Parking With LeighbyHornyman69WithU©
When seniors in high school, my girlfriend Leigh and I would often go "parking" when our homes were populated with people like our parents. How rude of them to be in their own homes when we wanted to have sex! Accordingly, our automobiles were by far the most frequent places we got it on.
It was usually my car, since I was generally the driver, and both of my dad's cars were land yachts with large front bench seats and truly vast rear seats.
One afternoon on an unseasonably warm Thanksgiving, I stopped by Leigh's for dessert after I finished eating dinner and visiting with my own family. Sitting in the den with her ultra-conservative parents, some of their right-wing friends, and her 9-year-old little brother, Leigh broke the boredom by using her lips and tongue to do provocative things to the phallic cookie she was eating. This was her silent way of telling me she was horny and ready for action. Naturally, I was, too. After all, I really had not stopped by for the dessert, anyway.
She made up some credible reason for us to leave, but when we got outside, my car was blocked in. The circle drive was only one car-width wide, and I had pulled in behind her Dad's Lincoln. Now, the Mercedes of the guests that arrived after me was parked behind my rolling sex craft. We were not about to go back inside and get mired down. Thankfully, unobstructed in the drive that led to the garage, was Leigh's car, and she had her keys and purse with her. I twisted a fat one in the front seat of my car while she walked back to start up hers.
So off we drive in her red '73 Ford Pinto, the very model with the allegedly defective gas tank that explodes when rear-ended. Fortunately, the only explosions we ever experienced in that car were our orgasms when I was rear-ending Leigh!
We had several parking spots, but the favorite at that time was a cove in a new suburb. A developer had cleared this new residential area for homes, cutting through deep coves and designating lots, but for some reason, no homes had been built, so the grass had grown really tall on the vacant lots that summer.
Any of those coves were good parking spots, for the tall grass blocked the view from every angle except straight down the gravel street surface, and they were deep enough that, if a car turned onto the cove, you had sufficient time to get your act together before they could see what was going on. The best cove and the one we parked at that Thanksgiving had a dogleg near the end, where she parked headed out in the circular turnaround at the end.
The dogleg was both good and bad. Good in that the bend prevented anyone from seeing us from the mouth of the cove. Bad in that it prevented us from seeing anyone until they turned around the bend and were practically on top of you with no warning time.
Well, perhaps the doobie we smoked on the way there had affected careful analysis of this situation, but we'd parked in that same spot a bunch of times before with no problems, and, it's being a holiday, we'd seen not a single car within miles of this uninhabited new 'burb.
We undressed completely in the front seat, leaving our clothes there, then slid the front seats as far forward as possible before folding the back seats forward and flat down into the 'station wagon" position. Though Pintos were small, there was sufficient room for fucking in the back when you arranged it like this, and it was fully carpeted.
We cranked up Dark Side of the Moon on the 8-track tape player (Ha!) and climbed into the back. After kissing and fondling and petting for a bit, we got into a 69, she atop me, with my feet pointing to the Pinto's tail and hers towards its nose. This was our favorite oral position. Leigh was not only an A+ cum-swallowing cock sucker, but she could continue to suck and lick and hand-jerk as I ate her out, never distracted by her own obvious pleasure or even while climaxing. We had learned to simultaneously cum whether mutually masturbating, sucking, or fucking. She was a fantastic lover.
Leigh was extremely intellectual, dressed plainly and conservatively with glasses when she didn't have her contacts in, and, frankly, would not be a girl you'd do a double take on if she were walking down the street. She was pretty, not flashy, and didn't "strut her stuff." But, sexually, she was like a female Superman: Disguised as a mild-mannered brain, then into a nearby Pinto, strip naked, and SuperSexyTeen!
A somewhat tall 5'7" with a well-proportioned body and very sensitive nipples on velvety peach-sized breasts and a soft round bottom, she had shoulder-length blonde hair, blue eyes, aquiline nose, and full, always-moist lips. Braces long since removed by the time we met had given her a beautiful smile, and her very light-complexioned skin was utterly flawless. Overall, her looks were reminiscent of those Greek and Roman sculptures of women 2000 years ago, without the arms broken off. Ha!
But of all her features, it was her pussy that was most remarkable. First, it was big, and by big I mean not so much the hole, but that it covered a lot of crotch—queen-size labia, large clit, a wide swath of bright pink vulva stretching away from the vagina in all directions. Damn fine looking pussy!
Second, it was always wet, real wet, even when she wasn't thinking about sex. I mean I could sneak up on her without warning in the library when she was doing physics problems and immediately plunge three fingers in Leigh's wet twat. And when she was horny, well, that pussy would run like a faucet and never go dry.
Third, she could control the muscles in it with amazing precision, rolling them up and down in the first couple of inches inside her vagina.
Fourth, we figured out how to create actual vaginal suction! You know how sometimes you'll be fucking and air you've pumped into a girl will "fart" out? One time, I squeezed her belly to evacuate all the air and noticed immediately afterwards that her pussy lips were folding into her hole. When I parted them, air rushed IN--suction! Well, with a little experimentation, we figured out that the more air I could get into her, then squeeze out of her, the stronger the suction was.
Getting her in a doggie style position, I would intentionally blow her pussy up like a balloon with my mouth, then she would clamp her vagina shut and use her middle and index fingers clamped tightly around her pussy lips to keep the air in. Then, I would reach around her with my arms--like a Heimlich maneuver to the lower abdomen--and squeeze all the air out.
If we were very careful and I quickly stuck my dick back in her at the right angle while she kept her pussy clamped down until I was in, we could maintain the suction. Her muscular control, vaginal suction, and wetness gave an unbelievably terrific sensation that combined the best of fellatio and intercourse.
Well, we had finished doing just that in her Pinto that day when we decided to change, without breaking the hermetic seal, from our doggie style position so she could ride on top of me while I alternately kissed her luscious facial lips and sucked her soft, lovely boobs. Making the switch without losing suction is very difficult, so in order to do so, we'd twisted ourselves around with our heads in the rear of the Pinto, where the slope of the hatchback window left even less headroom. It also meant we were positioned so that we would be unable to spot any cars coming around the dogleg of the cove.
Breathing in unison and eyes locked together, we were concentrating hard and gradually building momentum in cadence to the Pink Floyd tune playing, as we had done so many times before, to time our simultaneous orgasms near the end of the song. In a few more minutes, we would be at the "climax" of the song. Leigh had begun her patented pussy muscle roll and I could feel the semen rising from deep within as we now fucked furiously fast, and I squeezed her boobs tightly together to get both nipples in my mouth at the same time. Just as she reached around with her right hand to bring me over the crest with a little scrotal tickle, there was a loud RAP, RAP, RAP on the rear hatchback window. WhatTheFuckIsThat?
Oh, just a policeman tapping his baton on the window, that's all.
We were terrified!!! How long had he been watching us? We were totally nude in mid-fuck without a bit of clothing within reach in the middle of nowhere with a cop eyeing us with a sardonic grin. Not only were we scared shitless out of fear that this cop could do perfectly whatever he pleased with Leigh (or me, for that matter), that he could bust us for fucking and public nudity and no telling what else, but also because there was a freshly finished roach in the ash tray.
Leigh dismounted me and sat Indian style with her arms on her knees—gaping, gushing gash and tits in full few—and just smiled silently at the officer as I bonked my head on the glass to open the hatchback and assumed the same position beside her, my formerly hard dick now limp as a wet noodle from the anxiety.
"Turn the music off, please," he ordered, so I twisted around to do just that, noticing in the process that the formerly open ashtray was closed.
It must have gotten inadvertently shut when we scooched the front seats forward, which was good, very good, as was the fact that I'd left the rest of the stash in my car back at Leigh's parent's.
"You have any drugs or alcoholic beverages in your possession?" asked the officer, sternly.
"No sir," we answered.
"Then what's that I smell?" he probed, eyes glued to her nubile young body.
Without hesitation, Leigh said, "It's probably the smell of sex, sir."
"Whose vehicle is this?" he continued.
"Mine, officer," she said.
"You have license, registration, and proof of insurance?" he requested.
"Yes, sir. They're in my purse in the front seat floorboard. I'll get them."
With that, Leigh bent all the way over the seat to get her purse and exposed her big, wet pussy in the biggest possible way to the man in blue. His eyes never left her twat. She pivoted back around and handed him the documents with two hands, squeezing her lovely peaches together with her upper arms as she did so. His focus on the fruit and not the papers, he almost dropped them before inspecting them closely.
"Everything seems to be in order. So you are Leigh K*****. Would you be the daughter of Jim K*****, THE Jim K*****?"
"Yes, sir," she responded, "he is my father."
The officer did not seem the least bit interested in me, and I was not at all offended.
"Your daddy got any idea what you doin' out here on Thanksgiving Day?"
"No, sir," she answered.
"Whatdaya think he'd do if he found out?"
"Probably ground me for life," she answered, honestly."
"And you don't really want that, now do you?"
"No, sir," she said.
"I been watching you fuck for the past 20 minutes, and you Ms. K*****, are one champeen copulator. Myself, I like a good, long blowjob before any fuckin'. Yep, nothin' better'n good head before the ol' in and out."
OK, so there was the answer to one question. He'd been there for 20 minutes—right after we got in the she-atop-me position—but he'd missed the doggie shag and the 69.
"You, skinny boy, this gal give good head?"
"Well, um, er..." I stammered, knowing full well where he was going with this.
"Yes or no, boy?"
"Yes, sir," I answered truthfully.
"Well, then, here's what we're gonna do. Leigh, darlin', you're gonna give bones here a blow job, and I'm gonna watch and decide for myself how good a dick-sucker you are. Then, when he's finished off, you're gonna suck a real piece of meat, mine, best you've ever done, while skinny boy there primes your pussy with my night stick. Finally, I'm gonna fuck you doggie style until I turn you into a cream pie. Then, y'all can do whatever you want. Alternatively, I can take you down to the station, print and book you, hold you for 24 hours, and you can phone your daddy from there tomorrow to come bail you out. What's it gonna be?"
I knew that the next-to-last thing Leigh would ever want to do was fuck this cop, though, truth be told, he was actually a pretty hunky dude with a mustache in his early thirties. He looked a lot like Tom Selleck, a huge star of the then-popular TV show Magnum, P.I. Even so, she was a rich-girl debutante, an intellectual who loathed rednecks and stupid-asses or any kind of authority figure, especially "pigs." But the last thing she wanted was to risk being financially cut off from her strict, rich father, which would mean college, the soon-to-arrive RX-7 sports car, the country club, and everything else that money buys. So Leigh was basically going to suck and fuck this cop—in exchange for his not busting us and her possibly losing the trappings of wealth.
Both of us still naked in the rear of the open-hatch Pinto, Leigh answered by getting on her knees, pointing her pussy toward him, and starting to suck my now very limp dick. It took a while to get hard, but even given the weird circumstances, her expert technique brought up the wood. Given the anxious scene, I might not ever cum, and the time tick, tick, ticked away as she slurped, slurped, slurped Mr. Johnson.
The cop deviated somewhat from his stated plan. As she continued to blow me, he laid his baton down between Leigh's knees, whipped out his slab of meat, and began to stroke it. I swear that sonofabitch was 10 inches long. Still on her knees with ass arched high and head low on my cock, Leigh had one hand working my rod in tandem with her mouth. Although she was really hamming up the appearance of giving me the BJ, it actually did not feel quite as good as usual. Then, talking about hamming it up, she picked up the night stick with her free hand and slowly inserted it deep into her pussy, working it in and out with her juices running all the way down to the opposite, handle end. She winked at me. Leigh had a plan of her own.
Knowing her well, I was pretty sure what her plan was: She was going to turn on this lawman with all the sexual drama she could summons with histrionic head to me and use his very own night stick as a giant dildo to buy ever more time for, well, for what I did not know, but given enough time, maybe someone else would drive down the cove and scare him off.
Well, it certainly appeared to me that Officer Big Schlong was awfully close to cumming. Then the radio from his squad car blared out: "Code ####. Armed robbery in progress at Ridgeway Walgreen's. Police officer is down. All East Precinct units respond stat. Repeat. Code ####. Armed robbery...."
Our cop had the most conflicted look on a man's face that I've ever seen. He's got a hot young sex kitten under his complete control about to suck and fuck him silly, but he's got a fellow police buddy shot not two miles away on a skeleton crew Thanksgiving holiday when he might be the only other policeman in the area available.
Still standing there behind her holding his dick in his hand, he looked back and forth from his car to Leigh, who, if anything, had ratcheted up her dick sucking/nightstick fucking act a notch. Then, just as I thought he was going to stick his massive cock in her ass, he wanked out a huge load onto her buns!!!
Audaciously, Leigh said, "Oooooh, thanks for the generous deposit, officer (a reference to her dad's financial empire); shouldn't you go get the bad guy now?"
I couldn't help but chime in, "To serve and protect. Officer, you have served; it is now time to protect."
And with that he ran to his squad car, his still-hard cock flailing about, and peeled out.
The whole thing had started and ended so fast that we just sat there dumbfounded, staring at nothing, for a few minutes. Finally, I chuckled; she chuckled, and we started laughing our asses off and smoked the rest of the roach. Then we started imitating segments from the incident.
I do impressions, and I did a pretty good one of the cop, saying, "You, Ms. K*****, are one champeen copulator. I'm gonna fuck you doggie style until I turn you into a cream pie."
"Perfect," said Leigh, "Only your penis is about 3 inches too short!"
I went on, "What's that I smell?"
Leigh responded exactly as she had before, in a formal, slightly know-it-all way, as though answering a complicated physics problem in class, "It's probably the smell of sex, sir."
Speaking of which.... We cleaned his cum off her buns with my tighty whitey undershorts, flung them over onto the limb of a small tree where they waved like a victory flag, and fucked like, well, 18-year-olds, on the rear bumper in the trusty missionary position, quickly climaxing and draining ourselves of intense sexual and emotional tension. Having had more than enough excitement for the day, the dull conversation back at her parent's was, for once, particularly satisfying.
Later, just as I was about to leave Leigh's, there was a report on the shooting on the evening news, so we paused to watch it. The robber stole drugs from the Walgreen's pharmacy, and it was an off-duty cop in the store who tackled him on his way out, but the bad guy wrested the cop's gun away and shot him, dead. Then, the on-the-scene reporter interviewed a cop. It was none other than Officer Big Schlong, who said he was first on the scene, that the robber was at large, and was obviously disturbed at the loss of a fellow officer. With tears in his eyes and lips quivering, he was a far cry from the overbearing pig he'd been with Leigh and me.
Without saying a word, Leigh walked up to the color TV and pointed near the bottom of the screen. There was a whitish stain on our cop's dark blue shirt near the belt line.
"Hmmm, I wonder what that is?" I remarked, her unsuspecting parents standing there watching the report with us.
Needless to say, we found a new parking spot far from the dogleg cove. Over 25 years later, Leigh is now a physician (OB/Gyn, Ha!) in the same city, and I still have the black fiberglass baton the cop left behind. I've used it many times since, though not for its intended purpose. It's been in the pussies of dozens of girls, the asses of a few, and they've all loved it, especially when I tell them this story of how I came to possess it.
I like how I can keep it handy right under my bed and not have to hide it from my mother or little kids when they visit.
"What's this, Dad?"
"It's a night stick, like the police carry."
"Cool, Dad. Ever had to use it?"
"Yeah, a few times. I'll tell you about it when you get older."
It's functional, durable, and easy to clean, and I owe that cop a debt of gratitude. Oh, what do I call it? Why, Officer Big Schlong, of course!