by ANDREA SMITH
Thirty
Autumn
There is something to be said about dating or sexing a Sexton…there was never a dull moment, including the VIP treatment at the Indy 500.
We didn’t park where all the modern-day peasants had to park. Oh no. Mr. Sexton had a private entrance in the back. He even had a valet. At a racetrack.
It was wrong on so many deliciously sexy levels.
The craziest part was arriving in the garage area, where only special pit passes allowed entry. There were rows and rows of concrete block garages, many of them with doors open, showing the various team cars inside with mechanics checking tire weight, engines, using gauge readings to ensure that all mechanical and drive train systems were operating per specification.
Tomorrow was race day so Gasoline Alley would be closed to all except the drivers and select pit crew members who would bring the cars out onto the track. Dirk was explaining all of this to me presuming correctly that I was a novice to the behind-the-scenes activities.
But as a resident of Indianapolis, I was pretty much up to date on the current driver roster. One of the morning talk show hosts at Quirk-99 had interviewed Marco Andretti, who’d qualified for the number 4 position, and Graham Rahal who locked in on the number 15 position last week.
My father, who’d been an Indy die-hard since... well, since he’d attended the very first 500 back in the era of Mario Andretti, A.J. Foyt, Bobby Rahal, and Al Unser, had lost interest once the open wheel racing leagues split in 1994. It was still a thorn in his side and every May he still droned on to whomever would listen about the foreigners who’d hijacked America’s race... blah, blah, blah.
But I was certain my father had never experienced Indy life beyond the gates of Gasoline Alley.
We toured the area, Dirk pointing out the various drivers, and me with my cell in camera mode plastered against my face, discreetly taking pictures.
Before we left the area I coaxed Dirk into allowing me to take a selfie of our happy faces. Naturally, Dirk had to put on a goofy smile just as I snapped the button.
Back in our special quarters, tinted glass shielding us from sight, but allowing us to take in all of the pre-race partying below, I felt a deep sense of contentment come over me. The last couple of hours were not only exciting, what with the celebrities and gorgeous cars just inches away but it was fun.
Dirk was fun. He was like a kid down there even though he’d done this a hundred times. There wasn’t a superiority complex with him, he was just a fan meeting his driving idols and I was smitten with his humbleness.
Also, I was horny and wanted to thank him for making this girl squeal more than once whilst shaking hands with the best in the business.
“I know that look, buttercup,” he said, sitting on the edge of the table adorned with a buffet big enough to feed an entire stadium of hungry Indy fans.
“Do you, now? What look is that, pray tell?” I countered, a smirk on my face as he pulled me between his spread jean clad legs.
“Yep. It’s the same look I get when my need to have you takes over. Admittedly, it’s quite often,” he murmured, almost surprised at his own admission.
“Well, then. How could I possibly lie?” I asked.
“You couldn’t,” he said then added, his voice taking on a husky tone that proved his point, “come here.”
With his hands on my hips and his strong legs framing my thighs, he ran the tip of his nose along my jawline and took a deep breath. It was sexy and felt like a compliment.
“I may be addicted to your smell. That fragrance is perfect for you,” he whispered, his lips caressing the skin beneath my ear.
“Dirk…” I could attest to his excitement as it pushed into my core every time his mouth claimed my neck in a gentle kiss.
My head fell back in surrender as his teeth lightly nipped the dip at the base of my neck, “I think this is my favorite part of you. Besides,” Dirk paused his explanations to take a leisurely slide up my throat with his tongue before biting my chin, “this part. This is also my favorite. Especially when you’re pissed about something.”
I chuckled at that. Dirk was a talkative lover whereas I wanted some action. Palming his crotch, I rubbed from his balls to his tip with the palm of my hand and reveled in the sounds that tore from his mouth. The moans and hisses were music to my ears.
Until, that is, he stopped my ministrations of his clothed cock and swiftly switched places with me. I was now sitting against the buffet table and he was almost between my legs. It was evident from my pout that I was not a happy camper but considering the smirk plastered on his face, I would say he gave no fucks.
“We should eat.”
Wait. What?
“Unless that’s an offer for me to spread my legs and watch your tongue do magic with my hoohah, I think I might take this the wrong way.”
Taking a step back, Dirk winked and then made his way to the food laid out on the other end of the table.
“Close your eyes, buttercup.”
It took a second to comply. In my defense, I wasn’t one to follow instructions too well. I tended to be skeptical of anyone besides my sister. But when he gave me his puppy eyed face, I couldn’t help but let him do his thing.
“Fine. But if you mess all…,” I let my finger swirl around my made-up face and nice clothes, “… I will punish you.” I’d spent way too much time getting dolled up for the drivers.
Not for Dirk. Of course, not. We were just having fun.
At the word “punish,” his eyes flashed with something akin to hunger and it had nothing to do with the buffet.
“I can’t promise that, Autumn. But I give you my word that you will not only love it, you will beg for more.” All hint of jest was long gone. Dirk was a ball of heat and lust and I couldn’t wait to be his main course.
“Now, be a good girl, sit on the table, and close your eyes.”
I did as I was told, chuckling at the “good girl” bit.
Having followed his instructions, I even added my own little spice by folding my hands neatly on my lap like a 50’s pin-up. All I was missing was the red lipstick and the up do.
With my eyes closed, I could better concentrate on his movements, sounds he was making as he, I supposed, collected food from the table. Occasionally, the cutlery dinged against the plate, twice he swore under his breath, and I imagined something had fallen on the floor. The whole thing took more time than I had patience for.
“Are you done yet?” I whined like a five-year-old.
“Be good or I’ll eat it all.” I was about to tell him I didn’t care as long as… “and no one gets to come tonight,” he finished.
And there it was. I quickly shut my trap and waited like a good girl for him to surprise me with the food that I had already seen on the table. It was cute.
Finally, he was back between my legs, my pussy feeling his presence like a magnet to the fridge.
“Miss me?” he chuckled right before his tongue took a leisurely stroll across my bottom lip.
“Maybe I missed the food.”
“Liar. You missed my cock.”
My smile was my answer because, yes, I missed his cock very much.
Thirty-One
Dirk
I wanted to feed her. But not in a childish sort of way.
No, I wanted to feed her in a dirty, sexual way. I wanted to torture myself watching her take from my hand. Sucking on my fingers. Licking my skin. Moaning from the ingredients I gave her. I wanted to watch her chew and, of course, I couldn’t wait to witness the bobbing of her throat as she swallowed the items I put in her mouth.
Once my cock couldn’t possibly take any more of my delayed gratification, I would get her on her knees and give her dessert.
But first, it was time for the appetizer.
“Open,” I told her, my voice husky from the anticipation of my diabolical plan. For me, that is. The one who would suffer the most, would be
me.
When she obeyed without the least amount of hesitation, I smiled even though she couldn’t see me, right before I placed an olive in the middle of her plump bottom lip. Her pink little tongue darted out but I withheld the object from her, circling her mouth in slow, seductive rounds.
“Settle, buttercup. You’ll get it in a second. I want to paint your lips with this food.” Autumn took a deep breath and sighed. Settling, as I asked, she placed her hands back on her lap like a demure lady and let me do my thing.
“Okay, coming in.”
I placed the green olive on her awaiting tongue and watched her nose scrunch up like a child. After a few seconds, she relaxed and moaned before chewing and swallowing.
That movement. The throat working its muscle to swallow the food was sexy as fuck and I couldn’t wait to watch her swallow my cum.
“What was it?” I asked her, and so the game began.
“Olive, yum.”
“Green or black?” I wasn’t about to make this easy for her. Hell no.
“Hm, green. Definitely, green.”
“Correct.” With that correct answer, I ran my palm up her right thigh and reached the hem of her lace panties, I was guessing.
Autumn licked her lips and then bit down on her plump bottom one, anticipating my touch on her pussy.
She would have to earn that one.
With my right hand teasing the skin where her thigh met her hip, I used my left hand to feed her.
My next sample would be a little more difficult but completely doable.
“Open.”
I placed the cracker filled with cream cheese at her mouth and waited for her to tentatively give it a lick. She was hesitant and I probably should have asked her earlier, “Do you have any allergies?”
Autumn shook her head and my cock stirred, getting harder by the minute watching her be so responsive and obedient.
“Okay, taste.”
At first glance, it seemed she had recognized the cracker quite easily but the substance on top was making her wary.
“Go on, babe. Be adventurous.”
With that, Autumn closed her mouth around the cracker and cream cheese and began chewing, the cracking sounds between her teeth loud in the silence of the room.
“Hm that was a cracker and cheese.”
I let one finger pass the border of her panties but didn’t go any further.
“What kind of cheese?”
“C-cream,” she stuttered, her legs parting wider in an invitation to my hand, a silent plea to touch her where she needed me most.
With that correct answer, I did as she asked and brought my hand inside her panties, gliding my finger up her slit and circling her clit just once.
Autumn visibly shuddered, her breath hitching with pleasure.
My cock? Well, it was about to plot murder if I didn’t get the fuck on with my game.
With a type of dexterity I didn’t know I possessed, I lazily rubbed her clit in slow circles while I brought the next food to her mouth.
This time, I brought the fruit straight to her mouth without telling her to open. I wanted to watch her mouth part on the tomato, watch it spread wide before biting into it.
“Bite it, no hesitating.”
Autumn was obeying like a champion and I was about to lose my fucking mind at how sexy she was.
In one sharp move, she opened her mouth and took a confident bite of the tomato, the juices falling out the corners of her mouth and down her chin before finding a path along her neck. She squealed and squirmed as she felt the mess we were making but not once did she break the spell and open her eyes.
It was a beautiful sight. Any number of women in my world would have been disgusted by this scene but not my Autumn. No, she was real. She was game for fun. And she was sincere in every one of her actions.
And I was in deep fucking trouble.
Throwing the tomato somewhere behind me, I ravaged her mouth like a starving animal and licked a path from her collar bone straight to that delicious mouth before invading it with my eager tongue.
I was a man possessed. Turned on beyond my control, needing her flesh against mine, her body as close as possible to my own.
“It’s time to strip, Autumn. Game over.”
She didn’t react right away, her eyes darting to the door, her face signaling her worry.
“It’s okay, it’s locked.” I had anticipated this. In fact, I had planned this two days ago.
My words were barely out and she was pulling her dress up and above her head, throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of the couch. It was ruined anyway. What mattered was how quickly I could get my mouth on her sweet pussy and eat her as my main course.
With a sweep of my hand, I let half the contents of the table crash to the floor before I lay her back and spread her legs wide. The sight was beautiful. Her plump, pink lips begging for my tongue, my lips, my fingers and, undoubtably, my rock hard dick.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Autumn. You are divine.” I told her with the sincerest of sentiments. If my tone didn’t convince, the tent in my jeans surely did the job.
Placing my hands firmly on either thigh, I bent down and licked a straight line from her slit to her clit, circled once and then slightly bit down on her already engorged nub.
Autumn’s cry came from deep inside her pleasure center.
“Oh my god, Dirk. Oh shit!”
It was primal and I was too turned on to do anything but react like an animal owning its prey.
Pushing one then two fingers inside her pussy, I reveled in the sound of her wet desire, her legs spreading as far as she possibly could without being uncomfortable. Her pelvis was instinctively pushing toward the source of pleasure, my mouth, begging for more. Harder. Deeper.
Taking one last lick at her juices, I used one hand to unbutton my jeans and push them down to my knees.
“Baby, I can’t wait any longer. I need to be inside you.” My voice was shaky with the need to fuck her. I was hoping she was down with that plan because I was already ripping the foil and covering up the star of the show when she all but screamed for me to hurry.
“Your wish is my command,” I grinned and then in one smooth thrust, I was inside of her.
I was home and I was almost on my knees with the perfection of her hot tight walls squeezing the ever-loving life out of my dick.
It was heaven.
It was hell. Why? Because I was afraid to embarrass myself. I needed a second to get my shit together before I came after one thrust.
“You okay?” she asked, not laughing but not quite far from it.
“Yeah. I’m just trying to remember the fifty states in alphabetical order.” Autumn’s laughter finally took over and the movement was like a vice milking my cock for all its worth.
“Fuck, this may be my new record.” I told her, my hands gripping her thighs, my cock immobile inside her magic pussy.
“Well that sounds promising,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows, the fullness of her body new to me and a fucking crazy turn on.
I wanted to own every inch of her. Every laugh that burst from her lips. Every orgasm that spilled from her pussy. I wanted it all.
Without any warning, I began thrusting inside my girl.
Slowly, at first, one finger concentrating on her clit while the head of my cock pummeled her G-spot like it had a fucking GPS to her entire body.
Autumn was squirming, giving back with each thrust. Meeting me halfway. Our bodies crashed together, the scent of sex diffusing around the room and making me even hornier than I thought humanly possible. My entire body was tingling from the high of fucking Autumn Dey.
When she froze, her mouth opening without any sound escaping, I knew she was close.
“Give it to me, buttercup. Come all over my cock.” I commanded, my thrusts getting more and more erratic.
Both of her hands gripped the white table cloth and her lower back a
rched off the table before her cries alerted the entire track that I was making her come to near death. All the while I lost my fucking mind.
“Yes, baby. Fucking give it to me.”
And she did.
My God, did she ever.
Autumn Dey having an orgasm was the reason poets wrote sonnets, singers wrote ballads, and PornHub had amateur videos. She was glorious. She was fucking perfect.
Watching her fall apart triggered my own orgasm with a force that nearly had me collapsing on the floor. By the grace of the gods, I stood long enough to fill the condom and bring us both to the culmination of her day.
Panting, I brought our bodies together, chests heaving, sweat mingling, and kissed her with every emotion that circulated throughout my bloodstream.
If I thought I was in trouble before, well, at that very moment I knew I was completely, and utterly fucked.
Thirty-Two
Autumn
I was fucked.
Literally and figuratively.
Spending Saturday night at the track with Dirk and watching the Indy 500 in the cozy comfort of his VIP suite the following day had been the most epic experience of my life thus far.
Oh, the race had been fantastic, too. Dale Earnhardt Jr. had driven the pace car which I thought was way cool since he’s totally NASCAR, and a legend in his own right. A French driver who’d won the pole position ended up winning the cup. Dirk and I watched the milk drenching from our CCTV, both of us spent from the previous day, night, and that morning’s fuckfest.
But now, back home in my apartment, I knew I was fucked figuratively because I was starting to get those swarms of butterflies in my belly every time I laid my eyes on Dirk, and every time he tossed me a glance, a smile, or I caught a whiff of his cologne.
I had it bad. I knew it. I hated it. I loved it. I feared it.
Dirk Sexton was totally out of my league. If I had any doubt about that, seeing my full-figured self plastered on the sides of buses, on billboards topping buildings, and on park benches only reinforced that fact.
I immediately started a diet upon my return home. Pulling a huge trash bag from under the sink, I emptied my fridge of everything having high carb and high caloric content. I went on to furiously empty my cupboards of cookies, crackers, my beloved Cocoa Puffs, and the hardest cut of all: Strawberry Milkshake Pop Tarts!