At last, they can have a few days together and the time to catch up on their loving ways. Those they knew at the wedding, of their closest friends, had told them that they were the 'golden couple', now, and she could scarcely believe it herself. She and Oscar never spoke of it; they didn't live together; they were so wrapped up in their careers that they didn't think beyond that and would find a night, here and there, to be at either her place or Oscar's.
To set up a home, to do that, live together, and go further and become man and wife was, or had been, out of scope. Now, she wasn't so sure. Oscar was never out of her thoughts and she would often wonder what he would do in the situations that she was often obliged to confront in her work as a city trader. They worked for rival firms, travelled on the tube, and overhead railway, into London Docklands from their apartments, and the arrangement worked. They were still an item.
The wedding venue, a converted aisled barn with exposed beams, trusses, and close studding, was set in immaculately landscaped grounds, the happy couple photographed as they stood on a bridge that arched over an ornamental pond, their friends and guests calling to them as iPhones took pictures, their owners sharing them no doubt, or posting them on favoured sites so that those not invited, but known to the couple, could see what a good time they had.
"Keep your eyes on the road, Ali, darling...or do you want me to drive?" He said it as a fingertip caress was offered to her cheek. "You are beautiful, Ali Dempster, you really are."
She met Oscar's wondering look and heard again his preferred name for her and not Alice. "So, you keep saying."
"And I'll never stop doing that. If you pull in somewhere, I'll show you."
"Being in the car with you and knowing what we'll do while we're away for a few days, is distraction enough, thank you!" Ali had chosen a matronly tone to answer him as she pouted a suggestive smile.
"She's so prim and proper," he teased back.
"For now."
Oscar moved away and settled back in his seat, his dark hair ruffled by the slipstream as Ali drove her convertible VW Golf Gti over the country lanes that rose and fell through this part of the Kentish Downs. A quiet hotel on the coast, and days and nights of fun, awaited them. Their work rosters over the past weeks have meant that they have had little time to be together and now they want no distractions.
Ali's relaxed, even as she drives her car, chatting animatedly or the two of them singing along to some tune that they know and can be heard over the rush of the wind, the radio turned up a notch or two. Occasionally, she dares to glance at him and take her eyes off the road. Throughout the wedding service, and then the reception and drone of the speeches, she's hungered for him.
Oscar looks so darned hot, his good looks and black hair that is so rich, and luxuriant, crowning a high-cheeked and slender face. His lips are sensual and full, and his smile so captivating that she noticed more than a couple of women at the reception casting envious glances their way. The lingering aroma of a musky body scent, or after-shave, arouses her interest in him still further. There's just a hint of it and can be breathed in as he again leans in to kiss her cheek, a hand drifting down to caress the warm skin of her slender thighs as the hem of her dress is eased up, just enough for him to do that.
"It's not so far now," she says, glancing his way and meeting Oscar's soft grin. "Wait a while longer, can you?"
"No, I don't think I can."
He had loved the look of her all day, how her floaty, sleeveless, white dress with its large blue flowers flatters her figure and shows off her slender legs to perfection. Now, he places a hand on Ali's knee and feels her warmth, the silken smoothness of her thighs. She moves back in her seat and parts her legs a little more.
"Oscar...no...Oscar, don't!" she groans and shifts on her seat as his fingers trace a path slowly over her skin, moving up her thigh. His slow touches arouse shivers of longing but he stops in his caresses and simply leaves his hand resting on her warm skin.
Its presence has the desired effect. She feels the glow of warmth in her belly, the gnaw of longing for him grip her and there follows little jolts, as if an electric current is applied then taken away, only to return.
"Somehow I've got to concentrate," she laughs softly, "or I'll drive us off the road and end up on the verge."
"I sure know what I'd do if you did that," he teases back.
On a hungering look her way, that Ali meets, his hand resumes its slow caress. His featherlight touch brushes her panties before Oscar's fingers tease along her slit, press into her, and she feels the rush of moisture as his caresses arouse her.
"Don't!" she gasps, "I'll lose control of the car!"
He's not so easily dissuaded, not even by the slap to his arm that Ali now delivers as his caresses to her slit grow more insistent, press into her. She's breathing hard now and the car has slowed down noticeably as she pushes her hips forward on the driver's seat to meet his fingering of her.
"Jeez!" he calls out as the car swerves and his hand is quickly pulled away. "I'll have to wait, it's only half an hour or so before we get to our hotel. I'll try to resist you."
"Just touch my skin," she smiles, even as she realises that his touches have brought her on so far that she can't quell the cramping ache of longing for him and wonders if she too can no longer wait for half an hour before they get off with each other.
Ali goes further than what she's asked of him. As Oscar caresses her thigh she rests one hand on his crotch and feels the hard swell in his trousers. She works him whenever the bends in the road allow her to do that. With her eyes still on the road she brushes Oscar's hand as he unzips his trousers, and loosens his belt so that she can reach in.
"You are worked up, aren't you?" she laughs softly as her hand feels the hard swell of his balls and the length of his penis, shaped so enticingly by his briefs. He's not a guy who wears boxers and she loves how that soft cotton fabric shapes him.
It's his turn to be worked on and the rumble of the wheels on the rough road surface, conveyed through the springs and body of the car, only heighten the pleasure of her hand caressing him. She manages to work his sac, then slowly begins to jerk him off through the material of his briefs. Oscar's eyes are closed and he sits back delighting in what she does for him.
"Just stop the car somewhere, darling!" he calls out and she's been wondering about that too. She's failing to concentrate on the road, her attention more on jerking off her man and lover. Cars rush past them, bewildered that they're going so slowly on the open road.
