Note: "knickers" is a common English word for panties.
*
Mavis was in the driving seat, her mind in neutral as she sped up the Motorway northwards to see her boyfriend. In itself this would have been considered "unusual" by her two children, but Mavis was determined not to turn into a prematurely-aged Grandma. She considered she had lots to do and now had the time & some money to do it with. Henry, her businessman husband had gone to meet his maker thanks to a heart attack last year and now that all the legal niceties had been sorted, she found she was comfortably off and with not a lot to do between coffee breaks.
Amongst the miscellaneous 'junk' left in Henry's study was life membership of the local Gym (for some reason she had yet to fathom), so she went in and met a lot of people and discovered several of her friends. She was soon joining in the stresses and strains of this or that machine with a will. The winter hid her improvements like the grey feathers on a swan, until spring when it was time to wear lighter clothes and the new improved Mavis was seen. She was slimmer, had better skin, a good haircut and was incredibly fit for 'the wrong side of forty'. Her new look was topped off by a snappy little sports car and a revision course in driving it. The Salesman had waffled about the car having been owned by a boffin who had done things to it, but said that the mechanics could find absolutely nothing to impede the car being safe and reliable. The SatNav kit was one which talked to you; "in a decent voice" said the Salesman. And it did - when she'd last switched it on.
Her boyfriend George was 'something in computers' and altogether an inconvenient number of miles away. It was OK at three in the morning when there wasn't much traffic, but late in the afternoon was a real trial when the slightest error by someone miles further up the road could jam the motorway solid for some hours. Amongst other things, George had shown her some wilder events in bed that Henry hadn't; come to think of it, she mused, Henry was not the most inventive of lovers, but did his duty like a good man should.
As she sat in the now stationary car, chewing a mint and waiting for the traffic to clear a little, she imagined George. He had a way of stroking her breast that almost galvanised her. When his fingers gently rubbed small circles round the inside of her thighs, she felt an electric force up her spine, back down to her tummy and into her inner recesses as she got very wet. By the time George got to putting a finger or two on her clitoris, she'd be drenched and panting. Just thinking about it was getting her tingly as she sat in the car, waiting to move on towards George and a night of pure sexual pleasure.
She turned on the SatNav unit. After a few seconds it said "You have twelve miles to go," and gave her position overlaid on the road map with an arrow to indicate the next turning. Her destination was highlighted in a red & gold star and she clenched her thighs in anticipation. She was really getting wet.
Thoughts of his hard body next to hers excited her. His kisses, melting her nerves and driving her towards a massive climax, filled her imagination as the traffic moved with almost geological slowness up the black ribbon that was the motorway.
"I'm going to be late," she muttered to herself. "Hope the restaurant will keep us a table. Oh for Heaven's sake calm down Mavis." She drew a deep breath to try and calm down her anticipation. She could feel her nipples expanding into her bra. At this rate, she thought, I'll be a wreck when I get there. The traffic moved slowly forwards another mile or so. Now she could see the reason for the delay. There was an accident on the edge of the road-works; "why were there no signs," she thought angrily.
In the back of her mind, George was doing things to her body that any amount of mints could not erase. The tension in her stomach was getting worse. Her nipples cried out for a human touch and a quick, almost furtive, check revealed she was dripping. Hemmed in by two very large lorries, she tentatively ran a nail over an erect nipple under the loose jacket of her suit. She barely managed to suppress a gasp as the nerves shrieked their message to her brain. She released a couple of buttons and slid her long fingers towards the lacy bra and stoked a nipple again. This time she did not suppress the gasp of pleasure.
She daringly wondered if she'd have time to finish herself off, and eased the waistband of her skirt. Just as she was working out the logistics the lorry next to her moved slowly forward. "Thanks the Lord, movement at last." she muttered, as the traffic crawled another mile. She settled down to wait for further movement. She looked at her watch and panicked. Picking up her mobile 'phone from the other seat, she dialled his number; "Sorry, can't talk right now, please leave a message" was the infuriating response to her call.
"George", she said, "it's Mavis. I'm stuck in traffic and do not know how long I'll be. Please call me back soon." She pressed the 'End' button and dropped the 'phone in disgust on the seat and remembered the super de Luxe radio that the Salesman had rambled about. The small screen emerged from the drawer and she pressed one of the selections. Some good music filled the inside of the car. She pressed another button as the traffic stopped again and the music changed to some very rhythmic stuff with deep resonance that entered her soul. "Come for me" said a voice in her head; you know you want to." The voice was deep and passionate, almost visceral. Her pussy was not so much moist as soaking.
