All Lanes Bloced

All lanes of the bridge were blocked. Thomas didn't know that yet. What he did know was that it was after four o'clock, traffic leading to the bridge was standing still, and he had Valentine's Day reservations for seven that evening at a French restaurant downtown. "Get out of this now while you can," he muttered under his breath. And with that, he wriggled the car out from its lane and backed up the ramp far enough to make a hairpin turn onto a side street. Even with traffic, the long way around would be better than waiting here.

Recognized more for her beauty than patience, Virginia, "Ginnie" to her friends, was just a few miles away as the crow flies. She was wrapping up a few details at work and expecting her boyfriend home by six. She'd telegraphed clear hints about the romantic evening she anticipated, the restaurant she wanted to try, and the outfit she'd wear to maximize the moment -- a purple slit dress with a plunging v-neck, blue pumps, and a pearl necklace. Her workday was grinding to a halt and she was eager to get back home. Last tasks faded away as she imagined running her fingers through Thomas' wavy brown hair and kissing his salty lips. She felt a tingle at the thought of planting deep lipstick rings.

Still on the road and traveling well below the speed limit, Thomas' mind wandered to Valentine's Day a year ago. He felt his cock stiffen. He thought of Ginnie with her smooth skin and thick, dark hair that ran straight just below her shoulders, an electric smile, and green eyes her black cat could envy. She was smart and could be sultry or silly, even at the same time. A couple of weeks earlier Thomas had been driving a rented car between cities, lost in thought with Ginnie on his mind. With straight lanes to the horizon and no one else on the road, he unzipped and began stroking. Being careful around exits, on-ramps, and semi-trailer trucks, his strokes were insistent, teasing, and playful. His cock was hard, rock hard. Rounding the glans, tight strokes downward, and rotating around the shaft, he could feel the seat cushion seams under his thighs. He rolled the window down and groaned loudly into the dry wind as he edged himself over and over again, finally cuming in explosive white bolts onto the steering wheel.

The column of brake lights flickering relentlessly ahead of him, Thomas recalled how the day started and the seeds Ginnie planted with a mischievous smile. He had just gotten out of bed, naked and bleary-eyed, when she walked towards him and turned to ask for help zipping her dress. She pulled coyly at the fabric around her hips, the pantyhose helping it glide smoothly around her thighs. Suddenly she backed up and pressed into him, rubbing up and down. He guided her silken ass in a circular grinding motion with his hands, movements that did nothing to help prepare for a productive workday ahead. Even so, minutes later she was dressed and out the door. She knew how much he enjoyed the caresses and the attention his cock got. Without finishing, it made sex seem continuous rather than episodic. As Thomas' cock softened, he gathered his thoughts and strewn clothing, then fed the cat.

The sunset would've been beautiful. Orange puff clouds nestled into a deep blue sky. Crossing a southern bridge, Thomas was offered a magnificent view, but his mind was preoccupied with the imperfect timing of his drive home. He noticed a bank of dark clouds floating in from the west and the growing shadows on the pavement. It looked like rain. It'd be a little less than an hour before he got home. That was just enough time to stop for flowers on the way.

Ginnie was home already with enough time to enjoy a nice, hot bath. As she sank into the lavender warmth, her eyes closed and her mind started to wander. She thought of Thomas -- his hands caressing her body, kneading her breasts, exploring folds and wetness. She loved when he touched the backs of her thighs, up the supple skin to that soft edge where curves suddenly sprout in sweet mounds of round flesh. She would moan as he licked her pussy, teasing her clit, pressing into it with the flat of his tongue. He would penetrate, the hardness gliding into wet warmth, and she would cum in panting waves.

Out of the bath and dry now, she noticed the sky darkening with sunset and weather. She turned on lights and music, and saw her cat licking itself by the window. Ginnie refocused on prep for the evening. Blue thong panties would match the heels she'd wear. Black stockings replaced the pantyhose from earlier. The bra's translucent lace let light trace her nipples. Arms overhead, the purple silk dress opened like a flower as it slid over her taught, upturned breasts, the curve of her back, and down her lithe body. She tugged gently to finesse the fabric over her hips, adjusted the plunging neckline around her cleavage, and tossed at her hair. With thin strokes of makeup and a dab of perfume, she was ready.

At that moment the cat jumped from the window sill, the door swung open, and Thomas stepped into the room. Rain bounced off the walkway steps. Ginnie entered from the hall and paused for a moment near the door. The contours of her body contrasted with the wall. She smiled seductively. "Happy Valentine's Day," Thomas said as he pulled the bouquet of flowers from behind his back.