Okay, I posted this, printed it, and can't find it--sorry for double post if it is--
by
Smut-Smidge VII--Defensive Driving--
I sheilded my eyes against the cold, hard glare of day, a gesture which I'm sure many have shared, since the first cave-woman decided that mating was best experienced where the fam was not privy, and ventured into a dark, unsettled cavern, remore from her tribe--but sure I expect that cave painting was thus invented--by the post-coital female, mind all a-buzz, a-wash in lovely horney hormones.
I was shocked not to see my car, but Kronos assured me it was being taken care of--(how, I didn't know, I had never had an afternoon screw with valet before). Anyway, I was insured, to heck with it! And he motioned me to his own auto, A Silver Ghost "59 Rolls, very cherry, bench seats (the one true advantage of your older vehicle--kicking it in buckets is way uncomfortable!) And much sex appeal! I was loving the wheels, and loving the man! (Okay, Vixen might be a snob--you put her in a sweet, sweet, auto and she is all wilcom.)
And so it was that I watched him, the road, the fly, my hand unzipping the fly, my hand finding itself against his male hardness, and then grasping it tight, and then stroking it slowly, and then a bit more quickly--
"I'm driving," he commented.
"And?" I asked, gripping a little tighter, and then, suggesting the possibility of my very lubricated tongue having a say, I licked my lips.
"And you can do--what you were--"
I did.
Posted on Apr 20, 1999, 8:54 PM from IP address 209.71.77.151