Samantha's Game

Samantha slammed shut the wrap of her sunflower yellow sundress faster than a barn door closes in a tornado, hugging her arms around her belly. "Did they see me?" She reached between her pool tanned thighs and rubbed her fingers in the golden mess of damp, trimmed hair. She shuddered and then didn't care, she got what she wanted. Now she wanted more.

Old enough to understand her behavior but too young to fully appreciate its implications, Sam publicly explored her sexuality with unabashed fervor. She loved watching men of all ages fall into her hazel eyes, the color of rich Peruvian coffee beans floating in water taken from a green sea. Sometimes she toyed with men as young as her older brother, their faces flushed with only her glance; sometimes she toyed with men older than her father, who she could tell, from the lust in their eyes, they had a lesson or two to teach her.

She had read about the sirens of yore and their legend within Greek mythology and she believed no reason that prevented myths from being real. Now, she stood on the westbound side of I70 near the I75 exchange, an area known as the Crossroads of America. Around her, the smell of hot asphalt, diesel fumes, and gasoline--but most of all, more pungent than the rest, she smelled herself.

The sun, fallen deep in the sky, burned a parfait of warm colors into the horizon; effectively blinding drivers on the straight-as-an-arrow highway heading due-west; Sam's favorite time of the day to play her game. Where she stood, in the shadow of a road sign, she could have been a ghost. A driver never really knew whether what they saw—her exposed body—had been real or a figment of their imagination--hot, young and willing.

The day's heat remained, leaving her with a delicious glaze of salty sweat--each drop as perfectly rounded as the underside of her breasts.

A car approached. Sam unfastened the ties of her dress then waited until she saw the driver's eyes, then she opened her dress until it fell to the ground as she stepped out of the shadows and into the light. Sunbeams glistened off her skin like a summer's dew at dawn.

The car blew past. The driver's eyes did not. Sam, now buffeting in its wake, danced and tickled, teased and pulled on her clit. She was just about to come when she saw brake lights glow red. She knew, the driver saw her. Her breath hitched. She doubled over. Then she came.

The brake lights now black, the driver continued on their journey; Sam wondered whether the driver would come later, too, and whether they'd think of her.

Now, the sun behind the earth, time for headlights to switch on and for Sam to say goodnight. Otherwise, she had concluded, it would be too dark to see a driver's eyes, becoming more like a star, center stage, in the spotlight. But something inside of her wasn't ready to quit.

Last time she pushed her luck after dark, after she had opened her dress and stood in the approaching headlights, the car had passed her at a blinding speed. As she buffeted in its wake her orgasm hit.

But, as her fingers smashed against the sloppy pink flesh rich with nerve endings deep inside herself, the car's brake lights glowed. And, as her body quaked and jerked from the megajoules of current firing under her skin, the car pulled to the side of the road. Then, only in the white of its reverse lights, as her chest heaved and struggled to hold in enough air, did Sam find her awareness and realize her risk.

With her dress pooled at her feet, her feet tangled in flip flops and fabric, Sam didn't have time to clothe herself, so she did the first thing that came to mind—she hopped out of it all and scampered down the embankment, across the closely cropped grass and into the high cover of the corn fields.

Once safe from being caught, she stopped her flight to catch her breath. That's when the adrenaline made itself known--a star's light had become brighter; the soil, black and rich, smelled more fertile; and with each step, as another corn husk--thick, ribbed and fibrous--coarse like burlap--rubbed against her nipples--her knees quivered and her body shook.

Curious, Sam returned to see what happened, standing far enough inside the cornfield to remain out of sight. She saw a tan Ford sedan, stopped on the side of the road with the passenger door open; the interior dome light glowed yellow-white.

Sam crouched low, like a catcher in a baseball game, then she scanned the scene until she found both driver and passenger in the shadow of the tail lights. They were both teenage boys; they stood facing each other.

Without awareness, she brushed her fingers through her fleshy folds, bringing a groan and shudder. She saw an erection grow in his pants, or maybe she imagined it. She reached down again, but this time she first tickled around her hole before dancing on her clit. She swooned, nearly falling over. A third time, she scooped her fingers then briefly plunged them inside her hole. It squished; she grunted. A tiny puddle formed in her palm, a drip fell on her foot. Then another. A summer breeze passed from behind her, through the stalks toward the road, the smell of her sweat mixed with arousal caused her to swoon.

The boys turned, now both facing her direction. One picked up her dress and brought it to his face. She knew he could smell her spicy pungence. There weren't many teenagers in her town; she wondered if she knew them, so she inched closer then she squinched her eyes into focus. The boy lowered the dress, which is the first time Sam saw his face. She swallowed with a gulp.

"Samantha!" the boy called then ran toward the cornfield. The second boy followed behind. A fear boiled in her chest, Sam panicked and took off through the field, streaking toward her car, parked hidden on a farm access road. She ran without thought or feeling--the dry and brown stalks slapped and poked at her body like a Dom whips and teases their submissive with a length of jute rope--scratching the tips of her breasts, under her arms, the soft of her thighs, and the folds of her cunt.

Back to her car, Sam breathed. Her skin burned and glowed red like the brake lights. She held her arms away from her body otherwise it would stick to itself. Then a breeze kicked up and the evening's cool air enveloped her sweaty skin causing a chill that magnified her pleasure. She giggled and laughed from her new found sensitivities. Then she had an idea.

She gathered spit in her mouth then dropped it on the tip of her finger. Then, after its stringy tendrils broke, she placed its cool-hot wetness on her throbbing bud, and while she swirled it around her body jerked and arched. She thought about her brother, Bobby, and wondered how he knew it was her on the roadside--and what he had said to the driver, his friend Tim. Sam had never come so hard as she did in that moment on that day.

Now, still standing by the side of the road under her favorite road sign, Sam returned from her memory of that night with her face flushed, nipples tingling and pussy aching. Her mind made up, she unwrapped her dress and dropped it to the ground with disregard then she looked toward the dark sky and offered a quiet prayer, hoping Bobby and Tim out joyriding again that night.