Reagan was horny. Well, Reagan was always horny. She didn't quite know why, but she knew that it hadn't seemed to be quenched in her four years of college.
And her friend Michael wasn't helping her situation. His calls and emails and instant messages didn't alleviate her wetness. It just caused more. More desires. More fantasies.
He was a student at Northeast Indiana University, she at a nearby private college. They were both out one night a year ago at a coffee shop and struck up a conversations. Both grew up -- and still had family living -- in the suburbs of Chicago.
She'd been named after President Ronald Reagan, and tried to live life by a very conservative nature.
But her clit and pussy always seemed to get the best of her.
Michael was far from a hippie, but was quite the liberal in Reagan's eyes. Perhaps it wasn't liberal so much as honest in his thoughts. He said exactly what was on his mind, be it annoyances of school, or who he wanted to fuck -- and how.
Her conservative spine initially rejected it. Then she realized his words turned her on. And she became more obsessed with thoughts and desires and fantasies.
Reagan even considered car pulling with Michael, but she refused. While they had some things in common, he was able to challenge her on her view of politics and life in America. And she didn't always like being challenged. It aggravated her.
And it also made her more horny.
Together, they had the ability to be completely honest. From her exfiances' lack of penis size to an exgirlfriend of his who had a fear of his penis size.
"I'm barely larger than average," Michael told Reagan. "But she acted like I was Peter North times-two."
"Well, a half of Peter North would be plenty to satisfy me in comparison to my ex," Reagan noted.
He knew almost all of her secrets. All but one.
Reagan finished packing her bags for Christmas break. Michael lived ten minutes away on the north side of Fort Wayne -- while she lived with a roommate just a few blocks for a small private college. Winter, thus far, had been mild -- but the finals hadn't been -- and she was worried about her final grades.
She pulled up her boy-boxer panties, her black sweats and her "George W. Bush" T-shirt over her buxom frame. Reagan, 22-years-old, was a beautiful woman, standing 5 feet, 5 inches tall. Her breasts often became the focus of a room, with their 36D figure. And if her breasts weren't bringing attention, it was her smile and her eyes.
She has long blonde hair that other women spend hundreds of dollars to have dyed and styled, and wore small black rectangular frames over her blue-green eyes.
Reagan stretched her figure as she sat in her black Jetta. She'd called Michael to see when he'd be leaving.
"Probably not for another hour," he said.
It made her smile. She'd have U.S. Highway 30 clear of him -- so she could enjoy her favorite fetish without him becoming aware of it.
For all their talk, they never had sex. There were some heated phone conversations and inspired erotica to and from Michael and Reagan, but she simply feared becoming too attached to anyone -- especially someone so unlike her.
Many of the fantasies related back to her desire to be with women. She had been raised against the idea, but that concept collapsed the first time she was with a woman -- a political science assistant instructor at her college. It has started out as innocent flirting, but turned into a night of kissing, mutual masturbation, and eventually Reagan's first tasting of pussy.
She knew she liked breasts, but pussy was more addicting than cocaine. At least she thought it must be after her first taste. Shaved pussy became her absolute favorite thing in the entire world, she told him. He agreed with her believe.
"We should probably form a religion based on praising it," he said.
"I just love everything about it. The taste. And it is so visually amazing to me," she said.
God, the thoughts of the conversation made her wet. She drove onto U.S. 30 and headed west toward home. It was about a two hour drive, and during it she occupied her time with her music and her fantasies.
Unbeknownst to her, as she pulled onto the highway, Michael was just a mile behind her.
For the first 15 minutes, she thought she would be fine on this trip. That for once she was going to control her body and not masturbate during the drive. But that only lasted a quarter-hour.
She looked over as a Ford Mustang passed her Jetta and saw the outline of a woman's body, and the head of the girl, as she sucked the driver's cock. Roadhead. She loved seeing it. It made her feel horny as hell. Reagan was addicted to the idea of people sucking and fucking, and it drove her beyond the edge.
The driver's head leaned back as the teenager enjoyed the lips and throat of his girlfriend. He pulled in front of the Jetta and Reagan just stared at the outline of the woman's body draped over the passenger's seat, her mouth massaging the driver's cock.
Reagan clicked off her cruise control, reached her left hand down into her sweatpants and massaged her clit. She increased the speed of her fingertips and her accelerator to pass back by the Ford Mustang. She looked, and saw the girl's eyes flash up to hers with her lips over the driver's cock. He was cumming in her mouth, and Reagan slipped her finger quickly inside her body as she could see the teenage girl's reaction to the cum.
Reagan wasn't a fan of swallowing, but she loved the idea of others sucking and fucking. And to be caught watching a couple was one of her fantasies. She drove back by the Mustang and got back in the slow lane. Looking in her rearview mirror, she saw the girl was now leaning back in the passenger's seat, stretched out so that the rise of her breasts could be seen. Reagan slowed down to encourage another pass. The teenage boy took the bait, and drove by.
The girl was masturbating on her own, the boy's hand clumsily fondling her breasts. But the girl wasn't paying attention to the boy. She was glaring at Reagan as both of their fingers played with their clits and pussies.
Reagan was coming so close to climax. She had trouble concentrating on the road, but managed to stay side-by-side with the girl as she brought her finger to her mouth and sucked her own juices.
Michael was directly behind her Jetta now. He cursed under his breath.
"Pick a lane, fuckers," he thought, not knowing the extent of the passions directly in front of him. Then he realized it was Reagan's Jetta and smiled. The smallest thought of her made his dick big. He rearranged the bulge in his jeans and settled in back of her.
Reagan was so close ... and so disappointed as the car braked and turned onto an off-ramp. She wanted so badly to taste the girl's pussy and run her fingers over her taunt breasts. Reagan slipped two fingers into her pussy and pleased her clit with her thumb. She didn't even notice the car driving up her left side in the fast lane as she leaned her head back and came all over her fingers. Her body shook as she head the driver's wheel with one hand and her climax in the other.
Michael glared. It didn't surprise him at all. He knew exactly what was going on. He knew she loved to masturbate -- and on the road is as good a place as any -- especially if one of your fantasies -- like hers' -- was to be caught. He just wondered what inspired the mbatetime.
"Caught you," he thought, honking his horn just one time quickly.
She turned shyly, almost ashamed in her conservative nature that she'd down something so dirty on the road. She saw Michael wave hello and smiled. She was giddy to see him. And horny. She licked her fingertips and held up her finger, waving him to follow her.
Reagan pulled into a closed rest stop, driving by the orange barrels. Michael pulled in right behind her.
She casually got out of her call and got back into the backseat. Reagan pulled down her sweatpants and opened the door for Michael as he walked up to her car and sat down next to her.
They looked at one-another for a moment, and kissed quietly. She was so wet, and the hardness in his jeans swelled for her.