April 24, 2015

Friday Free Read: Long Drive

It was the day after Christmas, and Ryan and I were on our way out-of-state to Ryan’s grandmother’s.  It wasn’t your typical holiday trip; Ryan’s grandfather had passed away just a week before, and we were on our way out to a funeral.  It was an eight-hour drive, we were neither of us looking forward to what waited at the end of the road, and for that matter, we couldn’t even say we’d take the opportunity to turn back and go safely home, even it presented itself.  This funeral was a capper to a truly miserable year: like many people, we’d been hit by the looming threats of joblessness, losing our savings, watching our plans for the future eaten up by our desperate need to make it to the next paycheck.  

We had little to talk about on the drive out.  We'd been existing in a sort of limbo for weeks.  In the evenings we retired to separate rooms, me watching old TV reruns and him chaining himself to the computer until we finally tumbled into the same bed, sleeping next to each other but not with each other.  Now, as we plugged along the long, flat highway, there was a silence between us that felt like an inquisitive child, looking back and forth from one of us to the other and wondering, why isn’t anyone saying anything?

We’d gotten a late start, and that was fine. Both of us preferred driving at night, and Grandma didn’t mind if we arrived late.  Ryan’s parents and the rest of his family were already there, and final preparations for the funeral wouldn’t begin until tomorrow afternoon.  One of the best things about traveling with Ryan is his general ease.  He’s not one of those men who gets antsy as every second ticks by or refuses to stop anywhere so he can make the best time.  Road trips are casual and even somewhat enjoyable.  This one, though, was long and silent and boring, just like those lousy long car rides you take when you’re a kid and you no longer care how many out-of-state plates you can find.

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.”

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