THE ENGINE IS RUNNING as I watch you stride up the path towards me, gripping a Calculus 101 textbook across your chest. I wait until you step around to the side of the car before I flick the headlights back on. You open the passenger door and slide in.
"Hi Gracie. How did it go tonight?"
"Really well, thank you, the kids were really good," you say, clicking the seat belt.
"Mr. Trouble didn't give you any trouble?" I ask, backing out of the driveway and turning the wheel to point us to your place, as I've done many times before.
"Hah, not this time. We had dinner, played a few games then I sent both of them up to bed. The usual routine."
I nod. Next, there will be silence for five minutes as we both stare ahead at the road, the two of us sitting alone in the dark, separated by decades of time and 18 inches of airspace. Some more chit-chat, about university life, midterms. I catch glimpses of you out of the corner of my eye as I make the turns, heading across town. You're beautiful. The conversation is just filler, I'm not paying attention. Rather I'm savouring these 10 minutes of your sweet company as we slide across town, through mostly empty, carless streets.
You have on capris and a light blue cashmere cardigan, over a button-up white blouse. Your hands hold the textbooks on your lap. I faintly catch the slightest whiff of the scent you're wearing. Like lemons.
God, you are a sweet young thing. At 19, you are the very definition of forbidden fruit. What a secret thrill it is to have these fleeting moments with you.
We reach the light at East 1st, just as it turns to yellow. And we wait, no other traffic in sight.
That's when something truly incredible and unexpected happens, a moment that crashes through my midnight routine like a rock dropped off an overpass.
You move your hand onto my thigh.
I inhale sharply, surprised, and turn to meet your impish smile. Oh, sweet Jesus. A few heartbeats later and the triggers in my brain open the right pipes and valves and blood rushes to my groin, rapidly swelling my cock.
"Gracie, wait..." I begin, but you lift your finger to your lips with your free hand then reach down to unbuckle your belt, all without lifting your hand from my crotch, where you are now rubbing my bulge.
The seat belt warning chime starts up, and the light turns green. A warning, danger, combined with a signal: GO. You lean over, and unsnap the front of my jeans, lower my fly, and then extract my now throbbing, straining member from my briefs. Wordlessly, you bend over me and take my cock into your sweet mouth.
Oh. My. God, Gracie.. Ohhhhhh." It's all I can say. You bob up and down in my lap, your hair falling in cascades in my lap, your lips sealed around my shaft, smacking and sucking. I rub your back and then reach under you and cup your breasts through your blouse. Your bra stops my progress, but I can feel your hard nipple within.
The light is still green, and so I turn my attention forward and pull through the intersection, and drive down the street and hang a right into an alley. We're in a commercial area, and half way down the block I steer into an empty warehouse that's been converted to a parking lot.
The fucking seat belt alarm is still dinging, every 10 seconds, and you haven't relinquished my manhood. The lights are out in the warehouse, but I pull into the back corner and kill the engine.