Drillin'

Not seeing any laughter hidden on her face, he continued.

"But everybody calls me Red."

Hmmm. Real surprise, P.J. thought.

"Well, I can see why," she returned. "But what does your mom call you?"

He looked away, then back.

"My mom, well, she's dead." And he paused, looking away again.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, a sudden wave of regret hitting her. "I didn't mean to remind you of something sad. I just wondered if she called you Red, too."

Eyes back on hers, he smiled a little.

"No ma'am. She called me Caleb. That was her momma's daddy's name. She loved him a lot. Me, too. He died when I was 'bout twelve." Another pause while he glanced away and back. "Ma died a coupla years after that."

P.J. waited a few seconds before responding. Red looked as if he needed a bit of recovery time. Finally, she continued.

"Well, with your permission, I'd like to call you Caleb. I like that name very much."

"Why, yes ma'am. That'd be fine."

"Caleb, if you keep callin' me ma'am, you're going to ruin my rather, uh, heated mood," and she delivered this with a huge smile.

He smiled back.

"No, ma'am." His eyes got big when he realized he'd done it again. "I mean, yes, P.J."

She grinned.

"Much better."

She'd wondered about the car and asked him now.

"Did you buy this car? Or did you inherit it from someone?"

"Oh, it was my uncle's. He bought it new back in high school. Cool, huh?"

"Yes, it is. I have to admit, Caleb, I've been in the backseat of one of these a time or two," and she winked at him.

In response, Caleb leaned forward, reached his arm around her waist, and pulled her body towards him, her face near his. Giddily, P.J. grabbed him back, caught up in the swirl of emotions created by the memories of those Roadrunner days.

Caleb didn't hesitate in making a move. During one of those inner-thigh-wettening kisses, his hand went almost immediately to P.J.'s breast. She was glad the slightly-scooped neckline was not too tight fitting. In a moment, he easily plunged his hand down the neckline and into the bra.

Ahhh, Caleb thought to himself. Hard nipples. Soft flesh.

As Caleb's hand explored her breasts, her hand finally rested between his inner thighs, and she was a bit surprised.

Little Red did not possess a Hemi. No, sir, it was even better. Little Red was packin' under the hood of his Wranglers a full-fledged super duty power stroke diesel! Oh, my. P.J. never expected such a powerful shaft although she'd been admiring the drive train for two days now.

Lordy, she mused, and I thought the ass was good!

In a flurry of hot lips and hand signals, she made Caleb know that it was time for the clothing to start disappearing. Navigating the Wranglers was not easy. They had to come off all the way. But, after switching positions several times, the jeans finally rested somewhere in the front seat. Anxiously, P.J. pulled the crisp shirt up in order to inspect the powerful torso and was rewarded with a delightful sight. She lightly ran her fingertips up Caleb's abdomen, looking him in the eyes. His brawny arms, easily able to crush her, went around her lightly and pulled her close. He held her briefly, then leaned back. There he was, she smiled at herself, looking down at his underwear, snug and white, ready for the taking.

Caleb had helped her all he could in getting off his jeans, but his mind was occupied on getting her clothes off. Was this, he wondered happily to himself, really about to happen? His hands went to the hem of the t-shirt, no resistance. Then he began to slide the t-shirt in an upward motion. Still no resistance. Seeing his way clear, Caleb simply finished his task in one easy movement, P.J. assisting by lifting her arms as high in the air as the roof of the car allowed.

Caleb stared at her in the moonlight. The natural light was augmented by the rather unearthly glow from the high parking lot lighting standard as well. There they were, he grinned. The boobs. Nestled in a pink bra. A pink lacy bra.

Caleb buried his face in her chest. God, she smelled good. Soooo good. And she was soft, too.

He wondered about the skirt. It was short, sorta stretchy. Maybe he could just pull it up around her waist. He sat up and tugged at the skirt, raising it to the desired position, a shift of P.J.'s weight assisting in the task. Pink lace panties, too. Nothing much to 'em, he smiled to himself. Wouldn't take more than a little finger to push them out of the way.

He wrestled her around and flattened her on her back, his body pressing down on hers. She was dizzy with the jeans-removing effort and welcomed his direction. He began the kissing assault again. It was nice, very, but she was ready to test the power stroke. She maneuvered his hand between her thighs and the fingers of both her hands finally found their way down his back and to his butt.

It was like trying to grasp two well-inflated basketballs--couldn't get much of a grip. Finally, she gave up and simply rubbed them, a movement he apparently enjoyed.

His hands were not idle. The hand she'd placed between her thighs was doing a fine job of bringing her near the edge, his fingers edged under the thin film of pink material. Although close to it, she didn't allow herself to get off, but squirmed to avoid going over the edge right now. She wanted to let it build--build to something volatile.

As the momentum grew, their kisses felt hotter, their hands and fingers dug into flesh more keenly, and their breathing signaled a new direction. Somewhere inside the swirling sensations--Caleb's smell, his taste, his breathing, his hard body--P.J. wondered about the position in which they'd end up. The evil sprite was driving her to the last round of this dance. The backseat area was roomy enough, but the seat itself was not that deep. At least one set of limbs would be hampered on both of them. Before she could contemplate it much more, Caleb sat up on his knees and pulled her up with him.

She seized this moment to tug down his underwear and took an audible breath at the sight before her eyes. Oh, the sprite went absolutely wild. She helped Caleb quickly get the briefs all the way off and tossed them over the back of the passenger seat.

He guided her to the space between the bucket seats, facing her towards the windshield. There, her knees on the floorboard, she leaned over the console, but apparently this position did not allow Caleb enough room to settle in behind her. He leaned over her now to push down the driver's seatback and shifted her body, left knee included, into an angle which aimed her upper body over the now prone seatback. P.J. liked this better. The seatback was not as uncomfortable as the hard, jutting console.

This angle must've given Caleb sufficient room because soon P.J. felt his fingers in her, testing the water, so to speak. And she thought of his boss, Jimmie Ray, as he had tested the core samples from the pipe from time to time, attempting to divine when the desired gush would come.

P.J. gasped when Little Red thrust his drillin' rig into her private land. He wasn't frantic, but he imparted to her a feeling of urgency. She felt like the expiring canary in the mine shaft as Red steadily pumped the air out of her with his measured strokes.

And Caleb, for his part, didn't mind obliging the lady. In fact, Caleb liked older women, liked this one a lot. They knew when to hurry and when to take their time. When to lead and when to follow. And this one was in a perfect position right now with a perfect round ass and a perfect tight slit to delight his senses. And she knew it was time for her to relax and let him direct because right now he was driving to a place that was soon to be reached. He'd been fantasizing about her for a couple of days now, and this first trip to the promised-land would be short. No matter. He had other things to do in between.

Caleb gasped when P.J. reached her hand down and wormed it between his legs and gently cupped his balls. God, he loved that feeling, that extra sensation while he pumped away. Lightly, she massaged him as he worked himself to the pay-off. It wasn't long before he sped up his strokes and delved farther into her depths, soon finding the release he'd driven for.

Offhandedly, P.J. wondered if anyone had sauntered by the car, noticed the motion, and peered in. Ah, no matter. They wouldn't be enjoying it anymore than she.

Caleb's movements ground slowly to a halt as he emptied all he had into P.J. But he didn't waste time and soon pulled out and pulled her up by the waist. He maneuvered himself around at the same time he lifted her up and then placed her, back down, on the backseat. The pink panties had been pulled to the side as he'd drilled into her, and they were soaked as Caleb reached for them now. He slid them down her legs and over her feet, tossing them to the front somewhere near where his jeans lay.

Within seconds his head buried between her thighs and his nose traveled up and down the length of her slit. P.J. was so near the edge that she grabbed the sides of Caleb's head and attempted to speed his rhythm so she could get off. Caleb didn't respond. He'd take his time. P.J. was torn between cursing him and thanking him. And the sprite screamed for the dance to end.

Caleb switched from nose to tongue. She smelled and tasted like vanilla and woman. It wasn't more one than the other, but a heady blend of each. He lapped and lapped, switching between short, quick movements like a starving kitten's and long, slow movements like one uses to savor an ice cream cone as long as possible. P.J. had her wish. The wait was to prove worth it as she slowly shuddered her way to a blinding orgasm, Caleb holding her inner thighs down with the insides of his forearms, feeling her buck and squirm as the sprite shook its head and laughed.

More, P.J. thought. She wanted to feel him in her again. She unlocked her hands from behind Caleb's neck, pulled him towards her, and sought his drilling rig. And there it was. Fit and ready to drill again. Young men, god love 'em, she smiled.

As P.J. leaned forward to get a better grip on Caleb's cock, he sought her nipples again. She thrilled as he took one in mouth and the other in hand, sending all kinds of electric impulses to her still hot center.

As her mouth went to the top of his head to kiss that golden red hair, Caleb suddenly released her nipples and rose up to settle himself in the corner of the backseat. He was not in a seated position as much as a half-lying one. The edge of the stiff white shirt was bunched up around his waist and the hard on threatened to poke a hole in the Roadrunner's roof. It was an invitation, an invitation to ride, and it was one that P.J. and her sprite gladly accepted. She grinned wickedly at Caleb as he smiled from the corner of the car.

One foot planted firmly on the floorboard and the other planted on the backseat on Caleb's left side, P.J. aligned her body directly over the cock Caleb held for her. She smiled at him and he smiled back as she slowly lowered herself. Oh, let him last a while, she thought. And, he did.

Caleb enjoyed watching her. She closed her eyes from time to time, threw her head back, and made low moaning noises. Then, she'd raise her head, open her eyes, and smile at him a wicked smile. His hands roamed back and forth from her breasts, to her waist, to her buttocks. So much to hold on to. She rocked on him sometimes slowly, sometimes not. He appreciated her change of rhythm, aware that it had staved off his orgasm more than once.

P.J. tightened her muscles around Caleb's cock. She had found a position that rubbed her clit in an oh-so-exquisite way and she and her sprite had waltzed around that position long enough that she was about to explode again. She also heard herself begin the moaning crescendo that generally accompanied this wondrous explosion.

As her breathing deepened and both his and her moans came more closely together, Caleb's eyes got larger and he gripped her butt firmly, kneading his fingers into the dough of her flesh. She rode him harder now, pushing herself to oblivion.

It didn't always happen, the simultaneous orgasm, but the Roadrunner was good luck. As if on cue, Caleb and P.J. both began their delightful deliverance. The Roadrunner rocked and, if there were passersby, they must've thought an earthquake had hit East Texas. They locked, and they rocked. And they made noise to wake the dead.

Slumped down on Caleb, P.J. nestled her cheek into his chest. Caleb placed his chin on top of her head, smiled to himself, then took a deep breath and sighed, contentedly. She raised up briefly and smiled, placing a kiss on the tip of his bronzed nose. And then it hit her. Jimmie Ray's words. How accurate they'd been. "Yes'm," he'd said. "That's where you want it, that's where we drill it." And so Caleb had. Drilled her where the drillin' was good. She let out a short giggle after realizing the premonition had come true. And her head went back to burrow into the chest. Ain't life grand, she thought. And the moonlight shone on the roof of the Roadrunner and all was quiet within.