08

Part 1

Frankly speaking, he did not recall how and why. The where was still quite clear in his memory: some off the road lane, no lights, a few passing cars, on the outskirts of Geneva.

“Can you please stop there?” she had asked, “I’ll lead the way, just follow”. And so they did, driving through the deserted streets of the city.

It had been a long day in the office, attending preparatory meetings for some sort of international event. Why had agreed, it was not clear. What he had expected was not particularly obvious either. Some strange sensation, something erotic.

But there they were, sitting in his second hand Peugeot, chatting about the office, staring at the headlights of cars that came their way. She had parked her little Renault behind his car.

He was pretty nervous – reasons unknown : since who would expect him there and in the company that sat on the front seat next to him?

He was a good listener, fortunately as she turned out to be quite a chatterbox outside the office. Inside, she was all prim, and mature, and running around with files and messages and memos, hammering away at her computer, pampering the boss who called her in every ten minutes or so.

Mature, yes, he realised that she was something like nine years his senior. But still an attractive and nice smelling personality: a white skin with some freckles, reddish hair up to her shoulders, wearing sexy stockings, tight skirts which enveloped a prim but, high heels, and just enough gold and silverware without becoming vulgar. She was in the category “petite” with reasonably sized breasts, at least that was what he expected after having looked upon her blouse occasionally. He knew a bit about her private life, a husband, two sons, a dog and a cat. The usual.

And there they were. It was raining slightly. Passing traffic through a film of water.

“Can you kiss me?” she suddenly asked.

He woke up from his reveries. She was still blushing.

“Kiss you?”.

“Yes, I will get desperate if you do not…”. She looked at him, a mischievous, but sexy smile.

Oh shit. “Why?”

“Because I want you to…”.

Slightly surprised he bent over and pecked her on the cheek.

“That’s not what I meant. I want you to kiss me properly…”.

He moved over to her side of the car and kissed her softly on the mouth. Almost hungrily she opened her mouth and licked his lips, thrust her tongue, which was bigger than anticipated, in his mouth.

She played with him, that was obvious, oh so clear. He felt her tongue darting in and out of his mouth and noticed that she started to breath somewhat heavily. The windows of the car became foggy; passing vehicles were difficult to identify. What if someone finds us here? What if someone kills us here on this deserted track? How would that be explained?

“Thank you” she said when she pulled away, “that was just what I needed, don’t you?”

Still somewhat in shock he mumbled a reply.

It was getting hot in the car; and he could not help but feel an erection growing in his Kenzo pants (bought in a sale).

“You taste nice, that’s for sure” he replied, as if he had been kissing a tube of toothpaste.

She giggled. “My goodness, you Dutch are always so down to earth. Can’t you say anything nice?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Not auf Befehl, you know. Not on command. I am slightly baffled; is this a rape?”.

She nodded: “Almost! I wanted you to kiss me. And I wanted it very much…And I got what I wanted. Thanks”.

“No thanks. And what’s next?”.

She was silent for a while and stared through the window: darkness, bushes, trees, some lights glittering in the distant. “It felt good you know” she whispered, “really good…”.

There was silence in the car. From the corner of his eyes he saw her move in her seat.

“Do you mind if I lay down a bit? On your lap I mean?”

He wondered how she would manage with the gearbox, but in no time her head was heavy in his lap. He shifted a bit in his seat, luckily he did not wear a seatbelt, to liberate his erection which was almost causing his dick stand up like a pole in a tent. Almost absent minded he caressed her hair; curly, some spray. He smelt her perfume and a smell he had not noticed before: musky, salty; he could not really place it, nor put 2 and 2 together.

He felt her hand on his knee, stroking softly over the expensive fabric (something linen and silk). He felt her hand move to his dick; touching it. He was shocked. Really shocked: what had he got himself into this time? A colleague? Older? Married? But the sensation made him even harder.

“Can I unzip you? Please!”.

His contemplations apparently lasted too long as she pulled down the zipper carefully. Her hand went into his pants, his underwear and, with some difficulty, liberated his erect malehood. Proudly it was standing at full attention, a drop of precum at the top. He felt her fingers glide over the head; and realised that being circumcised did have some advantages.

“It’s beautiful”, she whispered, playing with it carefully. With her index finger she slowly moved over the top, removing the drop of precum and to his amazement she licked it clean.

“It’s big, you know” she said, “really big…”.

A sigh came from somewhere; and he realised that it was him who was making sound. He moved his buttocks to sit somewhat more comfortably, waiting for what would happen next.

“You mind if I kiss it?”

Before he could reply, he felt her warm breath envelope his dick. Watching intensely, he saw her mouth open – for the first time aware that she was indeed wearing some orange-ish lipstick – and slowly taken him into her mouth. He sighed once more: pleasure, guilt, he had the impression that he was only thinking with his erection, all blood gone to it, his brains empty, floating. To his surprise she took almost his entire length into her mouth – he’d never measured it. She looked up. “It tastes nice, you know” she said with a smile. Abruptly she started sucking in earnest; the car was full of slurping noises.

Staring in front of him, seeing nothing, he concentrated on the sensational blowjob that was administered to him. Not really the first one of his life, but certainly one of the better ones. My goodness, she was good at it. Her head bobbed up and down, he felt her earrings prickle on the naked skin.

“There I am, sitting in suburban Geneva, on the dead-end road, getting the blowjob of my life, by a person more than nine years my senior. Who’s crazy?” A question with no answer.

“You better be careful” he said softly. “If you continue much longer I am afraid that I will cum”.

She stopped and looked at him, a strange glitter in her eyes: “Please do, I like a man cumming, please do not restrain, do not withhold – let it go.”

She continued nevertheless; the sensation in his loins, in his balls, increased even further and with almost spastic movements he came. Strangely enough she kept her mouth glued to his dick; maybe a trickle of semen found its way down her chin. She stopped. Did she swallow as well, he wondered.

Almost in response, she opened the window and spit the cum into the street. “Nice”, she said, “real nice. And a good taste too…”. She giggled, pulled up his zipper, barely missing the hair in his crotch (that would really have been something: to be caught with your public hair in the zipper…).

“I have to go home now, it’s already late, have to cook, keep husband and kids happy you know.”

With a tissue she carefully cleaned her mouth, applied new lipstick. “Maybe we can have lunch sometime this week?” she asked while putting all her things in her bag.

He nodded, “Sure, lunch would be fine, just tell me”.

“Ciao than” she said, gave him a kiss on the cheek, opened the door and left.

He heard her little car start behind him. Saw lights being turned on. She honked, flashed her lights, waved and roared away. He stayed behind in silence, looked at pants, as if something magical had happened. Saw her taillights disappear in the distance. Started his car and drove away slowly. Realised that he had hardly touched her, had not even seen her breasts. Sure, lunch, why not….

Part 2

Tuesday. Or was it Wednesday? She asked him to go for lunch, as was to be expected.

“In the cafeteria?” he asked.

“I’d rather not, too many known faces, everybody wondering why we are having lunch. No privacy. Let’s go somewhere. Go outside, get a sandwich, whatever”. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Ok, what time?”

They agreed to meet outside at 12.30. Amidst his colleagues he went down with the elevator; stepped into the bright sunlight outside.

“Ciao” she said, waiting near the entrance, “Where are we going? And whose car will we take?”

As usual, he did not have an answer ready.

“Ok, mister, we will take your car – it is bigger than mine anyway, and we go to the Rue de La … for a sandwich, maybe some yoghurt or milk. And than we will find ourselves a nice parking lot to talk”.

Frankly speaking, his mind was not too much set on talking. He was not even sure he had not dreamt the other day.

So they bought milk, and sandwiches, tuna, mozzarella, and tiny things with yoghurt. They got back into the car.

“Where to?”

“Ok, let’s turn here somewhere and than to the end of the road, near where we were parked the other evening, remember?”.

How could he forget. He drove carefully through the heavy lunch hour traffic until reached the area where they had stopped the other night.

He got off the road into a small but secluded parking lot. Killed the engine and pulled the handbrake. They opened their lunch bags and ate, in silence. Cars roared in the distance.

“Got a napkin?” he asked.

She took a Kleenex from her purse.

“Thanks”. He realised too late that he would be eating tuna all afternoon.

“Great spot” he said, mainly to break the silence.

“Mmmm.. And we are not the only ones”.

He looked around; and yes indeed, loads of cars were parked side by side – where was he when he drove into this parking lot? Some cars had steamy windows, others just old newspapers stuck to the glass, others, well they seemed to care even less. A few cars were rocking steadily, one way or the other. A most awkward scenery.

“What the hell do they think they are doing?” he asked with mock amazement and mock anger.

“What do you think?” she responded, smiling rather shyly.

“Well, if I had to guess, they are screwing, fucking their brains out. Almost in public. That’s what…”

“You are never allowed to guess. Do you mind giving me a kiss?”

Softly he nibbled her lips, tasted her lipsticks, kissed her neck, licked her ears. She was sighing softly. The gearbox was poking somewhere where it should not; irritating. He kissed her on the mouth again, licked her teeth, played with her tongue. Tiny electric sparkles.

He fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, realising too late that it was a women’s shirt, with buttons on the wrong side. Finally he managed, one by one, ever so slowly. He saw her skin; white as marble. An even whiter bra, with, lucky him, the clips up front. He fondled her breasts, felt her nipples harden through the fabric. He breasts were small, but firm, and felt nice in his hand. Through the cotton, or was it silk or just something artificial?, he took her nipples in between his fingers and squeezed them.

He looked at her face; slightly flushed; red spots in her neck. She had her eyes closed and was breathing more rapidly. Carefully he opened her bra, which slid down to her waist. He bent – cursing the gearbox once again – and kissed her breasts; left, right, leaving behind a tiny trail of saliva, which made her shiver. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked, licked, bit softly. She put an arm around his head and pulled him closer. Sucking one breast, playing with the other. Was this lunch or was this heaven?

“You mind?” he asked, and pulled up her skirt. With his left hand he slowly caressed her nyloned legs. Moved higher.

Almost unnoticed she spread her legs to allow his hand to touch her thighs; than higher in between her legs. A warm spot. She squeezed his hand with her legs. Scared to ruin the stockings he slowly pulled them down, first from her belly, than one leg, than the other. Felt her skin; warm, and soft. She was wearing a white slip; a bit oversized he had the impression, not the most sexy one for sure. Ah well, she was a mature person, not a 20 year old, and the slip was probably for her age group. He smelt a smell that was obviously related to sex.

Looking, he saw the outlines of her vulva, her cuntlips in the material of the slip. A wet spot which seemed to get larger quickly. He moved the slip to the side and admired her vagina. The same colour of hair as on the head; nothing artificial. With his index finger he touched her there.

She shivered and almost whined. He touched her lips; moved in circles to find her clitoris; which was not too difficult as it was standing out, almost like a little soldier. Red, sensitive. He rubbed it slowly, than entered her cunt with a finger. She was wet all right, no artificial lubrification needed in her case – without any effort he could push his finger inside. Than another. Again she squeezed his hand with her legs. Pushed his hand as if to say hurry, just go.

“Yesss” he suddenly heard, “ Yess, just fuck me with your fingers, just fuck me with those long, strong fingers…”.

Obviously, under these circumstances: her wish was his command. Frantically he moved is fingers in and out; with the other hand he continued to massage her tits. The velocity of her breathing increased even further and after a short while he felt her spasm, heard her almost scream, he had the impression that his hand was squeezed by a pair of pliers.

“I am cumming” she panted, “Cumming… Oh, shit, it feels so nice.. Yes, keep it there, keep it there, don’t move, don’t move…”.

Her body convulsed; the flush in her face had even increased. Beads of sweat appeared on her forehead; in between her breasts. He licked the salty sweat away. Finally he saw her come out of it – almost like an epileptic attack. She opened her eyes and stared at him.

“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked with a smile. “Where were you 15 years ago? We certainly could have had some fun”.

He wondered too, but realised that 15 years ago he was still somewhere in the fifth grade of secondary school.

He sat straight again and watched her get dressed properly again. Prim, almost. A housewife. A co-worker. Married with children. He smelled his hands; they smelled of her. He still felt the erection in his pants; felt the wet spot in his pants.

When he saw what time it was on the clock in his car, he almost fainted. All lust and interest in sex and fornication gone. They had been here more than an hour; lunch break was over, more than over.

“We’d better go, and go fast” he said, “ They’ll be wondering where we are. Where you are”.

As a response. she just bent over, kissed him on the lips, took his hand in hers and put it to her mouth. As if she was eating an ice cream, she licked her own cum from his fingers.

“You have nice strong fingers” she said, “I like your fingers…”.

No longer was he in a romantic mood; the office called and nervously he started the engine.

“Why the rush, lover boy? Why the rush?” she giggled. She put her hands in between his legs and touched the spot where his penis had been. “Nothing for you this time?”

He shook his head, watched around and drove carefully in between the swaying cars. “No time, maybe another time?”

“Sure” she said, “sure, any time, any time”.

The only time he wondered about was the time he would be in the office.

Part 3

The occasional lunches continued, sometimes once a week, sometimes twice. Sometimes they used his car, sometimes hers, a tiny Renault, in which blowjobs, finger fucking, necking, or whatever they ended up doing, became almost physical exercises. Sometimes he would make her come, sometimes vice versa, sometimes they both came. Her stock of Kleenex seemed inexhaustible.

Sometimes he would come in her mouth – and comme de l’habitude, she would just open the window and waste his semen in the gutter. Sometimes he would come into her hand – which she would wipe with a Kleenex and clean with her lips. He discovered that she not only liked her cunt to play with but also her little butthole. Using two fingers he managed, after some practice, to manipulate both her clitoris and her ass, which appeared very sensitive. The power with which she came seemed even more intense. But intercourse – no way; that was still terra incognita.

One afternoon, it was close to Christmas, they had decided to go to a hotel. Rent a room, just for the odd hour or so, and try IT: proper sex in a proper bed instead of breaking their backs in cars.

They met, as usual, somewhere outside the office building, bought lunch on the road to the hotel: a shabby place, along the highway. Inside the hotel, they asked for a room. But when a fat lady, with too much make up, dressed like a gypsy, asked for their ID’s – there was just silence. She had her driving license; he only carried his identity card from the office – with in big letters an indication that the little plastic card was not valid outside the office premises.

“I am sorry” the fat lady barked, “but since you have no proper means of identification, I am sorry, but in this case I cannot let you a room”.

She closed the ledger that she had in front of her with a slam of her big, fat hand; bright nails, too many and too flashy golden rings. “Really sorry, but I just cannot – it would give me problems with the Police”.

He felt absolutely ridiculous; pathetic; frustrated.

They left the building rather timidly.

“We really fucked up, didn’t we?” he asked.

“Yes, obviously.. How could you? Why didn’t you bring your passport?” she asked, “I was looking forward to it so much.. And now what?”

They went back to the car – her car to be more precise: a maroon red little vehicle. Sitting in the front seat alone was enough to give him cramps in his knees.

She drove away rather abruptly; taking corners too fast – almost burning rubber when she accelerated. Going further and further away from the city.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Somewhere secluded. Where there is absolutely no one. God knows where – but actually I do not give a shit, as long as we are alone” she replied.

Suddenly she turned somewhere right; a small lane, no tarmac, just mud, shrubs, a few old trees, that passed along an empty field with crows. They passed a car, and than another one, parked along the track. Abruptly she stopped the car and parked it in what almost seemed like a small parking lot – an empty space, a big tree with no leaves. Plastic wrappers; newspapers.

“Not particularly a romantic scenery” he observed.

“Who cares? No one comes here, we have some privacy. And now you can finally fuck me”.

She was really quick that day: unzipped her skirt, pulled down her panties and her underwear, unbuttoned her blouse, and opened her bra. It was cold in the car and her nipples stood out.

“Take off your pants” she said, rubbing her arms which were covered with goose pimples.

Obligingly he unbuckled his belt, pulled down the zipper, pushed up a bit, and pulled down his pants. His dick was already hard and a small wet spot had developed on his slip.

“Those too, you silly” she said with a smile.

He pulled down his underwear.

“How about your tie? And shirt?”

He laughed; a stupid grin; and took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

“That’s better, a lot better. Now be careful, I am going to climb on top of you. Just sit still.”

With difficulty she moved away from the driver’s seat and crawled in his lap. He felt her wetness on his belly. Felt the tiny hairs that surrounded her vagina tickle.