyone. I was happy when I found out that she would be the one to train me. I had heard that she was smart and patient; always there when you needed her. I have to admit that I was also glad to know that she would train me because Sally really wasn't that bad looking for a shorthaired, bleached-blond, forty year-old. Maybe she wore her make-up a little too heavy on some days, but her deep green eyes far outweighed the sluttish appearance that excessive, Cover Girl product-use could typify. And besides, when she wore a skirt, no one bothered to look very much further. Sally had a pair of legs that were supposed to be seen and admired. I guess that dancing on top of a runway in spiked heels could take the place of any exercise machine on the market today. She pushed the dress code for employees to the limits, wearing skirts as short as they would allow. A few times I saw the manager come over and say something in her ear, followed by her tugging her skirt down. As soon as he left, she would yank at the waistband and pull her skirt up higher than where it had originally been.

In order to teach someone, the instructor needed to be with the trainee when working the register for the first week. As I'm sure you know, space is at a premium behind a food-store cash register. I found out quickly that that was another reason to be happy having Sally as your teacher. For a solid week I don't think that my cock stayed soft for more than twenty minutes each day. I had to wait until I got home so I could take a piss. Our bodies were always bumping, rubbing, or pressing into each other. It got to the point where apologies stopped and I accepted the inevitable. I especially enjoyed the times when she had to lean over my shoulder to see something. She would stand on her tiptoes and press her body against mine. Her left hand would usually hold my left hip firmly and her crotch would rest comfortably on my right, her tits flattening out on my back. Her warm breath would float gently over my neck with her perfume filling my nose. If she was getting a kick out of exciting a young boy, she didn't let on. She carried on as if everything that happened was normal. She was doing what had to be done.

I admit that I was sorry to see my week with Sally end, but it was apparent that I knew what I was doing. The manager had Sally resume her normal schedule, which allowed my cock to resume its normal shape too. It's not like Sally and I developed any kind of friendship either, but I felt more accepted by her and everyone else at the store. Once in a while Sally and I would be at neighboring registers, and conversations would be brief, comfortable and fun. I especially liked it when I was on her right side, affording me a great view of those legs. I also learned to appreciate the shape of her ass. Besides being short, those skirts were tight. A few weeks went by, spring heading towards summer as the Fourth of July holiday approached. Everyone was scheduled to work the night before the holiday until the store closed at ten. Even though there were just a few customers coming in that night, we all had to stay. I was lucky enough to be on Sally's right, so I didn't mind one bit. She wore a looser fitting skirt that night, but it was still as short as the others. A little while before quitting time, Sally left her register and leaned over my register's belt to talk to me. For some reason, I felt that something different was happening because of the way she smiled.

"So Bud," she said cheerfully, "whatcha' doin' after work?"

Bud's not my name, but everyone calls me that. Also, it sounds a lot better than the one my parents branded me with…Harold. I apologize to anyone who has or likes that name. I just don't.

"I guess I'm goin' home Sally," I replied, noticing that she had seemingly put her makeup on just right tonight. "Why?"

"Well," she continued, "a few us are goin' to hang around in the parking lot after work and have a few beers. Sort of start the holiday off early. Why don't you join us? Get to know some of the guys better."

I'd seen them do this a few times before as I left work late, but I'd never been asked to join in. I was too young to drink, so I figured that was why I wasn't invited.

"Gosh," I said hesitantly. "I don't know. I'm only eighteen and…"

"Oh come on Bud," she said with a bit of excitement in her voice. "We do this all the time. Management doesn't mind as long as we don't leave a mess. Gets the holidays started right, ya' know. Besides, who cares how old you are. If you don't want to drink you don't have to. And if you do, nobody's gonna' say anything. Come on. You'll have fun. Meet me at the time clock at quitting time. I'll take care of ya' real good tonight."

She put a bit more emphasis on the words "real good" but at the time I didn't pay that much attention to the weight of her spoken words.

"Okay," I said with a strained smile. "I'll come."

"Great," she said with a wide smile. "I guarantee we'll have a good time."

More enunciation on the word "guarantee."

Sally seemed to be much happier following my decision to join them after work. She worked at a faster pace, as if she wanted all of the customers to be gone way before the store closed. She continuously turned and smiled at me, even coming over to bag for me when she had free time. Watching her work took my mind off of the clock, and in no time the store was preparing to close. She was waiting for me at the time clock, probably not trusting me that I would still join them. If I had had any doubts, Sally quickly would have changed my mind. She smiled widely and grabbed me by the arm.

"All set Bud?" she asked, anticipating something I couldn't see.

"I guess so," I replied, dim-witted to what my future held in store for me.

She let go of my arm and I followed her out the door. We walked together across the black macadam to where we were required to park our cars. About ten other people were there, already drinking beer and having a pretty good time. I knew most of them and had seen the rest from time to time. Sally introduced me to those I didn't really know, grabbed two beers for herself and me, and then she left to go and talk with the few girls who had come. I stood on the outside of the crowd, not feeling too comfortable and nursing the first beer of my life. It tasted nasty, but I figured I could empty it without getting too sick. I soon found that the more I had, the easier it was to mingle. Halfway through that first can I finally began to feel at ease, finding that I wasn't as out-of-place as I thought I was. The guys there accepted me without reservation, wondering why it had taken me so long to join them.

"I was never asked," I said.

"No one ever is," they laughed. "You just show up, that's all. Invitations are made only if you want to go to bed with someone."

A loud roar followed that comment and I laughed along with them, somehow forgetting that Sally had invited me. I don't remember who put another can of beer in my hand or when I finished the first, but I was soon chugging that second one down when Sally came to rejoin our group. People were starting to leave one at a time, reducing our numbers by half, and I soon sensed the effect that the alcohol was beginning to have on me. My face was starting to numb, and I thought that I could have had a tooth pulled and not even felt it. I also noticed that if I moved my head a little too quickly, the surrounding landscape would continue to move slowly, long after I stopped my motion. The one pleasing result of the consumption of the two beers was the magnified good looks of Sally. Somehow, I had overlooked how really, really attractive she was. In my mind I was positive that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I knew that she could win any beauty contest she might consider entering, hands down. I couldn't believe how blind all of the men in the rest of the world had been. It's amazing how alcohol increases your perception. Unfortunately, I would say that one more time in my life, adding the word "officer" to the end of the sentence. A third beer found its way into my treacherous hand. I smiled at Sally when she gave a forth to me.

Conversation went on, but don't ask me what they were all about. Hell, I don't even remember saying good-bye to the rest of the people who had left. The next thing I knew, there were only three of us remaining; Sally, myself, and Pete, who worked in the deli. He was the biggest, and the friendliest guy at the store. He was always laughing and doing anything he could to help someone out. It was also way past his time on getting home. He looked at his watch and whistled.

"Wow," he said. "Look at the time. I got to get home. My wife'll cut my pecker off with a butter knife if I don't leave right now."

"That won't be much of a lose Pete," Sally laughed.

"Yeah, I know Sal," Pete hooted back. "But how would I piss all this beer out?"

"Learn to squat like me."

I joined in on their laughter and looked at my watch too, but I couldn't see the numbers despite the bright parking lights. For some reason everything was out of focus. I thought my watch needed a new battery.

"Want me to give you a lift over to your car Sally?" Pete asked as he opened the door to his.

I looked around and noticed that mine was the only car left. It really wasn't mine, but you already know that. It belonged to my older brother. Besides, I wouldn't be caught dead driving that big ol' boat of a Buick if I didn't have to.

"Thanks Pete," Sally said gratefully, "but Bud already offered."

"I did?" I wondered to myself. "When?"

"Okay," he called back. "See ya's in a few days."

As Pete slowly pulled out, I was suddenly alone with Sally in the huge, deserted parking lot. I stared at her, not having the slightest idea as to what to say. It was as if I had never seen her before. As a sudden and brief moment of sobriety filtered into my brain, I began to wonder what I was doing there and why I hadn't gone home right after work. Feeling lost and very uncomfortable, I took my gaze away from her face, and for some dumb reason, I looked at her legs. Alcohol, along with the cerebrally centered debilitating qualities it possessed, re-entered the picture, and I didn't seem to care anymore as to why I didn't go home. As long as Sally's legs were in sight, I was happy. A sudden warm breeze kicked up and that loose fitting skirt waved like the cape of a matador in front of a crazed bull. Her bright, blond hair was blown across her face and the scent of her perfume made the smell from the exhaust of Pete's car a distant memory. This bull was primed and ready for the slaughter.

In the distance, I heard the local firehouse whistle blow. It was an everyday occurrence at midnight. Some people hated it. Most people liked it. Anyways, it told me what time it was and that I should've been heading for home quite a while ago. It also told me that the parking lot lights would be going off at any second. And, as I had predicted, one by one they began to shut off. The vapor lamps continued to glow dimly after the power went off, but in no time we were standing in complete darkness. I jumped as Sally spoke.

"I'm parked over by the retaining wall Bud," she said softly. "You gonna' take me over there or do I have to walk in the dark?"

"Oh yeah, right," I stammered. "Sure thing Sally…sorry."

Sally…sorry…Sally…sorry…Sally…sorry…went through my pickled brain as we walked over to my car. I heard myself giggle, but I didn't know why. I got in carefully as Sally walked around to the passenger side. I have no idea how long she stood there before she bent down and tapped on the window, telling me to unlock the door. If I weren't so affected by the beer, I would have felt like an asshole. Instead, I just leaned over and unlocked the door. As the dome light bathed the interior of the car in its bright light, my visual perception that had a direct link to sexual function was suddenly the only sector of my few functioning brain cells that worked. I watched intently as Sally's legs entered the car. The short skirt did little to hide the firm thighs that lie beneath it. Sally sat and waited patiently, seemingly not disturbed by my stare or the slight bulge growing in my pants. That is until a few minutes had passed. She then cleared her throat to bring me back to the living. I twitched at the sound and looked straight at her face. I didn't understand why the dome light was still on until I heard Sally close her door. She had deliberately left it open when she saw me gawking at her legs. I guess she was having as much fun as I was, maybe more. Again, we were in total darkness.

"Shall we get going Bud?" she asked. "I'm over there," she continued, pointing to the farthest corner of the lot.

I started the car and took a deep breath. If it wasn't bad enough that the beer impaired my senses, I now had Sally's legs to contend with. Also, in the closed car, her perfume was just as intoxicating as another beer would have been. I turned on the lights and slowly put the car in gear, the wheels turning very slowly. We hadn't rolled more than forty feet when Sally started to stir in her seat. I probably shouldn't have looked but once I did it was too late. I let the car roll to an easy stop by taking my foot off of the gas pedal and watched as Sally lifted her ass from the seat. She was pulling the hem of her skirt up and reaching underneath it with both hands. Suddenly, she was pulling her pantyhose off of her ass and down her legs. She flipped her shoes off and yanked the nylon torture chamber past her toes.

"You don't know how uncomfortable these things can be," she said, shaking her ninety-nine cent bargain under my nose. "If guys had to wear them, they would stop making them."

I sat saying nothing as I watched her rub her legs vigorously in the green glow of the dashboard light. (Sounds like a song.) I then watched as she put her hands under her dress and I heard as she scratched the hairs between her legs ferociously. I knew at that second that there was only Sally under that skirt. I continued to watch as she straightened her skirt, and when she was done I looked at her face. She was staring back at me, smiling as if nothing was wrong. I snapped my head back towards the front, instantly wishing I hadn't, because everything outside wasn't just moving now, it was spinning. Spinning fast. Real fast. I closed my eyes and squeezed the steering wheel as tightly as I could. Even though I couldn't see anything, I felt the entire car spinning like a cd inside a computer. I took a long, deep breath and opened my eyes quickly, thinking that a rapid attack would stop the rapid motion. Nothing had changed. We were still inside the whirling funnel of an F-5 tornado, just like Dorothy and Toto. I closed my eyes again and struggled to rest my head on the steering wheel, fighting the urge to heave my guts out as the car seemingly began to tumble as well. Suddenly, I felt a hand being placed softly on the back of my neck. Its warmth and gentle massage slowly eased the pandemonium inside my brain. Gradually, I sensed calmness grow in both my stomach and head. I don't know how many minutes passed before I dared to open my eyes again. When I did, incredibly, the tumble and spin cycle of the washing machine I was in had stopped, replaced however by a jerky, repetitive, left to right movement of the things in front of me. Slowly, even that stopped and the world was made right again, to some extent. Sally was sitting next to me, her feet tucked up under her skirt. She continued to rub my neck and I was more than thankful for the comfort it conveyed. She had saved my life.

"Are you all right Bud?" she asked softly. "You feelin' okay?"

"My first beers," I admitted to her.

"You're doin' fine kid," she continued. "Just rest. When you feel up to it, we'll drive to my car."

We sat for a few more minutes. She had me roll the windows down and take some deep breaths. Sure, the beer had done a job on me, but her little strip-tease didn't help. My heart was beating so fast when she took those pantyhose off that I thought I was going to pass out. And then when she started to scratch herself, I just couldn't take anymore. Ultimately, I rolled up my window and I felt that I could at least drive to where she was parked. She remained next to me, her arm around my shoulder as I stepped lightly on the gas pedal. I felt the heat of her body go through her clothes and mine, doubling the temperature on this suddenly warm and humid July night. Her perfume was all I could smell. I had enjoyed her closeness when she was training me on the cash registers. Now I wasn't too sure. The headlights of my car finally fell upon the only other car in the lot. Carefully I eased my car into the parking space next to hers. I put the car in park and stared out the front windshield, waiting for her to leave. She didn't. I waited some more. She didn't move. I waited longer and she moved at last. Only she wasn't moving to leave. She reached across my body and shut the lights of my car off. As she brought her arm back, she stopped at the steering wheel column and turned the car off. There we were, sitting in my brothers Buick, in a dark and seclude spot, in a completely vacant parking lot. If it were not for the sound of my breathing, and the clicking sounds of the cooling engine, the silence would have been deafening. I sat with my hands frozen to the steering wheel, afraid to move. Ultimately, Sally spoke.

"How you doin' Bud?" she asked softly.

"Okay…I guess," surprised that I could speak.

"You don't mind sittin' here with me, do you Bud?"

"No…I don't mind."

"That's good Bud," she went on. "It's a nice night, isn't it?"

"I suppose."

"You don't talk too much, do you?"

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