After a few more steps away from the house, I awkwardly perfect a 180-degree turn in my stilettos. Not an easy feat considering more than my shoes. His forearms press against the doorframe as he arches his long, lean body into the daylight.
“Drive safe.” he says as he waves but his words dissolve somewhere between his lips and the bulge in his boxer-briefs. Only now did I understand the phrase, ‘sex on a stick.’ Like a popsicle on a hot summer day, he is cool and refreshing. Like barbecue skewers, he is succulent and mouthwatering. I want to put him in my mouth and suck on his delicious stick.
As my mind wanders back to last night, I feel myself unconsciously preparing for to run back. This male gazelle has turned me into a lioness prepared to pounce. I image bending my knees, dropping my purse, and leaping up to tackling him back into the living room where I could rip off that last shred of material that hides my prize.
But that isn’t going to happen. I wave back with a smile, smooth out my dress, push back a strand of hair and my dignity like the cool, calm, independent woman I am feigning to be this morning. Fighting back the sexual kitten- strike that- beast that courses through my blood is a learned task that I have perfected over the years. Nonchalant, cool chick is the best guarantee of a repeat offense. Guys like someone they can chase and make them sweat, before they mount.
He fucked me into euphoria and my senses seem heighten. The sound of my heels hitting the payment never sounded as clear. A gust of wind blowing between my legs sent a winding shiver from my tailbone crashing into my skull. It is as if my mind is reaching a new plane of existence that can only stem from a night of passionate, hard pounding, animalistic fornication.
The Walk of Shame never felt so good. As I tightened my muscles I could swear I felt him still inside. Just the idea of his massive dick repeatedly entering me causes my knees to be weak. If he is still watching from the doorway I hoped he thinks I am still drunk.
Driving home gives me little distraction from my thoughts. The prospect of masturbating causes my foot to press harder on the acceleration. I can’t remember if I have batteries or if I’ll need to stop at a convenience store. However, that might cheapen my current feeling. No, last night’s memories called for good old fashion ladyfingers to do the trick.
I’d forgotten this feeling. It had been years since I felt the surge of hormones that multiplied within me after a good, hard come. Hormones. Whore moans. This wasn’t the fucking you got from being in a loving relationship; this was the fucking you got for being slutty. This was the consequences of tabling society’s moral standards and listening to your vagina scream, “Put it in me!”
Over my lace panties, I rub my clit and track the curves of my pussy with my fingertip. I want to chase the dragon or sense the preview of what lies ahead in my bedroom. My left hand grips the wheel as the other slides under the hem of the lace for direct skin contact. I tilt my hips as much forward as I can for better access. My cunt is wet and sore. As one then two fingers ache forward against the swollen walls, I remember his cock initially pushing inside of me, stretching my with his girth.
A loud and very close honk blares from the passenger’s side. Oops. Sorry. I can’t crash on the 101 while fingering myself. But I can’t seem to stop myself either. His kisses were so passionate. I bite my lip and twist my fingers as my palm rubs against my cunt. Just for a few minutes. I’ll stop when I reach my exit.
I try for three fingers but the angle will not allow it. With little bounces, I fuck my fingers and the car revs faster with each recoil. Recalls of last night flash within blinks and my mind wavers between the realities of driving and daydreaming. Swaying between slow movements and brutal friction, my exit reveals itself and my body twitches with anticipated climax. Retracting my hand from my pussy, I clench and squirm.
After throwing the car into park in my driveway, I pull off my panties and scoot to the edge of the seat. I position my bare feet on either side of the steering wheel, leaving the heels with the pedals. My hand pets my wet pussy lips while my middle finger finding its way back in. In my head is last night on fast forward and repeat, slowing and pausing at crucially sexy moments. Like a jackhammer, my palm pounds into my mount with an unmatched fervor of lust. My toes curl until there is a new stain on my driver’s seat.
A knock on my window propels me into a modest position. My roommate looks in with a wide smile and yells, “Are you coming or going?”