There is something of a feeling of exquisite comfort for the man to slip his erect penis into a woman's vagina (to use medical terminology) even disregarding, if you can, the sexual aspect and prospect of orgasmic release of seminal fluid and spermatozoa. There is something simply comfortable about the act of penetration rather like, or, perhaps, it is not such a close analogy, slipping one's feet into a pair of old slippers. Woman and girls found a very similar experience in getting into and settling down into the old sprung leather of the passenger seat of the Triumph 2500 and gazing out over the long bonnet.
To return to the analogy, once firmly lodged inside the warm comfortable interior it was unlikely they would withdraw from the car without the experience of orgasm if the journey was long enough.
My increasing surprise and pleasure in finding just what a babe magnet the Triumph was, led to unexpected sexual adventures, sometimes with quite young women, other times more mature. The opportunities with women my own age seemed less frequent, perhaps they were too busy with children to come and talk to a middle-aged mechanic however polished and attractive his car might appear. It was the older... and the younger.
It was not just me who noticed this phenomenon. At one show, next to me in the field, I recall an old geezer with plenty of miles on his clock standing looking daggers at me because of all those women around my 2500S particularly the one you could say was sporting a fine pair of 'Sabrinas.' His Rover P4 just didn't seem to be attracting the same sort of attention, despite the interest of the Straight Six engine and the leather bench seat. I liked the 'wood-and-leather-with-a vengeance' style. It was the archetypal bank manager's motor of the day and he certainly kept the car well. I thought he could use that bench seat to good effect, if only the 'babes' asked for a 'ride,' and it had that sort of gear lever and knob Jane seemed to like. We got chatting later and what he didn't know about old motors struck me as not worth knowing. He liked the 2500S, sat in it and even noted how pristine the gear knob looked, though he thought I should recover the seats. 'Bit stained,' he said, and it was obvious he knew why.
Older and younger babes indeed. Let's start with the younger.
Eighteen years old -- she was that young, even younger than Heulwen. It made me feel really awful -- well, not really! I was going north, mentioned it to a friend and found myself agreeing to take his daughter back to uni. as a passenger in January. The Triumph is an estate and has plenty of room in the back, and that was really why he suggested me taking her back, knowing the vehicle -- but not as well as he thought -- had the space. A nice, intelligent, bubbly sort of girl, freckles like Heulwen but there the resemblance ended. Tall, not far off six foot, a bit too tall for a girl really. Freckles not uncommon with red or auburn hair and she had that, straight and long.
It was cold outside, snow piled up either side of the roads. No more snow was forecast so it was not foolish to travel, but across the countryside a winter wonderland or at least the appearance of it from a warm car. A warm car with a particular and unusual influence upon women and one I could see was gradually affecting young Eleanor. A certain flush to her face and the occasional movement of her bottom upon the leather seat. It amused me. The T2500S was up to his tricks again. I glanced down at the gear stick. Erect as always and with the overdrive in the 'on' position. Always when I touched that I now thought of Heulwen's little button sliding over it, hard and rough on her clit.
Eleanor was no better after a visit to a service station for coffee and necessary relief. Has she perhaps fingered herself in the 'Ladies' a bit, somewhat sordid really, but had she been surprised at how wet she was -- if, indeed, she was wet and I rather thought she was very much in just that so pleasing feminine state.
A few miles further on and a sigh, a swallowing.
"You all right, Eli?"
"Yes," it came out as rather a squeak.
Obvious she was just so aroused. Another wriggle on the seat revealed half an inch of white thigh twixt skirt and long sock. I had not realised -- and why should I -- that under her thick woollen skirt she was wearing were not thick black tights but socks that went up beyond her knees. A particular favourite of mine. I am not one for nylons and suspender belts but, rather like Fiona's long white leather boots, I have a 'thing' about long woollen socks for women whether under skirts or worn without anything else. My thing -- it's what I like. And that glimpse of young white thigh was very pleasing. But eyes on the road.
"It's very warm in here."
I didn't think so, but turned the heating off. A few miles further on she turned it on again. It had got rather chilly. A few miles further on and she was really wriggling in her seat.
"Eric, do you have a girlfriend?"
"No, Eli, not at the moment."
"What do you do for sex?"
I glanced at her, "what do you do?" I rather thought the question best answered by her first of all. The journey was becoming rather interesting.
"I had a boyfriend, but we broke up so... and, so, well, you know..."
A quick turn towards her and a raising of eyebrows.
"You know... fingers." She had said it. Just like that. Excellent. The idea in my mind so pleasing.
"And very nice and effective I'm sure. Good to know your own body and what you like. Nice to be able to relax all cosy in bed..."
"You wank then?"
That was quite direct. "All men do, I'm sure. Some more than others. And I have a lady friend, we're not going out, but she helps me out sometimes and I help her." Almost true, I had merely said the singular whereas it should have been 'ladies' plural. "But other times..."
"So, you do wank. Have you a foreskin?"
"Last time I looked, yes!"
"Gerard doesn't."
"Gerard?"
"My ex. I expect it's different with one."
