The Red Chevy

I have this fantasy I would just love to share with you. You know we have not seen each other for quite a long time, for reasons that are too numerous to venture into right now. Yet, no matter how much I try to shake you out of my mind, you appear in the imagery of my impulsive, overactive brain. I see you in one scenario, then it is another....but there is one scene that captivates the passion and lust that we once shared, that no matter what I do, I can't seem to escape from, literally and figuratively.

I live in a small, country town, where everyone knows each other, and doors remain unlocked, as neighbors behave neighborly and all is quiet and safe. It is this particular morning, sky threatening with rain, that I wake up rather later than usual, but have no where to go. I stumble around the kitchen, running water for the coffee, as it drips aroma into the air. I sit down and make a clearance on the cluttered table for the now ready cup of coffee; the table, a symbol of my cluttered life. Beyond the bamboo shades, I see a red truck- a Chevy-and despite the sleepiness still in my eyes, I wonder if it is yours. I carve a clearance amidst the papers and bills of my life, so that I have an empty area to read the newspaper. I sip the coffee sweetly as the caffeine begins to offer sustenance, and I begin to come to life.

The news of the day was nothing more than politics, as the presidential elections near, while houses foreclose and gas skyrockets. Alone in my universe I am safe, sheltered in my cluttered but simple existence. I read about the promises of a better future from Obama, while in Iraq, the military needs millions of dollars to replace and repair the machinery of the war. I read lightheartedly about the gossip of the rich and the famous. I am absorbed in the fantasy and feuds of Hollywood, when I sense a movement from behind me. Before I have an opportunity to turn around, I smell the scent of Ivory soap, as I am summoned by the hair from the nape of my neck that is being pulled, and manipulating my movement. You quietly grab the hair in the back of my head, and forcefully push it forward, preventing me from seeing you. You push my head into the paper; almost making me spit my coffee onto the paper from my swallow. You tightly wrap your fingers through my hair, pushing me out of the chair, elevating me to your will. "Clear the table," you whisper, as I try to turn around and identify you. You are beginning to hurt me, as my hair is taunt between your fingers. You pull me out of the chair, pushing me into the objects of my life that covers the surface of the table. I clear the paper, try to move the candlesticks and fruit bowl, but I am not fast enough. Your fingers remain tight around the nape of my neck as you whisper and run your tongue in my inner ear. "I am going to take what I want," you tell me as you push my head against the table. I can feel your body rub against the back of my ass as you position me, hands and face down on the table, pivoting my head to the side so that I can not see you.

I am lying on the table in a frenzy, yet I can feel myself wet with desire. The freshness of the Ivory soap, and the vision of the Chevy truck, renders me helpless with desire. You push me harder on the table and pin me down with your weight, as you push down the bottom of my pajamas. You whisper in my ear, as you lick its inside, tongue delving deep, and you forcefully swat my ass. "I am going to take you, and use you for my own pleasure." Tongue digging deep into my ear, you send shivers through my body, reminding me of both the pain and the pleasure that you yield. I feel you smack my bottom several times as you yank my hair and position my face so that I can not turn around to identify you. I am weak in the knees with frenzy, as I sense I am about to be raped, used for your pleasure. Smack, smack, smack...I feel you redden my body as you then forcefully place your finger in my wet cunt. I am dripping with juices, my fear heightened, as you continue to control me by my hair. I am unable to move, yet you push one finger, two fingers into my vagina, and then place those fingers to my nose. I can smell my pussy juices, and I smell your Ivory soap.

You pull my hair so that I have to move further onto the table; I no longer have my bottom pajama on. I feel your hardness exposed to my ass cheeks as you elevate my body, fingering my vagina so violently that I am elevated into the air. Your hardness rubs against my ass cheeks, as I feel you lightly rubbing against me. Smack, smack, smack-you redden my bottom so that I know you are in control. You take the fingers out of my wet pussy and begin to juice my puckered anus. You gently lick up and down my ass cheeks, still pushing my head against the table and holding my hair forcefully. I can feel goose bumps throughout my body as I am torn between the gentleness and forcefulness of your touch. I close my eyes to concentrate on the sensuality of your tongue in my anus, when you viciously withdraw your tongue and forcefully shove your hard penis in my ass. Each thrust hurts more than the one before, until you are completely in me. You thrust, sweat dripping onto my shirt as you fumble one hand on my breast, pinching my nipples. I feel you shudder, as you slowly release the hand that holds me hostage against the table, and you gently kiss my head as I feel the gush of cum released into my sore and swollen bottom. You grab my hair forcefully one last time as you lift my head up from the table. I catch a glimpse of you as you straighten, tuck your softened dick into your pants and zipper up.

I straighten up my body, amidst the clutter of the table, as I hear the door close. I look quickly out of the bamboo shades and see the red Chevy leave. I am wet, sore, and now awake. I sip my now cold coffee and wonder what the rest of the day has in store for me today.