Candid Confessions Bundle #3 (4 page)

This was good, but it just made me more and more
desperate for the real thing. Fortunately, Jacques was keen to step
things up a notch, too. He slid up my body, his tongue sliding
along my tummy, then my breasts, and then my neck. When his face
reached mine, he kissed me on the lips, and at the exact same
moment, I felt his cock slide into me.

I had been waiting for this moment all week, so when
it finally arrived I couldn’t help but orgasm instantly. The very
first thrust of his thick cock inside my pussy sent me right over
the edge. My body spasmed again and again, with Jacques watching my
every movement with intensity.

‘You are so responsive,’ he said softly. ‘That is so
incredibly sexy. You are turning me on so much that I can’t resist
taking you.’

‘Then take me, Jacques, take me.’

So take me he did. He began thrusting inside me,
exploring every nook and cranny of my pussy with his bulging cock.
I could smell the scent of sex in the air, I could feel his need as
he rammed home inside me again and again. As his passion
intensified, he switched to whispering to me in French.

‘Oh, ma chérie…tu es tres sexy. Je t’adore ma
belle…’

I don’t know what the fuck it all meant, but it was
as sexy as hell, and within a minute or two I was coming again. My
second orgasm was even bigger than the first, and by the time I
came down from cloud nine, I was exhausted. But Jacques was just
getting started. I guess he was used to going up and down for hours
on the slopes, so he liked to do the same thing in the bedroom. I
flipped over onto my tummy and Jacques entered me from behind. This
was even better. I felt his manhood plunging even deeper inside
me.

Oooh!

I grabbed the sheets and clenched my fists as
Jacques accelerated the pace, pistoning inside me faster and
faster. Soon the room was echoing with the sound of my screams and
his groans of pleasure. Then I felt Jacques’ pace become a little
slower, more rhythmic. From the sound of his voice, I knew he was
close to coming. His hands groped for my breasts, he lowered his
face alongside mine and kissed me on the cheek. And then I felt his
body tense as he reached his own climax, his body shuddering, his
arm clenching around me. Again the words came in French, a stream
of endearments that I could not understand, but which made me feel
desired and wanted. And then Jacques was relaxing, rolling off me
and lying by my side.

I turned to look at him.

‘Wow! Jacques,’ I whispered. ‘That was the best
massage I’ve ever had.’

‘We haven’t finished yet. I’ve only massaged your
front. Now I need to start working on your back…’

We missed Christmas dinner. But who cares. Just like
Lexi, I got plenty of stuffing.

***

I didn’t see Bailey
again until the last day of the vacation. Jacques and I had enjoyed
a fantastic time. Between skiing and sex, I must have burned off
tens of thousands of calories in just a few days. It was
exhausting, but I loved every moment.

But the final day inevitably came, and I found
myself outside the hotel, where the shuttle bus waited to take us
to the airport. Jacques had come out to say goodbye to me, and he
was doing it in style. He pulled me tightly to him and kissed me
intensely. I had to pull myself away to get some air.

‘I’m going to miss you, Angel,’ he said, and he
sounded like he meant it. ‘We’ve had a lot of fun.’

‘I’ll miss you, too, Jacques.’

I kissed him in return. His tongue found its way
into my mouth, and I felt his hands grabbing at my butt. Then I
heard a familiar voice behind me.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, put him down.’

I pulled myself away from Jacques and turned to see
Bailey hobbling towards me on crutches. A hotel porter was bringing
her luggage out, ready to load it onto the bus.

‘Oh, Bailey. I’m glad to see you back on your feet,’
I said, without even a touch of sarcasm.

Bailey grunted. ‘Well, I guess this is the first
time you’ve been on your feet for a while, too. From what I’ve
heard, you’ve spent most of the last week on your back.’

Before I could think of a suitably bitchy reply,
Jacques cut in. ‘Angel has spent the last week becoming a very
proficient skier. She’s very good on the slopes. And I might add,
even better between the sheets!’

I tried not to smirk.

Angel - 2. Bailey - 0

Bailey gritted her
teeth and struggled onto the bus. I kissed Jacques a final goodbye
and climbed the steps. I had to wait for Bailey to struggle along
the aisle. Finally, she found a double seat she could fit into with
her plaster cast. As I squeezed past her, she hissed at me
angrily.

‘How come I spent the week with my legs in the air
in hospital, while you spent the week with your legs in the air
with Jacques? It’s just not fair.’

I gave her an aloof and innocent look. ‘Well, my Dad
has a couple of expressions that might explain it. One is “what
goes around, comes around.” The other is “God works in mysterious
ways his wonders to perform.” No hard feelings, though. As they say
in the theatre, “break a leg,” Bailey. Oh, sorry…you already
have.’

I legged it down the aisle before she could come
back at me, knowing she wouldn’t be able to follow.

As the bus pulled away, I waved at Jacques, and he
raised his hand to acknowledge me. Christmas on the ski slopes was
fun. I thought I might go and do it all again next year. It might
be even better. After all, I could be pretty sure Bailey wouldn’t
come back to spoil it.

Cuff Me, Officer!

Oooh, hot!

I was already level with the guy before I got a
chance to look at him properly. I don’t normally pick up
hitchhikers – I’ve heard all the stories about the Ted Bundy type
axe murderers out there. But this guy looked too cute to be
anything but on the level. So I thought, what the hell?

I admit that it was my hormones getting the better
of me there. You see, my name is Angel deVries, and I’m a shameless
sexaholic. What I saw as I whizzed past was a guy in his early
twenties with unruly, curly hair and a backpack slung behind him.
As well as being sexy, he looked as innocent as a newborn baby. I
felt I could take a chance.

I slammed on the brakes, and the car stopped. Well,
OK…it didn’t stop in the way most cars do. What it did is slow down
in style. The brakes had never been crap-hot, but lately they had
been a bit more tricky than usual. I had to yank on the parking
brake to bring it to a halt, by which time the hitchhiker was at
least a hundred yards behind me. You see, the Rocket is the car
I’ve been driving since my student days - a rusty, old Nissan
Pulsar that can remember when Reagan was president. It has its
quirks, for sure, but what do you expect for three hundred
bucks?

The hitchhiker ran along the emergency lane until he
caught up with me. The cars whizzing past on the freeway were
making the Rocket shake and wobble. I wound down the passenger
window and he stuck his head in.

‘Thanks!’ he exclaimed. ‘Are you going to Fuller’s
Creek?’

‘I have no idea,’ I said. ‘Never heard of it. I’m
just heading for Toronto. If your place is on the route somewhere,
get in.’

The guy opened the door and hopped in, pushing his
backpack down onto the floor between his legs. ‘Fuller’s Creek is
on this road – about half an hour away.’

‘Let’s go, then.’

I edged out into the traffic and put my foot down to
accelerate. The Rocket wasn’t very happy about all the extra weight
in the car, and it groaned and complained as we slowly picked up
speed. I had been driving for most of the day, and my throttle leg
was aching. I really needed to take a break or I would get cramp
again. The hitchhiker flashed a grin at me.

‘Can we get some heat in here? I’ve been hitching
for over an hour. I’m frozen now.’

‘Sorry. Heater’s broke.’

‘Oh, never mind. By the way, I’m Lars,’ he said.
‘Good to meet you.’

‘Good to meet you, too. I’m Angel. You’re not an axe
murderer are you?’

Lars laughed. ‘You have nothing to worry about. I
left my axe back home in Norway.’

‘You’re Norwegian? That’s cool. What are you doing
in Canada?’

‘Travelling. Couch surfing as a matter of fact. I’ve
got a sofa to crash on at Fuller’s Creek. And you’re American,
right?’

‘Yeah, how did you know? Don’t I sound
Canadian?’

‘Your car has American license plates.’

‘Oh yeah, I forgot. I only crossed the border a few
hours ago. I’ve just come from Detroit.’

‘So why are you going to Toronto?’

‘One of my school friends from Montana lives there
now.’

Lars was easy to talk to. I really liked him, and he
seemed to like me. There was definitely a bit of chemistry there.
You know, just the two of us, close together…getting to know each
other. The miles passed quite easily as we chatted about our
respective lives. Soon we reached the exit for Fuller’s Creek. A
bit sooner than I would have liked really. I was enjoying having a
good-looking guy sitting next to me.

‘You can drop me anywhere here,’ Lars said.

‘Hell, no. It’s illegal to hitchhike here. The cops
will book you for sure if they catch you on the freeway.’

‘Ever heard that old song by Status Quo? “Everybody
has to sometimes break the rules,” right?’

‘Don’t know it. But it’s not worth the risk hitching
here. I’ll run you into town. It can’t be more than a mile or two
down the road.’

‘That’s very kind of you. You are a lovely lady…and
very beautiful, too.’

If he kept giving me compliments like that, I would
have been happy to drive him to the North Pole and back. Now I
really didn’t want him to leave. I turned off the freeway and took
the exit that led into Fuller’s Creek. In summer, it was probably
beautiful, but the Canadian winter had taken its toll. The trees
were bare, and the sky was gray and cold. The town didn’t look that
inviting. As we drove through the outskirts of the town, Lars
turned to me and gave me a serious look.

‘Angel, after you drop me off here, I guess I will
never, ever see you again, right?’

I glanced at him in confusion. ‘I guess not.
Why?’

‘Because in that case, I might as well ask you an
outrageous question. The worst thing you can do is throw me out of
the car, and you are going to do that anyway.’

‘I suppose so. So what’s the question?’ I asked
innocently.

Lars leaned a little closer. ‘Angel, can I fuck
you?’

Well, talk about getting straight to the point, or
what? I’ve met a few direct guys in my time, but none as blatant as
this. This was a shocker even by
my
moral standards, and
that’s saying something.

I slammed on the brakes.

That didn’t work out quite as intended. The plan was
to screech to a halt, give Lars a piece of my mind, tell him that I
wasn’t some easy slut (no laughing, please), and then throw him out
of the car. Instead, the Rocket slowed gracefully and glided to a
gradual halt on the shoulder. It didn’t make me look angry at all –
it rather looked as though I might be interested in his evil
plan.

And to be honest, I was.

I mean, what’s the point in risking your life
picking up a hot hitchhiker if you don’t get an opportunity to
enjoy what’s in his pants? I looked at Lars a little more closely.
He was a hottie, no doubt about that. I rather fancied a bit of
Norwegian wood. He could sense that I was wavering.

‘Come on, Angel. It will be fun. You only live once,
remember. You should enjoy life while you are young.’

‘And everybody has to sometimes break the rules,
right?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Oh…what the hell!’

I leaned over and kissed Lars full on the lips. He
was quick on the uptake, and kissed me back. It felt good, but
after a moment, I pulled away.

‘Not here, though. We need a little more
privacy.’

Lars pointed. ‘Over there, in the forest.’

If there is one thing Canada is not short of, it’s
trees. A little way ahead of us, a dirt track led away from the
road and into the forest. The Rocket bumped and shook along the
track until we found a quiet spot amongst some spruce trees.

‘In the back,’ I said as I switched off the
engine.

‘You’ve done this before!’

‘Maybe a couple of times.’ A couple of hundred
times, that is.

I spent my teenage years in Montana, so I knew all
about having sex in the back of cold cars. You see, the thing is to
get on with the action right away and start working some muscles to
warm yourself up. There’s no time for foreplay. I’ve known guys to
get frostbite on their dicks for being slow to get started. You
have to get down to some seriously energetic fucking in a hurry. I
guess Lars must have had similar experiences in Norway, because he
was on the same track as me.

Within a minute, we were naked and at it like
frantic rabbits on the back seat. We started the conventional way,
with me on my back while Lars pumped me like a Viking on ravaging
duty. Oh, yes! I like the way they build guys over there in
Scandinavia. If they sold men in Ikea, I would sign up for a
loyalty card. His body was firm and muscular, and he had plenty of
energy. The atmosphere inside the Rocket warmed up, and soon there
was steam on the windows.

Being taken by Lars was great. But I needed to get
some exercise, too.

‘My turn on top,’ I said, and Lars was happy to
oblige.

He lay down on the seat, his crazy curls flopping
around his face. His dick wasn’t flopping anywhere, though. It was
sitting bolt upright like a Viking sword, and I was very keen to
impale myself on it. I shuffled forward so that my pussy was right
over his cock. Lars took his manhood in his hands and slid it
inside me.

Awesome!