Thursday, July 19, 2012

The Real Purpose of Cruise Control...Masturbation

After an evening of rope play (I rigged the rope) with a newbie and a pretty fun make-out session (Yes, only a make-out session...I know, so scandalous!) with a new dude-friend I was having some serious wetness issues and some serious sexual congestion. We girls don't get blue-balls but we DO get sexual congestion and it can be just as serious. I had to take things in hand - literally - and I was not going to wait the thirty minutes it would take to drive all the way home.

I could feel how wet I was even as I walked to my car, my cunt-lips slipping as they rubbed together with each step. At this point my panties were more of a problem then a help and as I went to sit down in the driver's seat I actually had to make a fist and moaned to keep from crying out as my bottom met the seat.

I hit the road with the taste of his lips on mine and the memory of the feel of skin on skin while I reveled in the delicious tension that had been fueled over the course of a few hours. I felt a sense of self-mastery for not giving in.

I told him, "I'm not a prick-tease for the sake of being a prick-tease...there's a purpose."

His response was quiet, "I hope that eventually I come to know this purpose."

It didn't need an explanation, he could have felt it if he had taken the time - it's the build up, the pressure, the tension. The next time he hears my voice, thinks of me, or remembers the smell of my hair he'll be brought right back to that place and to that need. His body will remember what I didn't give it and what it still craves, what it would beg on bended knees for.

He will be tight as a bow string.

My body was as tight as a bow string, the lights of the night at 1 A.M. whizzing by as I sped down the freeway, music blaring (Garbage) and my mind a bottomless pit of desire.

There was construction and police lights every few miles as the 6 lanes were whittled down into 1 by cones and tired men in atrociously yellow vests. I bit my lip and looked out the side window as I unzipped my pants and slid my hand down into that darkness, unseen by anyone. I moaned out loud to feel the extent of my wetness - the river Lethe could not compare. I closed my eyes for a mere second but when the car swerved a tiny bit the left they flashed open in an instant.

"Fuck!" I yelled out in frustration.

It took about 0.6 miles to remember that I had a tool at my disposal - cruise control, yeah baby.

I clicked the little bottom and locked into number 65. My hand once again dipped down into the shadows and my fingers gladly met with that sublime moisture, my lips, my swollen clit. My fingertips slid easily on the soft flesh of my pink folds and my head pressed and rolled against the headrest. My mind went to the memory of his lips on my neck, his hands on my waist and I gave into the pleasure of my touch.

One hand on the wheel, one hand in my pants I teased myself and giggled, unheard.

The road widened out again and I sped under an overpass, my eyes on the construction workers toiling under the glare of their work lamps. I could not help it any longer as I stared at the reflective paint on the road and I was brought back to him kneeling before me, my back against the wall and his mouth kissing my cunt through my silky red panties. Smelling myself as his tongue explored the soft slip of my wetness that has soaked so completely through the thin fabric.

He wanted so much more...he wouldn't get it.

What can I say? I love a good power trip.

I watched the tail lights glow ahead of me as I put my left foot up on the dashboard, my hair in my face now from sliding down in the seat just a little bit. My mouth open and my breath heavy as I touched my clit now with purpose - I needed to cum or I would die.

I smelled my sweet, dark odor and moaned to myself, thinking about how I could not be seen as I looked to my right and a Civic one lane over I remembered his breath on the lips of my cunt, hot even through my panties and I came so hard I screamed out in the dark...once, twice, three times all in succession.

I didn't swerve once.

My laughter filled the car as I brought my cunt-moistened fingers to my mouth and tasted and smelled of myself feeling like a badass, still rolling in the pleasure of my shattering orgasm. My breathing normalized and I could feel my heart slow its incessant pound.

As I rolled another 15 miles down the road the smell of my sex was inescapable.

Big win.