Driving Back Home

(In the same style as my earlier story, "Will she or won't she?" This one comes to a more powerful conclusion, following some of your comments, although I believe the earlier story should remain as it is.)

Early September evening in Montreal. We are returning from a pleasant dinner in one of the trendy new restaurants that always seem to pop up, last for a few years, and disappear along St-Laurent boulevard. The food has been good, the surroundings and ambiance suitably glamorous, a bottle of overpriced super Tuscan wine has been consumed.

Now we are driving back in my little two-seater sports car, the convertible top down to enjoy the still warm weather. We are going north on St-Laurent, two lanes of traffic going one way between the other two lanes of parked cars, both sides of the streets lit up by more restaurants, bars, clubs and fashionable boutiques. Between the cars double parked or waiting for someone to vacate a parking spot, and the people watching, the traffic is slow, sometimes stopped and then just creeping forward at walking pace.

Nobody seems frustrated by the leisurely pace of the traffic; watching the people on the sidewalks and on the terraces as we drive slowly by is part of the reason for taking that particular street to begin with. I certainly am not in a hurry, admiring the glow of the sodium yellow light from the streetlamps reflecting on the smooth bare legs of my girlfriend sitting in the passenger seat. They look freshly shaved, smooth from the hem of her mid-thigh length skirt in a nice reddish brown color, down to the pretty strappy sandals in white leather studded with little sparkling crystals, toenails painted in a beautiful mother-of-pearl polish. Her legs still tanned from the summer sun, matching the tone of the leather of the seat. Savannah Beige, for those who care.

The pace of traffic is slow enough that I don't need to use the gear shift lever, just gently easing out the clutch with the engine at idle in first gear to keep up with the stop and go. So instead I rest my hand on her left thigh, and gently stroke the inside of it with my fingers. So soft yet firm. We haven't been talking much since getting in the car, we've had had a few hours of pleasant conversation. Now we are both enjoying the quiet drive while watching the bustle all around, on the sidewalks.

Her left hand comes up to rest on my shoulder behind the headrest, her fingernails gently tracing the back of my neck. She often does this while I drive, but now I notice that the rhythm of her finger's caresses on my neck seem to match my own slow strokes on the inside of her thigh.

My hand squeezing a little more as it creeps up closer to the edge of her skirt. Her fingernails digging deeper in the back of my neck in response. If we had been cats we would both be purring.

Now my hand is slowly creeping under the hem of her skirt as I stroke her thigh. My pinky gently grazing the satin material of her panties. Her own hand squeezing my shoulder and neck in response. Her eyes now closed, a gentle smile on her lips.

The sides of this car being fairly high relative to the low seating position, and with the windows up even though the top is down, you would have to peer over the door to see well inside the car. Or from a second or third floor window. Or be standing between the parked cars on the right side, waiting for a gap in the slow traffic to cross the street.

My fingers are now against her crotch, and my pinky under the edge of her panties, slowly caressing her pussy lips through her pubic hair. The massage on my neck is also more intense now, sometimes pausing when I touch a particularly sensitive spot in her pussy. Her eyes remain closed, her mouth slightly open as she enjoys these caresses, both private and public at the same time.

"Take your panties off." I say, not looking at her but at the cars ahead of us. Normal tone of voice, not an order, not a question. Sounding as if I am taking for granted that she will comply.

Her own eyes opening, also not looking at me but directly ahead. Not wanting to look at the people walking down the sidewalks, ten feet away. Her open mouth turning into a soft smile.

Less than two seconds hesitation, her left hand leaving my neck and going down to her hip, as my own hand lifts from her thigh to rest on the gearshift. Her right hand leaving the armrest to do the same on the other side. Pushing down with her feet and arching her back against the seat as she pulls her skirt up, hooking her thumbs in the sides of her panties and swiftly pulling them down over her knees. Just a brief flash of white satin in the reflected light of the street lamps, disappearing in the shadows. Smoothing her skirt back over her hips as she sits back down.

Bending her body forward, her left hand reaching down to help the panties over her ankle and sandal. Then the right hand doing the same on the other foot. Panties left on the floor in the dark footwell. Leaning back into her seat, her left hand returning to my shoulder and neck to resume the gentle massage. Her legs initially tight together, then the tense muscles of her thighs relaxing as my hand reclaims its former position. Legs parting slightly as I resume my gentle stroking. Traffic continuing its slow crawl.

My rightmost fingers are now back against her pussy, the pinky gently prying the wet lips apart. The side of my hand bunching her skirt up on her left leg, while the right one remains partly covered, for now. The traffic temporarily stopped. I glance between her legs, the lower part of her pubic hair is in view, the brown color a nice match with the material of her skirt, the leather of the seat, and the tone of her skin, everything bathed in the soft orange light. Pinky and ring finger now in her slit, a low moan from her mouth barely audible above the idling engine behind our backs. Not yet daring to push my fingers deeper into her, which would be difficult given our seated positions.

Traffic starting to open up ahead as we reach a stretch of the boulevard that is more residential. Cars further apart, Less people on the side walks. I momentarily take my hand from her pussy to shift in second gear, then bring it back to plunge my index, middle and ring fingers in her opening while flicking my pinky over her clit. Her moans are stronger, with little whimpering cries of pleasure. Her legs now spread apart, the skirt pushed up over her waist, she keeps her eyes closed to avoid catching the sight of someone who might witness her lewd display.

Turning left onto Fairmount avenue towards home, more of a residential area now, with less light. I need both of my hands on the steering wheel and shift lever for a moment, she slides her body forward in the seat and is now pleasuring herself with her own right hand, squeezing my cock through my jeans with her left. We are now crossing a short stretch of neighborhood that is mostly inhabited by orthodox jews, the streets are quiet and deserted on this Saturday night. They have their ways of worshipping their god, I have my ways of worshipping my goddess, though I believe they might not approve.

We are now into our own neighborhood, she comes from her own fingers with a loud cry I as I turn into our street. She already has her seat belt off and is leaning into my lap as I pull into our driveway, opening the garage door with the remote. She is hurriedly undoing my belt and the buttons from my jeans as I enter the garage and kill the engine. Her mouth engulfing my cock even before the garage door has started to close. She is furiously sucking and jerking me off at the same time, as I reach over her to finger her pussy and ass from the back over her flipped-up skirt. It's been only a minute or so but I'm almost ready to blow from the excitement. Sensing this, she continues to jerk me off but lifts her body back up from my lap, tearing her shirt open with her left hand, pulling her bra down to display her magnificent tits. She expects me to come on them, as I usually do. She had told me early in our relationship that she never liked the taste of semen.

Pushing my luck, since the evening turned out so well I say, in the same tone of voice as earlier:

"Keep sucking my cock. I will come into your mouth. You will keep it all inside, then kiss me."

A look of worriment in her eyes for a brief moment, as she continues to stroke. Then she plunges back down to take my cock into her mouth again, sucking hard and fast. Beautiful noises of suction, heavy breathing and grunts over the ticking sound of the engine and exhaust cooling off.

I explode into her mouth in a powerful orgasm, her lips still tight around my cock. She is breathing heavily though her nose as she keeps my cock in her mouth until I stop spurting. A popping sound as she lifts her head back up, then mashes her lips into mine, so hard our teeth hit into one another. Her tongue swirling against mine as my come flows into our both our mouths mixed with our saliva. I swallow before she does.

It's not so bad as that.