No, This Is A Show

You had that one extra glass of wine at dinner and I knew the drive home would be trouble. I know what a red wine tipsy does to you, and your panties.

As I started the car, your dress was already hiked, and I realized I was wrong…no panties tonight.

I pulled out of the parking lot and turned the stereo volume low, something sexy, something raw.

Your spread legs on the leather seat, glowing a pale blue from the dash lights. You slowly scratch your nails up the inside of your thighs, leaving trail marks I can see, even in the dim illumination. You sigh with that special mix of sting and sin and suffering for more.

I switch on the blinker and turn down a surface street, the quiet neighborhood even quieter at this moment of the night. I do this knowing I’m distracted. Knowing I’m growing excited, knowing I needed to pull us over to pay attention to only you and not the wheel. A dark spot, off the beaten path, I put it in park.

I turn my attention as you give me a grin born of wicked intention and Cabernet. I reach for your leg and you push away my hand and you shoot me the look of No, this is a show. You then look down between your own legs and I automatically follow your gaze down to your slick finger pulling the hood back and slowly circle your swollen button. Your eyes now closed, your back arches slightly in the car seat as your breathing quickens at the same pace as your fingers on your clit.

With your other hand, you slowly begin to caress and press your breast, feeling the charge in your awake nipples. I see you open your eyes and lock on mine as you slide a finger past your aching lips to your slippery, tight walls. You moan out loud, uninhibited by the seclusion and intoxication. You rhythmically, steadily, fuck your hand, until legs shaking, squirming, you plunge a second finger inside your hot and hungry cunt. You begin bucking again your hand, straining against and toward your impending petite mort.

You reach over and dig your nails into my thigh to steady yourself. Fully lost in your own world of self-sensation. You are the aggressor and the prey in this moment. Your palm slaps into your clit with each intense thrust of your fingers, causing a fast drumbeat of sensation throughout your body, flailing and screaming like the ritual of some tribal lore, possessed. Wracked with spasms and twitches of blinding pleasure until the brilliant supernova.

When you cum you freeze, back at full arch in the seat. A silent scream on your lips and eyes forced shut to ride out the tsunami consuming your body. Still for a split-moment. Then a sharp inhale, like coming up for air. Then the sound finds the scream, as you clatter with ripples of reflexive tremors. Your body begins to slow, and glow, as you bring yourself down with self-tenderness and a half-drunk/Post-cum silly smile. When you look at me, your eyes say…home. Now.

3 thoughts on “No, This Is A Show

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