The Detour 3

"What's wrong?" I could hardly hold back my smirk. "I thought you liked to be teased."

His hands were gripping the wheel for dear life. Concentration -- or one of its cousins -- set his features as hard as the cock straining against his pants.

We'd been driving for the last 3 hours on I-95, on our way down to the Atlantic. It was the second day of our road trip, and the night before left me feeling needy and playful. Adventurous.

He guided the car with his left hand, smooth and steady. I fucking love when he drives. I loved it even more when his right fingers rested on my knee, then worked slowly up my bare thighs, teasing the hem of my shorts, a smile dancing at the corners of his mouth when my legs almost immediately parted under his touch.

I reached over the console to do some exploring of my own. I kept my pressure light, nothing that would cause us to crash. I didn't even move my hand much, just enough to feel him growing hard for me.

But I knew I was playing a dangerous game when I started to strip.

Whether I'm driving or playing the passenger princess, I'm never as free or happy as I am when I'm on the road. Maybe that feeling -- together with the maddening throb of my clit, the insistence of hot seeking fingers against my soaked panties -- made me bold. I peeled my t-shirt over my head, the neckline catching a little on the dark cloud of my twist out. I looked down at my breasts, full and caged in yellow lace. When I glanced up at him trying to keep his eyes on the road, I laughed. Throwing my head back, I closed my eyes and let my hands roam over my body, knowing that he could catch the tempting motions in his peripheral vision.

He started to grip the wheel tighter, then. And that's when I asked him what was wrong, knowing full well that something was about to go very right for me.

It took him a full 15 minutes before he found the next exit, cutting through Who-Knows-Where, Georgia. This was country, farmland, and we drove another 5 minutes looking for any parking lots, gas stations, or stores. There were none.

The fields stretched on either side of the narrow two-lane road, and it was fascinating to see his lust overtake his patience. We saw an old barn, or a large shed, it was hard to tell. The paint, which may have once shone a bright red, peeled off a long time ago, revealing planks of bleached wood, cracked with neglect. It looked abandoned. It offered a shield from prying eyes. It was perfect.

He hadn't said much to me since he started looking for a place to park, but I wasn't with him for his way with words. I could feel the heat rising off of him in waves, crashing over me.

He peeled off the road behind the old barn, even lined up perfectly. He put the car in park in one swift, jerking motion, as if he were angry at the gear shift, and barely unbuckled his seatbelt before pulling my face to his.

The way he kissed me was always hungry. I liked the noises our tongues made as they slid over each other, the panting breaths as we came up for air but never fully disconnected. I sucked slowly on his tongue as I finally got to feel just how hard he'd gotten for me. When I slipped my hand under his shorts, I couldn't help but gasp at the amount of precum that wet the front of his underwear. It was still a novelty to me how wet he could get.

I stroked him as he moaned under my touch. His hands groped my breasts, taking them out of their underwire prison, then he kissed and nipped at my neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks, knowing how much I liked it. My moans were drowned out by the drone of passing cars.

His cock twitched in my hands and I had to taste him. I pushed his head away gently from my umber nipples, and bent myself over the console. He hissed out a sigh as my lips caressed the head of his penis, slowly, gently. I felt a hand moving up my back to the nape of my neck, and smiled around his cock before rubbing my closed lips up and down his shaft, occasionally granting him a lick or two, building up the anticipation.

But he'd run out of patience and managed a breathless, "Don't do this to me. Please." and that was enough for me. At last, I allowed my lips to part and took him into my mouth, on all fours in the passenger seat, ass pressed against the window.

Sucking dick never gets old for me. The power of having so much control over someone else's pleasure, the obscene addicting sounds of it, the taste of a dripping cock...I could stay down there forever.

I silently thanked him for having good hygiene as I sucked on one ball, then another. Under the salt of his sweat, he tasted clean. I tried to give my aching clit some attention as I deep throated, my nose pressed against his skin. He pulled me off of him and up into his arms, plunging his thick tongue down my throat, tasting himself on my precum-glossed lips.

"Come on." He got out of the car and opened the door to the backseat. Abandoning my bra, I followed him into the backseat, where he instructed me to lay down with my legs dangling outside, bare toes grazing the thirsty grass.

Kneeling in front of me, he pulled off my shorts and panties. He hiked one of my legs up over his shoulder and spit hard on my pussy, once, twice, before lapping up and down my entrance like a man possessed. He used his mouth and nose to spread around my juices, before planting a kiss on my clit. He kept his lips there, sucking slowly, ignoring my whimpers and anchoring my hips with a strong hand. After what felt like an eternity he switched over to licking my clit, circling and prodding it, coaxing my pleasure to new depths, using his other hand to spread me open and insert a finger, then two.

My hands and thighs must have been a vice, but he didn't ask me to loosen my grip. I could feel the curl of satisfaction in his lips as I pulsed and trembled around him, guttural groans and keening moans rising higher, then cutting off in a sudden silent scream as I came.

As my hold relaxed, he took the opportunity to pull me closer, tugging my hips to the edge of the seat, positioning himself at my entrance. I took him in: forehead glistening with sweat, mouth and chin glistening from his job well done, eyes glazed over, heavy-lidded. With a nod and a simple "Please" of my own, I opened my legs wider and wrapped them around his hips.

While he's generally soft spoken, he can never hold back when he's inside me. As he entered my waiting cunt, he almost growled -- "Fuck, baby." And while I'm known to always have something to say, when we fuck like this I get tongue tied. And then it was his time to tease me.

"What's wrong? Run out of things to say?" He pinched one of my nipples roughly, the other hand keeping us locked together as he rolled his hips slowly, luxuriating in my whimpers. He pulled out almost entirely, then made a show of filling me up again. I let an arm fall over my face.

"Oh, don't be like that. Let me see." He pulled himself out again, the head of his cock tracing torturous circles on my clit. "I said," He repeated hoarsely, "Let me see your pretty face while I fuck you."

As soon as I granted him access to the full view he craved, he started thrusting again, faster this time. More urgent.

"That's it. I wish you could see the faces you're making."

"I wish you'd shut up and fuck me harder," I managed to retort, eyes flashing a playful warning.

I love how he always lets me have the last word. He went harder, mixing up the pace, until the car started to shake. If a passerby happened to look behind the barn, they would have seen a man standing at the back seat, shorts and boxers around his ankles, ass flexing in the midday sun. A flash of a woman's foot or leg, sometimes kicking up into the air, sometimes drawing him closer. I wondered for a moment what would happen if we got caught. I decided I didn't care.

His movements became desperate, erratic. I sat up then, and grabbed his ass with both hands. He claimed my mouth with his again.

"More. Don't stop," I muttered around his kisses, which were sloppy and unfocused. He was kissing for sensations alone, without finesse - he wanted heat, spit, breath. The sweat covered our bodies now. His breath started hitching with each hurried buck of his hips. He started sentences he couldn't finish, because they trailed off into grunts, or growls, or whimpers. He was ready to come.

When he was on the edge, I sunk my teeth into his neck -- his weakness -- and smiled to myself as he let go. After we disentangled ourselves, he grabbed one of our clean beach towels from the trunk, and started to wipe me down gently, leaving trails of kisses on my overheated skin as I lay prone in the backseat.

He handed me my bra, dusted off my shorts after picking them up where they fell, and I fished my t-shirt from under the passenger seat. The A/C whirred to life, we dressed and settled back into our seats.

The sun was much lower in the sky now, we had to get back on the road if we wanted to make it to our hotel before dark. Sun- and cum-drunk, I rested my head against the window, and watched the barn fade away.