Giving Him a Ride

Just after I turned eighteen I went interstate to have a holiday at my Uncle's place. The holiday was OK, I guess, and it did me good to get out from under the parents for a couple of weeks. My Uncle and Aunt may be the same age as my parents but they didn't have that air of parental awe about them. Possibly they did for my cousins, but not for me, so I was able to relax.

When it came time to go home I'd assumed that I'd be taking the bus. Why not? It's how I got there in the first place. It's only a day trip, leaving early and getting home in the evening. I was given a surprise. My grandparents lived near my Uncle. They thought it would be a fine idea to visit their daughter and son-in-law. They could combine this with taking me home. Lucky me got to spend the day in a car with two elderly relatives.

We started out with my grandfather driving and my grandmother acting as navigator. I don't know why she was acting as navigator as he seemed to ignore her instructions, but this didn't deter her in the slightest. Their car was a big old-fashioned four wheel drive. I don't think they ever used the four wheel drive. They just wanted to make sure they had a lot of car around them in case of accident. I think my grandfather worked on the principle that smaller cars would see him coming and flee.

I was quite happily ensconced on the back seat and there was plenty of seat on which to be ensconced. The seat was large enough to permit a family of four to pitch tents and set up camp.

We drove along for a couple of hours and then we pulled into a diner. I assumed that we were just stopping for gas and in a way we were. Grandfather had gas and wanted to visit the bathroom before he blew that gas through the car.

We bought gas and the old folk visited the bathrooms and then insisted on morning tea. Rather self-defeating in my opinion. They go to the bathroom to relieve the pressure on their waterworks and then they guzzle tea or coffee to put the pressure back on their waterworks. I was willing to bet that we'd have to stop every couple of hours while they went through the same little ritual.

It was shaping up to be a hot day and, knowing my grandparents didn't believe in using things like air conditioning, I'd dressed accordingly. Casual but comfortable. Possibly too casual from the way my grandmother had looked at me.

I was wearing Daisy Dukes and a top that had lost the bottom half, finishing just below my breasts, leaving me with a bare midriff. Initially I wore a jumper so as not to shock the old folk too much but as the day got warmer that went by the wayside.

As we were leaving the diner we spotted a hitch-hiker. He was a nice looking young man. He seemed to be in his early twenties and looked clean and respectable. He was also casually dressed but not to the extent that I was. My grandmother, being a nice helpful type of woman asked where he was going.

Lawndale was his destination, a small town we would pass through on the way to my place. According to him he was hoping to get there today, tomorrow at the latest, in time for his mother's birthday. His car had broken down and needed spare parts and wouldn't be ready for several days so he was hitching a ride and hoping to get there in time. His plight touched my grandmother's heart and he was invited along for the ride. He actually offered to share gas costs but the old folk wouldn't hear of it.

So there we were, driving along, while Andrew chatted to my grandmother. He was a very demonstrative talker, hands flying everywhere as he gesticulated and waved his hands to emphasize whatever point he wanted to make. Seeing he was discussing politics I sort of tuned out of listening.

Now I'm sure it was totally accidental that after one of his flamboyant gestures his hand came to rest upon my knee. I thoughtfully encouraged it to rest somewhere else.

Like they say, once is an accident, two is coincidence, and it was that coincidence striking that had his hand back on my knee a few minutes later, with me again helpfully removing it.

And three is enemy action. I believe that's how the saying ends. A few minutes later and the enemy action was in full swing with a hand again finishing up on my knee. I had three choices. Complain to my grandmother and have him kicked out of the car, remove his hand yet again, or leave it and see what happened. The easiest thing to do was just leave it. You will notice I didn't say ignore it. When you're wearing Daisy Dukes and a man's hand is on your knee there is no way you're going to ignore it.

I knew it would happen. He didn't miss a word of his conversation with my grandmother but his hand started stroking my leg. Just a little, but he was definitely stroking it. Somehow he managed to finish off his chat and relaxed, but his hand kept moving. Little stokes at first, his hand only moving a couple of inches and then back again. It was a bit of a surprise when I found that his stroking tended to be a few inches in one direction and then maybe one fewer in the other, which resulted in a gradual progression along my leg.

It seemed to me that all of a sudden his hand was on my inner thigh, moving slowly but steadily towards my groin. That I had to stop. I promptly moved my legs together, closing off the small gap he'd been exploiting. Did he remove his hand? You'd have to be kidding. He just left it where it was, clasping my inner thigh, with me enormously aware of just where it was.

After a few minutes I found holding my legs tight together was wearing on me. I just wanted to relax. So I did, slowly, letting my legs ease just a little apart. Andrew didn't take advantage which was a bit of a relief and I relaxed a little more. So naturally he took advantage, the bastard.

His hand started those gentle strokes again. I didn't worry at first because 'A', it felt nice, and 'B', his hand was moving down my leg towards my knee. He'd obviously got the message, so far and no further.

I was kidding myself, wasn't I? His hand came slowly stroking back up, easing up to my unspoken stop-point and then jumping way up past it, almost landing on my pussy. That's the point where I did something really stupid. I hurriedly jammed my legs together again. With his hand where it was I succeeded in pushing it higher so that it was pressing against my mound. He hadn't done it. I did it to myself.

Red faced I relaxed my legs so he could pull his hand back. Fat chance of that happening. He just started rubbing my mound. It was terrible. He rubbed my mound and then his hand would move to the side and he'd stroke my legs along the edge of my shorts, and those Daisy Dukes were very short.

Fortunately for me my shorts were also very tight. His attempt to slide a finger under the edge of them failed. There just wasn't room. This didn't seem to worry him too much. He certainly explored everything that was there.

Why didn't I protest? After all, my grandparents were right there in the front seat. All I had to do was open my mouth. Mainly I didn't protest because I'd have felt like a fool. I could have shut him down right from the start and I should have. I hadn't because I'd been getting a kick out of what he was doing. I'd actually liked the feel of his hand stroking me. I was willing to bet that if he had slipped a finger inside my shorts he'd have found that I was hot and wet. Not willing, though. I mean, I didn't even know the man.

His hand drifted up slightly and I found him undoing the button on my shorts. Good luck with that, I thought. So it proved. The button came undone easily enough but the shorts were still too tight for him to get a hand inside them. He'd have to put some effort in getting them off. I let him see the smirk on my face and he just winked and grinned back at me.

He left the button undone. I was going to have to go through contortions to do it up, but that could wait. Eventually a bathroom would start calling to the oldies and they'd pull over. Then I'd be able to do up the button while getting out of the car.

His hand settled on my midriff, rubbing little circles on it. I found that was stirring me up a little. Seeing he wasn't trying to get into my shorts I just let his hand be. It turned out I was making every mistake in the book with this guy.

When his hand reached the top of its lazy circle it suddenly went higher, sliding under my ragged top. Surprise, surprise. His hand latched onto my breast and started stroking it. If I'd been on the bus I'd have been wearing a bra. On a hot day, travelling with my grandparents, why bother? Because they pick up hitch-hikers, is the answer.

Enough was enough. I dragged his hand away from my breasts and pushed it well to the side. He gave me a smirk but didn't reach for me again. His eyes did look pointedly at where my nipples were pressing little tents against my top.

That was the state of play when my grandfather pulled into another diner.

"We might as well take a break and have lunch here," he announced. "I'll just fill up and we'll go inside."

"Excuse me, sir, but why not leave your keys with me and your daughter. We'll fill up while you and your wife get inside out of the heat."

"Grand-daughter, actually, but the thought is a good one. We appreciate that."

To my surprise he tossed us the keys and was helping my grandmother out in no time flat. They went skipping off to get out of the heat.

"You stay there," Andrew said. "I'll just fill up and then park it in the shade."

I was going to suggest that I could wait inside as well but I couldn't really. What, go inside and leave a stranger with the keys to the car? If he pinched it, which I don't think he would, my grandfather would kill me. I slumped back in the seat and waited.

Andrew very efficiently topped up the tank, hopped in, and drove to a spot under some trees where we could park in the shade. He turned off the engine and I went to open the door to get out, making a note to do up that blasted button as soon as I was standing.

"Hold it, before you get out," said Andrew, and I paused, looking at him.

He vaulted from the front seat into the back seat. Very athletic of him. I wouldn't have wanted to try it but he did it with style. He then showed the same verve and energy in his next little effort.

He grabbed the waistband of my shorts and pulled them down and towards him and then up. Pulling them down gave him a proper grip on them. Pulling them towards him resulted with me finishing flat on my back. Pulling them up lifted my legs and bottom into the air, giving him the freedom to yank my short off. They went sliding along my legs smoother that I could do it, leaving me naked from the waist down. No, leaving me effectively naked. When he took my shorts he managed to take my panties at the same time. Upending me had caused my top to ride up, showing my breasts to the world. Well, showing them to Andrew, anyway.

I'm like, "What? What? What?" while he pushed my legs apart and is kneeling between them and I could almost feel his eyes running over me, touching me. Then his hand was running over me and touching me and you can bet your boots I felt that. His hand glided across my breasts, brushing against my nipples that were still erect, and then came down to cup my mound and squeeze it.

He was smiling in satisfaction when he lifted his hand away. I guess he must have found that I was still hot and wet from his earlier attentions. He calmly started undoing his belt, watching me and smiling while he did so.

"Oh, no," I was saying. "This is most definitely not on. Not going to happen, so forget it."

While I was explaining that this wasn't going to happen he was unzipping and pushing his trousers down. I sort of lost the thread of what I was saying when his erection leapt into view. That thing looked simply enormous.

It occurred to me that if I didn't want to be fucked I'd better start taking protective measures. My hands shot down to cover my pussy while I started explaining again that this wasn't going to happen.

He laughed, grabbed my wrists and lifted my hands, and pressed his cock against my mound, rubbing the length of it against my cleft. Then he put my hands back where he found them, covering my mound, but this time with his cock between my hands and my mound. I was effectively pressing his cock against myself.

I snatched my hands away, glaring at him. I was about to start shouting at him when he pressed a finger lightly against my lips.

"Hush," he said. "We both know it's going to happen. Why don't we just take all your protests and arguments as having been said and you can keep quiet for a while."

I was left staring at him, speechless at his absolute gall. He took silence as agreement and he reached down and moved his cock into a better position. Looking along my body I could see it, pressing up against me. Then I was making an incoherent protest as he pushed into me.

Thank god I wasn't totally virginal as he didn't make any allowances for that possibility. He just kept pushing firmly into me and I could feel him inside me, stretching me all out of shape. He just seemed to keep coming and coming while I was half screaming as he did so. Not because it hurt. More from shock and fury and surprise at how natural he felt.

His groin finished up pressing hard against me and he gave a groan of relief.

"You have no idea how much I needed this," he said.

"You have no idea how much I didn't need this," I pointed out, and he laughed.

"Be thankful for the small pleasures that come your way," he told me, his hands reaching up to hold my breasts.

"Very small," I sniped, but he just laughed again. He certainly wasn't lacking in confidence.

He started moving. Initially he just pressed against me and relaxed, but I could feel him pressing in that little bit. Then he started pulling back a little as he relaxed before pressing forward again. I found myself pushing towards him now that there was room. It wasn't long and he was pulling back all the way before plunging in again, my hips rising to meet his thrust.

Gods, I could feel him in me, all the way to my back teeth, or that's what it seemed like. His withdrawal would leave me feeling empty, needing his rushing return to fill me again. He was building on my arousal like a master, knowing just when to thrust in and just how hard to maximise my pleasure. At the same time his hands were stroking my breasts, teasing my nipples, sending additional frissons of excitement spilling through me.

I should have felt chagrined to hear myself babbling, urging him on, but the pleasure and excitement overrode anything other than eagerness and passion. For his part, he didn't say anything, just grinning like a loon as he did his best to fill me desire. Well, he was certainly filling me with something. I was prepared to swear that his cock was getting larger with every stroke.

Towards the end I was just a mass of need, wanting everything he'd given me and more. I could hear a soft screaming and I just knew it was my voice demanding he do something to help me.

He finally seemed to pick up the pace that last little bit, reducing me to a blubbering wreck, and then sending me screaming into a shuddering climax, my whole body shaking with the force of it.

Somehow or other I managed to clean myself up and get dressed. We went across to the diner, him walking normally and me with legs that felt like rubber. My grandparent were sitting at a table, waiting for us. Andrew insisted on paying for the gas and we ordered some lunch.

"Do you stop every couple of hours while driving?" Andrew asked my grandfather, seeming genuinely interested.

As a matter of fact he did. He said it relaxed him and made him a safer driver. Personally I thought it was because that was as long as he could last before running to a bathroom. Old people seemed to have a problem that way.

"So we'll have at least one more stop before we reach Lawndale," said Andrew thoughtfully. "Interesting. I know just the place. I think you'll find it memorable," he added, with a look at me.