Stay and wait like the redhead asks
From Create Your Own Story
You look around at the blue and gold awning of the sky and fields, the redhead a slow, saucy paintstroke of scarlet in the side of your eye. You meet her look again. "Course I'll wait for you."
"Super. Back in two shakes of a cotton tail." She winks and turns hers to step off the road.
"You know.." you say, looking up from the cotton, over her should at the thickly growing corn. She stops and looks back.
"That corn is pretty thick. Maybe.. you could use a good luck kiss to find your friend?"
"A kiss," she says, turning full to you, holding her hands behind her back and a coy, girlish expression on her face. Her breasts jump tautly in her red dress as she steps close. "That seems a rather bold suggestion."
You shrug, thinking of what to say next, when she reaches out with one hand and grabs your shirt just below the collar. "Couldn't hurt I suppose," she says, and pulls -- herself more than you -- pulls herself in and plants her mouth hard on yours. Your hands swing to her hips and hold tight. She pushes her tongue past your teeth. You squeeze her lap against your legs. Her kiss rolls in, out, in. Exhales rough and wide across your cheek from her nose when she presses in. The little sounds in her mouth buzz across your tongue. Your heart slowly thuds against her fist, twisted in your shirt, trapped between your breathing chests. Then her lips pop off of yours. Her cheeks tinged, your vision and breathing like smoked glass, her mouth hangs slovenly a few inches from yours. She nabs you once more; your teeth jar together. She pushes back, her bottom sliding out from under your hands.
"Like that, ducky?" She glances down, then up again. Smiles and her hand pats the hardness squeezed against your pants. Ooch. A little tender.
"Good luck achieved. Now don't go anywhere, or I'll have to hunt you down too." Her eyes leave yours reluctantly and she turns and presents you with a language-killing view of her ass ("Don't steal the car," she calls over her shoulder), which stalks off the shoulder, across the stubble of grass bordering the highway, and disappears into the tall corn. In your mind's eye the corn takes on the surely coppery hue and weave of the hair around her pussy; their to-and-fro in the wind becomes her hair spreading around the pushy head of your cock.
As soon as the red of her dress is gone, swallowed by the waving fronds of corn, you get to work on your pants. That cock-on is not getting any easier to bear, what with a kiss that hoovered your tonsils, a friendly pet pat, and then her ass gliding away into a giant, swaying symbol of cunt.
You're still spinny from the kiss, but with a little patient dexterity, assisted by brief concentration on sadly unsexual thoughts - grandpa drawers, neglected puppies, stuff like that - you get your fly button undone and pull the zipper down. The release in pressure brings you close to coming. Tenderly you ease your underwear away and down -- ahhh -- and push the elastic band so it stays nestled at the cockroot, against your balls. "Jeebus Presley," you sigh aloud, as your cock sort of unfurls, a blood-filled sex flag in the breeze. No, not a pole; a flag. Try to stay with me here. The air across the swollen shaft is delightful. You shift your seat a little on the hood to relieve a momentary pinch of your balls. And there you sit on the humming car, pants open, cock aimed heavenward.
Well, that is certainly not gettin back in there, you think mildly. Not in it's current state. It feels vaguely wrong, though, masturbating when a thirsty pussy is so close nearby, and when its owner has made so plain her intentions to slake her thirst at your fountain. But here you are, in the sun, a warm engine humming under your posterior, the sky blue, and a tight red dress and its curvacious contents somewhere just out of sight, even invisible it brings a glow to your heart -- it's a far cry from some late night lamplit bedroom when you've struck out, or the cubicle latrine when your job is boring you to tears. It's all you can do not to give your cock a little tickle. It'd be a downright crime not to shoot a little semen into the wind, see how far she carries. Not to mention that the Jut in its current state is much more likely to inadvertently bump against things -- things that don't have the Jut's sensitive feelings at heart. Probably should just nip that issue in the bud by getting the pollen out of your flower.
- Step into the corn to whack off.
- Choke the chicken right there on the hood.
- Leave your cock be and check the car out.
- She really shouldn't have told you not to steal the car.
| Status | ||
| Health | Horny | Location: |
| MP | 0 | |
| Level | 1 | |
