On my journey home from Erotica the other week, I was treated to unexpectedly fulfilling one of my long-held fantasies.
Thrills, danger. Not something I usually indulge in on a public scale, but that is how it roughly played out. I am more of a girl who behaves respectfully, with a level of decorum in public. Not like one of my friends, who, upon leaving Erotica and during the Tube journey back to her place, decided to try on her new leather-buckled neck-brace thingy to help her in her D/s relationship with her partner to correct her posture. With a running commentary on how she would use it with him during their sessions. He on the other hand was analysing the details of their new spreader, the fact that the stallholder gave them a good discount and threw in a free leather flogger to bargain (jealous!)…in front of a Tube-full of people.
I, meanwhile, felt slightly uncomfortable. Sure, I will talk through things I want to try out with Mister. Tell him my darkest desires, what I want to do to him, what I want him to do to me. But to speak about these ideas with other people near? Friends included? Not so happy about doing that. But a weekend spent in the company of thousands of sex toys and burlesque acts will do strange things to one’s imagination and inhibitions.
The car journey home from London takes five hours. I spent two of those squirming under Mister’s hand whilst trying to keep a straight face as cars overtook us. Oh yes. I have been diddled during a car journey. On a motorway. In broad daylight. Hell yeah.
I suppose it was my talking about what toys I wanted us to play with when we got home that did it. Telling him about how good it would be to get the door jam cuffs out again. Hinting at the things he could do to me were I bound up in them. Blindfolded. Anticipating his moves with bated breath. My thoughts screaming out to him to use the tasselled whip. To take his leather gloves and swipe them over my flesh. To bite down hard on my shoulders, my thighs, nip at my nipples.
I think that might have had something to do with his horniness, somehow. As all of a sudden I caught that familiar glint in his eye. That one of mischief. That look with which I will say yes to anything he tells me to do.
Take off your jeans.
It wasn’t a request. I wasn’t going to be able to dissuade him. I wasn’t going to be able to dissuade myself. I wanted it. All logic, sense and reason left my head. I knew about the apparent dangers. How could I not? Mister driving with one hand and one eye on the road? Risk wasn’t the half of it. My heart, my desire, my selfish desire won out. He had moved the car over to the inside lane, he meant to do this.
I reached behind the passenger seat and grabbed his coat to cover my legs. Easing down my jeans, I knew I was already highly aroused. I could feel my body temperature rising, the breathing excited and getting heavy. Later on he would tell me my face had the clear signs of flushed satisfaction in my cheeks. By the time I had removed the lower half of my clothes, Mister was sneaking frequent looks. He waited until there was a lull in traffic before saying,
Show me your pussy.
It felt dirty, naughty and very very bad. I loved him for it as I lifted up his coat and laid bare my legs for him to peak at. The car did indeed swerve very slightly. Again the danger. I scolded him, but I didn’t want him to stop at just looking. I now needed him to touch me. He didn’t disappoint. He moved his left arm over to place his hand between my legs and cupped his fingers around me. Holding me. That most intimate of embraces. One of his fingers drew ever so lightly inwards, pressing gently into me. Parting my lips. His touch was soft, slow, measured. My breathing on the other hand had immediately begun to get ragged. Fractured. It takes so little from him to put me into this state. So quickly.
His fingers circled my clit, every now and then dipping inside me, coating himself. I was very wet. Silken in my arousal. At first he would take his hand away if he saw any vehicles coming up in the rear view mirror. Cheekily he would lick his fingers as he stole a side-glancing smile at me. Especially the high lorries and other trucks. As the afternoon went on, he grew bolder. My eyes grew heavier. I lost count at how many times I came. Strong
We played this game for about two hours before it got too much for him and he needed some attention in return. Not being complete idiots, we pulled over at the next road services, found a quiet spot with no other cars around and switched off the engine. I set on him as soon as I could, loosening his trousers, slipping them down over his thighs. God, he was so very hard. Beautiful. He was completely turned on by everything that he had been doing, my first caress of his cock had his head rolling back into the head rest, a small gasp escaping his lips. Delicious to watch. My turn to make him squirm under my hand. I enjoy a sweet revenge.
Afterwards, as we started back on our final leg of the journey, I thanked him for letting me have this fantasy played out.
Are you kidding? I had been thinking of doing it on the journey up to London. It was just too busy.
Curses to the rush hour traffic.