Motorway Rendezvous

“Fuck, yes, Matchew,” she gasped. “I’m going to come again. Oh, my God, mon dieu, mon dieu! Oui! Oui!! Oui!!!” Isobel cried out as the climax hit her and she writhed on top of me as I jammed my hips upwards again and again. Finally, the pleasure ebbed away and she slumped onto my chest, her face against my neck, almost biting me but really just opening and closing her mouth as she panted and came down to earth, all the while still slowly fucking me.

I kissed her neck, biting her ear, and Isobel opened her eyes and grinned. “Better than a blow job?” she laughed.

“It’s going to be,” I said, lifting her off me. Isobel lay in her back, her arm across her forehead as she regained her faculties and I rubbed her tits then down, across her dress and onto the wetness between her spread thighs. “On your hands and knees, s’il vous plait?”

Isobel laughed. “That is very formal! Oui, monsieur, bien sur,” she said and quickly assumed my desired position. She arched her back, lifting her dress out of the way and making her bottom stick up in the air and looked back over her shoulder at me as I lined myself up behind her. I held my cock in one hand and couldn’t resist spanking her gently with my other. Isobel giggled and shook her bum at me so I swiped her again, harder, leaving a hand print making her murmur in pleasure. I ran my cock up her open lips and pressed it against her opening which made Isobel part her knees further and push her bum even higher. I teased her for a minute, rubbing myself up and down, against her cunt then up to her tight arsehole, itself glistening with her wetness. She looked round at me again. “Where are you going to put it, Matchew?” she asked. I rubbed one hole then the other, giving each equal consideration then answered her by sliding into her pussy with one firm thrust, making her grunt as I filled her.

“There,” I said, holding myself inside her as the cushioned softness of her vagina moulded itself around me. “Is that okay?”

“Fuck, yes, it’s very okay,” Isobel replied.

I held her hips and began to fuck her hard. With each thrust of my hips my groin slapped against her arse and my balls swung against her clit. The silence of the woodland was filled with the filthy sounds of a couple fucking. Perhaps only a few metres away a family had stopped for breakfast or a truck driver was smoking a last cigarette before rejoining the autoroute but neither Isobel nor I cared. We were joined, physically and psychologically, in a union of lust and excitement. I leaned forward and grabbed at one of her swinging tits, squeezing it hard as I rammed my cock in and out of her cunt. Each savage thrust from my hips made Isobel squeal or gasp or pant. I let go of her tit and slapped her bum then felt underneath to rub her clit to find her hand already there, working herself furiously as we fucked.

“Fuck,” I grunted. What’s horny bitch in French?”

Isobel grinned over her shoulder again. “Une salope.”

“Mmmm, yes,” I agreed, remembering the word. “Une salope.” I sucked my thumb to moisten it then slid it into her arse, working it in and out in time with my thrusts. It was too much for Isobel and yet again she cried out as my cock, her hand and my thumb brought her to another orgasm. My own was fast approaching and this time I wasn’t going to stop, no matter what.

“Fuck me, Matchew,” Isobel panted. “Come for me.”

I decided to take Isobel’s advice. I held her by the waist and fucked her harder and deeper, ramming my cock into her soaking, scalding cunt. The pleasure began to well from my cock, spreading throughout my groin.

“Fuck, yes,” I grunted. “I’m gonna come,” and at last, grunting like an animal, ecstasy tearing through my body, my balls emptied themselves and I erupted, pumping jet after jet of my load deep inside Isobel, my body jerking with each pulse and only stopping when every last trace of my orgasm had slipped away.

We both collapsed to the blanket, Isobel on her front, me to her side on my back. We lay there for a minute, recovering from the exertion and, in my case at least, contemplating the morning’s events and how unexpected they had turned out to be. Isobel slowly sat up on her knees and arranged her hair behind her sunglasses. She looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my softening cock where the last of my spunk was mingling with her juices. She gently lifted my cock and lowered her head to softly suck the last remnants of our little workout.

“That tastes good,” she said, sitting up and smiling at me. She put a hand between her legs then slid a finger inside herself and brought out a little dollop of white goo which she popped into her mouth, licking her finger clean. “Dessert,” she said with a shrug.

I sat on an elbow and watched. “There’s more where that came from if you’d like another course?” I said, holding my cock and rubbing it gently.

“Oh, Matchew, I’d love to,” Isobel laughed. “But I have to be somewhere.”

“Where?” I asked, intrigued. “To see your husband?”

Isobel laughed and lifted the top of her dress, covering her tits. She turned her head away, and lifted her hair. “Please would you tie my dress?”

Rather reluctantly, considering this would appear to spell the end of our rendezvous, I took the ends of the material in my hands. Before tying them I kissed Isobel’s exposed neck. “How about your lover, then?” I asked and tied the knot.

Isobel turned to face me. She stroked my chest. “Don’t ask so many questions,” she said. “This was fun.”

“Yeah it was,” I agreed, and began to pull on my shorts. Isobel was on her feet and smoothing down her dress. She looked almost respectable again, only I knew what would now be running down her inner thighs. The mere thought had my erection growing. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we bumped into each other another time. Do you often pass this way?”

Isobel laughed loudly. “No, I don’t often pass this way. I’m going to see my daughter. It’s her birthday.”

I stood up and helped her fold the blanket. “Happy birthday to her,” I said. “How old is she?”

“Twenty-one,” Isobel said, one eyebrow arched.

“Wow, you must have been very young when you had her,” I said with only the tiniest hint of a tease.

Isobel’s pout cracked and she laughed again. “Matchew, you’re such a gentleman,” she said.

I pulled on my t shirt and followed Isobel as she picked her way the branches and back to the car park.

“What’s her name, your daughter?” I asked. Small talk seemed a bit strange at this point but I always tried to be polite, if nothing else. She opened the boot of her Peugeot and I threw the rug onto the hamper. Isobel walked to the driver’s door which I opened for her. She sat, demurely keeping her legs together as she swung them round and, using the rear-view mirror, put on her headscarf. When she was happy with how it was tied she put on her sunglasses and slid the key into the ignition. She looked up at me and I reluctantly closed the door as she started the engine. “Anais,” she said, and reversed out of the parking space.

“What a pretty name,” I said, looking down at Isobel for the last time. “Does she take after her mother?”

Isobel put the car into first and paused. “She does,” Isobel said, that always-just-about-to-happen smile at the edges of her mouth. “You’d like her,” she said, then reached out and rubbed my now just about flaccid cock through my shorts, instantly causing it to stir. She gave one last squeeze, blew a kiss at me, and drove away.

I watched the red car drive across the empty car park towards the exit and then around the trees and out of sight. I turned her words over in my mind as I walked towards my van, my pace quickening as I processed them. I jumped in, started the engine, and hoped that 70 mph would be fast enough.

I hope you enjoyed reading! Please do rate the story and leave feedback if you’d like to.

© Northern_One, September 2019