Jack and Christinebytragicmagic©
© copyright Mark J Daniels 2006
The rain hammered down on the car's windscreen, as hard and furious as the rhythm of Christine's hand, tightly gripped around Jack's straining cock. His head was back, mouth open, breath gasping as her hand pumped furiously at his shaft.
It had been a long day, charged with sexual energy. The atmosphere between the two of them had been charged with invisible neurons as they had worked their way around London visiting customers. The flirting had been constant, relentless and, at times, blatant. Their customers, however, had barely noticed, so good was the product they were selling and by the end of the day the electricity between Jack and Christine had been palpable.
At the end of a day fuelled with successfully signed contracts, lascivious food and expensive wine, Jack pulled his new Lexus into the car park of the Redbridge underground station, where Christine's ageing Ford Escort waited. By now the rain was coming down hard and Jack pulled the car into a space three away from Christine's car and killed the engine.
The couple looked at each other for a moment and they both smiled nervously. It wasn't the first time they had been alone in the car together; it wasn't the first time they had known that something intimate was going to happen between them. It was, however, the first time they knew that something more than just a kiss was going to occur. For the past two months, Jack and Christine had consorted to meet secretly after work and each morning had stolen clandestine kisses in the staff canteen when nobody else was about, but despite their sixty days of almost sexual torture they had never used tongues and the contact between them had been fleeting, neither giving each other more than a glimpse of what could be.
Each night they had returned home to their spouses and pretended that all was well at home, but once their partners were asleep the two of them would liaise secretly via text messages on their mobile phones until the early hours of the morning. They might never have touched each other properly, nor seen each other naked, but whilst their neighbours slept their text messages would drive each other into lustful frenzies that would have made the Devil blush. At two o'clock one morning, had Christine's husband woken to find why his wife wasn't sharing their matrimonial bed, nobody could have blamed him for going looking for her – and nobody would have blamed him, on this particular occasion, for finding his wife naked on their sofa, three fingers writhing in and out of her sopping cunt, probing herself open and widening herself with the fingers, the dim light of the living room lamps glistening on her wet lips. In her other hand she would have been holding her mobile phone, reading messages from Jack.
On another occasion, Jack's wife would have been equally shocked to find him in their bed had she returned home early from work. He would have been alone, but he would have been clasping his swollen manhood in his own hand, eyes tightly shut as he dreamed of the things Christine might be able to do to him with her beautifully small mouth.
But now they found themselves together in a car park as they had many times before, only this time the sensation between them was different. Jack and Christine almost dared not to touch each other, scared that a spark between them might ignite those invisible neurons and ruin the moment forever. Barely a word had been said between them since they left the restaurant, although Christine's hand had rested on Jack's thigh as he drive, her middle finger absently marking out patterns on the material of his suit trousers, sending signals to his brain that caused Jack's penis to steadily stiffen in his underwear.
Lit only by the sulphur yellow light of a car park lamp high above them, Christine's face almost looked contorted with fear as she struggled with the emotions racing through her mind. Her blood rushed through her veins, boiling with anticipation and her heart beat with ferocious excitement. Before her sat a man she had come to love and admire in a way she had never imagined she could feel. She wanted him, here and now in the car park of a London suburb's tube station, and she felt her crotch dampen with desire.
Jack watched her face, unable to read the expression, aware only of the swollen ache in his groin as his cock strained against the confines of his boxer shorts. He could concentrate on nothing but her beauty, on the way her reddish-blonde hair clung to the sides of her small, narrow face, the gloss of her lipstick on her petite lips. He could see the swell of her breasts under a blouse pulled tightly down to reveal a small amount of cleavage, tucked into a pair of smart Next trousers that complimented the slenderness of her lips. His lust drove him wild as he imagined burying his head between her athletic thighs to taste the sweet juices that he imagined were pouring from her pussy at that very moment and suddenly he leant forward, raising a hand to cup her cheek and pull her face towards him.
He hoped that she wouldn't resist, and she didn't, opening her mouth to meet his with equal passion and their lips collided with a crashing intensity that forced a moan of delight from Christine's throat. Jack's hand moved from her cheek to cup a breast through her blouse whilst an animal desire drove Christine to pull forcefully at the belt on his trousers, quickly unbuckling them and working her hands through the zipper of his trousers.
Jack felt huge in the palm of her hand through the material of his underwear and he couldn't help but groan as the feel of her hand on him through the cotton. They breathed heavily into each other's mouths as their tongues slid passionately together, over and over, and when Christine squeezed her hand around his cock through his underwear, Jack thought he was going to come there and then.
He tried to move his hand down her waist to feel her heat but she wouldn't let him. Instead she leaned forward, forcing his hand away from her and pulled at the button of his trousers so that she could widen the opening and reach in through the access points to free his cock from its shackles.
Immediately the cabin was filled with the pungent smell of excited cock and her hand slid around his shaft expertly and passionately. Jack was forced to relax back into the leather of the driver's seat and let Christine's hand go to work, for she wouldn't let him push forward towards her. Instead, her mouth worked its way from his lips, over his neck and to his ear, gently pulling his lobe between her teeth and letting her tongue flick over the edges of his skin, causing shivers of excitement to run down his spine.
Now the rhythm of the rain on the windscreen was as hard and furious as the pumping of her hand on his shaft and Jack felt the climax build in his balls, work its way into the base of his shaft. He felt his length swell in her hand and she felt it too.
"Let it go," she breathed into his ear, "let it go."
He cried out in surprise, relief and desire as suddenly his orgasm surged forwards, Christine expertly cupping her other hand over the top of his cock to catch as much spunk as she could and prevent awkward stains that would be difficult to explain.
Jack relaxed back into his seat, breathing hard and staring through the rain soaked window at the blurred, dark landscape before him.
They sat together quietly for a moment as Christine cleaned her hand on a wipe she produced from her handbag and then she carefully squeezed Jack's softening knob back into the confines of his underwear and zipped his trousers back up in a way that was more motherly than that of a lover. Then she kissed him gently on the lips, in a way that was more sisterly than that of a girlfriend.
Then she grinned mischievously, in a way that was definitely carnal. "Next time," she whispered, "if you're really good, you might get a blow job."
And with that, she was gone, opening the door and running out into the torrential rain and wind and climbing into her older car without looking back. Jack waited until she was gone and then started his own car, selected reverse on the automatic box and navigated his way carefully from the car park, almost dazed.
He hadn't expected to see her again for a few days, so busy was his diary, but he had hoped that he would hear from her. For the last two months they had shared furtive text messages until they early hours of this morning, but since their dalliance in the car park at Redbridge he hadn't heard from her. Jack knew that it was only a few hours in the grand scheme of things, but he worried that they might have taken things too far, that the hand job might have been too much for her and the guilt could have consumed her when she got home.
He knew, equally, that she could have gone straight home and fucked her husband until the sun rose, either through contrition or through latent lust.
The key turned in the ignition and the Lexus engine purred effortlessly into life. The satellite navigation screen flickered and glowed and then confirmed its bluetooth connection to his mobile phone, still sitting in his brief case. Within seconds the speakers beeped and the screen advised him a call was coming in to the handsfree system. It was Christine.
Hesitantly, he hit the button on the steering wheel that answered the call. "Hey," he said, as nonchalantly as he could.
"So," her voice was coy, "how're you feeling this morning."
He could have answered the question in many ways: frightened; guilty; in love. Instead he answered: "drained."
She laughed. "I'm not surprised. There was an awful lot to clean up." Her voice was light and friendly, as it always was. She hadn't told her husband. He guessed she might not have had sex with him, either. "So you're off to Retcal today?"
He answered that he was.
"Fancy a companion?" She asked. "I've got a clear diary and they're one of the customers I really need to catch up with."
Jack didn't need asking twice. He selected drive and told her that he'd pick her up in ten minutes.
Christine was waiting for him at the green on the outskirts of the village where she lived. The rains of yesterday were gone and the sun was shining. She was wearing a business suit with an open-neck cream blouse and a skirt that hung just above her knee. As she climbed into the car he couldn't help but notice the milky flesh of her bosom on display above the shape of her blouse, or the slender, smoothly shaven skin of her calf.
They travelled in almost silence for a little while, Jack uncertain what he should or should not say. The journey to their customer was a long one and along the way they made chit-chat, discussing business opportunities, other members of staff, holidays they had planned with their respective families.
"You're quite big, aren't you?" Christine suddenly said. The question caught him off guard and Jack looked across at her, trying to establish what she meant. She was sitting sideways in the passenger seat, looking at him with a smile on those perfectly glossed lips that could only be described as saucy. She had her right leg curled up on the seat; her left stretched down in to the passenger well. The position allowed her to show much of her muscular thighs without allowing him to see quite as far as her underwear.
He coughed slightly, blushing, then turned his attention back to the motorway. "Why, er, thank you, I guess."
"You felt large in my hand, that's for sure," she said, forcing a sigh. "I wonder if I'll get to feel it that big again."
"There's no reason why not," he said. "You could always try it right now." He prayed he didn't sound too hopeful and pathetic.
Christine leant across, stroked her hand over his crotch and then sat back, pulling her skirt down daintily to hide her legs. "I better not," she said in a mock, prim voice. "I couldn't possibly distract you from driving, it might be dangerous."
The electricity was back, though. They could both feel it.
They were almost home, late in the evening, before the subject crept up again. Once more the day had been charged with sexual energy, once more they had successfully closed business. Together they channelled the desire between them into being a perfect sales and presentation team, Jack deftly demonstrating their product to a boardroom full of serious looking gentlemen, using a skill his grandfather, an ex-stage performer, had taught him: 'it doesn't matter who they are, how powerful they are – when you are performing to them, remember that in the morning they were shaving, they were wearing red and white stripy pyjamas, and they took a shit just like you before they started their day.' It was sage advice that had served Jack well through his career and he had long forgotten about being nervous in front of an audience.
Equally, Christine had used her femininity to close contract after contract, ensuring that both her and Jack's pay-packets would be bountiful for the remainder of the year.
Now they were just minutes from Ely and they would soon have to leave each other once again. "There's a parking bay just up here," Christine said. "Pull into it."
"Chris, it's on the main road," Jack protested, though he was already slowing down and indicating his attention to stop to the other drivers.
"So?" She giggled. "Live a little!"
"If we get caught..." but it was a weak protest, and he knew it. If they got caught wherever they stopped, it would all be over for them both.
There was less of a hesitant pause this time. Jack killed the lights to try and avoid bringing attention to them and this time their kiss was more experienced. They knew how each other liked to be touched and their lips met with equal passion but less ferocity as they had the night before. Now their tongues moved expertly together and their hands explored each other with more purpose. This time Jack was able to slide his hand inside Christine's blouse and feel the hardness of her excited nipple, but once again it was her that pushed him back into the seat, once again her hand undid the buckle of his belt, once more the cabin filled with the excited smell of manhood.
He tried to protest, tried to slide his hand up inside her skirt, tried to tell her that she had done him last night, now it was her turn to enjoy an orgasm.
"Believe me," she whispered into his ear, "I get as much enjoyment from seeing you orgasm as I do my own." And with that she pushed him back into the chair. This time her strokes on his shaft were less furious. She had promised him a blow job and that was what she intended to give him. Before he could say or do anything she had buried her head into his lap and Jack felt the cool sensation of her mouth as she slid his cock into it.
Christine let her lips fold tightly over the bulbous tip of his circumcised cock, let her tongue flick quickly over the tip, teasing his opening and tasting the salty pleasure that lay in wait for her. Then she slid her lips down, further over him, sucking him deeper into her mouth. He heard her gasp slightly as she adjusted her neck, opened her throat more to accommodate him, and then she sucked tightly, hard on his cock until he could feel her nose nuzzling at his sac, and he knew that she had taken him completely into her mouth, into her throat.
Jack couldn't remember feeling such a sensation as divine as this one. Her mouth was both hot and cold around him, the cool sensation of her tongue sliding slowly over and around his shaft, moistening him, thrilling him. She slid her mouth up, then down. Up, then down. All the while letting her tongue move around and over him and each time she came up she flicked over the tip of his cock.
He couldn't help but run his hand through her shoulder-length hair. He wanted to touch her, taste her, feel her around him but her mouth moved so expertly over his cock that he couldn't move no matter how much he wanted to. Her fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and she squeezed tightly with each suck, teasing him harder with her fingers and lips until she felt the familiar swelling again and suddenly she was moving her mouth up and down on him more urgently, using her fingers, tightly squeezed around the base of his shaft, to wank him into her mouth as she moved up and down on him, never once needing to come up for air.
Jack felt like he was in heaven, he felt the orgasm building and he needed to fuck her mouth. He shuffled down the leather seat slightly until his hips had movement and then began to move them forward and backward. His eyes were shut but he could imagine the sight of her glossy, small lips wrapped tightly around his manhood as he slid his cock in and out of her mouth. His hands became more urgent through her hair, pushing the back of her head, encouraging her to take him deeper into his mouth as he fucked her lips.
The swelling grew and Christine felt it. She let go of the base of his shaft and steady herself. She was no longer moving her head up and down, Jack was doing the movement for her. She simply let his cock slide in and out of her lips, hungrily sucked on the purple tip, her eyes closed as she waited for his explosion. She could taste the change in him, could feel the pre-cum at the opening of his cock, knew the moment was here.
His breathing was more rapid now and she knew she could time the moment of his climax perfectly, allowing her to swallow him as his seed rushed forward.
Jack through back his head and cried out in delight as his cum boiled forward. Christine's head jerked back momentarily, surprised again by the volume as his hot, salty juices rushed into her mouth, over her tongue, but she swallowed hungrily, feeling the burning sensation of his seed as it slid down her throat.
She moved her mouth further down him, taking him all the way into her throat once again and sucked hungrily until she knew that every last drop was gone. Using her hand to hold him steady in her mouth, she slowly licked and sucked him until he was clean before sitting up, smiling as she saw the satiated look on Jack's face.
Taking a wipe she daintily dabbed at her mouth. "There, a much cleaner way than last night, don't you think?" She smiled at him, wickedly. Checking herself in the vanity mirror she tutted. "Damn, you smudged my lipstick."
Jack gathered himself together and tidied himself away. "What's the matter?" Christine asked. "You seem, well, disappointed."
He looked at her. "I'm not disappointed. Well, I don't think so." He looked out of the window at the passing traffic. "Don't get me wrong, it's just that, well, last night and tonight, what you did to me, they were fantastic. Brilliant. The best I think I've ever had. But I really wanted to, well, you know, touch you. Kiss you. Do those things to you. Return the favour, so to speak."
She smiled. "Aw, you're so sweet."
"Don't take the piss."
"I'm not. Listen, most blokes don't think about the girl. They just want to fuck, or get sucked. They don't care whether the girl gets to enjoy herself or not, so the fact that you do is nice. But anyway, I think I'm falling in love with you, much as I hate to admit it, and I wanted to do something nice for you. Believe it or not, I like giving blow jobs – the taste, your orgasm, all of that stuff. Trust me, I get a thrill out of it to."
She paused and looked at him. "Next time, you never know you're luck. I might let you fuck me."
It was some time until they were alone together again. Jack and Christine saw each other in the office, lunched together in front of their colleagues, spoke often on the phone when they were out on the road, and drove each other wild with text messages in the early hours of the morning. But they hadn't seen each other for some time.
Christine: do you want to have dinner one night next week? I can get out of the house.