It's dark where you are, behind the blindfold you wear - a red bandana. We're in the car, you can hear the traffic passing, sense my presence in the driving seat.
You are wearing what I told you to wear, like a good girl should - a short, black, pleated skirt, red silk panties with a lace trim, plain black stockings, a white blouse, transparent enough to see the frilled edges of your bra. Red lipstick contrasted against your pure, fair skin - hair down over your shoulders.
It's a hot summer night, the window is cracked and you can feel the warm wind passing, flicking your hair, breezing like a breath across your face and mouth. Your mouth is dry from the heat, from your excitement wrestling with your fear.
Your heart beats, thump-thump-thump, inside your chest, and you almost want to pee as your asshole twitches in anticipation.
You lick your dry lips, your breathing laboured, but deep, filling your lungs each time. Every time you exhale, you can feel your nipples pointing inside your bra, brushing against your blouse. You already feel like a whore and there is a desperation inside your tummy that turns in circles. It almost makes you feel queasy, from your throat, through your empty belly down into your ass.
You sit in the passenger seat. It's a hot night, you can feel yourself sweat, skin sticky against the leather upholstery. The sweat is beading on you and you're glowing, face shiny, breathing with your lips parted.
Your hands are numb, you're legs have had your flat palms trapped since I told you to sit on them. It makes you feel vulnerable, but you've resisted the urge to take them away, like a good girl does. The knuckles on your hands are pressing against your hamstrings, spreading the muscles of your slender thighs.
Your thighs are beautiful, I can barely keep my eyes on the road for fawning over them. Firm, shining with sweat from the torrid heat, glistening where I spread your cum - high up your thighs, inside where there's soft flesh - right where they meet your panties.
