Day Trip In Nj

It was an outing to the beach. The ride is short, so we try something new.

First, lunch at the rest stop. You were dressed in a short skirt, with a blouse that opens down the front. It's colorful and pretty, bringing out the best in your eyes, hair and me. Only the two of us knew what would happen on this ride. And only I knew everything. We sit next to each other in the booth. You on the outside. As we eat the early lunch, My hand drifts to your leg. It slides up your thigh. You feel the heat from my fingers as they touch the waistband of the panties you were told to wear. I grip them and pull hard. They resist, but begin to come down your thigh. You begin to rise, give me access, but I hold you to the seat. You have no say in this. I need no help.

You feel the material grate against your skin as it slides haltingly. I reach over your legs and grip the other side and yank. It also hesitates, but yields to me. With a rush, air hits your fur. You can feel the strands waver in the breeze. You look at your lap and see the crotch appear, stretched out of shape. I grip the first side and pull again.

The fabric scrapes against your ass as it continues to escape your body.

"Can you pass me that ketchup over there, hon?" And you lean forward to reach it. As you do, I yank the panties from your ass in one swift stroke. They hang around your thighs as you sit. Anyone looking can see this under the table. I continue to slide them down. Over your knees, along your calves. You raise you feet as they fall to your ankles. I reach down and relieve you of this encumbrance.

I bunch them up and place these aromatic goodies in my pocket. They will come in handy later, perhaps.

How's your food?

Ummm is all you manage to say.

As I eat, I search in my bag. You see this, but are distracted by the wetness on the seat beneath you. You know you are trickling onto it. The need is here, but can't be sated. But the smile on my face makes you wonder.

I am doing something beside you. You want to look, but know better. It is maddening, isn't it, to know that something is being prepared for you, but are unable to see what it is. That it is not for you to know until it is time to experience it.

I ask you to put the ketchup back. And once again you lean forward, bringing your ass off the seat. You feel the air cool the moisture on your skin. It excites you. as you begin to sit, something hard taps your skin. Slowly, I caution.

It nudges against your ass. You move back onto it slowly...gently...it is slippery...aahh. It slides into you. You feel the collar of muscle wrap around the plastic. It's snap is almost audible. The sting is there, but the plug is small, and dissipates rapidly. With a start, you realize, it is fixed to the bench. Suction holds it there.

I'm sorry, could I have that ketchup again. You lean forward to reach it. But the plug is unyielding and holds you to the seat. It pulls at you and it feels good. You are getting wetter. You rise again and the pull returns. And again. You smile. It is like this for a few times until you reach the bottle and pass it to me. You smile, knowing it is you who fuck your ass. Or is it the bench, the restaurant? Either feels just as good. You long to touch yourself, but are ordered not to. I do it instead. Clear to any who care to look, I sweep the skirt up your legs and dip a finger between them. You are slippery, hot and wanting. Already, from long experience I judge your lips swollen and open.

Eat your food.

As you eat with both hands on the table, fork shaking over Green Giant corn, One of mine is in your lap - two fingers nestled deep inside. I caress you, stroke the supple tissues with loving intensity. You can feel every grain and swirl of each of my fingers as the explore familiar terrain. One finds the cervix and tickles it softly. Another strokes crease of the inner wall just past the lips. I wriggle them just like a child's walking finger game. It makes you jump, but the plug holds you still for me.

The task of eating becomes harder with every second of increasing need. The spoon will not hold the corn now, let alone the fork. But the spoon is all you trust yourself with as you've already dropped more food onto the table, floor and self that has managed to reach your mouth. Your breathing is faster, coming in short pants. I know you're close now, you're biting your lips, squeezing your eyes shut.

I won't let you come until the meal is done. Eat everything.

A whimper escapes, and you try harder to eat. My god, this is impossible, you think. It feels too good, but you know I will keep my promise, and you need to cum now. So you eat. Mindlessly, with a throbbing need in your belly and below. I stroke and wriggle inside you, tormentingly close to releasing the need, but as you approach, I slow and stop until it hangs on the edge tottering, tilting, sliding, but not going over.

...please... you whimper between mouthfuls. You hardly chew as you take the food in. I caution you to chew, then breathe. Warn you how embarrassing it would be to have someone rush over to perform the Heimlich maneuver at this particular point. You smile as the image forms and then laugh out loud. Someone looks over - away, then back in a classic double take as he sees what is happening. Good. We have an audience, love.

You look up around and find him watching with a smile. He winks at you. You turn back to me and bury your head for a moment in my shoulder.

C'mon, eat your food.

My fingers increase their actions inside as you near the end of your dinner. I tell you to take an ice cube from the glass and place it in the bra I had you wear. You thought it was uncomfortable before, but as the sliver of ice nestles inside, you know new heights. The shock pushes you further to the edge. Your breathing becomes sharp. There is one forkful of food left. If you can spear it, release will be with the swallow.

Painfully slow, careful not to spill it. You raise it to your lips, cold now, unappetizing, but never so wanted as now, you take it into your mouth. It is rubbery, as are you, from waiting so long, you chew it. My fingers increase their pressure against the walls of your womb and cervix. They are like a dervish inside. Small sounds come from you as you chew. Waiting for me to tell you to swallow, you look pleading into my eyes.

Between the plastic in your ass, my fingers assaulting your cervix and waiting for it, you are about to burst. The food, thoroughly chewed now begins to liquefy. I tell you to swallow. As you do, I hook you inside and drive against your clit with my thumb. I tap and strum it until it bursts with the need and surrenders to it in a wash of light and crashing sound. You clamp your mouth shut and force back the urge to scream as the waves hit you.

Almost too much, you bury you face in my shoulder and clutch my other hand in a death grip as the waves threaten to wash you away. But they subside. And my fingers per instead of drive and thrust. Stroke and cuddle. I slide them out and hand them to you. You kiss each one and them pat them dry with a napkin.

Lunch over. I ask, "would you like dessert?" You laugh and say you've already had it.

I tell you it's time to leave then. Be careful getting up. You know the thing will hurt coming out this way, but you brace yourself and in on motion rise from it. It slips from with a small noise and surprisingly - no pain at all. But the moisture you've shed is cooly present. Smoothing your skirt, you leave the booth. I reach with a napkin and scoop up the thing as I rise.

As we pass, our voyeur can sense your perfume, I'm sure. He does smile and wink at us, salute to me, as we pass. We can hear him talking in excited tones to his friend as we close the dinner door. They both watch from the window as we kiss, hug each tightly then enter our car. If they only knew what the rest of the ride would be like, they'd follow. But that's another story.

Part two

At the car, you get into the back and sit quietly. We drive a small distance - to the next exit off the turnpike. As the road quiets I pull over to the side. You stay in the car. I go to the trunk to retrieve the equipment we'll need for the rest of the trip.

Returning, I place a loop of rope around your wrist. and another around your knee. I take the ends of these and tie them to the arm rest of the closed door. This pulls your arm and knee to the door, opening you on this side. I repeat the process on the other side. You now are spread eagled in the middle of the car seat. You arms are a little uncomfortable, but distraction will be provided. I slip my hands under your butt and slide you forward on the seat until you are slouched and broadly open to me. Remember the panties? They, bunched are stuffed into your wet crotch. They sop up your now free flowing moisture. I touch your clit gently. It makes you jump and gasp. Your mouth opens and I kiss it.

As you sit there, pantiless, skirt up around your waist, I begin to unbutton your blouse. With each button more of your skin shines through to daylight. It is colorful and clear and makes me want to lick every inch of you until you squirm and strain at the bindings so hard they creak.

Blouse open, the only thing left is the bra. I produce a pair of large scissors. They look frightening as I slip a blade under a strap and snip. You feel the fabric tickle as it falls on your skin. The other is cut. You start to protest - is this a good bra? I'll buy you another for all the time you wear one. Then the cold blade slides up your ribs and rests under your outstretched arms. You wish that I'd hurry in case someone stops to help us. It makes you chuckle. I think I've tickled.

Snip. This side falls open and exposes the side of your breast to me.

Snip. The last falls away and you appear in full glory. Nipples rosy pink and flushed with excitement, just begging to be kissed. So I do. I suck it into my mouth and swirl my tongue around it. You have always tasted good, now is no exception. I grip the nipple in my lip covered teeth and squeeze. You push your breast into my mouth as best you can, but the ropes keep you at bay. I hold both of your breasts full in my hands and squeeze just a little until you moan slightly. It seems that you're ready for a gag. Can't have you distracting my driving with moans and such. So I get the forgotten panties, now very damp with your juices, and stuff them into our mouth. You taste bitter to yourself. It could be the diet coke.

Oh, my. How much did you drink?

My hands are under you again - raising you up a little. Just enough to place a butt plug inside you. It slides in easily. Your body remembers it from only a short while ago. In fact it still feels warm. Nestled inside, gripped by that collar of muscle, the sting is welcome and you feel the need rising again.

Open to the world this way, I leave you to drive us the rest of the way to our beach. There is just enough freedom to push the friendly plastic an inch out against the seat and then let it slide back inside. It feels oh so good to have something hard there pushing against you. Invading you and you sit spread and helpless.

The car has started, you feel the vibrations acutely now. From the ropes tugging you this and that pulling that way. The invader in your butt seems to rest on something that carries road feel right up into you. But you wish for something else just as my hand reaches back through the seats to finger you. It is crude and hardly my style, but feels good to have attention paid. As we stop at a light a horn blows and you look up to see a trucker gaping in on you with a huge grin. You realize, you can do nothing about your exposure, not even smile back. As this occurs to you, something presses against your lips. It is large and hard and utterly alien.

You look down at a wooden baseball bat trying to gain access. You look up quickly at me in surprise. I smile evilly back. We both know it will not fit, but propped as it is against console on one end and nestled into you at the other, it is wedged secure. As the car starts again, the road's every contour transmits itself to your lips, your ass and against your limbs. It is something new to you. It is as if your being attacked from every direction at the same time. Assaulted in every way at once.

I seem to pick the spaces in the road that cause the most effect on the bat and plug. The need rises. The trucker has kept pace. But you are oblivious as the need mounts more and more. With each gentle thrust of the bat as it spreads your lips and tries to insinuate itself inside you, it grows. As each squeeze of the muscle in your ass caresses the plug as it tries to meet the bat. You begin to make noise again. I tap my knuckles on the bat making it ring sharply at your opening. Oh god, you are going to cum any minute if this keeps up. What a delightful feeling to be so exposed, helpless and invaded on every front. It's as if the car, the road and the truck next to us are all fucking you witless.

Every stop and start is a test of your strength as it drives or pulls the bat to and from you. You can see your moisture sliding down the wood making it glisten as it throb on you. You see all of the traffic now as we near a small shore town. The truck is beside us still. He signals to you. To your mouth and then to him. He wants your panties. You smile as best you can. If I let you, you will give them to him. You push out your chest to him and jiggle your breasts. He pulls on his horn in appreciation.

The light has changed. I ask if you're all right. I see in the mirror a nod and strained smile. The need is strong. I can smell it on you. I reach back and slide a finger around the junction of bat to lips. It's really trying to get in I tell you. But you already know that. On the way home, I'll wrap your breasts and tie them off too. Maybe string clamps to your nipples.

Another bump in the road and the bat drives against you. It touches your clit or makes your lips touch the clit. Or it is merely your imagination as your clit wants so badly to be touched. But the need crests and falls attacks and retreats. With each dip in the road, it is closer and closer. We are on the two lane highway now. Only miles from our destination. But this road has not been paved, instead it is old county concrete roadway with a bead of material every so often on a regular rhythm. It pushes you more and harder. The plastic vibrates in your ass. It nudges that sensitive tissue that separates ass from womb. And you...are...going...tO...CUMMMM! You buck against the bounds and the car, the plastic, ropes, bat and road all conspire to form a tidal wave that pushes you into a storm you've never felt. It clouds you vision, drives you in epileptic fits against the ropes in frantic escape. But it doesn't end. The bat still has the rhythm and the plastic still invades and the waves just keep coming and coming. You taste yourself in your panties and suck in the juice as the waves still crash.

I speed up the car and the bat hits harder against your lips. It has edged inside, just a little. More if you could push against it. But the ropes keep you prisoner for the waves of passion and physical need that threaten to black you out.

Almost like actual blows the need hits on you. Again and again. t's a good thing the panties are there, because the noise you make with them is loud enough. A guttural roar keeping pace with each wave's crest. I pull over to the side of the road, worried. You continue to cum and cum. Sweat drenches your face. But with the resting car, it subsides. You slump within the bonds. The truck stops behind us. But he stays, politely in his cab - watching.

You can see me only barely through the haze of orgasm. I reach you. Grasp your body close hug you warmly.

You all right?

...uhnnnnnhmnn... is al that emerges when I remove your panties.

You've been cumming for ten miles now. I figured we better stop before you passed out. I'll be right back. I run to the truck and hand the driver the panties. I saw him, too. He asks if we do this kind of thing often. I tell often enough and return to you. He keeps his truck there, shielding us as I undo the ropes, remove the bat. You crawl into my lap and I hold you there, still impaled in back, for a long time.

The day was warm, the water was fine, and the swimming was pretty good too. The way home was just as I promised. Tied from the knees, wrists, each wrapped breast, and the nipples. The torture was sublime you told me again and again begging to go riding again..

And the trucker travels the roads along the Jersey shore looking for us to this day, I'm sure.