Bad Timing: Her Response

Tim is still suckling and licking at my breasts because he doesn't have a lot of variety in his repertoire of foreplay, but I've nearly blocked him out completely. The hand inside my jeans is not mine, but the coarse warm fingers that will hold onto a stubby cigarette for hours just so their owner can be near me. You've found me wet already and you're chuckling. You tease me between kisses, you ask if my pussy can wait any longer. I love how you say these things to me, how you set me on fire with only these words. And when you lick your fingers off, I love the look in your eye. The look that says you will do anything and everything to me.

We've maneuvered around so that your pants are undone and pulled apart, while I have exposed my bottom by climbing back into my seat. I've tugged my jeans down to my knees, tugged down my panties, and turned away from you. I can hear you grumble with need as I genuflect, as you stare at my sex. I'm going to stay on my knees, bracing against the door, while you turn to me and penetrate. You go just so perfectly slow, pushing into me with exquisite patience, letting me adjust to your girth. You whisper an oath under your breath, you say how good this feels by pausing to savor the moment, running your hands over me.

I whimper an urgent plea to fuck me, feeling everything in my body come alive as you start to pitch forward and back. Your hands go to my hips, holding me possessively. You set this steady pace like an easy gallop, until I demand that I want it harder, because I know how crazy this will make you. I feel you arch your back and put your weight into it. I feel the head of your cock plunging deeper, I feel your body slapping against me. You even bend down to kiss my neck, keeping your balance by tugging my hair back, pulling my head up. I like this even more. I like it so goddamn much that I forget its Tim's lap that I'm still riding, trying to get his wobbly cock to fuck me, even though it's like trying to stuff a leaking water balloon into a pop bottle.

I know my fantasy can only last so long, but I just need it to get me to climax. Now we have switched around and I'm facing you once again. I'm settled onto your lap, riding your smooth and decidedly hard cock, swaying with our movements. I'm completely naked now, and so are you, because we've decided if we're going to get caught fucking in a car off the interstate we might as well go all in.

Your lips travel up and down my neck, they go over my ears and under my chin, they kiss and lick, sometimes they nibble. Your hands are a balancing act, one hand on my ass and the other one somewhere else. I just want to inhale you, burying my nose into your smoky hair, moaning with each thrust. You're getting me closer and closer, you're chuckling at my sounds, goading me on.

Tim's languid moans are warning me he thinks he's going to come, but I know he's not. I push him back in his seat, practically biting his lip so he'll shut the fuck up while I finish you. Your finger is playing over my clit, swirling and rubbing, taking the tensing squeezing up higher and higher. I tell you I'm going to come because I don't want you to stop, I need you to take me all the way there. Just when it's needed most, you take my tit back in your mouth and suck. Your lips suck at my rigid nipple like they are trying to get the last ounce of a milkshake out of straw, throwing me into an absolute frenzy. I come in surging waves of pleasure, the pulses ripping through my cunt. I cry out with such depravity, I swear at you and I call you names. You laugh joyfully at my verbal abuse, and make me kiss you.

I want you to come too, but you say let's wait till we get home, a little wink to say that you'll get your turn then, and of course you do. We go straight to the shower when we get home, cleaning off the sticky evidence of our automotive love-making while enjoying each other. Each of us gets a turn to orally please the other, kneeling before the recipient of our skills. I take you last, letting your cock be as hard as it possibly can before you cum all over my tits. And then you wash me off, sweetly and tenderly getting me clean, whispering endearments. When the water is cooling down, you take me out and towel me off. You rub me brusquely all over, you make sure that I don't get cold while I'm wrapped in your embrace.

Finally, we climb into bed. We lay there in the dark and we make delirious little quips about our lust-filled evening. We accuse one another of being naughty, as if the other one is more to blame. And just as our brains dwindle into sleep, you tell me that you love me. And I say I love you too.

This is where my fantasy ends, and reality comes crashing down just as the sun comes up. Overnight you have evaporated, and my bed is empty. Tim is already gone, and I'm alone. I try to imagine you there with me, still lying beside me, cradled in your arms, but I can't. In the light of day my dream slips away from me, it goes back to the place I've reserved in my mind for only such moments of weak and desperate need.

I still have your t-shirt. It's faded now, the cartoon print cracking in places. I can't wear it, but I keep it safe, tucked away in a drawer. Just a reminder I need, every now and then, to pull it open and run my hands across the soft fabric. To think of your body beneath it, and to remember how it was once mine.

- L.