tagNon-EroticDriving in the Fast Lane

Driving in the Fast Lane

byBOSTONFICTIONWRITER©

I had a non-sexual experience with a stranger, a good-looking blonde woman, which was as good as any sexual experience I have ever had. (Well, not really, okay, not at all, but for the purpose of this story, it reads better when I write that it was.)

It took place in my car and in her car. We were racing. The only thing that I love more than driving is driving fast and the only thing that I love more than driving fast is winning. (Actually, there are lots of things that I love more than driving fast, more than winning, but, again, for the purposes of the story, it reads better when I write it that way.) Unfortunately, there are not many opportunities to drive fast, relatively safely, without causing an accident or eliciting the attention of the police and getting a speeding or a driving to endanger ticket.

Today with the number of motor vehicles on the road, no matter the hour, there are people on the roads in front of you, beside you, and behind you and everyone who has a cell phone is a frustrated traffic cop turned vigilante. It must feel glorious to live in Montana or Texas or Wyoming, where there aren't as many people, and to drive at break neck speeds without running up on the bumper of a Hyundai. Today, when you want to explore the upper limits of your tachometer, there is always some "good Samaritan" there to spoil your fun.

"Hello police? Yeah, a maniac in a Mustang flew passed my Honda Civic going about 300 miles an hour. He's going to kill someone."

Immediately, I recognized her car, a white BMW 530i, when the car in front of me turned off suddenly and I was now behind her, again. The same thing happened yesterday. I saw her speeding along the highway. Today, she was on the surface road, a long way from home judging by her Connecticut license plates.

We stopped at a light. She was in the middle lane that continued straight. I pulled up beside her ready to take a left, that is, as soon as the left turn directional arrow told me that I could. I put my car in neutral and gave it a little gas allowing the engine to idle at 1,500 rpms. I like putting my car in neutral because the new stainless steel, Flowmaster exhaust that I had installed on my car makes my GT sound like a Nascar racer. Most times, I do not put the radio on just so that I can hear the music from the exhaust. As I'm motoring down the asphalt, you can hear the rumbling sound from my exhaust a block away. The melodious song that it creates is definitely a head turner for all auto enthusiasts around.

"Hey, asshole, put a muffler on that thing."

I was on a slight grade and my car rolled back enough for me to make brief eye-contact with her. She was an attractive 40 something, who looked more like a 30 something. She was well cared for and well groomed.

Her car was the first white BMW I had ever seen. I didn't care much for the lack of color but respected the performance of her car. Of all the colors in the rainbow, why would someone choose white or black to paint a Bimmer? Me? I'd paint it bright orange with black racing stripes. I know, cool, huh?

For an extra thousand dollars, the Bavarian Motor Works will allow you to paint your car any color under the sun.

"Do you see how sometimes under certain light my girlfriend's eyes appear violet? That's the color that I want you to paint my car."

It was probably a lease car. I wondered about her and about her car when suddenly, I noticed in the corner of my eye her left turn signal blinking.

Maybe, it was the look. Maybe, we shared a similar passion. (Maybe, she wants me? Hey, it's my story. I can write whatever I want.) Maybe it was a moment in time but...she's turning left with me...is she following me?

The light lit up the arrow and I turned left taking the turn with considerable exuberance, another words, I peeled rubber, was hauling ass, and was already flying low. She was on my tail as I hugged the curve up and around the entrance ramp to the highway. I let the revs climb before shifting from second to third gear. Once in third, I booted it, and quickly shifted to fourth before hitting my rev limited. In an attempt to pass me on the straight, she switched lanes too soon. Now, stuck behind a Toyota Corolla, she lost time before the car cleared her lane.

I was already at 100 but she was gaining. At 130, I shifted to 5th and she was only a couple car lengths behind me over on the lane next to me. There was traffic ahead and I did not want to play slice and dice at that speed, so I took my foot off the gas and allowed her to pass. At around 143, I knew my top end was a solid 12 mph less than hers and did not want to be embarrassed by something not in my control, top end speed versus driving ability.

Besides, it was about that time that my Valentine One radar detector lit up and went off like a siren with the red arrow pointing straight ahead. She looked over and smiled. I returned her smile but before I could warn her that there was a cop ahead, she was already by me. The Massachusetts State Trooper already had her pulled over when I drove by at 65 mph. She waved. I honked. I figured the cop was about to get a sexual experience of his life and, maybe, if he is a Literotica reader, he may write his own story.

"I pulled over a white BMW today. She was going 140 in a 65. I leaned my pelvis in her driver's side window and told her to speak into the microphone and plead her case orally. After she blew me, I let her off with a warning, a little less teeth."

Still, for me, it was a non-sexual experience, a moment in time, shared with a stranger. I love cars. I love driving fast. I love women who love cars and who love driving fast. It was brief. It was exhilarating. I had a blast. I hope I see her, again.

Thank you, blondie, wherever you are. Your husband, boyfriend, or girlfriend is lucky to have such a hottie in their life. Uhm, I am sorry about the speeding ticket. You really shouldn't be speeding without eyes, a radar detector, and ears, a CB radio.

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byBOSTONFICTIONWRITER© 3 comments/ 15009 views/ 1 favorites

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