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Message-ID: <30406asstr$990465004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: sporkified@hotmail.com
Reply-To: sporkified@hotmail.com
NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 21 May 2001 05:04:19 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} "Traffic Jam"
Date: Mon, 21 May 2001 13:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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I squirm around in the bucket seat, trying to get more comfortable.
The highway ahead is blocked with traffic and I must sit here until it
moves. The day is hot and bright, even through the filter of my
sunglasses. Wavy heat shimmers up from chrome and glass, and I
suddenly find myself thinking of different heat waves in another time
and place. In the car beside me a professional-looking man reads a
newspaper. The woman ahead of me is busy checking her makeup. I 
lean back against the headrest and sigh as I call up a memory of
getting laid.

It was two years ago in Nevada, with him. One of the few things he
gave me that I remember fondly was that day by the river in the desert
sun. I see him sitting next to me on the rocks. He reaches over and
touches my face. In the traffic jam a strand of my hair comes loose
and brushes my cheek. I breathe faster.

Traffic moves a little, and I hear the sound of engines and squeaking
brakes as the cars move and stop, move and stop.  The heavy bass 
thump of a stereo comes from somewhere behind me. All around are
people on their way home from work, their thoughts on relaxing in
front of the TV or on what they will have for dinner.

My mind is on two people in the desert. He kisses me; the kind of kiss
that makes you forget everything else. His hands slide down to my
breasts, over and then under my bathing suit. Was it his hand or mine
that I felt now? It didn't matter. His hands squeeze and caress. He
moves slowly. Everything dissolves into a dream until the sudden
thrill of his agile fingers between my legs wakes me. 

Everyone stops again. I shift restlessly in my seat as my body
remembers. My hand is in my lap, though I don't remember putting it
there. I move my fingers and a tiny shiver runs through me. The bass
thumper is alongside me now, a young-faced teenager in an expensive
black car. I scarcely notice as my shorts come open button by button.

I feel the hot sand under the towel at my back and the heat of him
inside me. Making love blends perfectly into fucking. I bite my lip
and whimper as the muscles of my body tense and respond to his
thrusts. His hands grab and pinch, alternating between care and
roughness just quickly enough to keep me from getting used to either. 

The cars around me crawl forward. I drive one-handed, as two of my
fingers are wet and busy. I brake roughly at the inevitable stop,
glancing up to lock eyes with the driver on my left. He looks at me
for a long second and I wonder if he can somehow guess what I'm
thinking. And doing. I look away and forget him.

His usual quick, angry thrusts have been replaced with slow and
lengthy ones that drive me closer and closer to cumming. He is panting
and dripping beads of sweat down on me. I love it. I can feel my
orgasm gathering when he suddenly lifts me up in his strong arms and
carries me the few steps down to the water. Still joined, he drops us
down in the river and cool water rushes up to my nipples. I come at
that exact moment, and he comes with me. 

At that moment I lock eyes again with the man on my left. He has been
looking at me. I arch in my seat and whimper as I cum. His eyes widen.
I look at him through my sunglasses as my orgasm subsides, then I
impulsively lift my guilty fingers and put them in my mouth. He
glances around uncertainly, as if unsure of what he's seeing. I give
him a lazy smile, feeling too good to care. 

I settle slowly back again in my seat as my dirty thrill fades. I look
away from the man and notice that traffic is moving.  A car honks
impatiently and I start off again, this time with both hands on the
wheel. 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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