The brilliant blue sky of a winter’s day.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
She poked her head in my office door and smiled, “I have to go take a shower, but I need to talk to you.”
The addition of a gym to the office complex was terrific, but it led to some strange interactions. “Sounds good, maybe we can get some lunch.”
She thought about for a minute, running through her schedule in her head, came to a decision that was reflected in her bright green eyes, and she said, “OK.” Her face disappeared but her perfume lingered mixed with sweat and the smell of fall that permeated the trees outside. I turned back to my work, trying not to think about lunch, and failing.
The spreadsheet in front of me failed to hold my interest and the problem I was having with conditional formatting in Excel was getting tiresome. I spun around in my chair that reminded me of an Office Depot castoff, rummaged through my laptop bag, and extracted my keys and wallet.
By the time she came back I had finished three emails, almost figured out my Excel problem, and saved everything before invoking my password and locking the keyboard. It wasn’t unusual that we would go to lunch, but my heart always fluttered a little bit. Today was no exception, but something was happening, there was something in the fall air. She was in her skinny jeans and they accentuated her slim hips and flat stomach. Her long-sleeved maroon sweater hinted at the possibility that she was not wearing a bra, but I did not stare nor try to find out by looking. It was a bulky cable-knit and attractive on her slender chest.
“Have you lost more weight?” I had been worried about her for some time; worried since she caught the flu that wouldn’t seem to go away, worried since her boyfriend had been giving her grief about being too sick to work. He wasn’t rude enough to be considered a complete ass, but he was inconsiderate and never paid attention. I knew she was sleeping on the couch until she got better. They couldn’t afford to lose his income as well as hers and, even though his salary at the pizza parlor was meager, it paid the bills and kept her going to art lessons.
She admitted that she had lost some weight while fighting the last round of the flu. Hooking her thumb in the waistband of her jeans, she pulled them away from her skin to show that there was room to spare.
“Are those your new jeans?” I asked, “The ones that were too tight when you bought them?”
“Yes they are.” As the elevator door closed, and with only the two of us inside, I slipped the pointer finger of my right hand between the denim and her soft, delicate, skin, pulling on the material as if testing her weight loss for myself. As I did I pulled them down an inch exposing the bright blue underwear she was wearing. She stood close and looked up at me, not pulling away, just meeting my gaze as the knuckle of my finger grazed to the skin hidden by her waistband.
“I’m not getting any lunch am I?” She asked.
“Not right away, no.”
We walked across the parking lot in the cool fall air and I inhaled deeply and looked at her as we walked. She had a boyfriend. She has a boyfriend. I knew that, and she knew that I knew that because she told me that herself. “I don’t love you,” she said one night as we spoke on the phone, “I can’t love you.”
“I know.” That was all we had said, that was all that needed to be said.
I pulled the bulky key ring out of my pocket and adjusted myself to make room for my growth. I didn’t hide it, she knew what was happening, and suspected what was going to happen. I handed the keys to her and she hit the button. My car chirped to life, flashed its headlights, unlocked the doors, and waited for us.
“Front or back?” She asked with a knowing smile. The next 20 minutes were in her hands.
“It’s your choice,” I replied.
She tossed the keys back to me and smiled as she opened the door behind the driver seat and climbed in, scooting to the middle of the bench as I got in the driver’s seat. My 4x4 roared to life and I pulled promptly out of the parking lot. We needed to get away from the security cameras that had their ever watchful eyes on the comings and goings of the trading house.
She had never picked the back before and I could barely think, or drive, straight. I turned right out of the parking lot, left on Magnolia, and then caught the Anderson Parkway heading northeast. She slid over to the door behind me so I could no longer see her in the rear-view mirror and she looked out the window, rolling it down to catch the fragrance of fall, letting her long beautiful hair blow in the wind. She murmured something about a ball, but I couldn’t understand it over the roar of the open window. “What?” I yelled back to her, and drove in a lazy circle around the park looking for a place to stop.
“I like the park.”
“…the park” came out a little too loudly as she rolled up the window and the sudden silence made her voice sound amplified. I pulled into a parking spot next to the volleyball courts that were unused in the crisp fall air. The sand was too cold and rough on bare feet at this time of year. The swing set, however, on the far side of the sand was being used by young mothers and her bundled-up children. There were a few trees between the little ankle-biters and my car, but they offered scant protection from a potentially curious seven-year-old.
I unbuckled and moved to the front passenger seat and turned around to look at her. She blushed, smiled, and leaned forward to release the latch that held the driver-side seat upright. With a metallic click, the latch opened and the seat fell forward, tapping the horn just hard enough to make it honk. My head swiveled and I peered through the trees and saw the young mother look up distractedly, but she soon turned back to her charges and the dirt flecked black SUV was quickly forgotten.
I turned back to look at the beauty in the back seat. She had put her hands together, covering her face pulling the long sleeves of her sweater over her hands, not for warmth, but to hide from the mom across the way. She was also trying to hide from herself, from the dangerous thoughts that were running through her mind, and the feelings that were bubbling up just under her skin. She kicked off her simple flats and pulled her feet up onto the seat and leaned against the door sitting catty-corner away from me, as far away as she could be physically, but in the best position for….
“Tell me what to do.” She giggled through her sweater covered hands, “tell me.” She tugged on the sleeves of the sweater, first the left, then the right, exposing her forearms and wrists, so delicate in the winter sun, and she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it off her face and looking out the window again trying to suppress a smile that crept over her illustrious face.
“Tell me what you want to do.” I tried to keep my voice calm.
“That’s not what I need.”
I settled uncomfortably in the corner of the dashboard and the passenger side door sitting Indian style as I unzipped my pants. I reached inside and allowed my body to spring free and a grinned when she gasped a little.
“Are you wearing a bra today?”
“No.”
“Show me.” I was successfully hiding quaver in my voice, but I knew I would not last long.
She turned to face me fully letting her hands drop to her waist and gather up the hem of her over-sized sweater. She leaned forward to release the tension on her back and slowly pulled the sweater up to her collarbone. My cock twitched and my heart skipped as her beautiful chest came into view. Her slim figure was accentuated by perfectly small breasts. They matched her frame; they matched her style, beautiful but understated, sensitive, subtle.
I took my cock in my hand and stroked lightly as I looked at her. “Touch.” Her left hand released its handful of fabric and gently caressed her bare skin. She shivered at the touch, her cold hands coming as a surprise in the warm car. “Pinch” she lifted the sweater higher affording me a better view, a perfect sight as her fingertips caressed tugged at the pink tips. They were getting fuller and I forced myself to breathe as her voice cracked in a sigh.
“Take off your sweater.”
“We are in a park.” She said, using her free hand to indicate our surroundings as if I had lost track of where we were.
“I know.” She sat back in her corner and I sat back in mind staring at each other. Her left hand absentmindedly still touching the skin now hidden by the sweater, her head dropped back and I could see her hand moving more urgently now. She opened her eyes and looked at me, “Tell me.”
“Take off your sweater.”
Dropping her hands down into her lap once again she took large handfuls of fabric and lifted them over her head, her beautiful brown hair getting caught up for a moment of suspense, and then cascading down over her shoulders as the sweater was placed on the seat next to her. She squealed a bit as she leaned back against the cold plastic molding on the door, and, with a giggle, covered both breasts with her hands. “It’s cold,”
She looked down in my lap and saw the glistening drop of moisture in the head of my cock. She licked her lips but knew that I was off limits, as was she to me.
“What do you want?” I knew she would not answer at first, and, true to form, she said nothing but stared at my flesh as she touched her own.
“Do you want to cum?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you want to cum?”
“Yes.”
“Take off your pants.”
She stared at me and looked lost for a moment. I wondered if I had pushed too much and lost it all.
She looked out the front window and counted the children, and having accounted for the whole family, she focused back inside straightened out her legs and unsnapped the top button. The once-tight jeans slid off her hips and she pushed them past her knees and then looked up at me. I pushed her back in the seat with a wave of my hand, and she extended her trapped feet and scrunched up jeans towards me. I grasped the stitched hem of each leg and pulled them off, and folded them neatly and set them on the driver’s seat. She lifted her bottom off the seat and slid her unused sweater underneath her to give her a layer of warmth between her bare skin and the leather seat. Her thighs parted imperceptibly and her right hand slipped between them, her manicured fingertips scratching the thin fabric.
“Spread for me”
She shifted again moving her hips lower and opening her thighs for my view. One foot came up on the back of the folded-over driver’s seat, the other moved to the center console, just inches from my own foot. The gusset of her bright blue panties was wet, a large dark spot had spread from edge to edge and she blushed deeply and hid behind her hands when I pointed it out to her. “Take them off.” Mimicking the motions she used to remove her jeans she laid herself bare and dropped the panties on the floor of my car.
“Touch your clit for me.” I watched as her fingers circled the pink within the lips of her cleft. She closed her eyes and lay back against the car seat and touched for my watching.
“Do you like it when I watch?”
She gasped at the question and muttered ‘Yes’ under her breath.
“Do you like it when I watch?”
“Yes.” She said it louder this time knowing that if it was too soft again I would make her stop.
“Put two fingers inside, penetrate for me, show me.” I wanted to see her fingers disappear inside that beautiful hole, her breath was ragged now, and her first orgasm was very close.
“Cum for me.” With this she knew she had permission to push herself over the edge any way she wanted. One hand grasped at her small breast and pinched hard as the other fingers circled and plunged in an out of her wet and slippery cunt. I stroked myself in rhythm desperately trying to hold off my own orgasm until she had finished. I did not have to wait long. With a gasp and a groan, her orgasm overwhelmed her and she arched her back pressing her cheek up against the cold window of the car leaving a smudge in the fog that had covered the window.
“Stay open for me, don’t you dare hide.” She forced her legs open again allowing me to see her fingers sliding in and out in ecstasy. “Don’t you dare hide from me; I want to see it all.”
The orgasm rocked her body to the core and she trembled for many many seconds, almost a minute after the first wave. Her hands fluttered about her skin unsure where to touch, wanting to touch everywhere, but not knowing where to start. She looked lost in a haze of pleasure and it felt good to be with her. I could see her breathing slow and before she recovered fully I asked her if she wanted another. She nodded vigorously in the affirmative and looked at me for permission.
Tell me.”
“I want to cum again.”
“Turnover.” She quickly shifted her weight and spun around resting in the center of the seat, moving closer to me, tempting me to reach out and touch but knowing that I would not, not yet, not without permission, and not without taking the boyfriend out of the situation.
“Spread for me, show me,” I tried not to sound as desperately in love as I was, “I want to look at you.”
Resting her for head on the backseat she reached behind herself and spread her ass wide, tight, puckered, pink, she spread it for me let me see it, she hid nothing and allowed me to look.
“Stay there and you may cum again. I want to see you inside.” Her hands did not leave her beautiful hips, but instead one finger plunged deeply inside the tight pucker and two more slid inside the wet. I could not see her face but I could hear her moans, her gasps, and I knew it was inevitable, it was close. I set up tall in my seat and, with painstaking care, reached past her without touching and picked up the blue fabric that had landed on the floor.
“I’m close.” She said and I grunted in agreement.
I wrapped the head of my cock in the soft blue fabric that had been around her just minutes before; I could feel it rubbing against my skin as her fingers moved in and out of her body, opening herself to me, bringing pleasure to her.
“Use them please.” She said as she looked over her shoulder and saw the blue wrapped around my shaft. “Thank you.” She said. Her fingers were a blur as was my fist and in silence we listened to each other touch, stroke, and….
The moments that follow are lost in a fog and I wish somehow to capture them, yet I would take away nothing from the feelings of those last moments. I remember bumping my head against my windshield, and of clenching, releasing, and then slumping back down into the seat, I heard her whimper, and I heard her sigh as I closed my eyes and let myself go.
By the time I opened my eyes she was pulling her jeans up over her bare skin and buttoning the button and zipping herself zipper closed. The sound of that moment has stayed with me ever since.
She reached for her phone, smiled at me, and stifled a giggle as she pantomimed “clean up you pervert,” while she ordered from the local deli. I looked down at the mess I had made and my head began to spin again. After a final squeeze, I unwrapped her panties from around my wrist and shaft. She took them from my hands, folded them in on themselves, wrapped them in a paper towel I handed her from the glove box, and slipped them in her purse.
She thanked the sandwich shop clerk for her help and hung up her phone.
I nodded in the direction of her purse. “Are you going to wash those?”
She thought for a minute pursing her lips together as if actually thinking it through.
“Not right away.” She said, nodding her head as if telling herself something new, “No, I’m not.”
She settled back into her seat and slipped her shoes back on and rested her hands in her lap as if I had been her chauffer for many years.
“I need my lunch now,” she said, and I drove slowly past the lonely volleyball court, and she waved sweetly at the mom and mouthed a good-bye to the kids on the swing-set and looked up at the brilliant blue sky of a winter’s day.
