Suddenly she was fighting back tears. She was tired, on her own, and stranded a long way from home.
‘There’s a rest area twenty miles up the road. I need a break anyway.’ For the first time she became aware of his lack of accent. She was relieved. Some of the more provincial American accents were hard to understand when she was tired. He nodded to the curtained sleeping berth in the back of the cab. ‘You can sleep there.’ He offered her another smile, reassuring this time. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll sleep in the seat. Things’ll look brighter in the morning, you’ll see.’
With a groan of the engine, he put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the road.
‘You’re English?’ He handed her a battered leather jacket, which she gratefully slipped into, engulfing herself in the sharp scent of maleness, which only served to amplify the tingle below her belly.
‘Yes. From Bristol.’
‘What brings you to South Dakota?’
‘The Black Hills, of course, and who could resist Mount Rushmore?’
He grunted. ‘Most Americans, actually. In fact I’d wager most don’t even know where it’s at.’
‘I’ve always fancied a road trip across America,’ she said, ‘so I saved my money, took some time off, and here I am.’
‘Here you are. You’re adventurous to take such a trip by your self.’
She thought of Mark, of how they had planned and schemed and dreamed this trip together. Until she caught him in her bed fucking her flat mate. Her chest tightened, and she pushed the memory away. ‘It was either by myself or not at all.’
He nodded approvingly and turned up the heater. ‘Travelling alone’s not a bad thing. It’s been good for me.’ They lapsed into companionable silence punctuated by the slap slap of the wiper blades and non-stop country hits on the radio.
At the rest stop, he parked the truck. ‘Come on.’ He motioned to the berth. ‘I’ll show you around.’
A frisson of fear passed through the pit of her stomach as she watched him disappear up over the seat behind the curtains. That was quickly tempered by the view of his bum, which nicely filled out his jeans. She followed him over the seat, feeling suddenly, strangely naughty.
He switched on a muted overhead light, and she found herself on a large mattress covered in a dark blue duvet.
‘Home sweet home,’ he said.
She sniffed and sighed. The smelled of clean laundry didn’t quite mask the scent of dream-filled sleep, body heat and the cocktail of male pheromones that made her want. She fought back the urge to bury her face in his pillow, to wrap herself in his sheets, to cover herself in his tantalizing scent. ‘It’s so tidy,’ she breathed
‘I spend a lot of time back here, so I like it to be neat, you know, a well-ordered personal space and all.’ He nodded to the bed. ‘The guest room’s ready.’
As she slipped out of the jacket, for the briefest of seconds his eyes lingered on her nipples, fully erect beneath her wet vest and aching from the chill. She had worn no bra because it made her feel sexy to drive down the wide expanses of American highway with her tits free. There hadn’t been nearly enough feeling sexy since her break-up with Mark, so she did what she could. She didn’t wear panties either. She had discovered she could masturbate while driving down the interstate and no one ever suspected.
‘You’re so wet,’ he said.
Wetter than he knew, she suddenly realized.
‘You’re shivering. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes and under the blankets. How long were you standing out in the rain before I …’ He stopped mid-sentence as she slipped the vest over her head and reached her arms out to him.
‘I’m so cold,’ she whispered, inwardly shocked that she would be so bold. Was it just being so far from home, feeling so alone, or was this her way of getting even with Mark? At the moment she didn’t care.
Without hesitation, he slipped his own shirt off and pulled her close. ‘Body heat’s the best way to warm up,’ he said.
She felt his intake of breath as her cold breasts pressed against his chest, and his arms encircled her in warmth. ‘Your skirt, get out of it, and get under the covers.’ As he shimmied it down over her hips, his gaze came to rest on her clean-shaven mound where her knickers would have been, had she been wearing any, and he brushed rough finger tips over her smoothness. ‘Typical English?’ He asked with a soft chuckle.
She lifted her hips for a closer brush with his palm. ‘Typical me,’ she replied, noticing the bulge now distorting the front of his jeans.
When she was naked, he nestled her down next to him and pulled the duvet over them. He smelled of clean perspiration and maleness that reminded her body just how long it had been since she’d had a good shag.
She fumbled with his zipper. ‘I need more body heat,’ she whispered against his throat.
As he reached down to help her with his fly, she ran a hand inside his waist band to cup his arse cheeks, feeling them clench and tighten with her caress, as he wriggled his jeans off over his bum.
‘No under pants? Is that typical American?’
‘Typical me,’ he said.
She felt his erection, now free from restraint, bounce against her cold tummy.
He gasped. ‘You’re like ice.’
‘Then give me more body heat,’ she demanded.
He took her mouth, teasing her lips apart and caressing her tongue with his until she was breathless. Then he pulled away slightly and cupped her left breast with a large calloused hand. ‘How about I start here?’ He kneaded her like she was bread dough and he was about to bake something delicious. His thumbs circled and pressed her nipples, then circled and pressed again until they felt mountainous atop her breasts, still stippled with goose flesh. Then he trailed kisses over her collar bone and lowered his mouth to bathe her tits in his hot breath as he suckled.
With one knee, he forced her legs apart and positioned himself so the bend of his leg pressed deliciously to her pout. The soft hair on his leg tickled and rubbed against her smoothness. As she rocked against him, she could feel her juices soaking his thigh.
‘You’re definitely not cold down there,’ he breathed. ‘Wet though.’
He kissed and nibbled his way down her belly, hot mouth against cold flesh like little fires igniting all over her body. ‘I’ve never kissed a shaved pussy before,’ he whispered. His breath was hot and humid against her split.
Anxious for him to continue his explorations, she reached down and opened her swollen lips with two fingers, but he pushed her hand away. ‘Not just yet. Be patient. We’ve got all night.’
He ignored her groans of frustration and slid his hands beneath her, cupping her arse cheeks, drawing her closer to the fire of his mouth. But instead of exploring her slit, he licked and nibbled her bare mound, pressing hard against her pubis as he did so. His efforts created exquisite pressure on everything low inside her that ached to be filled.
She rocked and butted her pubis against his face, trying to ease her body up just enough that his tongue would find its way down to where her clit marbled and forced back its hood. But he would not be rushed. She felt the heat of his breath as he chuckled against her, making her whimper as he nipped and sucked the smooth flesh just above her slit.
‘You’re all fire and ice, English. I hardly know which to attend to first.’
‘Please,’ she gasped her frustration. ‘Please lick me, down there. I need …’ There seemed to be a lack of oxygen in the truck. ‘I need …’
Again, a soft, but definitely wicked, chuckle. ‘I know what you need.’ He rotated his hands on her bottom, bringing his thumbs up around her anus to open her pussy from beneath, spreading her until he could see every heavy fold and slickened splay of her.
Like an exhibitionist, she opened her legs further relishing his admiration of her cunt.
‘Definitely no ice down here,’ he whispered.
With a frustrated moan, she reached between her legs and grabbed him by the hair, squirming and wriggling until her pussy pressed against his face. This time he didn’t resist.
With his thumbs working along the bottom of her slit, he stroked and caressed and opened her while he slurped and nipped his way along the fullness of her labia. His tongue dipped in and out of her slippery cunt, circling and darting up and over her clit. Then his lips closed around her own erection and he suckled until she squirmed and bucked against the mattress as she came. He pulled back just enough to admire her spasms and grunted softly. ‘There, that feels much better, doesn’t it?’
Once she had caught her breath, she sat up. ‘I want to see your cock,’ she commanded. ‘I want to look at you, the way you looked at me.’
In the subdued lighting, his face glistened with her juices. As he rolled onto his back, he grabbed his tee shirt and wiped his mouth as though he’d just had a good meal. Then he lay back with one arm folded under his head. ‘I’m all yours.’
She knelt on her haunches admiring him. His chest rose and fell with his struggle to catch his breath. His thick penis stretched restless and heavy against a muscular thigh, half hiding his full balls nestled in auburn curls. She ran her hand along his ribs and felt a shiver pass up his spine as she stroked the soft down that led from his navel to his erection.
He uttered a deep sigh as her fingers circled his thickness, warm and smooth against her hand. He was circumcised. A lot of American men were, she’d read. Somehow that made him seem even more exotic to her and more naked, vulnerable in a way she couldn’t quite define. She felt his hips shift beneath her caress with that almost instinctual urge all men have, no matter where they’re from, the urge to hump.
Then she straddled his legs and bent over him, her cool breasts relishing the warmth of his thigh as she took his cock into her mouth. A soft moan squeezed from between his lips. He reached down and curled his fingers in her hair as she fucked him with her mouth, intrigued by the smoothness of him, like warm, muscular silk against her tongue.
‘Oh god,’ he gasped. ‘Go easy. I won’t last long like this. Driving all day gets me keyed up. I’m not used to relief coming in such a nice package.’
She pulled away just enough to speak. ‘You make yourself come then?’
The lighting was poor, but she imagined she could see colour warm his face. ‘Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.’
She gave him a long lick as though his cock were ice cream, then cradled his erection between her breasts and moved against him. ‘It makes me hot, the thought of you having a good wank. Do you do it here, on this mattress?’
‘Sometimes.’ His voice came out a grunt as he cupped her tits and found his rhythm. ‘Sometimes I can’t wait. Sometimes I do it while I’m driving.’ He half swallowed the last word and she bent down far enough to lick the tip of his cock with each thrust, in and out of the tight fuck hole she had created between her breasts.
She teased the head of his penis with little nips of her front teeth that made him suck oxygen in quick, shallow gasps.
He withdrew his hand from the back of her head, and she heard the sound of a condom being unwrapped. ‘I want to be in more than just your mouth,’ he whispered, handing her the condom.
Once he was sheathed, she mounted him, holding her pussy lips splayed so he could see as she guided his cock into her. She angled and shifted, until she could feel the soft nuzzling of his pubic hair against her smoothness, until she could feel the heat of him radiating up through her, warming her from the inside out.
But before she could thrust, he grabbed her hips and held her still. ‘Wait just a second,’ he spoke around laboured breath. ‘We have time for the niceties.’ His warm fingers caressed her goose-fleshed breasts, his thumbs raking across her nipples. Then he moved a hand down over her belly to stroke her smoothness and finger her clit, which pearled against his touch.
At last, when her whole body ached to bear down, he began to thrust, rocking, moving in a serpentine motion that created just the right friction against all the right places. She whimpered impatience and began to ride him, grinding her bottom down hard against him with each thrust. She felt the delicious bounce of her breasts and the powerful pull, stronger than gravity, that caused her to lean forward until she was pressed against his chest, legs drawn up close by his ribs, her mouth eating his.
He gathered her to him, and rolled until she was beneath him, wrapping her legs around him and arching up to meet his thrusts. They were close, almost there. She could feel the tension building in his hard muscles until they practically quivered against her. His thrusts grew harder and deeper accompanied by feral grunts and moans, to which she responded in kind. The truck rocked beneath them as they shoved and pushed.
When he came, his whole body shuddered as though it would brake. She wasn’t far behind him, shoving against him and crying out until her throat was raw, coming as though she would never stop.
Dolly Parton was crooning Jolene on the radio as they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
The rain passed before dawn. In the morning the heavy feel of summer had returned with a vengeance. They slipped from the truck just after sunrise and made their way quietly to the deserted rest stop toilets. When she came out, he was waiting for her. He pulled her behind the alcove where the vending machines stood, kissing her until her insides buzzed with sleepy arousal. ‘I woke up thinking about your silky smooth pussy, English, and now my cock’s so stiff I can hardly walk. You’ll take care of it for me, won’t you? Then he turned her to the wall and lifted her damp skirt. As she bent over, she could hear him donning a condom. He fingered her pussy lips open and let out a low whistle. ‘As slick as you are I’d say you weren’t exactly thinking about England.’
With a quick upward thrust, he penetrated her, grunting his pleasure as he did so, reaching around her to stroke her clit with one hand, while the other sought out her breasts beneath her clingy vest. ‘God you feel good,’ he whispered against her neck. ‘I could get used to waking up like this.’ He tweaked her clit just enough to make her sigh. She was already concentrating on the orgasm building somewhere deep in her belly, and he could feel it. He slowed his thrusting and let her pussy grasp and clench his cock with each penetration almost as though he instinctually knew what she needed. By the time her orgasm hit, turning her legs to jelly beneath her, he wrapped her in hard arms and, in a few more demanding thrusts, came with deep-chested grunts.
When the oxygen finally returned to their lungs and their brains, he wiped her pussy with the untucked hem of his tee shirt, the same one he had wiped his face with last night, then he brought the wet fabric to his nose and inhaled. ‘I have your scent, English,’ he held her gaze. ‘Even after you’re gone, I’ll remember it, and you’ll still make me come.’
The next day, she got her car fixed. After making sure her trucker was properly thanked for being the best Good Samaritan ever, they went their separate ways. Mark was suddenly a fading memory and life looked much brighter. She had no doubt that, even without olfactory prompts, thoughts of her South Dakota trucker would keep her coming long after she was back in England.
The DILF Next Door
by Elizabeth Coldwell
Saturday night, one of the few sweltering days of summer in the city and, as always, I was flat broke. So what else was there to do but ring my good friend, Lisa, and invite her for a girls’ night out?
That wasn’t as crazy as it might sound. Out, for us, didn’t involve clubbing and expensive drinks, or some house party where you’re fighting off the attention of guys who just want to drag you into one of the bedrooms for a quick, unimaginative fuck; it meant whipping up some cocktails in my blender and taking them out on to the balcony of my apartment for a party designed for two.
I didn’t hav
e the biggest apartment in the city, or the most stylishly decorated, but what I did have was the most incredible view. Perched on a hill so steep it gave my calves a more thorough workout than any cross-training machine every time I climbed to the top, the apartment looked out on to a small garden, ringed with chestnut trees, beyond which the city’s skyline seemed to shimmer in the distance. On clear, still nights, you could see almost all the way to the coast.
That said, the view closer to home wasn’t bad, either. About six months ago, the fifty-something couple who owned the apartment next door had sold the place and retired to some gated community in the sun. I crossed my fingers and hoped for new neighbours who would be as pleasant and friendly as they had been. A couple of weeks later, one of the most sexy men I’ve ever seen moved in: tall, dark-haired, with a stubbly beard and hazel eyes I could happily have gazed into for days. I bumped into him a couple of times in the hallway that connected our two apartments, and learned that his name was Scott, he worked as a personal trainer for one of the gyms in the city’s financial district and he was in the process of getting a divorce from his wife. They had a three-year-old boy, Danny, and they had reached an arrangement which meant that Scott would look after him every other weekend.
I quickly grew used to the sight of little Danny toddling around in the garden below while Scott kicked a football for him to chase, or helped him construct wobbly-looking towers of building blocks. Sometimes, I caught myself staring at Scott just that fraction too wistfully as he played games with his son, and pulled myself up short. He might have been handsome, charming and a clearly devoted dad, but I had been involved once before with a man who was separated from his wife, and that had ended very badly. This time, I was looking for someone who came without baggage.
I had shared some of this with Lisa, as we sat slouched on the beanbag chairs in my living room one night, drinking spicy Bloody Marys. Instead of prompting her to give me any considered advice, all my confession had done was make her curious about “the DILF next door”, as she christened him. Lisa had never actually seen Scott, and I didn’t expect that to change any time soon: it was his wife’s turn to have Danny for the weekend, and the lack of music or other noise filtering out from his window led me to believe he’d gone out for the night.
Between the Sheets Page 8