"To save my reputation silly," she said.
"But how does hitchhiking do that? I should have thought it worked the other way around."
He was driving very slowly, heading towards home, not knowing where else to go since it mattered not at all to this remarkable nymphette.
He wished that he had not picked her up… almost.
She said, "Well, it's like this. I like to fool around with men, right? But if I fooled around with the guys at my school, I'd get a bad reputation. That's what happens to girls who fuck lots of guys, they get bad reputations. Well, I wouldn't want that to happen. I like to be respected. So instead of fooling around with guys I know, I go out hitchhiking so I can fool around with strangers. That way, everybody has a lot of fun and nobody's reputation suffers."
"I see."
"Clever, huh?"
"Do you… hitchhike very often?"
"Oh, yeah. Two or three times a week."
"And do you always get a lift with a man who wants to… err… fool around?"
"Oh, sure. I mean, not always. Sometimes I get picked up by an old guy, maybe, or a fairy, but when that happens I just get out and hitchhike back the other way and sooner or later I get lucky. Sometimes I feel like a yo-yo, but I always score in the end. The last time I went out hitchhiking I got screwed five times. That was pretty good, huh?"
Jonathon was sweating so profusely that his vision had started to blur. His hands were trembling on the steering wheel and his breath was coming fast and hard. He was panting like a steam engine.
His condition did not fail to register on Shirley, who enjoyed arousing gentlemen.
"And once I got picked up by a lesbian," she said, watching him to judge his reaction.
"What… what happened then?" he croaked.
"Oh, I let her eat me out," she said, matter-of-factly, grinning at Jonathon. "My God!" he gasped.
"It was fun, too – what a tongue she had!"
Jonathon could drive no longer. Sweat was pouring into his eyes, his hands were shaking on the steering wheel, his thigh was jumping spasmodically, driving his foot erratically against the gas pedal and his cock was rubbing against the rim of the steering wheel, interfering with its function.
He pulled over to the curb.
He intended to tell her to get out. He had every intention of doing just that. But he paused first, taking a deep breath, trying to control himself.
And Shirley supposed that he had stopped the car for a different reason.
What else would a girl like Shirley think?
She looked around.
They were parked on a city street. There was no one around, but it was still a fairly public place.
She said, "Gee… you're in that much of a hurry, huh? It'd be better if you stopped in the woods or down by the railroad tracks or something…"
"Out!" he rasped.
He closed his eyes. His temples were pulsing, as if they were recording the pulsation of his prick.
"Want me to take it out, huh?" she said. That's not what I meant, Jonathon thought. But for some reason he could not say it aloud.
"Well, okay," she said, agreeably. She leaned over and placed her hand on his thigh. His leg was jumping, the muscles leaping and jerking.
She moved her hand along his thigh, working up towards his swollen crotch.
She said, "We can't really screw right here on the street, you know. We might get caught and that would play hell with our reputations. But if you're so desperate to blow your wad, I'll give you a quick handjob, okay? Then we can go park somewhere more private and fuck…"
"Urkkk," he gasped. He knew it was a meaningless sound. He didn't, in fact, know what he had meant to say, anyhow.
Her hand drifted onto his bloated crotch. "Ummm," she said, impressed by the size and the heat and the hardness of his sex tackle.
Jonathon felt as if he were hypnotized. He was frozen, unable to react – except for his pecker, which was throbbing mightily as she stroked it through his pants.
She started to open his zipper.
Jonathon's eyes were closed. He was gasping like a fish out of water. Ho heard the rasp of his zipper as she drew it down. He knew that he was in no condition to turn her down, that he would be absolutely unable to tell her to desist.
He rationalized again.
If I let her give me a handjob, he reasoned, that will take the pressure off. Then I won't be tempted to fuck her… and a simple jerk-off isn't really being unfaithful to Jayne, not at all. I'm only letting this girl do it so that I won't commit adultery, really… that's only logical.
Her hand dipped into his fly.
She hauled his prick out.
"Oooooh!" she squealed, when she saw how huge his rigid and rock-hard cock was.
It stood up like a thick post, rooted in his crotch and rising as high as the hub of the steering wheel.
"What a prick!" she gasped, joyfully.
She wasn't touching it at the moment. She had retracted her hands and was simply gazing in fascination at the massive tool that she had released from the bondage of his trousers. Her eyes glowed and she licked her lips.
She shot a furtive glance around.
The street was still deserted.
She said, "Wow! Would I ever like to take that cock in my mouth and milk it off!"
Jonathon whimpered.
"But I guess I better not, not right here. You got your eyes closed and you won't be paying much attention to anything except what I'm doing and one of us had better keep a look out so we don't get caught."
She sighed.
"Still, sometimes it's kind of fun to jerk a guy off… I like to watch the cum spurt out of a cockhead. Then after I bring you off, we can go somewhere else where we can have some privacy for fucking and sucking, okay?"
Jonathon's vocal cords seemed to be as taut and as vibrant as his pecker. He could not speak.
Then Shirley fell eagerly to the task.
She curled up in the bucket seat, one leg under her, and bent over Jonathon's looming dong. She cupped his heavy balls in her left hand and folded her right hand around the root of his shaft. His cock was so fat that her delicate hand could barely span the breadth.
She began to pump up and down.
She moved slowly but steadily.
Her fist was lightly clenched so that her hand was just, skimming up and down his stalk, not gripping him tightly but working rhythmically as she built up the friction.
Her head was bent over his cockhead and she gazed in rapture at the huge handful she was manipulating.
From time-to-time she raised her face and looked furtively around, to make sure that no one was approaching, but for the most part she kept her fascinated eyes glued to the swollen head of his prick.
The cleft parted in his knob.
Thick white cream trickled out.
"Ooooh!" she whimpered when she saw that heavy flaw bubble out. She tightened her grip slightly, so that she was shifting his foreskin, feeling the iron-hard bar within the sheath that she pumped up and down.
The hot jism flowed down his prickhead and welled up against her forefinger and the web of her thumb.
"Ummm… shoot it out," she whispered. "Shoot all that lovely spunk out for me, baby…"
Her face hovered right over his cockhead. Her hand was flying up and down frantically now.
"Come… come… come…" she wailed.
Jonathon groaned. His heels drummed against the firewall and he hiked his ass up from the seat, arching his smoldering loins towards her.
"Cream for me!" she tried.
The whole head of his cock was covered with spunk by this time. It glistened, the white froth flowing over the purple knob and down onto her nimble hand. His balls had bloated like over-inflated balloons.
He rumbled deeply, then gasped.
His cum burst out in a geyser, a tremendous torrent of cream rising directly from his cockhead like a liquid tower. Her hand pushed down to the hilt of his stalk, drawing the skin back so that the head flared out and the spunk poured from that head in a volcanic eruption that rose up and splattered directly in her eager face. The jism splashed on her chin and glanced off her cheek. She dipped her head lower, letting the hot cream wash all over her face.