The Car

“Why’s that little car so quiet?” She asked Simon as the Mazda ghosted past where they stood.

“That’s a rotary car, the engine has no piston just a turning rotor.”

She did not understand what he was saying, she simply accepted his explanation.

Just after two o’clock the leading car crossed the finishing line, the chequered flag waved and the race was over. Dusty, dirty, the cars and their tired drivers completed the lap and pulled into the pits. An awesome hush fell over the track as the last of the cars turned off its motor.

It was only now that the race was over, that Laura fully appreciated how many people had been at the race. This time when they left the track they were a part of a massive seething throng. Throughout the short drive back to the motel they were in a fender-to-fender traffic jam. What had been a fifteen-minute drive took over an hour.

It was gone five when they entered their suite. They took a shower together, and got dressed. Laura resisted the urge to seize Simon and drag him into the bed. This evening they were going out for a proper meal, rather than the fast-food snacks that they had subsisted on all weekend. Laura thought,This waiting will sharpen my appetite.

The atmosphere in the restaurant was dominated by the sports car races. A number of the tables were occupied by large groups made up of the drivers, pit-crew, and the long legged, well endowed girls, who it appeared to Laura were as essential to a motor racing team as the driver himself. It was impossible not to overhear the conversation from a neighboring table that seemed to be getting increasingly acrimonious between two of the drivers. One driver accusing the other of both driving too slowly and being unable control the car. No one else seemed to agree and after a while a pretty girl persuaded the aggrieved driver to leave with her.

Simon leaned across the table. “I bet that the slow driver is either one of the sponsors or brings in a lot of personal sponsorship money.”

“Well at last I know the function of the stunningly beautiful women.”

Simon raised his glass. “Here’s to my stunningly beautiful woman.”

The meal began with a clear Mock Turtle soup. This was followed by a seafood dish. On the table where the argument had taken place they were eating oysters. Laura was relieved when Simon ordered the grilled fish dish. She had always shuddered when she’d seen people swallowing whole oysters, it seemed to be very primitive to her. The main course was filet de boeuf en croute. Although she felt full and bloated, Laura was unable to resist the elaborate chocolate confection that was the sweet. As the first mouthful melted in her mouth Laura thoughtI am going to have to diet for a month to loose the pounds I’ve put on tonight. Throughout the meal they both drank champagne. It was not until they rose to leave that Laura realized how much she had drunk.

She still felt lightheaded when they returned to their suite. Without any preamble she began to take off her clothes. “Simon I’ve been burning up for you all through that meal. Every-time I looked at you all that I could think of was of us making love. When you raised your food or your glass to your lips, damn zipper … that’s better. Where was I? I was talking like a slut, that’s your fault – your lovemaking has liberated the slut within me. Do you realize every time you put something into your mouth all that I could think of was you doing oral sex to me?” She said as her dress fell to the floor, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties wriggled her hips and the lacy briefs joined the dress. “Not a bad looking body for an old woman.” She preened as she discarded her brassiere. She was naked apart from her garter belt and stockings. “Now take me any way you want me.”

She could see the bulge in his pants his cock had rocketed to attention. She was sure that he wanted her, but he said. “No Laura not yet.” He turned on the radio fiddled with the tuner until he found a station playing jazz. “Dance for me.”

“Simon just shuck off your pants and screw me. Undressing can come later. Take me and take me hard.”

He sat down on the bed. His voice was stern almost magisterial. “Laura I said dance for me.”

To humor him she swayed her hips.

“Dance properly. I want to see you dance.”

She felt self conscious, as if she was a hidden camera she could see the scene.A young handsome man who was fully clothed reclining on the bed; and a middle aged woman, whose only clothing was a garter belt and stockings standing swaying in the middle of the room. She began moving her body with the music, her hips and shoulders gyrating. Then as if of their own accord her feet began to move. Now the camera in her mind captured the lewdness of the situation.This is something like a scene from some French Art House film She was getting wet between her legs.

“Stop!” Simon said, when she clamped her thighs together. He jumped up grasped her shoulders, there was no gentleness in his touch. He used his feet to push her feet apart. “Stand still, I don’t want you to come, not yet.”

It was as he intended. His treatment of her successfully froze her orgasm. He released his hold. His voice was gentle the way it usually was. “Dance again Laura, please dance for me.”

Tentatively she began to move to the music. She saw the dissatisfaction in his face, she wanted to please him she began to dance properly. Still cautious at first, then she abandoned herself to the music, dancing alone. She had switched the camera off she was oblivious to Simon’s presence.

Simon watched as she swayed, shimmied, shook and whirled to the primeval rhythms. The beat driving deep into her body, the wetness returned this time, she was blatant about her orgasm her hand clutched at her pubic mound, her fingers insinuated into her slit, probing for her clit. She did not stop moving as she masturbated.

Simon lay on the bed his cock throbbing with desire as he drank the scene in. He knew that his lying on the bed not touching her, had tormented her, but now it was a torment to himself. He undid his shirt.

“Simon please honey take me. I want you. Please do it fuck me hard fuck me until I hurt. Have me any way you want to but have me now.” Her words galvanized Simon into action, he leapt up from the bed.

Simon fumbled with his belt buckle – in front of him was his fantasy woman. From when he had first been aware of women as sexual beings he had fantasized about women dressed in only a garter belt and stockings. The only flaw, if there was a flaw, was that Laura had kicked off her shoes, but the shoes were not that important in his fantasies.

He kicked his pants off. He nearly crushed the breath out of Laura when, stepping clear of his pants and shorts, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. She lay back in his arms unresisting. The bed groaned in protest when he flung her onto it.

He pushed between her legs, she raised them and wrapped them around his waist. He had no need to arouse her, his cock glided into her moist sex. His hands clasped her buttocks pulling her towards him as with powerful thrusts of his hips he plunged into her.

There was no way that the sex act could be described as lovemaking. Both Laura and Simon were living out their own fantasies sating their own desires. If anyone had witnessed the act they would have thought they were seeing a rape. His body pounded into her as if his cock was boring its own tunnel. She kicked at his back with her heels. Scrabbled at his body with her hands. There was a ripping sound when her nails slashed through his shirt. He bit her breast when she catlike dug her fingers into his back. Blood flowed from the deep lines she scored into his flesh.

She screamed when his bite drew blood. His pubic bone continued to slam remorselessly into her mons veneris. She was nearly coming when a moment of insecurity hit her. “Don’t stop Simon … Don’t stop now … Just keep going please don’t come, not yet, not until I’m ready.” She arched her back, whether she willed it or not her hips moved in a circular motion, she was holding him so tight that he was unable to move independently of her and at the same time she was willing him to move.

He reached down his body, slid his hands between his waist and her legs. He forced her legs to part, lifting them high he slipped his arms around them, grasped her shoulders and returned to pounding his hard cock into her moist sex. She was so wet that there was now an audible squelching sound.

She did not stop clawing at his bloodied back. His tattered shirt was saturated in his blood. “Simon harder fucking! I need fucking harder. Hurt me! Fuck me so hard that you make me hurt! I want to feel you!” She screamed as her talons raked him once again. “No!” She cried as he pulled his cock out of her.

“Oh no … Oh yes … Oh Simon don’t stop now, harder hurt me.” She felt as if his cock was a hot knife cutting through to her vitals ripping apart, as he drove it into her asshole. He had dreamed about butt-fucking a woman, but up until this moment had never done it.

It was only when she had finished coming that she became aware of his hot sperm sloshing around in her bowel. Once or twice in the past she and Josh had tried butt-fucking, she remembered it only as a painful experience. This time despite the lack of preparation it had been delightful. She tensed her muscles unwilling to let go of his exhausted cock. “Oh honey that was the best, the very, very best. You can fuck me any way you want me any time you want me.”

“Laura its I who should be thanking you, nearly every time we make love you make one of my secret fantasies come true. I’ve woken up with you sucking my cock. I’ve made love to you when you’re dressed in a garter belt and stockings. And now I’ve butt-fucked you. You’re my dream woman.”

“The trouble is we all have to wake up from dreams.” The cloud descended, she gripped his arms, looked him in the eyes. “Promise me Simon you won’t lie to me. When it’s over, when you get bored with me, tell me. Be honest with me.”

“I love you Laura I’m not going to leave you.”

“You do now – but will you next week?”

He held her tight to him, he could not conceive giving her up, she acted so young that he had never given their ages a second thought. In fact all weekend except when she raised the issue he had not thought about there being an age difference.

She clung to him.If I go on like this I will drive him away! “Just hold me. Don’t let me go.” Just after she had said these words, his limp cock slipped from her with a soft but audible plop! It seemed symbolic of the impermanence of their relationship. Feeling suddenly empty she clung to him.

Maybe it was the long day, maybe it was the Champagne they had drunk, or perhaps it was a combination of these two factors, but sleep swept over them so fast that when Laura awakened unable to breathe, aware of a pressing weight, she felt as if she was being crushed. Opening her eyes she saw that Simon was asleep still lying on top of her.

She moved as his eyes flickered, closed, and then opened again. “What time is it?” He spoke through his yawn.

“Morning I think. Simon could you get off me I feel like I’ve been flattened.”

“What?” He was awake now taking in his surroundings. “Oh my god have we been asleep like this all night.” He asked as he rolled off her. “You poor thing why didn’t you wake me?”

“I was asleep too. I wanted you close to me and you were close to me.”

At the track the cars were given a brief check for safety. The drivers an equally cursory talk on the track flags. Laura decided to buy herself a helmet rather than renting one.

Having paid for the track time, and belted into the car she gunned the engine. The car was sitting on a line at the pit-lane exit. The marshal dropped the flag. Laura let the clutch out, she was now used to the little car’s tendency to wheel-spin the tires bit and she was pressed back into the seat as the car shot forward.

Obeying the marshal’s blue flag, she checked her mirrors as she joined the track proper. Keeping the rev counter needle near to the redline she changed up through the gears.

In no time the first bend approached, she began changing down. Another car shot past her. Up through the gears again, then down one gear, another bend, she could feel that the car’s back end was trying to slide. Change up, down three gears for the hairpin. The over-revving motor was screaming a protest. Change up and so on. The second lap she was as cautious as on the first lap, ignoring the cars that overtook her. On the third lap she began to test the car’s limits. The fourth lap she flew. All too soon she was starting the last lap. Foot nailed to the floor she scarcely lifted off. On nearly every bend the little car was sliding. She knew now what a four-wheel slide meant, and she knew how to control one.

Then it was over, she was being flagged into the pit-lane, and her five laps were done. Dropping down to the fifty mile per hour pit-lane speed limit her pace seemed to be sedentary. She pulled up in the paddock beside Simon’s Porsche. “How was it?” He asked as she removed her helmet.

“Half the time I was in a state of abject terror wondering why the heck I’d ever let you talk me into being out there and the other half was sheer unadulterated exhilaration - it was fantastic I was flying – I didn’t want to stop, ever!”

“I told you that you would enjoy it. If you go over to the trailer by the side of Race Control you can get your time sheet.”

Simon was talking to another man when she returned. Laura’s blood ran cold when she overheard the other man say. “Your mother sure knows how to handle her little car.”

Then she heard Simon reply. “That is my woman you’re talking about. Not my mother.” Hearing the confident way that Simon said those words gave her hope that they had a future.

She slipped her arm through Simon’s arm, put her lips near Simon’s ear. “Let’s find somewhere quiet that driving has left me as horny as hell and I’ve an itch that needs immediate attention.”

If you have enjoyed this story please remember to vote. If you have a comment you can e-mail me. Thank you – jon