A Ride in the Back Seat

I listened to the beat of the tires on the seams of the road, tapping rhythmically like bored fingers on a table. The voices of Frank and Billy Boy in the front seat droned on. Names, batting averages, memorable games, draft choices, questionable decisions, an endless stream of mind-numbing facts that meant nothing at all to me. How can a person put so much information, of no practical use, in their head? And why? I usually had to ask one of the soccer moms what my own team's record was. For me, the exciting thing in sports is how the kids I coach are playing the game we're in right now, or how we will play the next one. It was going to be a long night.

The bodies on either side of me lay motionless under the blankets we shared. These two wives had heard this for many years, until all this talk of sports rumbled in the background like the sound of the waves to a person who lives on the beach -- a part of the unnoticed background, neither inspiring nor annoying.

The shape on my right shifted. The audible breathing told me that she was awake. I felt her eyes in the dark. I turned my head toward her and our eyes met. She was hidden below eyelevel by the blanket we shared. The assistant pastor's wife Doris was looking at me, thinking. Her eyes told me that she was smiling.

She always smiled. She was athletic and upbeat. Every time I saw her, always in her crisp cotton blouses, shorts, tanned legs, blond hair in a ponytail, she radiated sunlight, health, and optimism. She was a confident one.

I didn't really know Doris that well. She was always at the practices where her kid was on the soccer team I coached. One time, a few weeks earlier when a surprise shower interrupted practice, she invited me into her Suburban to wait out the rain. Sitting alone with her in the front seat, I couldn't help noticing that her white cotton blouse had become almost transparent from the water. She obviously wore a bra, but there was something stimulating about seeing something I shouldn't see; underwear in broad daylight. My glance rested a little too long, and she caught me.

At this point, most women I have met would be uncomfortable, and would cross their arms to cover themselves, pull on a jacket, or try to distract me with conversation. Doris surprised me by simply smiling, with an accepting expression that seemed to say, "I'm as comfortable with your appreciation as a tree would be comfortable letting a passerby view its fruit." The look was not sexual, at first, but simply accepting. We talked about the kids (who were doubtless driving someone else's mom nuts in another car) – about the kids' social life, funny things they did, their athletic development, and the school.

As we talked, Doris frequently looked out the front window as she spoke, giving me the opportunity to glance down. I felt drawn to those tits. They were perfect. About the size of grapefruits. I began to wonder if she was modeling them for me. Her fingers would run under the buttoned edge of the blouse absent-mindedly, drawing my attention that I fought to focus elsewhere. Something about the way she moved was fluid and sensual, like a fruit tree slowly blowing in the breeze, so that by the action of the movement, you can tell the size and shape of the fruit. You can imagine its heft, what it would feel like in your hand as you brought it onto your lips. What it would taste like.

Chattering musically, she absent-mindedly shifted position in the driver's seat, leaning against the door, drawing her right leg up to lie bent on the seat, its ankle resting under her left knee. Her loose khaki shorts (the same ones she was wearing now, I realized) opened as she talked. I suddenly became terrified that I would look at her crotch. That I would give some sign of my growing arousal. That by a look or a sound in my face I would betray myself. That I would spoil the moment and she would cover up. That she would avoid me from then on, forever. A married woman, not for you, buddy, not even to look?

She gave me a break. She sighed musically, placing her palms on top of her head, and leaned her head back facing the ceiling, stretching lazily like someone completely contented, at home, thrusting her chest toward me. Oh, she was marvelously sexy, and so skilled at this game that I couldn't be quite sure whether she was doing this for my benefit. She held this pose for a long moment, giving me the opportunity to drink in the rising swell of her breasts, stretching the buttons of her blouse as she arched her back, a moment to watch them rise and fall with her breathing. To see the exact size and position of her nipples. To get just a little peek at the pink and yellow floral pattern on her cotton panties through the loose leg of her pants. To see one arm fall casually, the finger resting inside the leg of her shorts and absent-mindedly move up and down the material. Absent-mindedly pulling it back, improving my view. To see her look expectantly back at me, half smiling, catching me watching her languid motion. She continued this teasing up and down movement with the leg of her shorts as if unaware that she was doing it.

A sudden banging on the window behind my back brought a startling conclusion to this wonderful moment. "Hey, coach! My mom wants to know if we're gonna practice or if she should go home or what." As if startled from a dream, at the same moment in the dark back seat, driving down the road at night with Billy Boy and Frank blathering in the front seat, I felt a hand touch mine. Doris's hand.

She smoothed the back of my right hand and then went searching for the other. She found my left hand, the one farther from her and cupped her fingers around it. I sat shocked as she lifted it. Brought it quietly, slowly across my body under the blanket we shared. Brought it directly to her right breast and covered it there, palm over the nipple, watching me all the time with questioning eyes.

Wow! I could feel the blood in my temples. Hear it in my ears, like the sound of an elevated train. I smiled at her. Then grinned and began to slowly massage her breast through the fabric of the blouse. Through the bra. She lowered the blanket enough that I could see her bring a finger to her lips, making the silent sign of "Shh!" She was looking past me at Lisa, seated to my left. I quickly glanced to my left, but Lisa had already turned away. She was looking out the window.

Lisa is tall, very thin and a bit timid. She's attractive in a Shelly Duvall sort of way, but has never said two sentences to me at the same time. I think she and Doris must be good friends.

Doris leaned her head back and closed her eyes as I moved my hand in very gentle circular motions around each of her breasts, palms barely resting on the surface as I rubbed. She arched slightly, trying to get more pressure. At this, I stopped my gentle massage, and worked my way to the buttons. I opened the two buttons closest to her breasts and slid my hand inside to resume my slow circular rubbing. With her eyes closed, Doris smiled as one whose suspicions have been confirmed. She arched her back even further, and I recognized the invitation. With my free right hand, I reached up behind her and with only a little fumbling, I managed to release the clasp.

I stretched and lifted the bra fabric between the two breasts and lifted the bra up out of the way, at the same time sliding my right hand down to cup the edge of her marvelously tight little ass. My left hand molded itself to Doris's wonderfully firm little breast with her hard little nipple between my thumb and forefinger, which I used to stroke and pull the nipple gently like a tiny little penis. With this, Doris's eyes widened and she took a sudden gasping breath, which she stifled by biting the blanket and pushing it over her wide-eyed face.

"So how you doing back there?" Frank was Doris's husband, sitting in the passenger seat directly in front of her. He had turned around to face me. I knew that it must be very dark, and that Frank couldn't see a thing. But I felt as if we had been caught in broad daylight. That he could see beneath the blanket. That if I spoke, my voice would betray me. That he would rip me from the car, beat me by the side of the road and leave me for dead. All I could do was look back, unable to speak.

Lisa saved the day, I mean, the night. "Hush, Frank. We're trying to sleep." she said, in a sleepy voice.

Frank was obedient. "Oh. OK." and turned around. In about three seconds, he launched into another conversation about sports with Billy Boy, this one about football. Football was a lot bigger than baseball in this part of the country, so I knew that this conversation would last hours. As long as we were quiet, that is.

I continued to massage Doris's breasts, first one and then the other. I spread my fingers and ran them slowly like a washboard back and forth over the nipples, back and forth, back and forth. First one breast and then the other. Occasionally I would begin my milking motion again, each time squeezing a little harder and taking more of the nipple, until I was squeezing the entire aureole and nipple together, and pinching the nipple tighter and tighter, physically pulling the breast away from her body. Occasionally I would leave her breast entirely, and rub her athletic tummy, her arms, her sides, because I love to tease. Doris was clearly very turned on, but could not make a sound. If the men stopped their conversation, I'm sure they would hear her breathing, even as muffled as it was in the blanket.

Doris took a chance with this. Holding her breath, she dropped the blanket, quickly made the motions of unzipping her pants and pulling pants and panties down. Slouching way down into the seat, she spread her legs and again wadded the blanket into her face.

It was going to be a long ride. I didn't see any reason (for me!) to be in a rush, so, instead of jumping like a rabbit into a hole, so to speak, I took my time. I ran my hand over Doris's belly again, down over the inner curve of her hips and down her quads to her knees, then back up again. I repeated this, first with one leg and then with the other. I ran back up to her breasts and back down to her knees, making only incidental light contact with her pubic hair. I could tell it was groomed. "I wonder how many people at church know that the assistant pastor's wife grooms herself there?" I thought.

Gradually, I worked my way to her inner thighs. She opened like a flower, pulling her legs wider and wider apart as I moved closer and closer to her moistness.

It was getting uncomfortable leaning over doing all of this with my left hand in this twisted position, especially since she had scooted down, so I decided to change hands. Squaring myself in the seat, I reached my large right hand down where the left had been. Immediately, I felt my left hand grabbed and thrust down the waiting pants of Lisa. She was very hot and moist and primed, from her own self-ministrations I guessed. Hmm. So she likes to watch.

Both women were in a similar state of arousal, so after a couple of passes over their slick lips, my finger sort of naturally slid into both waiting holes. Lisa's legs alternated opening wide and closing around my hand, trying at the same time to hold my hand and to grant it further access, to squeeze me up into her and to blatantly bare her hungry pussy to the world, but for the blanket. I heard Lisa's head strike the side of the car in her ecstasy. The three of us froze for a moment, but the drone of the two men in the front seat continued.

I resumed my in and out motion while rubbing my thumb gently back and forth over their stiff little clitorises. Lisa rocked her hips sensually in time to my slow pace, as long as she could keep up. But I began to pick up the pace of the in and out, in and out, until I was pumping my hand like a little piston. My wrists began to ache. Lisa's mouth stretched open in a silent scream while Doris's screwed her face tightly like someone in agony. The wives both came together. Doris lifted herself completely from the seat, suspended by her heels and the back of her neck, as if she couldn't push her pussy hard enough against my hand. She stayed that way for what seemed to be minutes, coming time after time. Lisa dug her forehead forcefully into my shoulder, stiffened and clamped her legs down onto my hand. Both ladies stuffed their faces into the blankets.

We all took a breather. I hadn't been physically satisfied, but I sat there with a glow, thinking what a good boy I'd been. I had been the object of lust of two beautiful women, so much so that they had been willing to risk getting caught with me. Or maybe the thought of getting caught is what had turned them on in the first place. And Lisa definitely liked to watch. Inside that quiet exterior was a very dirty little girl, who might be a dynamo for whoever found the right way to unleash it. That wouldn't be Billy Boy. He definitely appeared to be the "stick it in and go" type.

After a couple of minutes for afterglow and reflection there began some slow rustling and rearranging on either side of me, followed by the feeling of hands rubbing up and down my legs, over the bulge in my shorts, unbuckling my belt, slowly, quietly unzipping, sneaking up the leg of my shorts to feel my balls. There were definitely more than two hands. I leaned back letting this all take place, only moving enough to lift my bottom and remove my shorts and undershorts.

It was glorious. I closed my eyes as hands smoothed over my legs, my penis and my balls, my chest and belly. Hands traded off gently stroking my penis from the base to the tip. One pair of hands – I think it was Lisa's – was quite a bit firmer than the other. At the same time, other hands explored my nipples, my ass, my arms, and any other place they could get to, all in utter silence.

One thing that was wonderful and terrible about this kind of ministration was that it was endlessly variable. Smooth and rough, fast and slow, long and short. The feelings were all wonderful, but the lack of a consistent pace made it impossible for me to get over the edge. After this gentle rubbing had gone on for about as long as I could stand, Lisa's head disappeared under the blanket. Now it was my turn to open my mouth wide in a silent scream as Lisa engulfed my member and rubbed her tongue up and down the nearer side while pulling up and down with her hand (I think it was Lisa's) at the base of my penis. She took about 10 good pulls like this, and then came up for air. As if on a signal, Doris's head disappeared, and went down on me.

The girls traded mouths and hands for a time that I could not reckon. It was like a delirium. I was like Sisyphus endlessly pushing the rock up the hill. I would get almost to the top, and then slide back down. Then the girls would switch. I'd start up again, and when I'd get almost to the top, the girls would switch, and I'd slide back down again. But I was making progress. Each time I would get a little bit closer. I breathed heavily into the blanket.

What finally pushed me over the edge was discovering that when each girl bent over, I could get a hold of their ass. I started squeezing their tight little buns as they went down on me, and running my hand between their legs. They were obviously getting hot and moist again. Finally, as Doris came down, with one hand I plunged my thumb into her dripping vagina and with the other I grabbed her hair tightly in my fist and held her there. My back spasmed, my nuts clenched, and liquid fire shot from my dick into her mouth, her mouth gulping silently. I held her tightly, and held her, and held her yet longer, as enormous sticky ropes of cum pumped repeatedly from my big hairy dick into the throat of the preacher's wife, within three feet of her oblivious husband.

I must have shot a bucketload, and I can only plead momentary insanity for the way I had forced Doris to swallow. I soon realized that she was not a swallower. She held the blanket to her face and by the movement of her shoulders, I could see that she was retching. When she stilled, I could feel her disgusted look. I gave her my best "I'm sorry, don't know what got into me." look in reply, but I'm sure she couldn't see it. I patted her shoulder gently, and then quietly pulled up my pants. Shockingly, Doris broke the silence.

"Is there anything to drink up there?"

Frank rummaged around a bit, and replied "No."

Billy Boy added, "We ought to get some gas anyway. I'll stop at the truck stop up ahead."

I thought to myself, "I sure hope I'm decent!" and patted around to ensure that I was properly dressed.

Driving into the truck stop was like stepping from a closet into the sunshine. Billy Bob hopped out to pump gas, and Doris jumped out the other side and ran for the shop. Frank looked at us in the back seat. "You look cozy. Y'all sleepin'?" I nodded, yawning open-mouthed. "I'm going inside to have me a piece of pie. Want something? Beef jerky?"

I shook my head. On my left, Lisa said, "I'll stay here too. Maybe I can get some good rest without all that football talk."

In a few moments the gas nozzle clunked. Billy Boy topped it off with a couple of squirts, opened his door and looked in. "You two gonna stay here? OK. Frank said something about getting a bite to eat. We might be a while, so if you decide to wake up, you come on in and join us, hear?" Then he left.

As soon as he was out of earshot, quiet, timid Lisa turned to me. "That was fuckin' incredible. Whoaa. I just kept cummin' and cummin'. I thought I was gonna bust somethin'. I need you to fuck me. Man, I bet you're so good with that big ol' dick of yours. Pull it out where I can see it. Un-fucking-believable."

She obviously wasn't going to wait for me to pull anything out. She pulled the blanket down, unzipped me in a flash, and pulled that sucker out like a big fish on the beach. "Aww. It's so cute like that." she said. "Wake up, baby." she cooed and it began to take form again as she milked it. "That's it baby. Come to Mama. All mage you fee goob." This last was spoken as her mouth covered my soldier, now standing at attention.

"I should have given Doris some warning." I said. Lisa lifted her head and cackled loudly, continuing to make mighty strokes with her hand. "It won't do her no harm. Her 'n' Frank don't do nothin' fancy like that, that's all. Slam, bam, thank you ma'am. Same as it is for Billy Boy an' me. Wanna see my tits?"

I blinked, and all I could think of to say was, "Uh, well, yeah."

She grasped the bottom of her shirt, rucked it up to the bottom of her bra, and then pulled the shirt and bra up together under her chin like a coed at Mardi Gras, showing the prettiest little set of champagne glass tits and engorged nipples you could imagine. She held that position as I stared. "They won't bite." she cajoled, and pulled my face toward them. "But you can, if you want."

I slurped one of the little rascals in, and began sucking like a baby, a bit noisily. Lisa grabbed the back of my head and mashed me into her. She didn't seem to be the type to want to take it slow, at least not in this mood. She began to breath deeply as my hand slipped up her leg to her crotch.

"You know this was bound to happen." she groaned. "You all runnin' around out there in those little shorts with that cute little ass of yours and all those muscles in front of all these frustrated soccer moms with their big fat lazy husbands. Here. Let's do this. I don't know how much time we have." And with that she sort of half stood, bent forward with her butt in my face, hiked up the large loose leg of her shorts, and slowly crouched, stuffing my member up the leg of her pants into her willing cunt. With one hand I reached around to pleasure her little nub, or at least where her nub ought to be, since her pants were in the way, and with the other I reached to fondle her tits.