Watched 7

His hand pressed against my thigh gently, kneading palm to fingertip and back again as he slipped it slowly up underneath my tiny skirt. I'd worn it for him, black - he'd been specific on that point - and the nearly half-unbuttoned men's shirt I wore on top concealed nothing of my peaked nipples and moistened breasts.

He'd left the air conditioner off - citing some EPA song and dance, saving the planet, but I knew it was just to see me sweat. To see a pearl of moisture dance down the line of my neck, pool in my cleavage. Give him something to watch. He'd never done anything without a plan.

His hand grew bolder, finding the soft junction of my thigh and then covering my mound, thumbing the soft, bare skin with his roughened skin. As I shivered, he dipped his index finger into me, swirling the warm liquid around my bud, causing a moan to throw itself from my lips, my head back as he began to pinch and roll my clit between his thumb and index finger.

Suddenly, the car stopped. The road, unfamiliar to me, seemed a bit deserted, but there were still passing cars. It didn't seem the place for a secret rendezvous. But he was anything but secret. Soon the pinching grew harder, his nails digging into my clit until I was no longer moaning - he pulled, grabbed, tormented - I spilled wetly onto my skirt and the leather seat beneath it as I began to plead for a rest.

His hands escaped my skirt as he eased from the car, and then encircled my wrists, flesh and bone shackles as he tugged me from the passenger side. My heart pounded as I felt my sticky sweet wetness against my wrist's pulse. I could smell my heat, my arousal. I moaned.

He asked me if I liked that. I nodded, biting my lip. One hand switch from the wrists to swiftly crack against my ass, a stinging slap that made me gush. I moaned again, longer, as he took me to the back of the car, and pushed me up against the hatchback. His SUV had never looked sexier than it did with me up close, nose against the metallic red paint.

Swatting my nearly bared ass again and again, he asked me if I would be a good girl while he got something for me. I whimpered, my reddened cheeks smarting, and he dropped his flattened palm to get something beneath my feet. I felt the rubber sting against my hot flesh, the metal hook grazing my tender skin. A bungie cord.

Wrapping it twice around my wrist, he proceeded to hook me to the car with some sort of attachment, and spreading my arms, he did the same with my other wrist. I was facing the car, nearly spread eagle, my breasts compressed against the glass and heaving. He chuckled, and pulled my ass up into a more accessible position.

I heard a zipper, then a squirt. Then a little more. My skirt lifted as if by a breeze. Cool gel hit my warm ass cheeks and slid into my crack, and then a finger. I yelped, my virgin ass unprepared for the invasion. Another chuckle and he withdrew, only to come back with two fingers, covered in the cool gel. I moaned, the pain outweighing the pleasure. I plead with him, turn me around, fuck my cunt. I'm not ready for this.

He smiled, I could hear it in his voice. He asked me if I was sure. Suddenly, I was aware of something. Heavy breathing. Something that wasn't caused by him or myself. It seemed in chorus, many breaths. Excited. I whispered, asking, are there people here? He rubbed one hand down my face, and then lower, plunging it deep into my cunt.

He asked me what I thought. And laughed. And then asked, was it really worth it to turn around? To have people see me as I was fucked? I thought about it, turning red. No, it wasn't. I bit my lip and murmured a plea for Sir to fuck my ass. He pulled up my skirt and began caressing it, pushing his fingers in and out as he fingered my clit. Pretty soon I was wetter than before, waiting, wanting to come. And he plunged balls deep.

It was hard, fast and delicious - I came quickly as he pushed in and out of my ass, thrusting so hard my nose crushed into the car's window glass with each move. As he came I felt the deep gush of cum pool inside me and I came again, screaming. The heavy breathing of the watchers behind me stopped.

He pulled out, panting, and uncoiled my wrists, pulling me down for a caress. He turned me around, covering my breasts which were exposed by the movement with his body. He told me to look at our audience, take a bow. I was still high, still so full of him, that I listened. And turned to see a fence where cows had lined up, watching. He laughed heartily.

And promised the next watchers would be human.