Author’s Note: My internet is being pretty shitty at the moment having had my router’s plug decide to burn itself out. I’ve been waiting three weeks for a new one but the crappy company are being crappy. I have about three or four posts dying to be written and posted, but having resorted to paying for BTOpenzone [read: extortionately priced WiFi for poor people like me who are addicted and need to use the Internet] I’m not online as much as I wish! Hopefully normal service will resume later this week.
In the meantime, enjoy a little hors d’oeuvre of what’s to come…
We were looking fabulous. Weddings tend to make me do my best to scrub up well. He was in his delicious suit, looking all manly and fine. I was in a delightful strapless summer dress. All colours and flowers. Not my usual style – I’m usually a one colour gal – so the change was refreshing and had placed me in a playful spirit.
The end of the night, alcohol had been consumed, heads and feet were still dancing, but the body needed to retire. So now it was time to return back to the holiday home where we were staying. With his parents and siblings. A two-car job. Mister and I flounced into the backseat of his Father’s car. His brother up front with the driver.
We both knew we would head straight upstairs to our room when we got in with one thing in mind – the heavy-limbed lounge that is slightly drunken, incredibly lust-filled sex. My head was in a mischievous place. I wanted to play. I didn’t want to wait. I was impatient.
The small pleasures of living in the countryside include very little lighting. Long, winding country roads with no street lamps, few passing cars at that time of the night. My hand stole its way across to Mister’s lap in the darkness of the backseat. I desired to touch him, feel him, feel him harden under my hand, through the material of his suit trousers. It was naughty and I was enjoying it. His eyes glinted in the pitch, what light there was from the car’s dashboard highlighted that devilish smile I love to make appear and he responded quickly.
It was risky, it was scandalous – his Father and brother were not two feet away from us and there I was with my hand on Mister’s crotch. I readjusted myself and draped my legs over his lap. He soon got the message and slipped in hand under the hemline of my dress. Hidden, masking his fingers as I felt them creep up my thigh and trace around my knickers. For some reason I found I was becoming quite warm…I had to open the window…let some air in…
The best moment was when he slipped his hand around the top of my knickers and began to ease them down my hips. The sensation of thrill that passed through me when I realised he what he wanted to do was exquisite. Helping him, naturally, I gently lifted and shifted to allow him his wish. And then…he sneaked the now rather damp material into his suit jacket pocket. Memories of past expoits in a dress flooded my mind.
I felt like a sneaking teenager again. Except the sneaking was literally right under their noses. The seatbelt was useful to grab onto for leverage and to help reduce my bucking impulse.
I came at least a handful of times, biting onto my lip, gripping the seatbelt, gripping his arm, anything to restrict any obvious movements or noise. I think I even bit into my hand at one point.
It rocked. Big time. I thoroughly recommend some mischief of this sort to anyone!
And when we got in, we did just that of scampering swiftly upstairs to finish what we had started. My claws came out in order to repay Mister for the restraint I had had to endure in the car, but it was so worth it.
Very much on our To Do Again list.