Adventures For Cunts

But... I digress? Again?

Oh the dinner. It went great. Yeah. I asked for the check. Placed the appropriate stack of cash on the table, got up, offered her my hand, she got up and took it. We left.

"My car is around the corner. Well, it was anyway. Thieves are a possibility. I mean... assuming they'd survive the defense system's electrical shocks?"

She laughed.

It was... not a joke. Not completely.

Anyway all the dashboard lights appeared "green" still. I gestured off to my car. I headed towards it and she fell in beside me. I did not take her hand, however. Instead -- and as called for by long glorious Tradition -- I casually slipped my hand down around behind her, sliding my fingertips along her butt beneath her dress. And... gave it a squeeze.

A firm grip, really.

"I need you to fuck me. You know that, right?" she informed me. As if there were some paradox of mutual exclusion implied between "grabbing ass" in public and fucking her later on -- possibly also in public.

It was the first time my date had spoken during the walk to my car. Her boldness *shocked* me. I was a Boy Scout afterall! (Well, once. They aged me out, eventually -- the fuckers.) However she had warned me upfront: she herself was a Very Bad Girl and certainly In Need.

"Oh I know," I confirmed.

And laughed. Before continuing:

"However... for the rest of the night I'm giving you a rule. The rule is: *no* more talking. Because a beautiful woman's silence is, in my opinion, the best recipe for maximum possible fucking, in general."

I also made clear that, in my own personal belief, if the ideal man did the fucking right the woman would have no *need* to do any more talking.

"The night has been great and you can imagine I've enjoyed your company. Have no illusions about that. But if I hear one more word out of you tonight I will take a cane to your bare ass. And I will enjoy it."

A beat in time that itself seemed frozen with potential. I had taken a big risk by tellng her this. But it was a gamble I expected to win.

I stopped her with a grip on her arm. Forced her to face me. I grabbed her chin in order to lift her head to face me, and meet my eyes.

I studied her face.

I saw what I needed.

And... she nodded.

"Good," I said, for the both of us.

We resumed our walk.

The beast started in an instant and my hot date in the passenger seat could surely feel the thrumming purr of that powerful engine, every little vibration surely reaching all the way to her clit -- I hoped anyway.

As I pulled the car out of the lot and entered traffic I also set my right hand over between her thighs. I didn't ask. I simply rested my hand down there, in that place of romantic intimacy as if I had knew her for years. My hand down between her legs. Like an Owner would.

Quickly I remembered feeling something... interesting. A warmth. No -- a heat. It wasn't from my Maserati. It was coming instead from this woman's cunt.

In Like Flynn?

I rolled the dice, again, the same dice so popular with bold men the world over.

Without taking my eyes off the road I spoke in a deep bedroom tone and with total authority, as if compliance was beyond obvious:

"Lift up your dress. Bring it up above your hips. To your bellybutton. If for any reason we're stopped by police later let's just say I want to leave nothing left to the officer's imagination. *Nothing* left over. That poor poor man."

There was a second where I began to wonder if I had finally overplayed my hand.

Then in a quick motion -- as if she herself was quite practiced at it? -- my date reached down to the bottom hem of her dress and pulled it up, as best she could. It was not easy, not at first, but she took the initiative to lift her ass and hips off the seat and that helped her bring the dress up the rest of the way. Then she sat back down.

I glanced over and down... *No* panties. *Hairless.* I would have to remember to praise her for all that later.

Instead I just slid my hand further back up against her vulva. I felt a dollop of wetness on the back of my hand. From her slit.

What a slut!

"Oh by the way..." I began.

And then turned to her briefly. Making sure to get her attention:

"I drive fast."

Then turned back to face the road. Floored it. The beast jumped.

Our date by then was only half over and we hadn't even gotten to The Main Event yet.

And yet despite that I do believe that by then a certain American beauty was now well... on her way. Somewhere. On a journey, perhaps, one headed towards a much more wild world and to the very specific place I alone wished to take her.

That is, if I didn't burn her all up first.

"Also... my speedometer? Its broke."

I may or may not have begun to rub my date's exposed cunt, at that point.

And my date may or may not have begun to push her own hairless cunny firmly back right into my hand -- lifting her hips again, and rolling them around in little circles -- as if the little bitch seemed to try to masturbate herself, on my own hand. On my hand! And without seeking *my* consent first. I was shocked -- shocked I tell you! And the Maserati seat being so expensive and such.

"Normally it would take 15 minutes to get to our next stop of the night, but I'm afraid that with my complete lack of fear of the highway patrol that I risk getting us there much faster."

I gave her a glance.

"Therefore... I'll take a *longer* route. One where I expect construction."

She moaned.

"Keep working those hips," I added.

She moaned and indeed kept rolling her vulva around against my hand as best she could -- hell I had no need to even lift a finger!

"Don't you dare stop," I told her. "No matter who sees us or even gets too close. If you stop I'll have you whipped."

I focused on the dark road ahead as the big mechanical beast consumed it like a panther on a prowl.

"Try not to cum though. If I think you've reached orgasm I'll also have you whipped. By my butler."

A beat. Then she moaned loudly and worked her shameless hips even more feverishly.

Insane! Did she want to get whipped?!

"I don't even have a butler."

The slut continued selfishly servicing her own needy little heat all the rest of the way to our next stop. Even when we had to wait at red lights!

Did we ever get pulled over by cops? Did I ever get invited inside her Holy Temple before tucking her in safely at night's end? (despite a badly beaten butt and a belly full of immense amounts of sperm?) Did our fair heroine end up as a naked pleasure slave kept in a small golden cage?

That will have to wait for part 2 of my tale...

.....

AUTHOR'S NOTE: SHOULD THERE BE A PART 2? PART 3? ETC? Y'ALL BEST NEED TO CONVINCE ME, IDEALLY WITH MOTION OF HIPS?