Regan was horny as hell. Well, Regan was always horny. But she knew why she was specifically horny right now.
Michael was exploring her body, and kissing her ultra-sensitive neck. It was almost as if the sensations sparked by her neck to the ones sparked by her clit.
His body pressed against hers' in the back seat of her black Volkswagon Jetta. They parked alongside U.S. 30 at an abandoned rest stop. They were longtime friends, and he had given her more than one orgasm either though voice or through his writing online, but this was the first time they'd ever touched.
And they touched. He pulled her legs around his torso and they thrust against one-another briefly like they were virgins testing the surface. But they were both much more experienced. And both wanting much more from one-another.
Michael had been on his way toward Chicago when he looked at the Jetta he was passing, to see it was Regan obviously fingering herself. She pointed at him and they went off the highway in north-central Indiana where he got out of his car and into her backseat.
"Feeling less conservative today," he said to her. It was a statement, not a question. She was a conservative girl - at least she wanted to be. But her body and her thoughts sometimes got the best of her. She loved masturbating. She loved sex. She loved tasting pussy. She loved being caught. All of her conservative upbringing and schools of thoughts told her sex with other girls was a sin, and wanting cum inside her wasn't for her to desire until she was married.
But it was what she needed. It was what she craved.
Michael kissed her lips and looked at her. She removed her glasses and tossed them in the back window. He ran his hands through her long, blonde hair and looked at her beautiful face. His cock stretched against the denim fabric of his blue jeans - and she could feel the need against the fabric of her black sweatpants.
"You really don't need to be wearing this," he said, referring to her T-shirt. It was a white T-shirt with a W-emblem on it - for George W. Bush. She'd been a big supporter, and Michael harassed her about her choice in votes for years. Sure, Bush would never go for gay marriage, but she liked the rest of his politics. But Michael was a bit more liberal, and always challenged her on her beliefs. It aggravated her, and made her want him even more.
"You're just jealous because W. touches my left breast every night I wear this shirt," Regan said.
His fingers explored her left breast under the fabric. He leaned close and kissed her again. He slowly wrapped his hands around Regan's neck, his thumbnail digging lightly into her throat. Michael's fingers loosened and laced themselves into the neckline of the T-shirt. He grinned down at her as her hands held Michael's elbows. In a quick motion, he pulled the front of the T-shirt and ripped it right down the middle - down three-quarters of the way down her front. Her breasts were cupped in her 36D bra, but her shirt was ruined. Torn like she was going to be raped, but feeling much safer than those circumstances.
"What the hell are you doing!" she exclaimed. She was shocked, excited and a tinged angry.
It left her exposed, and wanton.
"I'm going to love sucking your pussy," Michael told her, looking directly into her eyes. Her always-moist vagina flowed with renewed slickness to the thoughts. Michael pushed Regan's bra over her large breasts, pinching her nipples as he did it. He pressed her breasts together, and ran his tongue over them - then kissed Regan's lips.
"So damn sexy," he said. "I am going to love fucking you. I'm going to love cumming deep and hard into your pussy."
She leaned down and kissed him, wanting both of them to be wearing so much less clothing. He pulled her legs from behind him and pressed them upwards until her gym shoes were touching the ceiling of the Jetta. He took his fingers that had already destroyed the W T-shirt and laced them into the waistband of the sweats. He pulled up until the sweats were cluttered against her shoes. Michael pulled her legs back down over his shoulders. She tried to maneuver her legs, but was not able to do much. Michael gripped her hips, and in the touch, she knew she wasn't supposed to.
He looked down at her panties. They were "in-style" but still looked like the underwear he wore as a young boy. They were "guypanties" - looking a lot like tighty-whiteys - but made for women.
"I hope this doesn't mean you have a cock," he said. He reached his hand between her legs and explored her mound. Her right hand came down and pulled the panties to the side, exposing her pussy. She ran her fingertip against her clit, then reached up and licked it.
"Good," he said. She smiled as she tasted her essence and Michael looked at her pussy, soft and pink, warm and intoxicating, shimmering and tempting like champagne on New Year's Eve. She was smoothly shaved, like she'd always bragged she was. And she was the only intoxicate he wanted to drink that day.
He reached his fingers into the waistband of the panties, and pulled, snapping the underwear into two directions as they tore.
"What the hell are you doing!" she yelled again.
"Don't worry, Regan. I'll buy you a new pair." He leaned forward and kissed her lips, and then leaned down, peppering her body with his tongue until he reached her heaven. She leaned back as he started moving his tongue in semi-circles around her clit, licking as he looked up to her - her breasts rising and falling as she inhaled and exhaled. She tried to spread her legs more, but was caught. Michael sucked her clit, and drove a finger - and then a second - into her body.
"Taste amazing. Your pussy tastes amazing," he said as he looked up to her. She looked disheveled. Her T-shirt torn, her bra still clipped and jutted over her soft breasts, her legs still caught in her sweatpants, her hair pressed against the backseat of the Jetta. And her eyes and body looked more animalistic the more he ate her.
Kelly was tired. She'd been on the road trip for just an hour, but had to work all night the day before. It was only four hours for her to go to Wisconsin from her hometown in Indiana, but she never seemed to sleep anymore.
The 23-year-old seemed to only work. It had been forever since she had a day off, and a little bit longer since she'd had any fun. But even though she had a few days to kill now, she wasn't able to enjoy it. Just too much stress. Too much on her mind. But right now her mind was on her need for sleep.
She didn't want to fall asleep at the wheel, and even though she'd only been on the road an hour, she felt the drowsiness. She thought she was seeing things out of the corner of her eye - and that was her sign that she'd been up way too much. Kelly looked at the old rest stop. She thought it had been closed for months, but there were two cars there. Sure, there were still orange barrels nearby, but cars meant someone was there. And she needed a few hours of sleep, or a hot chocolate from a vending machine.
Kelly pulled in next to the Jetta. If they were breaking a rule, then she could as well, she figured. Anyway, she could always claim ignorance. She inhaled deeply, and thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Hallucinations, she figured. She was that tired. Thoughts turned to sex, and she momentarily was horny, but she wasn't sure why. It'd been months since she enjoyed an orgasm given by another person. God, she needed ...
She slept, but only for a minute or so. She inhaled, and looked at the clock. Only a minute had passed, but she was much more awake. Kelly thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and looked over. A leg in that car? She was seeing things, she was sure. She decided she needed that hot chocolate.
Kelly was a pretty girl. Her long, curly blonde hair draped down her neck. Her smile brightened the thoughts of the lonely, and softened the hearts of the angry. Her hazel green eyes warmed a room. She was curvy in the right places, sometimes showing off her 36C breasts, but usually she covered up. She was a "nice" girl - although she'd learned the lesson that nice girls give, but never seemed to receive, oral sex.
And that was something that annoyed her. She didn't mind giving head. In fact, it was a lot of fun. But she'd never received oral from her boyfriends, and she wanted to. She was nice and shy, but they were more so.
She wondered why those thoughts were on her mind. She got out of the car, and looked at the Jetta. In the backseat, a girl was on her back and a guy was licking into her body - between her legs. Deep between her legs.
Maybe she had been seeing something out of the corner of her eye. How Freudian is that?
Oh my God, she thought. She didn't want to look. It was wrong for her to look. She looked. It seemed like minutes, but was only a fraction of a second. The girl in the backseat was flailing, her body exposed, her clothing tattered.
"Lick me, Michael. Suck my clit."
Kelly could read at least part of the words of the girls' mouth.
Regan looked at the girl outside, and smiled at her. She liked being caught, especially by a beautiful girl. Regan was more turned on by the moment, and bit her bottom lip in ecstasy.
Kelly turned toward the vending machines. She needed to get hot and bothered, no, hot chocolate. She needed to get the drink so she would be warm and wet, no, warm. She needed hot sex, no, hot chocolate. She needed to be pleasured, no, awake. Her thoughts debated her needs and Freudian slips laughed inside her. Had she just seen what she thought she saw? Could her eyes play that big a trick? She went to the venting machines. They were all unplugged.
I need to be plugged, she thought.
They were all off.
I am so turned on.
This rest stop was closed.
But that girl was so open, she thought.
Kelly looked, and paused. She didn't know what to do. She knew what she wanted to do ... but everything was conflicting. She was so wide-awake now. She turned back toward her car. It was much easier to see the bodies wrestling in the Jetta when she knew they were bodies. She knew the idea of what the guy was doing to the girl, but only in a fantasy. Nothing she'd experienced yet. Not yet. She wanted to so badly.
Kelly walked back toward her vehicle, and looked inside. The girl was moving from side to side, her legs tangled in her pants. The guy's hands held her ass as his tongue languished inside her and his fingers pressed into her.
Regan looked at the young woman. She smiled at her staring.
"Come inside," she said.
"I will when the time is right," Michael said, not understanding the context of the statement.
Regan giggled, and then was overtaken by the sensation. "I was talking about her," she said. Michael heard the car door open, and looked out of the corner of his eye to see the young woman propping herself in the front seat of the Jetta. He smiled, because he liked being watched as well. He didn't mind at all, and started finger-fucking Regan with two fingers pressing into her and sucking on her clit.
"Do what you want," Regan said. "Please. I want to watch you," she added.
Kelly slowly slipped one hand into her jeans ... and the other she placed on her neck.
