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