Roadside Rescue

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. ALL CHARACTERS ARE LIKEWISE FICTITIOUS, AND OVER THE AGE OF 18. ALL SEXUAL ACTS ARE CONSENSUAL.

ROADSIDE RESCUE

The rain is relentless, my tow truck slogging through a veritable sea of brakelights, holiday traffic backed up until maybe the end of time. It's taken me the better part of an hour to reach you, but there, ahead, your blinkers in the emergency lane. I pull in front of your stranded hybrid, tug on my slicker, and exit the truck, into the cold downpour.

"Took you long enough," is your cheery greeting through the window you've just lowered. For some reason you are soaked, your hair - brown, auburn? - in clumped strands about your neck and shoulders.

"Traffic doesn't part for tow trucks," I murmur.

"What?"

"Never mind. Right front, correct?"

"Yes."

"Spare?"

"No."

"Why are you soaked?" I ask.

"I got out to see if I had a spare."

"I'll apply a patch if I can, otherwise I'll have to tow you somewhere." You raise your window by way of reply.

It's immediately obvious the aerosol patch is not going to inflate the tire. I run my flashlight over as much as I can see, though the location of the puncture is not visible. A tow is inevitable. I suspect this news will not thrill you.

"You can't fix it? You're sure? Fuck."

"I'm sorry."

"So now what?"

"I tow you wherever you want to take the car. Mechanic's, your home, wherever you say."

You swear again. "So much for my party."

"Have you got a raincoat in there?"

"Just a shawl."

"Let me get your side of the seat ready and we'll make a dash for it."

"Fuck." You look up at me. "Guess I said that already."

"Give me a minute."

From behind the console seat of the truck I pull a folded wool army blanket and try to arrange it on the seat. Hopefully it will help keep you warm.

You lower your window again as I approach. "There's a blanket in the seat," I say, trying to keep runoff from my slicker from dripping on you. "I'll help you onto the running board and then the seat."

You watch me as your window slides up, obscuring you. Then you open your door and scoot out, quickly becoming drenched. "Fuck," you half-shout. I grab your hand and lead you toward the truck. "I'm in heels, not so fast!" More than a half-shout.

I help you onto the running board and then into the seat. Your black sequined party dress clings to you and as you climb in, the pale white of your upper thigh and rise of your ass cheek flash. You turn to see if I've caught a glimpse. Did I look away in time? I might be busted. I quickly pull off my poncho and stuff it behind the seat.

I set the signals and raise the front of your car...and...I'm definitely busted, because you sit glaring at me from the far edge of the seat. But you say nothing other than to more or less order me to turn up the heat. I oblige, then slowly ease into this nightmare of traffic.

You're shivering as you drape the blanket over you, teeth chattering. "Does that go any higher?" you ask, jutting your chin at the heater.

"It's on full blast."

"Fuck. I'm freezing. And this thing is too itchy." You yank the blanket off you and stuff it in a pile between us. I tuck it behind your seat, then move over another lane, not that it helps our progress, and listen to your teeth chatter.

"I'm sorry," you say after a while. "I'm usually not this bitchy. Or whiny."

"No worries. This wasn't the evening you had planned."

"No, it certainly fucking wasn't." You look over at me. "I'm not usually this much a potty-mouth either."

"No worries."

"Do you have anything besides that blanket?"

"I wish I did. Sorry." You shiver with a small moan. A long couple minutes pass. The occasional rat-a-tat of your teeth.

"Look," I say. "I don't want to be misunderstood here. But if you want to slide over, I can put my arm around you and maybe it will help warm you." I look you in the eye. "I'm harmless."

"You were staring at my ass."

"I wasn't staring. Anyway, just an offer."

"You won't try anything." Statement, not a question.

"Let's see now," I begin slowly - "I could lose my job, maybe even be arrested. Oh and worst of all, you give me a bad review online."

At least that earns me a giggle. You slowly slide over, watching me all the while. I drape my arm over the top of the seat, and you snuggle part way into me. Then snuggle a bit more.

"Is this helping?" I ask.

"Maybe. Too soon."

I ease over another lane and we crawl, crawl, crawl. There's no sound but the driving rain, the slap of the windshield wipers and the heater. You shiver again and I gently pull you tighter.

We pass under some highway lights and for the first time, your skin is illumined. A gorgeous expanse of chest and cleavage, the perfect swell of what appear to be full, round breasts. But this is not the moment to be caught looking and I stare at the taillights in front of us. We pass under the light and the cabin is dark again.

Until it's not. Another set of highway lights, and now a long, still idle. The tops of your breasts glow like moonlight. I permit myself a glance...they're so beautiful...and you detect the movement of my jaw. You stiffen.

"Look how I'm sitting. You're getting an eyeful, aren't you?" I don't answer.

"I guess it's the least I can do," you sigh. "You have been nice, I have to admit." And then you pick up my hand from around your shoulder and study it, turning it this way and that. "You have nice hands", you say. "Clean. Warm too."

"Thank you."

And with that you let my hand drop, and my fingertips brush your chest, your breastbone. Such soft skin. Neither of us says anything and for maybe the first time I understand the phrase 'charged atmosphere.' For you make no effort to move my fingers, my hand. Your breathing has grown shorter.

OK dude...

Lose your job.

Get arrested.

That terrible online review...

Slowly my fingertips slide down your soft, pale skin and under the fabric of your neckline, glide over the swell of your left breast, over the fabric of your bra, low cut and not covering much. You sigh as my hand covers your breast and squeezes gently, then more firmly, "Oh my god" you whimper as I lightly press it into your chest and graze your hardening nipple with my fingertips.

"It's been so long," you murmur.

"That seems impossible. I can't imagine you lack for attention." My hand moves to your right breast now and gives it the same attention as you bow your head and sigh. Then I spread my hand thumb to pinkie and stroke both nipples with the tips.

"Oh god," you whimper again. You nestle into my neck. "Do you get a lot of rides like this?"

"This is a first." We are approaching more lights overhead but I leave my hand to wander back and forth, this breast then that, so soft, so full, squeezing, stroking, flicking your nipples, savoring your warm damp sighs on my neck.

You lunge forward suddenly and turn down the heater. "Getting hot in here." And I take the opportunity to unzip your dress and with the same hand, unclasp your bra. You nestle back into me. "Quick move," you murmur. "I still say you've done this before."

"Never. I swear." My hands roam more urgently now over the bare skin of your breasts, squeezing, stroking, and I pinch your nipples between my knuckles. That my cock has hardened beneath my coveralls does not escape your notice, and you gesture as if you were going to clutch it, but then pull back your hand. You sigh heavily as I gently press your right breast into your chest.

"So good," you murmur.

I spread my hand as wide as I can and stroke each nipple, your left with my thumb and your right with my little finger. Circling, rubbing, feeling them harden at my insistent touch. Then I cup your right breast fully, squeezing, stroking it outward until my fingertips meet at the nipple. Then the same with your left. You've begun to squirm and now your left hand rests tentatively on my thigh.

I massage your left nipple with two knuckles and now you groan and clamp your thighs together. "God I feel that..." You don't finish but from your squirming and your clenched thighs, I am fairly sure I know where you're feeling it.

"Scooch down a little." I say. My hand, knife-like, takes aim between your thighs, wriggles between them, and then I coax them open. I press on your right knee, urging you to open wider.

"God I'm a slut," you sigh, surrendering.

"I don't think so." Meanwhile my curled fingers and palm cup your pussy through your panties, warm and wet. I press and you hump against my hand.

"God. It's been so long." Your eyes are closed and your breaths are quickening and your hips move with my hand to keep the delightful pressure I'm putting on your pussy, your clit. Your hand moves to my hardened cock and clutches it through my pants. "Ooooh," you exhale, groping at it. Your eyes stay shut as you hump on my fingers which are working their way up to the waistband of what feel to be very tiny panties. I pause my fingers' progress to quickly flick the middle one on the swelling flesh that is your clit.

At this contact you pitch forward with a groan, then settle back and when you do, I slip my fingers into your panties. So warm, so wet. I slide my middle finger back over your now-bare clit and gently into your waiting pussy.

"UNNNHHH god," you groan, and as you open your legs wider I slip in my index finger as well. "FUCK!" you cry.

"Indeed," I growl into your ear. "Fuck them. Fuck them good."

While your left hand renews its grasp on my cock, your right covers my hand and you fuck my fingers as though you had a toy inside you, filling you. Your hips buck as you pant again, "God it's been so long. Stroke my clit. Stroke my clit!" When I do, you let out a long moan, your hand still clamped over mine. Then I slide my two fingers back into you and you fuck anew in a frenzy, your tits heaving.

Up ahead I note the exit GPS has been directing me to. Well. This should be interesting. "Fuck on them," I growl. "Cum. It's ok, let go. Cum." You fuck harder, unaware I am moving over a lane. "Cum baby" I urge as I slide into the turn-only lane.

"Go deeper," you pant and my fingers are completely buried, my palm pressing on your clit. "Unnghh. God. FUCK! FUCK I'M CUMMING..." Your head is tossing side to side, your heaving chest glowing with a thin film of sweat, and you buck on my hand, fucking, fucking, fucking as you cum hard.

"Oh my god." Then you catch sight of our surroundings. "OH MY GOD! Where are we?"

"Don't sit up. We're at your exit."

"Holy fuck. Someone could see."

"Stay scooched down and no one will." You do, making no move to withdraw my fingers, though you've let go of my cock.

"Holy fuck that was intense. I had no idea we were here." You look up through the top of the windshield as I make a left turn. A prominent boulevard, it is pretty packed. "Are there a lot of cars?" you ask. "We're still about a mile."

"There's traffic, yes. Best you stay as you are if you're not too uncomfortable." You sigh as I gently stroke the inside of your pussy.

"It's been so long."

"You've said so. Which I still can't believe. Someone as lovely and as passionate, dare I say hungry as you." I ease into the rightmost lane. "None of my business and ignore me if you want, but, uh...is anyone in particular going to be disappointed you're not at your party?"

"Not that I can think of. However - " you giggle to yourself - "there's a guy there might have had a chance. Oh well. This...you...have done me quite nicely."

"Happy to."

"You'll come in and stay awhile, won't you?" you ask as I turn right.

It was 7:40-ish. "My shift ends at 8:00. I have to stay with by the radio until then, in case dispatch calls. But then...I mean, if you can wait with me. I'll keep you warm."

"Hell yes you will." You rock gently on my fingers and a small tremor passes through you. "God I'm still cumming."

"Good."

You clutch at my cock again. "I want this guy."I've turned on to your street and to your dismay, slide my fingers out from you, needing both hands to back into your driveway. Once I've lowered your car, I kill the engine. There is only the sound of the pounding rain.

"What will you do about your car?"

"I'll get my brother to help me tomorrow. Kiss me," you murmur. Your mouth is warm and wet, your tongue making promises I very much hope it keeps, and my hands roam over your breasts, making you sigh heavily all over again. Then you're grabbing at my pants, the button, the zipper, fumbling for my cock. "Slide over", you say, "the steering wheel is in the way." You scoot over and I follow, and in the next moment you're more or less on your knees on the truck floor, awkward as it is, your dress long gone from your shoulders, your chest draped over me. You stroke my cock. "He's nice," you murmur, and you slide him between your breasts.

"Fuck my tits baby," you purr, and I do, stroking up and back between them. You squeeze them tighter on me and bounce them. "It's been so long. I love a strong cock between my tits."

"You feel so good," I groan.

"Fuck them. Fuck them like you're going to fuck me. You gonna fuck me with this cock?"

"When you're not busy sucking it," and with that I cup the back of your head. You don't miss a beat and your mouth takes half of me, your tongue beginning to deliver on its promises. You moan. "And you are going to suck it, aren't you?"

"Mmm-hmmph." You come up for a breath. "All you want baby." You go back down and I fuck your mouth, savoring your groans as I thrust. A moment later, I'm in your throat.

"Fuck..." You bob on me, then come up for another breath. "If I let you cum now," you ask, "will you have more for later? Like, soon?"

"Absolutely."

"Like, a lot. I love a man's cum."

"My solemn word."

"Then cum, baby," you murmur in a husky voice. "Cum on my tits, my neck. I want to wear you. Cum." You squeeze your breasts around my cock again and rub them rapidly as I thrust, your eyes fixed on my cockhead as it emerges and disappears in the chasm of your cleavage.

"Unnhh god..." I close my eyes, thinking that I'm going to thrust into your pussy, your mouth, in just this same way. I visualize your body writhing beneath me, breasts bouncing, and that does it. I cum. I cum. And as I do you whisper "yes" and smear my warm seed into your skin, like lotion.

The clock says 8:01. You look at it. You look at me.

"Let's go."

Had neighbors been watching - you may never know - they'd have been treated to the sight of you scampering, nearly naked, through the rain to your door, like an erotic blurred watercolor, clamping your dress to the front of you so it doesn't drop to the ground. You fumble for your keys in your clutch, I flick off the radio andtuck my cock into my pants, wondering why I bothered - then we are inside your entryway, kissing, grinding on each other, your back to the wall.

"This way," you pant, and grabbing my hand, you yank me toward your bedroom. On the way your dress falls to the floor in a heap, and yes, there's the lovely ass that nearly got me in trouble. You shake off your bra.

In your bedroom you quickly drop to your knees. "Get hard for me," you say around my cock. No problem there. I fuck into your throat and you groan, then, once you have me where you want me, you come off, stand, and fall back onto your bed, legs open.

I slip off your panties and move to go down on you, but you clench my hair. "There'll be time for that later," you say. "Fuck me. Fuck me...UNH fuck me now.'

Already inside you, I begin to pump, reveling in your pleas to fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. Then I drape your legs over my arms and slam you, slam you, slam you, all of my cock each thrust, and you scream, pleading with me to keep fucking you...

It's been so very, very long.