Another lovely night on the town...art, dinner, burlesque and a final round of drinks. My body feels warm, relaxed, my head softly buzzing like the bubbles from that last glass of sparkling wine before deciding to call it a night. I offer to order a ride while you close our tab, the bright phone screen a jarring call back to the reality of 2am. A bit of shuffling, checking the table for coats, keys and the likes, and we're out the door to a Lyft "black car." I'm not ready for the evening to end, so I've requested a more scenic route, mapping points around the park, following the curve of the lake. It's a cool night, so I roll my window down a few inches before climbing across your lap to lower yours as well.
You seize the opportunity to kiss me once more, deeply, your hands wrapping firmly around my waist. You can feel my body ease, melting against your tongue. I slip my hands around you, pulling at your shirt until my nails find skin, tracing small circles across your chest mirroring the circles of my hips beginning to grind against you.
My fingers slowly circle closer to your nipples, grazing, barely making contact before a sudden pinch, as startling as it is satisfying. You bite my shoulder to stifle your gasp but a moan escapes my lips. I'm not sure if the driver heard us or if he's decided to stop running every yellow light, but either way, the jolt of his foot on the brakes pulls my hand from your shirt and gives me reason to shift my body weight to one side. At first you're accommodating, believe I'm genuinely trying to get more comfortable, but my free hand slips beneath me, unzipping your pants and revealing my favorite surprise: that you, too, decided to forego undergarments this evening.
Freed from cloth imprisonment, you can feel the full rewards of all your work. I spread my legs just slightly, letting your throbbing length slip between thighs slick with sex. Green light, sudden acceleration and I squeeze my thighs close to trap you. I resume circling my hips, allowing just the smallest movements. My hands grasp your thighs for balance, fingers digging in as I strike up a conversation with the driver, asking mundane questions you can't even comprehend when suddenly you realize he's asking you something. His eyes are on you from the rearview mirror waiting for an answer. But what was the question? Something about where you went to high school? My thighs release their grip as I offer up an answer. He turns his attention back to the road. For the moment, you're relieved. But the cool evening air against your cock is a jarring and disappointing change from the heat between my thighs.
