We had no idea that one day it would become a reality.
We were driving back
from a long weekend with friends last summer. It had been a great few days full of surfing and pubs and food and laughter. Our car roared along the tiny uneven roads that wind around the countryside like ribbons—we always prefer to take the back roads rather than the highways. Paul was behind the wheel and I had my feet up on the dashboard, one arm draped over his shoulder. It was late afternoon, and the mood was calm and content, that Sunday feeling of tired but happy after a big weekend with good friends. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to shatter the holiday illusion and certainly not wanting to think about going back to work the next morning.
As we drove, dark clouds gathered above us, and it wasn’t long before big, fat droplets of rain began pelting the windshield in one of those freakish summer downpours. The landscape was bleak and utterly featureless apart from one lone figure on the horizon.
“I wouldn’t like to be out in this rain,” I said to Paul. As we drew nearer, we saw the man’s outstretched thumb and realized he was a hitchhiker, a young guy of no more than twenty-five dressed in jeans and a denim jacket, sporting a backpack, and about to be drenched to the skin. He held out a piece of cardboard with something scrawled on it in felt pen, but the rain had blurred the ink and his destination was illegible. Paul and I often saw hitchhikers and didn’t usually stop for them, but this fresh-faced student type looked very different from the hippies we habitually whizzed past on the highway. I glanced at Paul.
“Let’s see where he’s going,” he said. “Give the poor fucker a lift if he’s heading east. We’ve hardly seen a car for miles, and God knows who else he’ll find to take him somewhere. I’d feel terrible if I left him standing by the roadside there, getting soaked.”
We pulled into the shoulder of the road where he was standing. Up close, he was younger than I’d previously thought. He was good-looking, though, with light brown hair that curled to his shoulders and creamy skin stretched over sharp cheekbones. But he was wet and getting wetter, and he looked absolutely miserable.
“Where are you going?” he said to us.
“Phoenix,” I replied. “Where do you need to get to?”
“Um, yes. Great. Me, too,” he said. “If you could give me a lift I’d be so grateful. I’ve been standing here for hours.”
“In you get, son,” said Paul. I giggled, nudged Paul in the ribs at his use of the word
son
. Paul was only about ten years older than him, no way old enough to be his dad.
The young man opened the car door and slid across the backseat. “I’m Jim,” he said.
“Alice and Paul.” I introduced the pair of us.
“Hi. And thanks again for the lift. It was just starting to pour. Hey, it’s nice and warm in here,” he said. “I’m soaking. Do you mind if I just take my jacket off ? It’ll probably dry quicker with it off than on.”
“Go for it,” said Paul. I pulled the visor down and looked in the mirror so that I could see Jim in the backseat. He peeled off his light jacket to reveal a damp white T-shirt that clung to his skin, and I could make out tight pecs and a very fit body underneath. My eyes skimmed over his form as he peeled off his T-shirt, too, and I was even more impressed. Slim but not skinny, toned and lightly tanned, Jim had that firm, defined flesh that is not the result of dieting or working out in the gym but of youth. It was years since I’d been this close to a half-naked young man, and it was wildly arousing.
The miles sped by, and the three of us made small talk, while I kept my eyes on Jim in the rearview mirror. We learned that Jim was a student, twenty years old—making him thirteen years younger than us—that he’d been down for a work placement interview, run out of money, and was trying to hitch his way back to his university.
“You have a girlfriend, Jim?” I asked, innocently.
“No,” he replied shyly.
“What? A good-looking young guy like you?” He blushed, which I found very endearing. “But you must have seen some action at college, a bit of experience? I know what you students are like. I remember when Paul and I were at college. Everyone was fucking everyone else.”
“Well, a bit, of course,” said Jim, defensively. “But girls my age don’t really do it for me. They’re all skinny, unhappy, and obsessed with makeup and hair. I can’t talk to them like I can to a woman a bit older—you know, like your age. There’s something sexy about an older woman, you know?”
“Calm down, Jim,” said Paul, in his teasing voice. “Anyone would think you were flirting with my girlfriend.” Luckily, Jim had worked out that Paul was teasing him.
“Well, you know, who wouldn’t?” Jim replied. “She’s gorgeous.”
“She certainly is,” said Paul, sliding his hand over to my thigh and giving it a quick squeeze. There was an awkward silence for a few miles while Jim looked out of the window and I looked at Paul, and I knew he was thinking what I was thinking.
“So what is it about Alice that you like, Jim?” continued Paul.
“Oh, let’s not go there,” said Jim, embarrassed again. “I’m not trying to get into her pants.”
“No, but if you were,” pressed Paul.
“Well, you did ask,” Jim replied. “Okay. I like her shape. I can see she’s got big tits, and I like that. It’s womanly. I like her long curly hair and the way she looks pretty and natural without makeup. And I like the fact that she isn’t all done up like girls my age. Alice looks real and natural, scruffy but in a sexy way.” I looked at what I was wearing: a worn old thrift-shop sundress that I’d had forever. But I did feel sexy in it, natural and fresh and free. I guess that was my brand of sexy. I noticed with pleasure that the rain had stopped and a lighter sky was on the horizon.
“You’re a man of taste,” said Paul. “Those are all the things I happen to love about Alice, too.” He paused for a beat. “Well, that and the fact she’s got the hottest, wettest, tightest little cunt I’ve ever had the pleasure to stick my dick into.”
“What?” gulped Jim, the way people always do when they’ve heard what you said perfectly well but they can’t believe you actually said it. In my mirror I could see Jim blush, but I also saw that his hands were folded over his lap, and I knew that Paul’s words had triggered off the beginnings of fierce arousal. I thought of his young cock and balls swelling inside his jeans, and I, too, began to experience a throbbing sensation between my legs.
“Alice’s cunt,” said Paul as matter-of-factly as if we were still talking about Jim’s college credits. “It’s fantastic. She’s always wet and very willing. You should try it.”
I was so turned on by Paul’s description of my pussy and Jim’s reaction that my mouth had gone dry and I couldn’t trust myself to speak. But now I forced the words out through my lips and turned around in my seat to look at Jim directly.
“Well, Jim?” I said, raising one eyebrow as he gulped and covered his lap. “Would you like to fuck me?”
“Are you making fun of me?” Clearly he didn’t believe we were for real.
“Oh, no,” I said, reaching out a hand to touch Jim’s thigh. “It’s a very genuine offer. You see, Paul has always wanted to watch another man penetrate me. It’s just a little thing we talk about. And here you are, young, free, and single. You’ve already said that you like the look of me, and hopefully Paul’s description has sold me rather well. If we can find somewhere nice and quiet, Jim, would you like me to make your dick extremely hard so that you can stick it inside me?”
Jim nodded, a vein in his temple bulging. That got me wondering if his cock would be smooth or veiny, long or short. The subtle pumping in my pussy turned into a more intense pounding.
“Well,” I said. “That’s very good news.” And then I turned to Paul and said, “Darling, take a left here. I think there’s a place down here where we could all have a very good time.”
I directed Paul down a few more tiny lanes even farther off the beaten track to a spot where I remembered there was an old abandoned filling station. I would be the one getting filled today, I thought with a smile. We pulled into the deserted driveway, concealed from the main road by overgrown brambles. As quickly as it had disappeared behind rain clouds, the sun reappeared and dried the car in seconds.
The three of us got out and stood facing each other on the forecourt, letting the sun warm our bodies for a while. We all knew what we were doing here, but not one of us made the first move for what seemed like forever, which created a very tense—and exciting—atmosphere. It took so long for anyone to do anything that I wondered if this was what the expression “love triangle” meant. I decided that if anyone was to get things moving, it should be me. After all, I would be the center of the action, the focus of attention. Phrasing it in my head like that stoked my fire: it was really about to happen. This scenario that Paul and I had played around with in our fantasy for so long was actually about to become a reality. I felt my legs weaken as my pussy grew warm and damp.
I took a step back toward the car and undid the top button of my dress. Jim, wearing only his jeans, took a step toward me. I walked back again and undid two or three more buttons so that my flesh was exposed to the navel. Jim took two steps toward me, unfastened the rest of the buttons, and slid my dress over my shoulders. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with it for a moment, and then hung it over one of the abandoned gas pumps.
So. I was standing in the open countryside, almost naked. I looked down at what I had on: a pink bra that was pretty and girly but the safety pin holding one of the straps together rather detracted from its sex appeal. Besides that I wore a pair of Paul’s boxers and battered old baseball shoes. It was hardly a full-on burlesque outfit, but I had never felt hornier. And as I felt the stiffening in the groin that was now being pressed against my hips, I saw that my outfit was having a pretty strong effect on Jim, too.
“Wait there,” I said to Jim, not wanting him to get too horny, too soon. I knew that young men didn’t always last the distance, and I wanted to ride his cock for a long time. I took another step back so that my calves were touching the bumper of our car. I kicked off one shoe, then the other, letting the old sneakers land a few feet away. Jim watched as enthralled as if I’d been sliding stilettos off while dancing around a pole. Removing my bra, I unfastened the catch, slipping the straps off my shoulders but leaving my breasts covered until the very last minute. I threw the bra behind me and heard a soft thud as it landed on the roof of the car. Jim watched my breasts, fascinated by them as that fat young dick bulged so hard in his jeans that it must have been agony for him not to touch himself.
I licked one finger, then another, pinched each of my nipples, rubbed the skin around them, took a nipple between each thumb and forefinger and pulled my tits out toward Jim as far as they would go before it started to hurt a little. That tiny bit of discomfort felt good, so I pulled them a little bit farther. Then I released my right breast, which slapped down against my rib cage in a pendulous teardrop. Jim whimpered.
“Well, Jim,” I said, surprised by how breathy my voice was. “I bet you haven’t seen titties like these before. Do you like what you see?”
Jim nodded, and I released my left breast so that it fell level with my right. Then I squeezed my arms together, pressing my tits close, enjoying how it felt to be so in control.
All I had on now was Paul’s old boxer shorts. I knew that he wanted to play the voyeur, that he didn’t want me to pay too much attention to him, but I had to include him for a while. I turned my head to the right to see Paul’s dick straining against the material of his old beach shorts. He had that look on his face that he got when talking about this fantasy—only it was a million times more intense now that he was actually seeing it unfold before his eyes.
“You. Get your dick out,” I told him. “I want to watch you touch yourself.”
Paul undid the buttons of his shorts and lowered them so that they stayed around his hips. That familiar prick of his was rock-hard and bigger than I’d seen it in years. His obvious arousal increased my own.
“Okay, Jim,” I said, refocusing on the student. “You can step a little closer now.”
Jim leaped toward me so that our topless bodies were pressed together. We didn’t kiss—it was enough to feel the length of his flesh against mine. I felt my nipples harden as they rubbed against the warm, smooth skin of his torso. He was surprisingly hairless, a thrilling contrast to Paul’s hairy, masculine trunk. He wrapped his arms around me, trailed his fingers up and down my back, but I didn’t want these soft caresses; I wanted to be ravished, devoured, fucked.
“Oh, Jim,” I said in that new voice I seemed to have borrowed for the afternoon from a porn star. “Can’t you help me out of these wet clothes?” And I wasn’t exaggerating; those boxers were absolutely dripping with my juices. Jim dropped to his knees obediently and used his nimble young fingers to peel the cotton away from my skin. Even my bush was damp with my own pussy liquor. Then he pressed his face between my legs and inhaled deeply. His nose touched the tip of my clitoris, which made me gush a little more. Not moving his face, he slowly eased the shorts down my legs, and I lifted first one leg, then the other, and stepped elegantly out of my underwear.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of flesh, and I knew that it was Paul getting hard and horny. I didn’t want to make eye contact because if I looked at him too often, it would have burst the fantasy bubble where Paul is a voyeur, watching in secret. But I knew it was happening, knew he was watching, and that was turn-on enough for me.
I spread my legs a little, letting Jim know that it was okay for him to delve deeper. I wondered if it was his first time probing a cunt with his tongue. Reticent at first, he sniffed like a puppy tentatively encountering something new for the first time, trying to work out what it is and whether he likes it. But when his tongue flicked against my clitoris, he saw and felt my whole cunt spasm appreciatively under his touch. Once he’d seen what his tongue was doing to me, he got a taste for pussy, and there was no stopping him after that. He darted all over my clit, then stiffened his tongue and gently inserted the tip into my pussy. My thighs were trembling on either side of his face. It was so intense I wondered if I might come there and then. While that would have been so easy and delicious, I wanted to come around his dick, to have that solid rod of youthful flesh inside me when it happened.