Whatever

Bdsm

 “So where are you headed?”“Wherever.”“Is that a plan or a statement of fact?”“Whatever.”The girl leans back and begins tapping on her mobile, completely absorbed, the way young people do. I say girl; I suppose she’s a young woman, but I estimate her age to early to mid twenties, and at my time of life she counts as a girl. On the other hand, I’m useless at judging ages.Normally I wouldn’t pick up a hitchhiker. Not anymore. At first I wasn’t going to pick this one up either. I don’t know why I did. I mean, these days you never know who you can trust and who’s going to stick a knife in you and leave you for dead in a ditch, do you? I imagine it was the way I saw her shoulders slump in the rear view mirror once I’d passed that did it, resignation contrasting sharply with my first impression, as if she’d been trying for a very long time and couldn’t bear to walk any further along this back road from nowhere to nowhere.Or maybe it’s because I’m a man and the sight of those incredible tanned legs did for my judgement. If I’d have spotted her earlier I’d have slowed down to get a longer look. In the rear view mirror I could see the girl’s legs stretching up to tight, denim shorts hugging a perfectly pert bottom. I felt sorry for her, but it’s easier to feel sorry for a girl with legs you want to lick than a bloke with a half-chewed hipster beard and floppy sweatpants, like the one I’d passed further back.I backed up. The window was already down; the temperature was well up. The girl hurried towards the car. “Thanks for stopping.”I jerked my head. “Stick your case on the back seat, If you like.”I tried my best not to ogle her as she got in the car. There’d be plenty of time for surreptitious glances, I hoped. “I’m Dan.”“Victoria. Or Vicky if you prefer.”“Which do you prefer?”She prefers Vicky. Technology obliterates conversation as she sends and receives text messages in quick succession. Her attention being focused on the gadget gives me every opportunity to absorb the smooth tan that attracted my attention in the first place, particularly since the road is mostly straight and without traffic. They’re by no means unique, I mean there are plenty of girls with tanned legs and shorts that just about clear bum cheeks, but the proximity is intoxicating. Normally I content myself with looking, but this is temptation, opportunity…It’s not an opportunity. You touch her and she’ll most likely go ballistic. She can easily take the number of the car and you’ll end up on the sex offenders’ register.How do you know she wouldn’t react favourably to an advance, eh? Smooth as silk, them legs. You don’t try, you’ll regret it forever, not touching, when you had the chance.You’ll regret it if you do try. It’s not like it was in the old days. You can’t afford to take a chance, not like you could back then.Back then. Twenty-five or so years ago. A road much like this one. Her name was Jenny, and she had a cracking pair of legs on her too. They were thicker, sturdier, and it wasn’t the tan that attracted me then, it was the sheer, black nylon stretched across them.Where was she going? Bracknell? Wokingham? Reading? Göztepe Escort I don’t recall. But I remember touching her. Nylon; sheer, black nylon, impossible to resist. An electric charge as fingertips met nylon. My fingertips, tracing a path, adrenalin pumping, blood rushing; an inevitable and immediate, massive, throbbing erection.“What are you doing?”“Taking you where you want to go.”Jenny breathed in. “Are you expecting me to…” Voice weak, trailing off.“Expecting you to what?”It was obvious that she didn’t want to put words to what she was imagining, or at least not voice them. I flattened my palm against her thigh. She felt hot, or maybe it was just me overheating from the excitement.“In return… Do stuff…”“Why? Are you offering?”She shifted slightly. I kept my hand steady, grazing the nylon lightly with my fingertips.How many minutes passed? Five? Three? Seven? I don’t recall. But I remember Jenny’s voice saying, “Pull over!” I removed my hand, sure she was going to get out and tell me where to get off. Instead, she said. “I hope you’ve got a rubber.”Pre-cum smeared the inside of my underpants. Was she really going to…?See. If a bloke doesn’t take a chance, how is anything supposed to happen?But it was different then. Different.You sure about that? You sure you don’t want to chance your arm? Look at those legs? How can you resist touching, sliding your hand down the inside of her thigh? Imagine how hot…Vicky’s phone brings me back to my senses. She stabs a finger at it and holds it up to her ear.“Yeah? … Yeah, that’s right. … Fuck! … Look … Look, I don’t mind … I’ll sleep on the couch … OK … No, I get it … ‘Course not … Later, Skank.”Vicky cuts the call.“Trying to find somewhere to stay?”Vicky shrugs.“So what’s the story?”“What makes you think there’s a story?”“Just wondering why you’re hitching a ride in the middle of nowhere in inappropriate footwear.”Vicky sucks in air. “I need a piss.”“Give it a couple of minutes. Main road’s coming up. There’s a filling station.”“Whatever.”Vicky gets back to her manic texting. I avoid looking at her, negotiating first a junction, then a couple of sharp bends leading into the service station. Vicky opens the car door, puts a foot on the tarmac, then turns.“Where is it you’re going, exactly?”I can’t resist the obvious answer. “Wherever.”Vicky doesn’t take the bait. “That’ll do. Whatever. Wait here.” As if I’m her chauffeur.“Sure.”I watch as she walks away from the car, tanned legs striding, long blonde hair well on its way to a meet and greet with denim-hugged, prick-goading buttocks. A big, blue van suddenly obscures my view of her, and I turn my head. She’s trusting. There’s nothing to stop me buggering off with her case. I won’t, but there is a temptation to open it, to make the mystery less of a mystery.Then I see that she’s forgotten something else too. Incredibly it’s her life support – that’s what mobiles are to young people, right? I flash the sterile looking building a glance. The place looks busy. She might be a while.The temptation is just too much. I don’t know what I’m looking for or hoping to Göztepe Escort Bayan find. Text messages full of bad grammar and cryptic abbreviations confirm that she’s looking for a place to stay.Then, somehow, I’m flicking through pictures, discovering suddenly that I’m not breathing. There’s a picture of Vicky. It looks like she’s at a party. She’s holding her top up, flashing her breasts. They’re not massive, but they’re not tiny either, and her areolae are so perfectly round and symmetrical they look like they were created with God’s own compasses. Next picture, a group of girls, none of them Vicky, but all provocatively dressed. Next picture, Vicky bent over, a clear view under her skirt of gauzy white knickers.Just imagine rubbing up against her from behind…Swiping quickly on I find pictures jumbled, of buildings, of other people, of Vicky with other people, of cats and dogs and a cake with candles, but also the kind of selfies that interest me; Vicky in a changing room modelling a new bra, Vicky completely naked in front of a mirror; a selfie where she’s clearly holding the camera between her own legs, showing blue knickers and cameltoe, then blue knickers pulled to one side with Vicky exposing intricate petals and closely cropped pubic hair.Heart beating and cock throbbing I glance over at the building. There’s no sign of Vicky. Videos, maybe there are videos. The phone beeps, announcing an incoming text message.There are videos. I watch as lilac fingernail teases clit for 15 seconds in close-up. I swipe, finding unfurled labia and a sex toy moving. There’s sound, forty seconds of lusty breathing and uneven gasps. The next clip of any interest must have had someone else holding the phone; Vicky outdoors, top pulled up, fondling breasts and pinching nipples with one hand, using the other to hold a banana on which she simulates fellatio. Next clip, a shaky self-taken clip, Vicky masturbating again, pussy up close, using two fingers, three fingers. There’s an obscene squishing as Vicky cries out, then a flood of liquid. I hear her voice. “Wow! That’s never happened before.”Beeps announce new incoming messages. I begin to sweat. Vicky must get that I’ve been looking.And here she comes. I swipe back to the main menu and put the phone back on the seat where she left it. She comes closer, necklace shifting slightly. She adjusts her shades, then pulls on her white top, breasts briefly becoming more pronounced before the garment resumes its shape and the slice of brown tan between top and dark belt returns. I hardly see the top, the images still playing in my mind, boobs crowned with aesthetic perfection. There’s a heavy throb in my trousers as Vicky opens the door and gets in. She’s back fiddling with her phone in no time. If she’s noticed anything untoward she’s not saying.She gives a deep sigh as I pull out on to the main road. Keeping one eye on the traffic, the other is glued to her legs. Gorgeous fucking legs. My third eye, my mind’s eye, is still swiping through the material on her phone.Come on, you’ve got to chance your arm. You’ve seen Escort Göztepe how she is. It’s not like she’s a prude or anything. You’ll never get a better chance.Don’t be stupid. It’s not worth the risk. You can’t go around just groping girls. Not these days.But what if… Just look at those legs! Those tits! Fucking hell. You need to make a move. Just think about it, sliding your hands up her legs, pulling her shorts down. That arse! Imagine yourself behind her…No, no, no! It’s not like that now. With Jenny it was different. With Jenny…Jenny had a cracking arse on her too. She was a big girl. Not overweight necessarily, but tall and sturdy, built to tower over a crowd. It was dark when we got out of the car. Her with her hands on the roof, bent over for me to lift her skirt. It would have been thrill enough just to discover that she was wearing hold-ups, but that was the least of it. In the dim light I could make out crotchless knickers, dim moonlight reflecting off them.I felt the garment with trembling fingers. Rubber? Who the hell wore rubberwear other than dominatrices? “What are you waiting for?” Jenny asked. French letter met throbbing prick. I could have done with toying with her thick cunt lips for a while, but if she wanted it quick.I stuck my hands under her top. Fuck me if she wasn’t kinky there too. A peephole bra. A rubber peephole bra. I clutched at her breasts, thrusting into her, pushing up against her big bum and bouncing back. Jenny gasped. I just clutched and fucked, unable to believe what I was feeling. There were orgasmic moans from Jenny, then I was spurting into the condom, fingers gripping hard nipples.I wasn’t daft, I knew she’d faked it, but I didn’t care. She’d wanted it, and I would almost certainly never see her again.I was wrong.“I’ll give you my number if you give me yours.”I just stared. We were back in the car. We’d reached wherever it was she wanted me to drop her off.Jenny smiled. “Deviants need to stick together.”I wasn’t a deviant. At least I didn’t think so, though I had groped a stranger. Not that I’d ever done it before. It was a first for Jenny too; the first time she’d dared to wear her rubber undies outside the house. And we did meet again, and again, and again, exploring every nuance of pleasure we could imagine.What are you waiting for? I’m telling you, this is Jenny all over again. This one’s as kinky as fuck you’ve seen the photos, the videos.Don’t be stupid, nothing could be like Jenny all over again. Besides, selfies, it’s what young people do these days. It doesn’t mean she’ll let just anyone grope her.But those legs. How can you resist…Vicky’s phone brings me back to my senses. “Yeah! … What happened? … I quit, that’s what happened … Don’t worry, I’ll be alright … I just had enough … Look, I don’t mind sucking cock for breakfast every other day, but the workload was ridiculous … Seriously … No, seriously … Dirty fucker … Well, you know… No, no, all I need’s a place to stay for a couple of days, get back on my feet… No, I don’t expect you to… Not with the baby and all… I just wanted to let you know… Yeah… Yeah… Later. Whatever.”You hear that? You really think she’s gonna kick up a fuss? Look at those legs. Feel ‘em! Who knows where it might lead?What are you? A freaking idiot? Just take her where she wants to go and let that be an end to it.You know what you could try…I sigh. To my surprise, Vicky looks up from her texting.

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