I see his car slide up beside mine. I've been waiting a while, stewing in my own breath hitching cravings. I'm all desire and primitive need. He turns off the engine and cocks his head with that look he always gives me as if asserting his dominance with just one gaze - a shot across the bow to test my want of him. I can't help but smile back and he climbs out of his car and approaches.
My eyes rake his form taking in the way his clothes fit. T-shirt skimming muscular chest, jeans skating over his taut thighs and ass as he walks. My eyes drink in his neatly trimmed beard and tight lips that smirk slightly in the knowledge of what he's going to ask of me. He knows I will do whatever he wants. I know he's been planning as he drove here. I'm wondering if the molten lava of my lust for him will be evident when he climbs inside my car. Will he smell my melting quim, salivating as she is for his turgid maleness? Will he notice my breasts engorged with blood, nipples straining beneath my lacy bra? They are so tender it hurts. They are in need of Sir's mouth. His hands. His anything.
He opens the door and immediately he's upon me. His hands shove into my thick red hair as he takes my lips and makes them his. His tongue seeks mine. I let him in and push my body closer.
'Get over here,' he says in a low gruff voice.
He pats his lap and I struggle over the centre console, placing myself blissfully over his jean clad cock. I can feel the heat of it. The steely hardness. For a moment I'm overwhelmed. Eyes closed I surrender to him. His hands drift everywhere, his beard scrapes my throat. Without conscious thought my hands go to his biceps, then to his chest. I revel in the firmness. I press and press closer, breasts squished against him, face rubbing catlike against his stubble.
Our breathing is fast. Eyes glint in the dark as he pulls back. He looks down at my skirt and says,
'Did you wear them for me?'
I nod. 'Yes,' I tell him.
His head tilts reproachfully.
'Yes, what?'
Quickly I remember myself. It is not like me to forget the proper form of address, but I'm lost in the thrill of his presence.
'Yes Sir. I'm wearing tinies like you asked.'
'That's better,' he says. 'Now show me.'
I hitch up my skirt to allow him to see the tiny black thong with gold metal trims that I'm wearing. It just about covers my sex and I know he approves. He runs a finger over the silky material and releases a slight groan.
'So wet already,' he says.