Mavis's Car Trip

Note: "knickers" is a common English word for panties.

*

Mavis was in the driving seat, her mind in neutral as she sped up the Motorway northwards to see her boyfriend. In itself this would have been considered "unusual" by her two children, but Mavis was determined not to turn into a prematurely-aged Grandma. She considered she had lots to do and now had the time & some money to do it with. Henry, her businessman husband had gone to meet his maker thanks to a heart attack last year and now that all the legal niceties had been sorted, she found she was comfortably off and with not a lot to do between coffee breaks.

Amongst the miscellaneous 'junk' left in Henry's study was life membership of the local Gym (for some reason she had yet to fathom), so she went in and met a lot of people and discovered several of her friends. She was soon joining in the stresses and strains of this or that machine with a will. The winter hid her improvements like the grey feathers on a swan, until spring when it was time to wear lighter clothes and the new improved Mavis was seen. She was slimmer, had better skin, a good haircut and was incredibly fit for 'the wrong side of forty'. Her new look was topped off by a snappy little sports car and a revision course in driving it. The Salesman had waffled about the car having been owned by a boffin who had done things to it, but said that the mechanics could find absolutely nothing to impede the car being safe and reliable. The SatNav kit was one which talked to you; "in a decent voice" said the Salesman. And it did - when she'd last switched it on.

Her boyfriend George was 'something in computers' and altogether an inconvenient number of miles away. It was OK at three in the morning when there wasn't much traffic, but late in the afternoon was a real trial when the slightest error by someone miles further up the road could jam the motorway solid for some hours. Amongst other things, George had shown her some wilder events in bed that Henry hadn't; come to think of it, she mused, Henry was not the most inventive of lovers, but did his duty like a good man should.

As she sat in the now stationary car, chewing a mint and waiting for the traffic to clear a little, she imagined George. He had a way of stroking her breast that almost galvanised her. When his fingers gently rubbed small circles round the inside of her thighs, she felt an electric force up her spine, back down to her tummy and into her inner recesses as she got very wet. By the time George got to putting a finger or two on her clitoris, she'd be drenched and panting. Just thinking about it was getting her tingly as she sat in the car, waiting to move on towards George and a night of pure sexual pleasure.

She turned on the SatNav unit. After a few seconds it said "You have twelve miles to go," and gave her position overlaid on the road map with an arrow to indicate the next turning. Her destination was highlighted in a red & gold star and she clenched her thighs in anticipation. She was really getting wet.

Thoughts of his hard body next to hers excited her. His kisses, melting her nerves and driving her towards a massive climax, filled her imagination as the traffic moved with almost geological slowness up the black ribbon that was the motorway.

"I'm going to be late," she muttered to herself. "Hope the restaurant will keep us a table. Oh for Heaven's sake calm down Mavis." She drew a deep breath to try and calm down her anticipation. She could feel her nipples expanding into her bra. At this rate, she thought, I'll be a wreck when I get there. The traffic moved slowly forwards another mile or so. Now she could see the reason for the delay. There was an accident on the edge of the road-works; "why were there no signs," she thought angrily.

In the back of her mind, George was doing things to her body that any amount of mints could not erase. The tension in her stomach was getting worse. Her nipples cried out for a human touch and a quick, almost furtive, check revealed she was dripping. Hemmed in by two very large lorries, she tentatively ran a nail over an erect nipple under the loose jacket of her suit. She barely managed to suppress a gasp as the nerves shrieked their message to her brain. She released a couple of buttons and slid her long fingers towards the lacy bra and stoked a nipple again. This time she did not suppress the gasp of pleasure.

She daringly wondered if she'd have time to finish herself off, and eased the waistband of her skirt. Just as she was working out the logistics the lorry next to her moved slowly forward. "Thanks the Lord, movement at last." she muttered, as the traffic crawled another mile. She settled down to wait for further movement. She looked at her watch and panicked. Picking up her mobile 'phone from the other seat, she dialled his number; "Sorry, can't talk right now, please leave a message" was the infuriating response to her call.

"George", she said, "it's Mavis. I'm stuck in traffic and do not know how long I'll be. Please call me back soon." She pressed the 'End' button and dropped the 'phone in disgust on the seat and remembered the super de Luxe radio that the Salesman had rambled about. The small screen emerged from the drawer and she pressed one of the selections. Some good music filled the inside of the car. She pressed another button as the traffic stopped again and the music changed to some very rhythmic stuff with deep resonance that entered her soul. "Come for me" said a voice in her head; you know you want to." The voice was deep and passionate, almost visceral. Her pussy was not so much moist as soaking.

She could not have stopped if she's tried. Her hand slid up her shirt and inside the dainty black lace knickers to her dripping sex. Her finger stroked the clitoris and her other hand stroked a nipple. Sparks lit up her brain as she went over the top and her hand was soaked as she squirted her love juice all over the seat. With a trembling hand she reached for her box of tissues to mop up some of the mess, reflecting that she'd just experienced the best orgasm in years. It was a few moments before she could think straight. She turned the Air Conditioning onto full blast and breathed, deep and slow.

The music changed to soft rock as the traffic moved on slowly. The music was interrupted by the News Bulletin. Some governmental fool was claiming that if we all drove 5% less, we'd save a billion tons of Carbon Dioxide or something. She fleetingly pondered that and stored the information for when she changed her car next. Meanwhile, perhaps a good service and tune-up to maximise efficiency might do enough as a modest contribution to "Climate Change."

Up ahead was the turning to the hotel and she turned in with a great sigh of relief. Dinner would have to wait for her to change, but that was a small price to pay for such a blissful orgasm. George would have to work harder this evening. She pulled into the space near the entrance, got out, put on her lightweight coat, and grabbed her small grip. She locked the car and strode into the entrance.

The receptionist acknowledged her and said; "he's up in Room 21" in answer to her question. Mavis muttered something about "needing to wash her hands" and headed for the Ladies room. She emerged, dry and wearing a short but fashionable dark skirt, a few moments later.

The lift opened silently on the second floor. She walked purposefully along the thickly carpeted corridor to Room 21. Something made her pause and she heard a passionate cry. There it was again: What the hell was going on in there? She checked the number. Yes it is Room 21. She slowly opened the door.

On the bed lay George, blindfolded, and tied to the bed-frame as a young woman heaved herself up and down on his prick yelling cries of pleasure as her tits bounced up and down. It was as if Mavis had walked into a cold shower.

"You bastard," she yelled. The young woman ceased her bouncing and leapt off George's rapidly shrinking penis. He struggled but the unknown girl was not inclined to help as she scooped up her clothes and put in a bathrobe. Mavis moved to one side to let her out.

"Erm;" he muttered, "I can explain."

"Don't bother, you rat. I've just spent a long and tiring time on the motorway to get to you and you greet me by shagging another woman? You inconsiderate ungrateful bastard! Don't bother to phone me: I'll be out. I'm off."

Taking the "do not disturb" sign off the inside door handle and grabbing the key, she left the room, closing the door firmly behind her. She hung the sign on the outside handle and marched quickly down to Reception, handed in the key and told the Clerk, "please ignore any strange noises and if you can wait 24 hours to get in, I'd be grateful." The Clerk nodded and made a note in her book.

Mavis walked briskly out of the hotel fuming and raging with anger, climbed back into her car and drove out. As she joined a thankfully jam-free southbound lane she considered that as she would not be doing this again, she'd made a contribution to the planet by reducing her own car's Carbon Dioxide emissions.

"It is," she thought, "convenient for Earth Day".