When Jonathon dropped Jayne off outside the offices of the Benson Company, he did not drive off immediately. Instead he watched his sexy wife walk into the building. Her sweet, juicy ass moved like a pendulum. At the doorway, she turned back to wave to him. Her tits, in profile, thrust put like fat shelves.
His cock shot straight up, pushing his pants up in a pillar that rose so high that the tip bumped against the rim of the steering wheel.
Then Jayne went into the building.
Jonathon sighed.
He looked ruefully down at his pecker.
Thank God I had a fuck before I drove her to the party, he thought. If I'm this hot and hard now, think what it would have been like if I hadn't poured a load of spunk into her sweet pussy before we left!
Even as it was, Jonathon was not sure that he could wait, ignoring his raging prick, until lame came home to give him the promised blow job.
He was damned well going to try, certainly but he was not too hopeful of success.
He thought that he might have to take his cock in hand and whack off a couple of times when he got home. He hated the idea, for it seemed a terrible shame to waste such a lovely load of jism on his hand when his wife had promised to drink it later – but it might be necessary. He felt as if his balls might explode otherwise.
He put the car in gear and started home.
Driving was complicated by the fact that his cock kept getting in the way, sticking up like an extra gear shift, demanding that he shift gears. He tried to ignore it. He drove slowly and cautiously.
Then he saw the hitchhiker.
It was a girl, young and pert and pretty. She was wearing cut-off jeans – cut off so high that they barely covered her crotch and were dragged up in a tight vee – and a white tee-shirt. She had long blonde hair and an adorable, pouting mouth. She was standing with one hip shot out, her thumb hooked up nonchalantly, her attitude and expression implying that she didn't really give a damn if he stopped or not – but that she was confident that he would.
Jonathon drove on past.
No, I mustn't, he thought.
That would just be asking for trouble.
He looked in the rear view mirror.
Her ass was taut and trim, packed into the very tight jeans. Her legs were smooth and supple and her tits were small, pear shaped and nubile as all hell.
Jonathon slammed the brakes on, hardly aware of what he was doing, stamping down automatically. The car rocked on its suspension. His cock thundered.
He put the car in reverse and backed up until he had come level with the girl.
"Want a lift?" he asked.
She looked in the window.
Her lip curled disdainfully.
"No," she said. "I always stand on the curb with my fucking thumb out when I don't want a lift."
"Oh," he said. "Errr…"
"Well? You want me to get in, or are you just window shopping?" she asked.
Jonathon was taken aback.
Then she smiled sweetly.
"Why, yes… get in…" he said.
She opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat. Her ass slid onto the leather of the bucket seat with a soft sound, like a caress. She closed the door. Jonathon was gaping at her. He knew he looked foolish and that she would probably think he was a dirty old man not that he was old, but she was young – but he couldn't help himself. His jaw was hanging open as if it were broken.
She scratched the inside of her thigh.
"You gonna drive, or what?"
"Oh… why, yes… of course."
Then she giggled.
"I don't know if you know it," she said, looking boldly at him.
"Know what?"
"You got a great big hard-on," said the sweet young thing, and she laughed merrily.
Embarrassed and confused, Jonathon started to drive down the street, keeping both hands clamped on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road.
"Not that I mind," she said. "A guy has a right to have a hard-on in his own car, huh?"
He mumbled. He was sweating.
"But tell me… did you have a hard-on already, or did it get hard when you saw me hitchhiking?"
He supposed it was a rhetorical question.
But she said, "Well?"
He saw that she expected an answer.
Then he thought: What the hell… why should I be embarrassed about it? Certainly not with a young tramp like this one… after all, she brought the subject up.
He said, "Actually, my cock was hard before I saw you. I was thinking about my wife."
"Oh. That why you stopped?"
"Huh?"
"Did you stop because you had a hard-on and you thought I might take care of it for you?"
"Certainly not!"
"Oh. That's a shame… because I would have."
My God! he thought. Is this girl for real?
She squirmed around in the bucket seat, getting comfortable. He thought that he could hear her pussy squish juicily as she rubbed her bottom on the leather, but he knew that might be just his aroused imagination.
He figured that he had better change the subject.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"Oh, that don't matter… just so it ain't too far out of my way."
That threw him for a loss.
"What on earth do you mean?"
"Well, I ain't going anywhere in particular, is what I mean. Wherever you're going will be fine."
"But… why are you hitchhiking if you aren't going anywhere?" he asked, his head spinning around in confusion.
She shrugged.
"Got nothing else to do," she explained.
"Oh. I see. I guess…"
He wondered how he was going to get rid of her.
Then he wondered if he wanted to get rid of her.
He had never cheated an Jayne and didn't want to. But still, Jayne had gone off to the office party without him, leaving him with a huge hard-on… and it was her fault, and… and he was starting to rationalize. He didn't want to do anything with this young nymph… but his pecker sure did. He felt like a dinosaur, one of the big ones with two brains, one in the head and one in the tail. And the secondary brain in the head of his cock was urging movement of his loins.
He slid a sideways glance at her.
Her jeans were cut off so short that he could see a little wisp of curly pubic hair at the leghole. The blue denim was faded greatly and the crotch seemed to be darker… damp.
Her pert nipples stuck out, branding twin peaks into her white-cotton tee-shirt.
Jonathon clenched his teeth, determined to struggle against the unholy inspiration.
"Errr… what's your name?" he asked.
"Shirley," she said. "Shirley Tiddlewell."
"Well, hello, Shirley. I'm Jonathon…" He had started to mention his last name. Thinking better of that, he bit the word abruptly off.
"Hi," she said.
"I'm a bit puzzled about where to take you."
"Don't you know a parking spot?"
"That's not what I meant."
She frowned slightly. "You're married, huh?"
"Yes."
"Got to take that big hard-on home to your wife, I guess. Is that it?"
"Well… actually, no. My wife is at a party and I was going home alone."
Her eyes gleamed.
"To wait for her," he added, hastily. "You're faithful, huh?" she said, sounding distinctly disappointed at that idea.
"Of course."
"Too bad."
"I don't think so."
"Yeah. Well, I can understand it. A guy has to worry about his reputation, I guess. A girl, too, as far as that goes. That's why I like to hitchhike."
"I don't understand."
"Boy, are you ever dumb!"
Jonathon scowled. His dick lurched, motivated by that brain that moved his loins and did not respond to insults directed at his thinking brain.
"To save my reputation silly," she said.
"But how does hitchhiking do that? I should have thought it worked the other way around."
He was driving very slowly, heading towards home, not knowing where else to go since it mattered not at all to this remarkable nymphette.
He wished that he had not picked her up… almost.
She said, "Well, it's like this. I like to fool around with men, right? But if I fooled around with the guys at my school, I'd get a bad reputation. That's what happens to girls who fuck lots of guys, they get bad reputations. Well, I wouldn't want that to happen. I like to be respected. So instead of fooling around with guys I know, I go out hitchhiking so I can fool around with strangers. That way, everybody has a lot of fun and nobody's reputation suffers."
"I see."
"Clever, huh?"
"Do you… hitchhike very often?"
"Oh, yeah. Two or three times a week."
"And do you always get a lift with a man who wants to… err… fool around?"
"Oh, sure. I mean, not always. Sometimes I get picked up by an old guy, maybe, or a fairy, but when that happens I just get out and hitchhike back the other way and sooner or later I get lucky. Sometimes I feel like a yo-yo, but I always score in the end. The last time I went out hitchhiking I got screwed five times. That was pretty good, huh?"
Jonathon was sweating so profusely that his vision had started to blur. His hands were trembling on the steering wheel and his breath was coming fast and hard. He was panting like a steam engine.
His condition did not fail to register on Shirley, who enjoyed arousing gentlemen.
"And once I got picked up by a lesbian," she said, watching him to judge his reaction.
"What… what happened then?" he croaked.
"Oh, I let her eat me out," she said, matter-of-factly, grinning at Jonathon. "My God!" he gasped.
"It was fun, too – what a tongue she had!"
Jonathon could drive no longer. Sweat was pouring into his eyes, his hands were shaking on the steering wheel, his thigh was jumping spasmodically, driving his foot erratically against the gas pedal and his cock was rubbing against the rim of the steering wheel, interfering with its function.
He pulled over to the curb.
He intended to tell her to get out. He had every intention of doing just that. But he paused first, taking a deep breath, trying to control himself.
And Shirley supposed that he had stopped the car for a different reason.
What else would a girl like Shirley think?
She looked around.
They were parked on a city street. There was no one around, but it was still a fairly public place.
She said, "Gee… you're in that much of a hurry, huh? It'd be better if you stopped in the woods or down by the railroad tracks or something…"
"Out!" he rasped.
He closed his eyes. His temples were pulsing, as if they were recording the pulsation of his prick.
"Want me to take it out, huh?" she said. That's not what I meant, Jonathon thought. But for some reason he could not say it aloud.
"Well, okay," she said, agreeably. She leaned over and placed her hand on his thigh. His leg was jumping, the muscles leaping and jerking.
She moved her hand along his thigh, working up towards his swollen crotch.
She said, "We can't really screw right here on the street, you know. We might get caught and that would play hell with our reputations. But if you're so desperate to blow your wad, I'll give you a quick handjob, okay? Then we can go park somewhere more private and fuck…"
"Urkkk," he gasped. He knew it was a meaningless sound. He didn't, in fact, know what he had meant to say, anyhow.
Her hand drifted onto his bloated crotch. "Ummm," she said, impressed by the size and the heat and the hardness of his sex tackle.
Jonathon felt as if he were hypnotized. He was frozen, unable to react – except for his pecker, which was throbbing mightily as she stroked it through his pants.
She started to open his zipper.
Jonathon's eyes were closed. He was gasping like a fish out of water. Ho heard the rasp of his zipper as she drew it down. He knew that he was in no condition to turn her down, that he would be absolutely unable to tell her to desist.
He rationalized again.
If I let her give me a handjob, he reasoned, that will take the pressure off. Then I won't be tempted to fuck her… and a simple jerk-off isn't really being unfaithful to Jayne, not at all. I'm only letting this girl do it so that I won't commit adultery, really… that's only logical.
Her hand dipped into his fly.
She hauled his prick out.
"Oooooh!" she squealed, when she saw how huge his rigid and rock-hard cock was.
It stood up like a thick post, rooted in his crotch and rising as high as the hub of the steering wheel.
"What a prick!" she gasped, joyfully.
She wasn't touching it at the moment. She had retracted her hands and was simply gazing in fascination at the massive tool that she had released from the bondage of his trousers. Her eyes glowed and she licked her lips.
She shot a furtive glance around.
The street was still deserted.
She said, "Wow! Would I ever like to take that cock in my mouth and milk it off!"
Jonathon whimpered.
"But I guess I better not, not right here. You got your eyes closed and you won't be paying much attention to anything except what I'm doing and one of us had better keep a look out so we don't get caught."
She sighed.
"Still, sometimes it's kind of fun to jerk a guy off… I like to watch the cum spurt out of a cockhead. Then after I bring you off, we can go somewhere else where we can have some privacy for fucking and sucking, okay?"
Jonathon's vocal cords seemed to be as taut and as vibrant as his pecker. He could not speak.
Then Shirley fell eagerly to the task.
She curled up in the bucket seat, one leg under her, and bent over Jonathon's looming dong. She cupped his heavy balls in her left hand and folded her right hand around the root of his shaft. His cock was so fat that her delicate hand could barely span the breadth.
She began to pump up and down.
She moved slowly but steadily.
Her fist was lightly clenched so that her hand was just, skimming up and down his stalk, not gripping him tightly but working rhythmically as she built up the friction.
Her head was bent over his cockhead and she gazed in rapture at the huge handful she was manipulating.
From time-to-time she raised her face and looked furtively around, to make sure that no one was approaching, but for the most part she kept her fascinated eyes glued to the swollen head of his prick.
The cleft parted in his knob.
Thick white cream trickled out.
"Ooooh!" she whimpered when she saw that heavy flaw bubble out. She tightened her grip slightly, so that she was shifting his foreskin, feeling the iron-hard bar within the sheath that she pumped up and down.
The hot jism flowed down his prickhead and welled up against her forefinger and the web of her thumb.
"Ummm… shoot it out," she whispered. "Shoot all that lovely spunk out for me, baby…"
Her face hovered right over his cockhead. Her hand was flying up and down frantically now.
"Come… come… come…" she wailed.
Jonathon groaned. His heels drummed against the firewall and he hiked his ass up from the seat, arching his smoldering loins towards her.
"Cream for me!" she tried.
The whole head of his cock was covered with spunk by this time. It glistened, the white froth flowing over the purple knob and down onto her nimble hand. His balls had bloated like over-inflated balloons.
He rumbled deeply, then gasped.
His cum burst out in a geyser, a tremendous torrent of cream rising directly from his cockhead like a liquid tower. Her hand pushed down to the hilt of his stalk, drawing the skin back so that the head flared out and the spunk poured from that head in a volcanic eruption that rose up and splattered directly in her eager face. The jism splashed on her chin and glanced off her cheek. She dipped her head lower, letting the hot cream wash all over her face.
Her lips parted.
A second great spurt burst from his cock, jetting right into her open mouth.
Her tongue flicked out, lapping his scum up out of the air as it hosed her face.
She kept pumping steadily until, at last, he was drained and the flood ceased.
She looked around quickly, then ducked down and used her tongue to lap his cock clean, gathering up the slimy flood until his knob gleamed, clean as a bone. Then the horny little girl licked her lips and, bringing her cum-coated hand to her face, lapped his jism up from her fingers and palm.
"Yummy," she said.
Jonathon stared at her, overawed by the girl.
"I guess you'll be okay now… for a little while," she said, smiling at him.
"I… I think…"
"I think you better drive somewhere private, so we can have a fuck," said Shirley.
And, despite all his good intentions, Jonathon thought that was a good idea, too.