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Message-ID: <28524asstr$980161802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Barbara B" <babs42ne@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Quickie #2: Vista Point (M/F voy exhib)
Date: Mon, 22 Jan 2001 06:10:02 -0500
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This is a new story, property of me, Babs B.  Please do not post it
anywhere, even a free site, without first contacting me.  I'm easy to
reach. Babs42ne@hotmail.com

   The Quickie #2: Vista Point

   By Babs

   Busy schedules.  Lots to do.  Maybe too much to do.  Our lives become
more complicated and challenging with each passing month.  How have we let
it become thus?  No real time to play or connect.  But still we long to
gaze into one another's eyes and feel caring touches.  To be close and talk
about things that matter and things that don't.

   I'm a few minutes late.  Jump out of my car and tap on the window of
your's.  I see you jerk slightly -- you've taken those extra few minutes to
catch a little sleep, and I've awakened you.  You smile and collect
yourself, stretching across the seats to open the door.

   As I slide in you smile, "Hi ya, Hon.  Caught me napping a bit," you
continue reaching over to pat my knee as you more fully awaken.  Then you
put your face in your hands and rub your eyes and cheeks.

   "So sorry," I apologize.  "You can just lean back there and snooze, if
you need.  It's all right...."

   "Don't be silly," you reply, glancing over at me with that smile I
adore. "I've got everything I want right here -- right here next to me --
and I'm not going to waste it sleeping!"

   You've wanted to show me your new truck for weeks.  Too busy to do even
that.  "Well, what do you think?"

   "I love it," I mutter sinking into the plush, beige leather seats.  "If
I close my eyes it feels like I'm sitting in my lounge chair next to the
fire," I utter.  In the front is a wide, bench seat, divided for driver and
passenger, and in the back is another complete soft leather bench seat. 
The dashboard reveals an array of bells and whistles, many of which I
cannot identify, making me almost feel like I'm in a cockpit.  This is
definitely not a "working" truck.  Luxury vehicle would be a better
description.  You'd said it was between this truck and a fancy SUV.  You
finally decided on this one after a test drive on the freeway.

   "Wait 'til you hear the sound system," you boast turning on the ignition
and sticking in a CD.  "You've got to hear this one," you offer choosing
the sound track from "Out of Africa." The music is stimulating and soothing
at the same time, and as I close my eyes you describe a recent road trip,
driving out of the mountains down into a lush green valley.  I can see the
scene in my mind.  "Yep.  Had to turn around, drive back up that hill and
come down again," you laugh, "just so I could play that music and
experience it all over again!" And we both giggle, imagining you doing
that. So much like what you'd do.

   "So, where are we going?" you ask, putting the truck in reverse and then
heading carefully out of the parking lot.

   "I don't know.  I thought you were going to choose." I suppose that's a
bit of a cop out, but I really do just want to relax and let you take us
out wherever you want to go.

   "OK," you sigh.  "I'm not really familiar with this area, but we'll see
what we can find." And soon we are on the freeway heading west.  You crank
up the sound system again, making me laugh at riding in a bom box vehicle.
Then you turn it down so we can talk about this and that.  Laugh and
snicker.  Discuss serious matters and those that aren't.

   "I like the sexy nylons," you say rubbing your hand up and down my
thigh. I've intentionally worn an above-the-knee skirt to tease you a
little.  "Are they thigh highs?" you ask, no doubt pleased with yourself
that you know the name of some women's undergarments.

   "No," I reply.  "They're actually stirrup panty hose." You pause,
probably not sure what that is.  "They're like panty hose," I continue,
"only they have holes in -- well -- convenient places." I see a grin spread
over your face as you continue to feel my legs beneath the silky fabric.

   You raise your right hand up to rub my left shoulder and then down my
arm.  "Missed you, Hon," you say, continuing to stroke my arm.  Then your
hand moves down over my breast for a little squeeze.  You look over at me
as you murmur, "Mmmmmm.  Would love to hold your breasts right now," as you
try to undo my blouse with one hand.

   "Here.  Let me help," I laugh unbuttoning the first few buttons on my
blouse.  "No need for an accident!  Now that would be a hard one to
explain!" You glance over and flash me that big, beautiful smile.

   "Love them," you whisper reaching your hand into my bra.

   "Careful," I plead, but I do love -- yes LOVE -- the feel of your hand.

   You cross over another freeway and then pull off onto a frontage road,
heading north.  Out of the left side of the car is a breathtakingly
beautiful lake.  It's actually a water shed and is in pristine condition
even this close to civilization because it is a protected area.  As we
travel down the highway, two big semi trucks approach us.  You reach over
and pull my blouse open, exposing my breasts in my bra.  The driver in the
first truck has a double take and then blows his horn when he's past.  The
second one gets a better view, smiling and waving as he buzzes by.  We are
both laughing and I shake my head.  Another semi approaches -- this one no
doubt having gotten the message on his radio -- and blasts his air horn
before we're even in close range.  He slows down a little, and so do you.
So as he cruises by he gets quite the scene -- me holding my blouse open
and leaning forward for him to see.  He gives a grateful blare on his horn
after we've past.  We both are laughing so hard now that it's a good thing
we're now on a two-lane road and not the major highway.

   We travel on a ways, telling one another what we've needed and wanted to
say.  You're trying to concentrate on your driving, but I've left my blouse
open and you can't help from time to time gazing over and getting a brief
glimpse and quick squeeze.

   "There's a vista point up ahead, I think," you direct, and sure enough
it appears around the next bend.  "Let's pull over here and enjoy the view
of the water."

   As we cruise into the parking area, we are both a little disappointed at
the number of cars.  "Awww..." you begin.  Then we look a little more
carefully.  "They're all guys...," I note and you chime in.

   "This must be a meeting place for fagots," you state, surprising me with
your use of that word.  We've discussed the gay community in the past --
our experiences with it and our views.  You had never used that kind of
language before, always showing a healthy tolerance and acceptance. 
Perhaps it's because we are both a little nervous.  "No.  This is cool. 
This is cool," you remark.  "Let's just see.  Let's just check this out."
And you tour around the lot again -- them studying us and us eyeing them.
"They're gawking at this muscle truck as much as they are at us," you
explain.  The truck is a glistening black color, and with a double cab and
huge engine, I have to admit it does appear awfully powerful.

   "Look at that guy over there," you point, keeping your hand beneath the
level of the window.  I glance over and he's smiling and watching us
carefully.  Then his hand moves to his groin.  "He is definitely searching
for some action," you continue.  We see a fellow get out of a car that's
over on the side of the parking lot.  He enters the adjacent car, starts
the engine, backs up and pulls out.

   "We'll just park right up here," you continue maneuvering the truck into
the newly empty space, between two cars, both of which are occupied with
one passenger.  We continue the watching game.  A couple of men behind us
across the lot are out of their cars, talking.  "Slide over here next to
me, Hon," you command.  As I do you say, "Look at this guy in the car next
to me.  Pretend you're looking at me.  With your sunglasses on it won't
seem obvious." I look over.  "Does he have his cock in his hand?" you
inquire.

   "No, he's just sitting there -- glancing around."

   I can't help but nuzzle your sexy neck.  You lean your head back a
little and grin at me.  Then you give me a quick kiss before we resume our
surreptitious watching.

   "The guy in the car to your right is definitely checking us out," you
begin.  "He looks over every minute or so.  Then he tries to look straight
ahead but I can see his eyes out of the corner of his sunglasses, glancing
over this way."

   "The fellow on our left has now taken out a paper back book and appears
to be reading it," I describe.

   Perhaps because I am cuddled up next to you, your hand automatically
reaches inside my blouse and I see your eyes closely briefly as you feel
the soft, round, warm flesh of my breast.  I close my eyes too, and breathe
deeply, relishing in your touch.

   About this time a thin, oriental, young lad strolls along the walkway in
front of the truck to throw some trash in a receptacle.  He has a saunter
in his stride, and he seems to be enjoying putting on a little show.  I
smile at him and he smiles back.

   I understand your caution.  We've talked about having a threesome, and
you've told me more than once how important it is to you that you feel
confident you can protect me.  You continue a monologue interjecting
statements from time to time like, "No, there isn't anyone here I couldn't
take out," and "He's tall but not strong," and "Here comes Gordo." In many
ways it's a safe place -- at least for me it is.  Most of these are the
kind of fellows who would happily join me for an extended clothes-shopping
trip or in the kitchen whipping up a batch of candy.  They're ones who
would enjoy talking on the phone for hours about relationships and flowers.
Safe for you?  Hummmm.

   Every so often a car comes into the lot and cruises around -- sometimes
twice -- before either settling into a space or leaving, not seeing
anything -- or anyone -- appealing.  We talk of many things -- the lovely
view, our lives, the future -- and we always come back to what's going on
in our immediate surroundings.  "I've never been anywhere like this," I
begin.  "I knew such places existed, but I didn't realize they were so --
oh, so open."

   I assume that the authorities know about the activities at this stop,
but as long as no one causes any fuss, they probably don't intervene.  In
fact, as I think about it, I remember reading awhile back about a nearby
roadside rest -- one with bathroom facilities -- that had been 'raided' or
some such thing because the gay community had taken it over.  This
viewpoint does not have restrooms and is more out-of-the way.  "I doubt
many people stop here to enjoy the scenery," I continue.

   You laugh heartily.  "Well, Hon, I guess that depends on what you mean
by 'scenery.'" And we both snicker, glancing around to take in the human
scene before us.  "Just doing my part to help you with your education," you
explain grinning.  "As long as we're here you might as well get your eyes
full."

   We hadn't really planned it this way.  We really hadn't planned anything
at all beyond being together for a time -- holding and cuddling and kissing
and laughing.  But we have stumbled onto this little den of passion and now
it is having an effect on both of us.  "This is OK," you judge.  "These
guys are here for basically the same thing we're here for.  They're not
going to ...," and you let your sentence trail off.

   I sense your body beginning to relax a little, perhaps because the
threat seems to be less pronounced.  I nuzzle cozily into the pit of your
arm and put my right arm around your torso, rubbing your chest and tummy.
You grin at me and kiss me lightly.  "We're pretty safe here," you state,
checking again to see that all the doors are locked.  Maybe it's your past
military experience that makes you so cautious -- checking all around us at
all times -- making sure you know where everyone is and what they're doing.
I feel protected in your presence and know you'd never let anything bad
happen to me.  You sigh deeply and move your seat back, reclining it a bit.

   You return your hand to my breast.  "Mmmm," you murmur.  I slip my hands
around my back and undo my bra giving you easier access.  "Thanks, Hon,"
you whisper kissing me lightly while continuing to run your hands over my
chest.

   I am just settling into your petting, when you sit up a little
straighter, as if remembering where we are, and start checking around us
again.  Content that things are under control, you put your hand around my
neck and pull me to you for a kiss.  Then I sigh and smile and pull back
from you a little.  You reach over and run your hand up my thigh, pausing
only briefly before pulling my panties aside to stroke my outer lips.  I am
beginning to get wet and I see a grin on your face.  Now it's my turn.  I
move my hand under your shirt to rub your chest.  That action gets me more
excited as I feel the warm flesh, the smooth skin, the strong muscles.  I
move my hand lower rubbing your tummy.  You close your eyes briefly,
squeeze me a little and give me a buss on the forehead.  I move my hand a
little lower undoing your pants and as I do so, you shift your weight in
the seat, pushing your hips a forward.  I move my hand to fondle your cock
which is not yet hard but not flaccid either.  "Bet they'd love to suck
this beautiful baby," I coo.

   "Yeah, they probably are more interested in me than in you," you smile.
"Too bad for them I don't swing that way.  Yours is the only mouth I want
making me stiff, Hon," you murmur putting your hand over mine to show me
how you want to be stroked.  Then I surprise you by moving back slightly
and bending over to take you in my mouth.  You seem a bit startled, but you
don't stop me either.

   "Oh, baby," you moan.  You're still trying to pay attention to what's
going on around us as well as to concentrate on what's happening here.  I
can't see your face but I know you're smiling as you describe the scene for
us.  "Our neighbor has put down his book and is rubbing himself.  The guy
on the other side has stopped trying to pretend he's not looking and is
trying to stare into the cab.  Uh, oh, there's a couple guys coming this
way.  Sit up for a minute, Hon."

   I do and nuzzle again into your warm neck.  I kind of want to look
around at the other men in the area, but I feel awkward -- not comfortable
making eye contact.  Besides, my attention keeps being drawn to you -- your
sexy smell, your sexy body, your sexy voice.  I close my eyes and snuggle
even closer to you stroking your cock lightly -- keeping you firm if not
hard.

   The two fellows that were headed our way slow and move over toward one
of the cars, making conversation with the person there.  You continue to
assess what is happening, making certain, I'm sure, that you feel like
you're in control of the situation.  "They were probably attracted to my
head bobbing up and down," I laugh and you grin replying, "No doubt!" I
glance over to the car on our left and the driver now has his dick in his
hand.  He tilts his head and looks straight at me.  I can't help an
automatic grin, and I bite my lip a little.  "Gee, if I glance down and I
look over at the same time, I can see two cocks," I tease.  You laugh. 
"See something over there you want, babe?" you ask chuckling.  While
squeezing your cock with my hand, I stretch up taller and stick out my neck
a little, replying, "Well, let me see.  I need a better view." You can't
help but laugh out loud as you push me back into the seat.  I lean back
into the luxurious leather looking at you, a playful smirk on my face.  You
are still glancing around, checking.  I decide to become a little more
mischievous further opening my blouse.  I watch myself caress and fondle my
breasts, now fully exposed.  I rub the nipples gently with my thumb and
forefinger.  Now your attention is really distracted, trying to stay on top
of what's happening outside the truck but being drawn deeper into what's
available to you here, inside.  I note that you check again to be sure the
doors are locked and that the keys are in the ignition.  I slip off my
shoes and raise my legs up slightly, placing the soles of my feet on the
dash.  While trying to pay close attention to what's going on around us,
you watch as I run my hands over my thighs, approaching my pussy.

   When I get there I spread my legs wider and pull my panties aside.  I
close my eyes and begin rubbing my whole hand over my lower lips.  "Mmmmm.
Feels good," I whisper.  With my eyes still closed I open my folds and
begin fingering myself more seriously, clenching my teeth a little.  My
clit is not as swollen as it would be if you were fondling me, but I rub my
pussy exciting myself even more.  As my juices begin to flow freely, I get
my fingers wet and then bring my right hand to my nose, breathing in
deeply. "Mmmmmm," I murmur, beginning to lick my fingers.  "Want some?" I
ask moving my left hand over onto your face.  You grab my hand and press my
fingers to your nose, closing your eyes and smelling my sex.  There is a
passion in your eyes as you open them and look at me.

   "You want me to take you right here, baby?" you ask roughly.  "You want
a quickie right here in the truck -- in the parking lot?  Is that it?"

   "Yeah, maybe."

   "You want me to fuck you right here." It's not so much a question as an
incredulous statement -- more getting my approval.  "You want me to fuck
you right in front of these guys?  You want me to show them how it's
supposed to be done?  Is that it, baby?"

   "Yeah, I do," I urge you while continuing to stroke myself.  "I do.  I
want you to stuff that big, hard dick -- hard up inside me.  I want you to
fuck me -- fuck my wet cunt."

   We have talked sexy to one another before.  There is something about the
coarse, crude words that turns us both on.  But this time it is more --
everything seems like it is more -- intense.  I sense your heightening
arousal and that adds fuel to my own fire.  In this environment where sex
hangs in the air like a thick fog, I stroke your mind as well as your body.
"I want you to make my pussy cum on your big cock," I growl, partly closing
my eyes.  "Right here -- right now," I groan moving my hand back down to
stroke my pussy.  As I do so a fellow walks by on the passenger side of the
truck.  We're both surprised because we're paying attention to what's
happening between us.  He glances in and sees you with your cock in your
hand and me with my breasts and pussy open for the whole world to view.  He
looks straight at me and grins before walking over to the sidewalk in front
of the truck to join a couple of other guys.  I grin back at his retreating
figure.  At first your eyes return to their vigilance of assessing what's
going on around us, and then they're riveted on me again.  I look over at
you.  "You won't do it, will you?" I taunt.  "You can't do it, can you? 
You can't do me with these guys watching, huh?" Your eyes narrow and you
send me a non-verbal message that says, 'Watch it, babe.  Don't even go
there.' But I ignore your warning.  Reaching to stroke myself again, I egg
you on.  "You probably can't even satisfy yourself, much less me.  Maybe I
should just get out of this truck, go bend over and pull up my skirt for
that muscular blonde guy over there," indicating by nodding my head at the
fellow who had strolled by only seconds before.  You start a low, throaty,
guttural rumble, but you don't take the challenge.  You don't take the
bait. I up the ante.  "He looks like he's bi and hasn't had any good pussy
in a looooong time," I jeer, drawing out the words.  Running my tongue over
my lips, I purr, "He would probably luuuve to liiiiick my juices.  He'd
probably let you waaaaatch." I glance at you out of the corner of my eyes
and I see fire in yours.  "I bet he's veeerrry virile -- lotttssss of cum.
Mmmmmmmmm.  He probably has a big 9" dick -- a throbbing pole that will
make me scream.  He'll probably fuck me good, baby -- fuuuuck me hard --
make my velvet pussy ripple with contrac...." Before I can even get the
words out of my mouth you pounce like a tiger.  So swift that it's like a
blur you crouch in front of me crushing me firmly into the seat, press on
the seat recline lever, put my legs on your shoulders, pull my panties
aside and plunge into me.  I gasp.  "Is this what you want, baby?" you
snap. "You want this hard, hot cock in your hungry pussy?  Huh?  Is that
it? Is it?"

   Trying to catch my breath, I manage a feeble, "Uh, huh."

   "I'll give it to you like you like it," you bark, starting to pump me --
fast and hard.

   I recover enough to moan, "Do me, baby." Your cock is sizzling and
solid, and from this angle -- half propped up half sitting -- your
thrusting strokes me in ways I haven't felt in a long time.  You movements
are powerful and strong, and I am very close to cumming when I feel you
begin to back off and slow down.  Trying to figure out what is happening, I
open my eyes and my attention is quickly drawn to the bodies milling around
outside the cab of the truck.  You're shooting them menacing looks, I'm
sure, but a part of me welcomes their eyes -- their focus on me, on us.  As
they stroll by looking in the windows, a part of me -- the exhibitionist
part -- the wild part -- the actress part -- wants to continue to show.  I
move my hands to my breasts and push them together, a grin on my face.  I
hear a couple of "hoots," or are they wolf whistles, or both.  I move my
hands to your sides pulling you to me for a kiss.  You don't linger there,
turning your attention back to reacting to the sights outside the truck.

   I sense you going away from me, your cock softening, so I mock you to
bring you back.  In a low voice I drawl, "You think you can show them how
it's supposed to be done, huh!  Ha!  A real man doesn't stop before his
woman is satisfied.  A real man fucks her loooong -- and haaarrrrrd -- and
deeeeeeeeeep." You begin to return to me, looking fervently into my eyes. I
speak slowly, "He ...  makes her ...  ache ...  from exhaustion.  He makes
her ...  cry out ...  cumming hard on his...."

   Once again I don't get to complete my sentence.  If anything, you start
pumping me even more furiously than you had before.  Your mutterings --
which always accompany your most ardent love making -- are louder than
ever.

   It almost seems like you are on a mission, but whatever the reason I am
not complaining.  Your passion -- which is always intense -- is more driven
than I have ever felt and my body is trying to respond in like.  "More,
baby," I plead.  "Fuck me." I think there are others -- outside -- who are
watching, commenting, exciting, inciting, stimulating the action here in
the truck, but I am so absorbed in you and your actions that I don't know
for sure.

   "Cum for me, baby," you demand.  "You know what I want.  Do it, baby."
And your words are the impetus I need to let myself go, to slide into that
petite death, my whole body shuddering, my voice making unintelligible
squeaks and squeals.

   As you cum, you let out what can only be described as a bellow.  You
always make noise when you reach your peak, something like what a powerful
athlete does when making a score, but this time it's louder than I have
ever heard.  It's almost like a yell of triumph -- a roar.  Is it for them
as much as it is for you -- for us?  Then I sense your muscles relaxing as
you lean your body onto mine, kissing me tenderly on the neck.  You
withdraw slowly.  None of our observers is near the car now, perhaps out of
respect giving us a little space, a little time.  You linger for a moment
before sighing deeply and returning to the driver's seat.  I continue to
lie back for a moment, eyes closed, legs open and nyloned feet up on the
dash.  "Your fans are applauding," you laugh, adjusting your clothing.  "I
suspect they're YOUR fans," I tease back.  "They're your fans," you state
again.  "Yeah, you're probably right.  They wish they could change places
with me," I murmur giggling.

   You start up the truck and gun the powerful engine a couple of times,
making all of us laugh.  With the voyeurs smiling approvingly, we pull out
of the parking lot.  "What a thrilling experience...," I whisper.  "Never
before....  My first sex in public....  "

   "Just wait 'til you see what I have in mind for your next adventure --
the next part of your education," you tease, making me wonder if we'll be
coming back to this spot again, and knowing that whatever happens next time
will be as exciting and novel as this has been.

   You can read more of Bab's work at communities.msn.com/BabsWriting

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