Car Show Slut

"Can I have one of those?" came the question that snapped me out of my saucy little daydream. A tall, fair-haired man of stood before. He was pointing at the stickers. I smiled at up him, and the devilish thought occurred to me: if only he knew what I was just thinking about! Actually, this guy was cute, different from most of the slackers that had come by during the day; tall and muscular, with a chiseled jaw and a wicked smile. His clothes were very smart casual, tailored shorts and an expensive looking short sleeve shirt. Very nice.

I hadn't noticed at first, but there was another guy with him. He had a camera.

"Hey, I'll take your photo," he said.

The cute guy moved in close and put his arm around me, resting it on my hip, close to my ass. I wrapped my arm around him. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine. God, he even smelled sexy!

"Hey, do a pose," said the photographer, referring to me.

Alright, I thought. I arched my outer leg, model style, and pointed my toe to the ground, trying to look as sultry as I could. Turning my body toward him slightly, my tits pushing firmly into his broad, firm chest, I formed my lips into a pout and kissed him on the cheek.

"Nice!" said the photographer.

The guy turned his head towards me and spoke softly into my ear.

"Honey, you're hot."

I could feel his breath on my neck as he said the words. The sensation went straight to my loins.

"Babe," he almost whispered into my ear. I thought I felt his tongue graze just for an instant across my ear as he spoke. My pussy throbbed. "I run the company that's got that electronics stand over there. I've got a corporate function on in a couple of weeks and I need models. Here's my card. Call me next week if you're interested."

He handed me his card and I nodded. And then with a wave of his hand he was gone.

I had hardly time to collect my thoughts when I was distracted by the commotion going on behind me. There was another photographer, this one wearing a silly looking orange vest, taking posed shots of Kelly. There she was, sitting on the trunk, legs spread, then lying down across it, camera flashing away. A crowd of punters gathered around watching the display. Once it was over the photographer came over to the front of the car.

"Hi, I'm the official show photographer," he said. That'd explain why it says 'Official Photographer' on his vest, I mused to myself.

"We're taking shots for the Girl of the Show competition. Do you want to be in it?"

I hesitated at first. Then I thought, 'why not?' I am a car show model, after all. At least for today.

"OK, what do you want me to do?"

"Right, stand up against the door of the car. Give me a sexy look. Good."

He flashed away. The crowd that had been watching Kelly now gathered round me.

"OK, now lean across the fender."

Rick's racer was a small car and sat quite low, so I had to bend over quite a way.

"Rest your boobs across the hood. That's right. Very sexy!"

He was shooting me from behind, and in this position my ass, stuck high in the air, felt very exposed. The centre of attention. And now lots of other guys were taking pictures. Pictures of my ass, my bare legs. I could hear the cameras going off behind me, rapid fire, like tiny little cannons.

But the guy with the big camera was the one directing the action.

"Beautiful, sweetheart. Now spread your legs a bit for me."

Spread my legs. I could hardly believe that here was I, respectable corporate executive, bent over a car at a car show like a cheap slut, wearing almost nothing, and letting a crowd of guys check out my ass. But as the cacophony of camera clicks continued, I felt encouraged. These guys were lusting after nothing but my body. I was a car show slut. My whole reason for being here was to be looked at, lusted after. I was a car show slut. I opened my legs for them. I spread them wide. I was wet between the legs. The cameras clicked. I looked back over my shoulder and saw them, lust in their eyes, transfixed on my ass and legs. I blew them a kiss. I felt my nipples rub against the hard, cold hood. It felt invigorating: chilling, but burning. I found myself moving my torso ever so gently, back and forth, rubbing my nipples on the cold steel.

"Oh yeah, baby!" I heard someone yell out from the crowd. My nipples tingled. I ground my boobs into the hood. Harder. I pushed down hard on the hood with my hands, clenching and unclenching my fists, as if trying to grab the smooth steel. Some of them were cheering now. My heart was beating fast. My audience began to seem distant as I began to lose myself in the feeling, a burning ache now building between my legs. My conscious mind seemed to be drifting away under the mounting sensations engulfing my body, but there was still enough self awareness to know that had to stop this now, and stop this now. Before it - before I - got completely out of control. I stopped, rested on the hood for a few seconds and then got up. I turned to face the crowd, all their eyes on me, and did a little mock curtsey. They cheered. The feeling was exhilarating. I felt like a supermodel, some kind of princess. I felt 10 feet tall.

Hank had been watching the display. He came over.

"Hey, let's get a shot of the two girls together," he said, grabbing Kelly by the arm.

"OK," said the photographer. "How about with them in the car?"

We climbed inside the small sedan. It was strange to be sitting in a car that was stripped off all the usual creature comforts – no carpets, no normal instrument panel or anything, just a small collection of gauges and every where bare steel panels and solid steel bars. It felt more like a small metal cocoon than the inside of a car. Kelly was in the driver's seat, I in the passenger's. The photographer positioned himself at Kelly's side of the vehicle.

"OK girls, arms around one another," he said. "Now look this way."

We huddled in close, looking across to the photographer, our hands around one another's waist, heads close together.

"Sweetheart," said the photographer to Kelly, "just give her a little kiss."

Kelly looked at me with an uncertain smile, as if asking whether we should do it. I looked her in the eyes. She looked so sweet. How could anyone not want to kiss her?

"Yes," I nodded.

She smiled and moved in close, and our lips met. We had kissed not an hour or so earlier, but that had been a loving, sisterly kiss. This was different. We were now kissing for an audience. Her lips on mine felt incredibly soft, delicate. I felt her soft hand fall gently onto the side of my face. I felt her lips opened ever so gently against mine. I felt the tip of her tongue slide across my lips. I heard the camera flashing, saw the crowd from the corner of my eye peering through the windscreen from across the hood of the car. More cameras flashed.

A part of me wanted to stop. But inside our little steel cabin, I somehow felt safe, somehow removed from the chaos of the show. I felt emboldened. And Kelly's lips on mine felt just so exquisite. I could taste her lipstick. I could feel her tongue gently probing, sliding between my lips. I had never been kissed so tenderly! I didn't want it to end. I parted my lips a little and she slid her tongue inside until it met mine. Oh, it felt so, so delicious. I pushed harder against her lips, kissing her passionately, like a lover. And at that moment, I loved her. I felt the combined heat of our bodies embraced, her beautiful big boobs rubbing firmly against mine, her hard nipples against my own skin, her hand cradling my face. But then I felt her hand slide down off my cheek, so that it rested on my thigh. High up, close to my pussy. I felt the heat from her hand as she grabbed and lightly squeezed my inner thigh. The cameras clicked. The men were cheering. I felt her hand move, higher, till it slipped in between my legs. I let my legs fall open for her as she clasped her palm around my pussy. I could hardly believe what I was doing, what I was letting her do to me - but how wonderful it felt! Still we kissed. I let out a small moan as I felt her finger rub up and down my slit through the material of my little red hotpants. I let her touch me. I was wet. She could feel it. Oh God, she was rubbing my pussy and I was loving it!

I felt Kelly let out a moan as her hand continued to play with me. I suddenly opened my eyes and noticed Hank standing at the front of the car, looking in, devouring us with his eyes. From where he stood, he would have seen everything.

I gently pulled away from Kelly.

"I think we better stop," I whispered.

"Yes," I think so!" she giggled, and we both laughed. We climbed out of the car.

"Girls, that was so hot!" said Hank. "That's just made my day!"

Kelly giggled.

"Why thank you sir," I said, putting on a mock southern belle accent, just for a laugh, just to ease the sexual tension in the air. I could hardly believe my composure after such an experience.

Yet strangely, I felt no shame. I just felt, well, special. And that in itself shocked me. Here I was, tongue-kissing a girl in front of dozens of guys, and her feeling me up... and I'd never even been with a girl before! And being photographed doing it? Was I bisexual? Was Kelly bi? Yet even when kissing Kelly, any such thoughts and questions never entered my head. I didn't think of it as making out with a girl, but making out with someone whom I loved. But kissing her was so... just so sexy. Where was the guilt I was supposed to feel? It was odd. After that experience I'd have kissed her again in a moment (though maybe in less public circumstances) and yet the desire to do so wasn't burning up my soul. It didn't feel as though I'd crossed through into a different sexual realm. The more I thought about it, the more I kept going round in circles. And anyway, I told myself, a car show model's not mean to be a deep thinker. And at least for the next hour or so, a car show model, a car show slut as I was being more inclined to think of myself as, was what I was. Anne Johnson, Car Show Slut.

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly as the crowds dwindled and some of the other stall holders began to pack up. Pretty soon we were also calling it a day. Paul set off and came back with a six pack of Bud. A cold beer after such a day – great idea, I thought.

We sat around enjoying the beers, Rick talking to Paul about a stand at the other end of the show featuring one of his competitors. Apparently their stand was pretty impressive.

"Yeah, but we had the best girls!" said Rick, looking across at Kelly and I. We were seated together, across from the guys.

"You girls put on a great show today!" said Hank. "Especially when that photographer came by."

Kelly and I grinned at each other.

"Yeah, I guess we got a bit carried away trying to put on a good show," I said, while inwardly glowing at their approving words. And rather enjoying the fact that they were sitting there checking out us girls. As usual, the sponsor was virtually undressing us with his eyes.

"Yeah," Kelly giggled. "We did, a little."

Yep, sure got the punters in!" Rick said.

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't considered what Rick might have been feeling. Because in effect his girl had been cheating on him – with me. I hadn't thought about it like that. Then again, he's a guy: isn't it every guy's fantasy to see his girl with another girl? I shouldn't worry myself too much over his feelings. I just hope he doesn't think this is going to mean a three-some with Kelly and me, I chuckled to myself.

Soon it was time to pack up. I pitched in to help the guys carry all the stand gear – banners, bunting, posters etc – back to Kelly's car. Paul would stay behind and collect the race car. I didn't bother putting on my coat. I was quite happy to stay in my car show uniform. I liked the way I looked. Even as we were carrying stuff out to the car I found myself actually keeping an eye out for any guy I might see checking out my body. This had been a good day. Some odd things had happened, some very odd things, but I had had a great time. I felt almost like a star.

Hank was getting a lift back with us; he'd caught a cab out there and apparently lived not far from Rick and Kelly's place. We loaded up the trunk of Kelly's little hatch, but there was so much stuff we had to use some of the rear seat area. Rick got in the front with Kelly; I was in the back with Hank and all the gear. We still had a couple of beers left. Hank and I took one each.

With all the stuff piled in the right side of the car, I was sitting in the centre, alongside Hank. I sat back and sipped my beer as Hank and Rick chatted about the racing season which was starting in a few weeks.

"It was a good rollup, Rick," he said. "I can see there's plenty of interest in this, and you've put on a good show. Well done. And the girls," he said, now putting his hand on my thigh, as if to emphasise 'the girls', "looked magnificent. They did a great job."

"Thanks Hank," Kelly and I replied almost in unison, as I gently but firmly removed his hand from my leg.

About 30 seconds later his hand was back on my leg, gripping it firmly this time.

I couldn't believe the nerve of him. I was outraged. Who did this guy think I was? Some cheap slut? I made to remove his hand again, but he gripped me even tighter. How dare he! But his hand was huge. My hand on his looked tiny, insignificant. He was a big man; he was too strong for me.

I turned to give him 'the look' but he wouldn't return my gaze. He kept staring straight ahead. What a sleazebag! And then he started talking about the sponsorship, asking Rick what sort of exposure his company could expect and would the deal be worth his while? Quite obviously, in his mind, the way he was talking, I was part of making it 'worth his while'! This asshole was actually trying to tie me in with the deal – as if feeling me up was a sweetener! It was outrageous; this asshole...

Now he was inching his hand higher...

The fear and panic rose within me. I couldn't do anything. How could Hank do this? Then I suddenly realized - what Hank was thinking. About me. How he saw me. He's thinking I am a slut. That's what he is thinking. He knows nothing about me, except that I'm a car show model, and one who tongue kissed another model in a car, and allowed the girl to feel her up, and didn't mind who saw it. Why wouldn't he think I'm just a cheap slut? Who wouldn't?

And if I made a fuss right now, chances were Rick's sponsorship would be off. And that's why I was here, to help seal the deal. As his hand grew inexorably closer to my pussy, I realized that I would just have to put up with him pawing at me at least until we got to Rick's place. Just another 20 minutes or so, and then I would be free.

But now his hand reached across, his fat fingers reaching for between my legs. I boiled with shame and outrage, hoping, praying that Kelly or Rick didn't look over their shoulder. At least it was dark now, so this wasn't happening in broad daylight.

There was nothing I could do. Soon enough his hand was between my legs. His hand was on my pussy. He had such big fingers. He slowly started stroking me, up and down. And I was wet. I had been that way most of the day, I shamefully had to admit to myself, and oh my God, this disgusting man was about to discover it for himself. His index finger was gently probing my slit now. Though I tried to will it otherwise, my lips were opening almost involuntarily under his surprisingly light touch. My breathing quickened against his attentions. Soon he found my opening. I felt his finger push against the fabric, probing ever so gently. Probing inside me. Ooh, and it felt good! I glanced down – what a slutty display; without even realizing I had spread my legs ever so slightly. I was aiding his access. Looking down across my near naked form, I watched in morbid fascination as he played with me. Then, as the lights from the street shone across the back seat of the moving car, I saw it - his finger was glistening. With my juices. Shame welled inside me. He knew. I felt humiliated, defeated. I thought for a moment I was going to cry.

Then he took his hand away. He reached across and took my beer out of my left hand. Then he placed it in my right hand. What was going on, I thought? I soon found out.

My now-free left hand he moved across to his crotch. Oh my God, he's going to put his cock in my hand! His fly was already undone. He slipped my hand inside his pants, forcing it down onto his cock. I felt it. He trapped my little hand in there with his huge paw. My fingers wrapped around the shaft. It was huge. We stayed like that for a minute or two. Then he took his hand away. But I left my hand where it was, wrapped around his huge member.

Then he grabbed my wrist and removed my hand from his groin. I thought that might be the end of it, but I was wrong. With one swift movement, he reached into his pants. His enormous, fat cock burst free, standing proudly erect in the open air in back seat of the car – and all the while he continued chatting with Rick sitting directly in front of him. As he spoke, his right hand moved back to my leg, slowly and carefully snaking its way across until once again his big palm engulfed my wet pussy.

Still he wouldn't look at me. And he made no effort to put my hand back onto his cock. I felt suddenly as though I'd reached a kind of cross road. He was expecting me to put my hand back. What if I didn't? The man would look foolish sitting in the back of a car with an exposed hard-on next to an attractive girl. But he'd pulled it out, not me.

I had never seen a cock like it. Sitting in close proximity, it looked 10 inches long, but no doubt was something less than that. But it was massive. And so fat. I'd never seen anything more lewd in all my life. The tip was dripping precum. Just as I was wetting my panties.

As his hand once more began to rub up and down on my outer lips, I felt the sensations in my loins building. He knew I was wet, and I felt ashamed that he knew, ashamed that he was taking such liberties with me and I was doing nothing about it. I was just getting wetter and wetter under his touch, his big thick fingers as the rubbed along my slit.

We were still some way from home, now traveling along a suburban street. It was darker now, and as the car hummed along the light from the street lamps shone across the rear seat of the car at several-second intervals. His wet cock was shining against the intermittent light. I watched partly in fascination, partly in horror as a huge bead of precum forced its way out of the head, the shiny nectar then sliding slowly down the front of his cock. Like hot wax dripping down a burning candle stick. I felt the saliva building around my tongue. My mouth was watering.

Meanwhile he had picked up the official magazine from the show and placed it on his knees, as if reading it, though I knew he wasn't. He had erected a visual barrier, so that if anyone looked across from the front of the car, they at least wouldn't immediately see his cock. Wouldn't see my hand sliding up and down on his cock.

My hand on his big, fat, hard cock. That is what must happen now, I thought to myself, as I found flashing through my mind images of the cum shooting out of the head of this massive appendage. I must do it. I must seal the deal. I reached across, careful with my movements so that Kelly would not notice from the front seat, and slid my hand over the slick, shining head. There was so much lubrication there that it slid down effortlessly. Resting my palm now against the base, against his thick pubic hair, my hand felt tiny against this massive, powerful shaft. I paused for a few seconds, getting used to the feeling of his cock in my hand, how warm and hard it was, and then I began to stroke him; up and down, up and down.