textfiles/sex/EROTICA/I/i-75.txt

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COMING UP I-75
I had spend nearly a week at Aaron and Sarah's home in Atlanta, first
focused on a conference, then a bit longer just to visit. I had
enjoyed their cooking and their companionship. We had spent long
hours talking, laughing, cruising the Internet, and partying.
Some of our discussion focused on their anniversary plans - an
impending trip to Chicago to visit Andre, and to play. Their
intention was to celebrate a revitalized marriage of 20+ years. Aaron
and Sarah had obviously rediscovered each other and had found new ways
to play.
After much discussion, banter, and innuendo, Aaron and Sarah decided
that he would take the dominant role for the weekend and she the
submissive one. Role playing was a fairly recent element in their
relationship, one they thoroughly enjoyed.
Aaron's instructions were for Sarah to take only short skirts and tops
on the trip - and no underwear. She packed frantically Wednesday
morning and we left in tandem. I was heading home on I-75, and they
would continue on to Chicago.
I followed them in my van while they made several stops before cutting
cross country up to I-75. At the Post Office, Aaron suggested that
Sarah ride with me until we went different ways in Chattanooga.
Sarah, wearing a short red skirt and a tee-shirt, spread a towel on
the passenger seat of my van and climbed in. She grinned at me,
saying, "Aaron told me to keep you entertained so you wouldn't fall
asleep on the Interstate."
Oh wow, I thought, this should be really interesting. I wonder what
his fertile imagination has devised.
We pulled out onto the state highway and after the traffic thinned a
bit Sarah said, "My instructions are to have as many orgasms as
possible between here and Chattanooga and to keep count. Do you have
a vibrator handy?"
I was dumbfounded and delighted. What a treat. She had my total
attention and I didn't feel a bit sleepy. "Uh, yes, I have one in
that blue bag on the second seat."
"Well, actually, I probably won't need it." With that remark, she
scooted down a bit in the seat, kicked off her sandals, and pulled her
skirt up above her crotch. A glance showed me that she was shaved.
She began to stroke herself. Regrettably, I had to look up at the
road occasionally. Still, I didn't miss any sounds. Small grunts and
gasps escaped her lips, her head thrown back against the headrest.
The pace of her hand across her pussy lips and clit accelerated. The
volume increased. I could smell hot woman smell, much like my own
scent yet not the same.
With a wail, Sarah came. She decelerated a bit, peered at the clock
and commented, "That took about a minute."
I glanced around, expecting to see cops, fire trucks, semis, or a
motorcycle escort. No one so far. I looked ahead toward Aaron,
cruising some yards ahead of us and held up one finger. He signaled
OK.
Sarah picked up the pace again, pausing in her efforts at
intersections (whenever she was aware of them). In the next 20
minutes she cranked out about 20 more orgasms, thoroughly wetting the
towel and ultimately the car seat. Finally we lost count.
We turned onto the Interstate. I drove through intermittent
rainstorms and intermittent orgasm storms, watching the road but
totally riveted by Sarah's passion. If I hadn't been so very fond of
Sarah I would have been insanely jealous of her ability to come and
come and come with such abandon. On the other hand, I was so pleased
to witness this miracle.
We cruised on at 70 mph, Sarah managing to open an eye periodically to
check for truckers. After a while she chose to alter her technique,
inserting an increasing number of fingers from her left hand into her
pussy while her right hand continued its ministrations to her clit,
her feet planted on the dash.
"Ohhhh," she moaned, "this is almost better than I can stand. I never
thought of using both hands this way before," and she launched into
another orgasm, yelling, "Oh god, oh god, oh my god."
I wonder if this ability is catching, I thought. Sarah could make me
a believer.
Part way through this second coming, I noticed a yellow and green semi
cab hanging very close outside Sarah's window. Altering my speed had
little effect on his location. I pointed this new situation out to
Sarah who yelped and scrambled to sit in a more orthodox position,
pulling her skirt down as far as it would go, her hands resting
demurely in plain sight in her lap. Much to my surprise, she
continued to gasp and spasm with no physical stimulation needed at
all, her face turned away from the side window. I tried to brush off
the trucker while Sarah just kept on coming.
Over the next 10 or 15 minutes she gradually wound down and Aaron
positioned his car to block the trucker, whom we eventually lost at
the weigh station just before the Tennessee border. Soon we both
pulled into the rest stop where we had agreed to meet. I stopped the
van, walked over to Aaron's car where he sat grinning from ear to ear.
I couldn't stop smiling either. "You pervert you." I said. "Did she
keep your attention?" he asked.
"I was riveted," I replied. We laughed, and Sarah wobbled over to
their car to continue their trip to Chicago.
I drove on home smiling all the way. When I arrived, I sent Spectrum
out to our van. "Smell the passenger seat," I instructed, "and tell
me what you think. And see if you can find the footprint on the
windshield."
MoonOwl - July, 1994