After Roundtable

We're in our little safe haven, the front seat of your import. The sun bears down unconscionably on the roof while the blowers from the air conditioner stream icy cold air against my back. The driver's seat is pulled back as far as it will go and you are reclined, almost touching the back seat. My legs are nestled on both sides of your hips and my skirt is bunched around my waist.

I trace the the pad of my index finger across the bridge of your brow and down the length of your nose in long, relaxing strokes. You are a true hedonist and lie there motionless with your eyes closed, letting me pet you. Your hair is a sandy brown, iced with shades of graphite, and so curly that it hugs my fingers as I massage your scalp. I run my thumbs across your cheeks, splashed with red from the sun, and can feel you relax as I rub from the top of your nose to the front of your ears.

Leaning in, I take the soft, bottom lobe of your ear between my teeth and playfully pull on it. Unbuttoning the pearled buttons of your shirt, I lick a line from behind your ear to your collarbone, making soft bites here and there. I can hear your jaw click as you clench your back teeth. I know how sensitive your nipples are and swirl my tongue around them, sampling them both until they are hard and wet. A shudder runs through your body and out your hips.

The sleeves of my silk blouse hang from the crook of my elbows and are still buttoned at my wrists. I've stopped wearing a bra on Tuesdays when we meet and my nipples strain against the cool satin of my camisole. The pebbled tips tent the cream material and cast a shadow. Impatient, you massage their fullness, weighing and squeezing them. Pushing them up until they almost spill from the neckline. Squeezing from underneath so that every detail of my nipples is delineated in the material. Gently pulling on them so that they come closer to your mouth, you start sucking them, leaving a wet aureola on the camisole.

The new position puts my clit in direct contact with the placard of your pants and I start to lightly rock forward with short, firm strokes. You press my hips down so that I grind harder on the underside of your cock that runs behind your zipper. You seem relaxed with your half lidded eyes and disheveled repose, but your nostrils flare, giving away your primal response.

Reaching down and freeing your penis from your pants, I pull it down and rub the head against my pussy. It is quickly coated with me and slips across my hot crease. I lean back and slide right down to the hilt. Adjusting to the invasion, I flex my inner muscles and roll my hips counterclockwise is small circles. You feel so good, too good. I run my fingers through your hair and link them behind your head. I will you to just stay still so that I can keep rubbing on you, fucking you.

My momentum increases when you reach up and start twirling my nipples between your thumbs and forefingers. Reaching down, I rub my clit with my middle finger. With my head thrown back, I ride you mercilessly and cum with a gush all over your groin and balls.

You smile up at me and I am embarrassed by my uninhibited response to you. You delight in my discomfort and pull my mouth to yours, making me lean forward. With one hand behind my head and the other on my hip, you lock both into place and start your onslaught. Your tongue enters my mouth and retreats in rhythm with your cock filling and leaving my pussy. A groan starts low in my throat as your arm presses across my back, pulling me flush against your chest. My knees are stuck between the console and the door, tipping my ass up, leaving me exposed.

Your hips start to slap into me, stealing your pleasure, as I am held immobile. My breasts rub against your chest, wet with perspiration, and I can feel a second orgasm rolling though my body. You feel my muscles start to clench around you and your pace becomes frantic. I bear down and suck on your tongue as the wave hits me.

Straining against your arm, my body spasms and jerks against the restraint. My second orgasm gives your body tacit permission to let go. Giving a low growl, a frown furrows your brow as you pump the last load of cum into me.