You Can Pic Me up Anytime

The following is a true story. Names have been changed or omitted altogether to protect those involved, but the events occurred as depicted.

*

"You can pick me up anytime."

I'll never forget those softly spoken words. The way that she made eye contact while getting out of my car and softly uttered those words immediately got my mind racing with possibilities. It seemed to me as if they were thrown out almost as an afterthought, yet I couldn't help wondering if there was an unspoken invitation there. The impact of them was to resonate with me for months.

I knew Neera only in passing. She was a near neighbour in the suburban village I lived in. I guess I'd put her in her early 30's. She was of Asian origin, India or Pakistan I'm guessing, but spoke with an impeccable English accent which led me to believe she'd been born here.

She was around 5'4", curvy with shoulder-length, wavy black hair and innocent brown eyes. I couldn't really describe her figure in any more detail as she always wore a huge overcoat that hid it. We'd exchanged the time of day on occasion while waiting for the bus into the nearby town, and I'd seen her out and about with her husband and young boy from time to time.

In short, it was all very much the respectful neighbour scenario, safe small talk, and polite nods in the street because it was the done thing in our little part of Eastern England.

To be honest with you, I never really gave her a second thought at first. I lived a few doors away and worked as a lecturer at a sixth form college a few miles down the road. I think she worked at a scientific research place a mile or two away from my college but couldn't be sure. About the only thing I did know, is that she caught the same bus as me from time to time.

As time passed, I started driving to work rather than relying on public transport. On the way home I'd pass the bus stop in town that I used to wait at, and got into the habit of checking if anyone I knew was waiting there. The village I lived in was a new development, and bus transport to and fro was haphazard to say the least. I considered it the neighbourly thing to stop and offer anyone I knew a lift home.

One winter day I was driving home from work during rush hour. The time of year meant it was dark, and as a final touch, it was raining hard. All in all a filthy day.

Traffic was heavy and the going was slow. As I approached the regular bus stop just before turning onto the main road out of town, I saw Neera standing there. She looked soaked and utterly bedraggled and I could see several carrier bags filled with shopping at her feet.

I flicked on my indicator and pulled over, lowering the passenger side window as I did so.

"Neera, want a lift home?" I called. She looked at me gratefully and nodded.

I jumped out of the car, not caring about the queue of traffic behind me, helped load her shopping into the boot, and she got into the passenger seat.

As we got underway she smiled at me and said "Thanks," and they were the last words she said on the entire trip home.

I negotiated the heavy traffic back to our village, a journey of some eight miles. With the weather and the traffic it took all of my concentration to get us home safely. Neera spent most of the time looking out of her window.

As we pulled into her street and up to her front door, she looked at me again and smiled. I switched off the engine and helped her unload the shopping from the boot.

It was then that she uttered those words that were to plague me for months.

"You can pick me up anytime."

Why had she said that? Was it harmless flirting, an invitation for something more, or just simple gratitude for being rescued from the rain?

Almost a year passed, and the humdrum of routine life continued.

I had seen Neera from time to time in our village, but never had the opportunity to give her a lift home again or even speak to her apart from saying hello in the street when either she or I were accompanied by our spouses or kids.

It was the following winter when everything changed. I was working late one day due to parent's evening, and sometime in the middle of the afternoon it began to snow.

By the time parent's evening was due to start the town was in chaos. The English are not the best at coping with winter weather, and even a few inches of snow is enough for the entire place to descend into chaos. The roads became gridlocked, public transport ground to a halt, and parent's evening was cancelled. My boss announced that it was time for everyone to make their way home as best as they could.

My wife worked at a travel agents' in the town centre, and as the bus service had ceased for the day she and one of her colleagues, Anne, had made their way to the college where I worked. Together, with Dan, another lecturer who also lived in our village, we decided to brave the roads and try to make it home.

My wife was driving. Dan was in the front passenger seat, and Anne and I were in the back. Conditions were terrible. The snow was coming down hard. It was dark, and the world and his wife were on the road trying to make it home. It took us more than two hours to make it across town, a journey that would ordinarily have taken only fifteen minutes. We never made it out of first gear and laughed (at first) at the fact that the pedestrians were travelling faster than us.

We eventually crawled onto the road where the bus stop was. By this time we were all thoroughly fed up and had resigned ourselves to the fact that this journey was going to take an eternity, assuming we made it home at all that is.

As we got closer to the bus stop my wife piped up "Isn't that Neera there?"

I looked, and sure enough it was. She was standing there in that big overcoat of hers, bags at feet, along with a smattering of other people. I guess none of them had heard that public transport had been cancelled. Or perhaps they had no other option but to wait, on the forlorn hope that something would turn up.

"Pick her up." I said.

My wife pulled over and I jumped out.

"Come on Neera, you'll be here all night waiting." We threw her shopping into the boot and she got into the back of the car with Anne and me, thanking us profusely.

The journey resumed. In the back, Neera was on the left, I was in the middle and Anne was on the right. The weather showed no sign of letting up and as we turned onto the main road out of town we started to encounter abandoned cars. We crawled along at a snail's pace, visibility limited to the rear lights of the vehicle in front and the heavy snowfall surrounding us.

What conversation there was soon dwindled away into silence as we realised that the journey home was likely to take hours. The traffic showed no sign of letting up and Dan asked if he could put the radio on, to which my wife murmured "sure."

With the five of us in the car, it was getting hot. I turned to Neera, who had now adopted her customary pose of staring out the window and suggested she would be more comfortable without her overcoat on. She glanced at me and then leaned forward to wriggle out of it; her movements cramped and awkward in the confined space.

There was nowhere for it to go but over our laps. To the right of me, Anne followed suit, and soon the three of us in the back were covered by a blanket of snow damp coats, hats and scarves.

Neera was wearing a grey trouser suit, obviously formal work attire. She continued to stare out of her window as the voice of the radio announcer droned on. I on the other hand was dwelling on those fateful words that were uttered a year ago.

Neera's right leg was pressing against my left, a hardly avoidable situation given the confines of the back seat. My left hand was resting in my lap, underneath the blanket of coats. All in all we were the picture of serenity and disinterest to anyone who happened to glance our way.

Inside though, I was a roiling pot of emotions. What did she mean by those words? Was she into me? Did I dare try to find out?

Under the pretext of making myself more comfortable, I wriggled around and retrieved my phone from my coat pocket, and made a show of looking up the traffic information for the remainder of the homeward journey; I had already looked it up just before we picked Neera up, and knew damn well what it would say (lots of snow -- stay off the roads), but it gave me the excuse to position my arm so that It lightly pressed against Neera's hip.

She didn't move. Neither did she acknowledge me in the slightest.

I made a show of checking messages and then turned the phone off in mock disgust, letting my hand come to rest on my left knee, mere millimetres away from Neera's thigh.

My heart was racing. In the dim interior of the car I could see Anne had her head against the window, eyes closed. In front I could make out the silhouettes of Dan and my wife concentrating on the road ahead.

Under cover of our coats, I very slowly let my hand inch down to the left until the back of it made the faintest whisper of contact with Neera's leg. Easily a recoverable situation and dismissible as the most innocent of movements should I get the slightest inclination that I was making her uncomfortable. A quick glance to my left showed she had not moved from her adopted position.

Not daring to look, I reached out with my little finger and made the gentlest of circular caressing movements on the outside of her thigh. Neera shifted in her seat, momentarily trapping my hand between my leg and hers. There was no way she could not have felt that, and I held my breath waiting for the inevitable explosion of indignation from her.

To my amazement, she held the position. My hand was now firmly trapped between our two legs, palm inward. I risked a quick glance to the left and saw she was still fixated on whatever was outside the window. All I could see were snowflakes.

My cock was stirring. I could feel myself getting harder as the excitement of what I was doing sank in.

Emboldened by her lack of protest, I slowly inched my hand out from between our two legs. My heart was racing and I decided it was now or never. I could always claim I had dozed off and didn't realise if necessary.

I inched my hand up and to the left almost imperceptibly slowly. Finger by finger I moved until I was gently holding Neera's knee. I was struggling to control my breathing rate and my cock by this time was straining at the confines of my shorts. Boy was I thankful for the covering of coats over our laps. A quick glance to my right showed Anne still seemingly asleep, head against window.

I sat motionless for a minute, the palm of my hand resting fully on Neera's knee. She didn't move, just continued to stare out of the window. I knew she wasn't asleep, with a surreptitious glance I could just about make out the reflection of her eyes in the car window.

I squeezed her knee gently.

Then I did it again.

This woman either had iron self-control, or no nerve endings in her leg. There was not the slightest flicker of reaction from her. There was no way she could have failed to notice my ministrations, and we had progressed well beyond the realm of accidental touching by now.

With the tip of my index finger, I started a gentle circular rubbing on Neera's knee. I was too far gone with desire to stop now, and short of a clear signal from her to cease, I was going to see how far I could take this. We were nowhere near home yet and my wife continued to negotiate the car through the treacherous conditions, oblivious to the fact I was groping our neighbour less than two feet away.

I slowly added the rest of my fingers to the mix, squeezing and caressing her knee. Trying to control my breathing rate I slowly started to inch my hand up her thigh and for the first time was rewarded with a response.

Neera shifted position. She squirmed in her seat as if trying to make herself comfortable, and at the same time grabbed at the pile of coats on top of us and 'accidentally' rearranged them to provide more cover. At the same time she spread her legs ever so slightly, pressing against me with her thigh

She wanted this. She wanted me to pleasure her in a car full of people, and I was only too happy to oblige.

I continued to move my hand up her right thigh, squeezing now and again. Neera steadfastly stared out of her window as I slowly inched my hand upwards. I was now squeezing her upper thigh, and was contemplating my next move when the jangling tones of her mobile phone made me almost jump out of my skin.

She jumped too. My hand recoiled as if bitten by a snake and my cock lost a noticeable amount of ardour. Neera reached for her coat and retrieved her phone from a pocket.

I focused front and tried to calm myself. My wife was still concentrating on the road but we made eye contact in the rear view mirror. I gave her a weak grin and she smiled at me. The weather was getting worse if anything and we were proceeding along at all of about 15 mph.

"You're doing a great job sweetheart" I said "keep taking it easy, far better to be home late than end up in a ditch at the side of the road". She grinned, reached over to the stereo controls and tuned into her favourite radio station. "Some music will help me concentrate on the road" she announced to no-one in particular.

I glanced left. Neera had her phone in her hand and was staring right at me. I smiled, and she immediately turned away to resume her hobby of staring out of her window but kept her leg pressed against mine.

I noticed Neera hadn't put her phone away, and the beginnings on an idea started to take place. After a quick glance to make sure no-one saw (Anne was still out for the count) I reached over and took the phone from Neera's hand. She looked at me quizzically but didn't resist. Luckily the phone was a model I was familiar with. I first switched it to silent mode, and then quickly looked up her number. I grabbed my own phone, stored Neera's number in it and then handed hers back to her.

Under cover of the coat blanket, I sent Neera a text message.

"If you want me to continue, keep looking out the window."

The silent message took an annoying length of time to arrive but when it did I was rewarded with a faint gasp from my left.

I waited half a minute or so. My wife was concentrating on the road, the car was in darkness, Anne was still asleep, and Dan hadn't moved in a while. I reached over under the cover of the coats and put my hand on Neera's thigh. There was no response but she kept staring out her window.

I resumed rubbing her, gently moving my hand up and down her leg. My cock was quickly getting hard again.

I moved my hand further up Neera's thigh until I reached her hips, then I gently started massaging her upper thigh, applying insistent pressure and allowing my fingertips to reach in between her legs on each stroke.

Neera's legs parted subtly with each stroke and I knew I had her. As we continued down the road I became more insistent with my touching. Neera slumped down in her seat and let her head fall to the left and rest against the window. I could see her breath steaming it up as her legs parted more.

I caressed up and down her hips and then slowly moved my hand across her belly on the outside of her shirt. I was rewarded with an involuntary shudder as I wormed a finger between two of the lower buttons on her shirt and made contact with the bare skin of her tummy.

I slowly withdrew my hand and gently started to pull on her shirt, inch by inch withdrawing it from inside her trousers. With my other hand I adjusted the covering of coats and shifted my position slightly so that I was slightly angled toward her. My fingers were now gently brushing back and forth along the bare skin of her tummy, just a hairs breadth from the top of her trousers and her belt. With my other hand I reached underneath the coats and started to undo her belt.

Neera started to rhythmically roll her hips ever so slightly. There was no denying now she was seriously turned on and I knew that barring an accident, or a sudden clearing of the weather, I was going to make this woman cum in a car full of people.

She still had her face turned toward the window and I caught a glimpse of her reflection. Her eyes were closed and her lips had parted ever so slightly.

I slowly finished undoing her belt, and moved the buckle out of the way, and then I gently walked my fingertips down her tummy until I found the top button of her trousers.

I could feel the heat emanating from her, and wasted no time in snapping the button undone and slowly lowering the zip. My cock was at full mast by now and straining at the front of my Jeans. Neera continued to gently rock her hips back and forth as I painstakingly parted the front of her trousers. I could hear her breathing getting deeper and started to wonder how we could proceed without getting caught.

Fortunately, my unwitting wife came to the rescue. One of her favourite tunes came on and she reached over to turn up the radio a tad.

I reached inside Neera's trousers and ran my index finger down onto the outside of her knickers. I could feel the dampness and heat from her sex as my hand approached her most intimate area. I let my finger come to rest momentarily just above her pussy before pushing downward to caress her slit over the silky material. It was too dark to see what colour they were, and frankly I didn't care. Every fibre of my being was committed to making this woman cum. I kept rubbing and probing the lips of her pussy over her knickers for a few minutes, and I could feel the wetness soaking through as I teased and strummed her clit now and then. Eventually Neera let out a small involuntary gasp and then clapped her left hand to her mouth as I teased her knickers to one side and made skin-to-skin contact with her clit for the first time.

She moaned softly as I massaged her sensitive bud with my fingers, feeling it grow and protrude from its protective hood. I rubbed it up and down, gently flicking it. Then I started gently squeezing it between my thumb and my forefinger and occasionally running my fingers down the length of her slit, probing in between her lips before searching out her clit again. Neera's hips started to shudder, her legs parted as far as the confines of the back seat would allow, and I could tell she was getting close to orgasm. Her pussy was soaking and leaking juices all over my hand. I slowly pushed her knickers further to one side and then slid two fingers deep inside her.

Her eyes shot wide open and both hands went down to grip mine. I started slowly but inexorably working my fingers in and out of her pussy, curling them up as I fucked in and out, letting my thumb work her clit in time with my manipulation. I started to finger her harder and faster, all the time keeping up a circular motion on her clit. I could sense she was on the final approach, and I redoubled my efforts, jamming my fingers in and out of her pussy hard and fast, willing her to cum on my hand.

And she did.

Neera clamped her thighs together around my hand and started to shudder uncontrollably while blowing her cheeks in and out. I could feel her pussy rhythmically clenching my fingers and her hips were bucking as a gush of juices soaked my hand. I became worried that someone would hear, and quickly grabbed the end of a scarf and shoved it into her mouth. She bit down on it, almost taking my finger with it. I leaned over and whispered in her ear to keep quiet, and turn her head into the seat if needs be. She bucked and rolled silently for a few seconds more and then slowly melted into the seat.

I kept two fingers deep in her pussy as her orgasm subsided. A quick glance through the windscreen showed me we weren't far from home now. I have never been more grateful for my wife's cheesy taste in 80's pop music. The radio was still loud enough to mask the sounds of what I had been doing to Neera, although anyone having more than a cursory glance at us would have instantly twigged what we were doing despite the pile of coats.