As the sun began to
set, we were driving through wide, flat expanses of farmland and dairies. It had been four hours since we’d started and
we hadn’t yet stopped for food, so, quietly, I pointed out a little clutch of
fast food joints and a coffee house coming up. He gave me a
half-hearted “sure”, and pulled off the next exit.
He took the chance to
fill the tank and order us some quick, cheap burgers. There was a nipping chill
in the air and I headed for the coffee house, suddenly craving the smooth
comfort of a caramel latte. My
mistake: the coffee house was crowded and warm, with a line nearly out the door.
With a sigh, I resigned myself to wait, idly perusing the retail
shelves and the arrangement of sweets and gifts now marked down in the
aftermath of the holiday.
While I waited in line
for my coffee, one little festive treat in
particular caught my attention: one of those giant, spiraling lollipop canes, the ones they
sell at amusement parks that your mom warns you never to eat all at once. Twelve inches of swirled sugar… I gave
up the things almost twenty years ago, at least.
For some reason, this spiraling lollipop looked incredibly good. It was 75% off, and it was my favorite candy
flavor, cherry instead of peppermint like all the other holiday treats. I could share it with Ryan, I reasoned, and I
didn’t have to eat it all at once. With
curious intrigue, I added it to my order, and mused over it in my hand while I
waited for my coffee. Ryan came in just
as they were steaming the milk, and he gave the lollipop a dubious glance when
he saw it in my hand.
“That’s a lot of
sugar,” was all he said. I shrugged, and
the barista handed me my drink.
As we resumed our road
trip, I tucked my unusual treasure into the glove box for later, and
enjoyed the cheap fast-food burgers Ryan ordered me. By the time our quick little dinner was over,
I’d forgotten the candy was even there, and we drove on again in relative
silence.
It wasn’t that we were
angry at one another. We were just both very, very tired, and we’d long since
stopped trying to boost the other’s moods with half-hearted assurances that
things were going to improve. We’d
drifted to opposite corners to deal with our depression separately, and—I
realized it suddenly on that quiet, flat road on the day after Christmas on the
way to a funeral—we were forgetting each other existed.
It was enough—all of
it, all coming down at once—that I thought I might burst into tears.
I eased down into my
seat as darkness fell and the road became a slow sea of lights around us. Ryan’s car was big and comfortable; I put my
feet up on the dash and turned on my side to look at my husband as he drove.
“I miss you sometimes,”
I said quietly.
He raised an
eyebrow. “What do you mean? I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“Yeah… but we’re never
around each other anymore, are we?”
Long moments of
silence. Finally he sighed.
“It’s been a rough
year, Catie. On both of us.”
The traffic was thin; the road
was lonely. I leaned against my husband
as he drove, listening to him breathe and wondering to myself how long it had
been since we’d last had sex.
The thought was mildly
troubling. All at once I wanted him to
pull over, to check into a motel for the night and forget about going to
Grandma’s altogether. I wanted to make
love to him, to touch him and seduce him again, like I had when we were
newlyweds still sneaking off to the bedroom like furtive teenagers. I ran my hand up and down his arm
distractedly, inhaling the warm, familiar scent of him and missing the memory
of his attentive caresses.
“Ryan,” I
murmured. “I can’t stop thinking about sucking you.”
“What?” he
replied. I was happy to hear there was
an edge of a smile in his voice.
“I don’t know,” I said
quietly. “Maybe it’s that stupid lollipop…
but I just really feel like I want to suck you off, right now.”
He chuckled
good-naturedly, and I grinned to myself.
It had been so long since either of us had flirted. But this was even more than a flirt, I
thought. I scanned the roadside, looking for a place we
might pull off for a quickie.
The thought was giddily
naughty. I’d never even had a quickie
with Ryan in the car. It was absurd to
even think of. As the road murmured on,
though, I quietly let my hand drift to the crotch of my jeans,
and gently kneading the first stirrings of arousal there.
Why had we gone so long
without making love? How had we even
gotten to this point, letting everything between us grow old and tired, and
forgetting how good it all once felt?
“What are you doing?” Ryan
asked with a grin. I didn’t answer, but
unsnapped the button of my pants and slipped my hand underneath them, rubbing
my fingers in a gentle, circular motion over the mound of my pussy.
“I don’t suppose we
could stop, could we?” I whispered. The
truth was, I knew we couldn’t…
and I didn’t want to. I had a
far, far naughtier idea in mind.
He gave me a searching
look before returning his eyes to the road.
I stretched out in my seat, reaching for a blanket I had stored
underneath it in case I had wanted to sleep, and tucked it between myself and
the car door. Moving slowly—giving him
every chance to watch me do it—I unzipped my jeans and slid them off my legs,
leaving me in just my little black panties and the thin gray tank top I wore
underneath my sweatshirt.
“It’s been a long
time since I’ve given you head,” I murmured, making sure he could see the
careful caresses of my fingers against the smooth cotton of my underwear.
“You’re bad,” he said, in that tone that told me
he was excited by what I was offering him.
I leaned across the
front seat, pausing in my teasing masturbation to reach over and undo his belt
buckle. He took his right hand off the
wheel and placed it on my back, quietly unsure and at the same time curiously
enthralled. I had never blown him in a
car before, and certainly not while he was driving.
I unbuckled his pants
and slid down the zipper, slipping my hand under the band of his boxers. He already had an erection; with my head
nearly on his stomach, I ducked a little lower and breathed in the scent of
him, hot and delicious.
He shifted himself just
a little and I freed his cock from his pants.
With a tiny moan, I took it in my mouth and ran my tongue around the
head, tracing the contours of his fine arousal.
His right hand, on my
back, pressed me a little closer. I
couldn’t help but glance up, confirming with a grin that his eyes were steadily
on the road, as I leaned down further and took the whole length of him into my
mouth, savoring the bitter, salty flavor of my husband’s cock.
I brought my left hand
across his lap to grasp him while my right hand went back to my panties,
slipping under the band to find the little bead of my clitoris, already pert
with excitement.
“Ryan,” I muttered,
taking my mouth of off him for just a second.
“Can you get that lollipop out of the glove compartment, please?”
“You naughty girl,” he
whispered quietly, leaning forward to do as I asked. His little lunge made it impossible for me to
suck him for a second, and I glanced up again, trying to judge the distance
between us and the next car by the quality of light in our little cabin.
“If a trucker passes us
on the right,” I said in a low voice, “he’s going to see you getting your cock
sucked. You know that, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” he
murmured, shutting the glove compartment and sliding the still-wrapped sucker
into my hand.
“Can you get my panties
off?” I whispered, running my left hand up and down his shaft. He leaned back into his seat, resuming a
normal driving position, but hooked his right thumb under the band of my
underwear and helped me wriggle them off my legs.
“You can pull the
blanket over my legs if another driver gets too close,” I murmured. I rubbed the end of the twelve-inch lollipop
against my throbbing clit, and to my delight, he slid his hand underneath my
tank top and found my stiff nipple, pinching it very softly. I moaned, and eagerly took him into my mouth
again, running my tongue all the way down the shaft.
“What gave you this
idea?” he breathed heavily above me. I
made an enthusiastic sound around his cock, dragging my lips up the full length
of it before coming down again, tasting its heavy, heady shape in my
mouth. I carefully pulled myself off of
it and darted the tip of my tongue in a little dance along his hot, throbbing
head.
“I don’t know,” I
said. “I just wanted to, so bad.”
He released my breast
and ran his hand down my side; I shifted my hips and let him find my pussy, wet
and eager for him. He took the lollipop
out of my hand and, bending my right thigh forward so he could reach around it,
he slipped the long, spiraling length of the candy a few inches into my cunt.
I gasped around his
cock, and with a sudden overwhelming sense of pleasure, I brought my mouth all
the way down, taking the him greedily, moaning as I bobbed back and forth,
feeling him all the way at the back of my throat.
“Will you come for me?”
I gasped, coming off of him for just a second.
His cock was wet with my saliva, glistening in the gleam of the highway
lights that went past, eager and excited under my hands and my lips.
“If you keep it up, I
will,” he muttered, and slid the spirals another few inches in.
“Oh!” I gasped. I couldn’t
help it; I sat up a little, leaning into his affections.
“You’re so wet,” he
muttered, managing to give me a fast kiss before I dropped back into his
lap. “You’re lucky this lollipop is
still wrapped or you’d be all sweet and sticky.”
“Then maybe we could
switch positions,” I teased him. “And
you could lick my sweet, sticky little pussy while I drive.”
“Sh!”
he said, suddenly pulling the blanket over my legs—as if anyone else could hear us in the cabin of our car,
whispering naughty things back and forth while I sucked him off and he fucked
me with a little 99-cent candy. A car
wove past us and I giggled, keeping my head down, until he slid his hand under
the blanket again and resumed his careful masturbation.
“Do
you think they saw us?” I whispered, letting my lips tease his head as I did.
“Don’t
know,” he said, and again I heard the smile in his voice. I glanced up, and he was still watching the
road ahead, admirably keeping the car in control. It occurred to me for the first time that we
could actually cause an accident like this: he could lose focus for just an
instant and cause a pile-up, all because his reckless, horny wife had decided
to give him a blow job while he drove.
Instead
of frightening me, the thought just excited me more. Ryan quickened his rhythm with our makeshift
sex toy and I gobbled him down again with another, louder moan. His cock was at rigid attention, hard as I’d
ever felt it, and I could taste the first salty delight of pre-come on the tip
of my tongue as I swirled it around his head.
He
slid the lollipop deeper this time and I cried out; it was impossible to rock
my hips towards him anymore and I wanted to be fully fucked with that
thing. My right hand found my throbbing
clit again and I began to roll it under my fingers, playing it in circular
motions as he withdrew the candy spiral by spiral. Amazingly, I could feel myself getting closer
to orgasm; I sucked him eagerly, moaning to tell him how good it was, taking
him all the way to the back of my throat until I nearly gagged.
“I
think I’m going to come, honey!” I gasped, wasting no time in resuming my
deep-throating of him again. He managed
a stiff groan and I glanced up—he’d actually closed his goddamn eyes and I couldn’t help but laugh a little
dangerously around his cock.
He
quickened his rhythm even more, sliding just the first few spirals in and out
with desperate urgency. I bobbed on his
cock again, moaning around him, and suddenly I felt it jerk in my mouth: Ryan
groaned loudly as he started to come, thrusting his hips towards me as much as
he could, hot, salty semen jetting into the back of my throat. I swallowed as he came, gulping it down
greedily, furiously working my clit with my other hand and rocking my hips
against the shaft of the twelve-inch candy we’d so innocently stumbled upon.
His
pace was furious, fucking me hard with the lollipop as his semen filled my throat;
soon I was coming too, releasing his cock with a loud cry of ecstasy as my
pussy quivered and then tightened with sudden, amazing pleasure, the muscles
clutching at the makeshift sex toy as he slid it a few more precious inches in
and out again, drawing out my orgasm as I pressed against him in joy.
When
the last thrumming spasms of my climax finally gave off, Ryan slid the spiraled
candy out of my dripping pussy and pulled the blanket over my legs. I sat up again, leaning in to give him a
long, heavy kiss—it was only then that he dropped control of the car and faded
into the next lane, and the blare of a car horn cut through our cabin as
another driver sped past, barely missing us.
Ryan
pulled the car back into our lane and we laughed together nervously. I kissed him again, settling back into my
seat, and searched for my discarded panties on the passenger-side floor. I felt better than I had in a good, long
time: pleasantly fucked, even if it was rather untraditionally, and wickedly
close to my partner in crime.
“What
made you want to buy that candy, anyway?” he asked with a chuckle, lovingly
running his hand up and down my back.
“I
don’t know,” I replied, still breathing heavily. “I guess we just needed a treat tonight.”
