I don’t really know you, but there’s a place for you inside of me. Several places, even. This was the moment when I realized how perfectly we complemented each other. This cock I held in my hand, I wanted to take it everywhere into me, wherever it might fit. I also felt like devouring it, an imperious desire, a ferocious appetite, a pressing need to be one with it, to commune in agony. But if I bent towards you, you would have had to let go of me, and I did not want that. The explosion was approaching, I could no longer control it. I looked around at you, disturbed.
“I think I’m…”
“Yes, of course. Yes!” you gently said. As you would put a friend at ease. The kindness of this permission reassured me and banished all the mental storm clouds away.
But, please, don’t let it make you stop!
And you understood so well both the situation and the urgency clearly, and your fingers pursued their passionate, dizzy journey inside me, this hesitant waltz strong enough to melt all resistance, travails worthy of Sisyphus and the ocean and handfuls of planets. Forward, further, much further, gently, back a bit, almost pulling out, ever so slowly, forward, much further, back a bit gently… I keep company with you, with all my soul, with all my guts and I’m chased by a giant wave riding behind me, biting at my heels, catching me… Lo, here it comes…
I held your cock tight in the grip of my hand, froze, winced, riding the crest of the giant tidal wave lifting me up, sitting on the throne of an eruption of sheer undiluted pleasure, cushioning all its aftershocks…
You parked smoothly on the side of the road, switched off the engine. I turned towards you, short of breath, still boiling. You explained: “It was either that, or move into second gear…” I acquiesced. Yes, yes, you were quite right to do so! If you’d switched gears, the let-down would have been awful, a true low in my career… The teacher in me smiled at the analogy, but offered him no explanation… Anyway, all my energy had quite dissipated…
“It was good!” I said, with a lack of conviction that saw you roar with laughter.
“I’m absolutely delighted,” you declared theatrically, waving your hands upwards, and for just one second, I saw the sheen of my lust shine on your fingers.
Wait, just you wait and see how I can please you too!
I bend toward you. Your cock had a heady smell. Reminiscent of the corduroy fabric of your trousers. But also the smell of man. Wild. Lingering…
The joy in my stomach, which still hadn’t subsided, rose sharply again. I laid my tongue on the tip of your cock. It was slippery. A thin, appetizing, salty stream pearled out of the thin hole and I spread it all over the pink, round, bare, stirring glans. Men’s cocks are custom-made to be devoured. There’s nothing more eatable in a man. It’s firm, elastic, spongy, so soft you feel your tongue should dance on tiptoe over it, like a cheeky skater on a bed of ice.
Your cock is so thick I don’t think I could suck on all of it… At any rate, not in my present position… Under my skirt, the echo continues. My cunt is still quivering.
“Give it to me…”
“Ask, come on, you can ask better…”
“Please, please, please. I want it badly…”
“You can do better!”
“Come to me, please… I am so hot inside. Touch me, touch, I’m on fire, I’m so wet, put it inside, I’ll go crazy. I’ll suck you off so good. Come!”
“Ask! Ask again!”
“Damn it! Come… Look, how it needs me too: it can’t even stand still, it’s ready to burst if you don’t put it in, put it inside me, fuck me, please? Come. I’m hungry, hungry for you, hungry for it. Look, it will slide in so easily, it’s ready… You can’t keep it, this big dumb thing, all to yourself? Look, look, I’m opening up for it, see. See how I gape wide open, hurry, hurry, or I’ll come without you, just the thought of you screwing me… We will lose it all…”
The threats had the desired effect. You laid me down onto the seat, down on your knees on the other seat you pulled me across, pushed your trousers down… Lust stabbed through my heart. And I still hadn’t even seen your balls!
You move into me like butter. I can almost feel your taste. It’s a famished beast I have between my thighs. Eat, feast yourself, my little animal! It’s Christmas, I’m your midnight supper!
I swallow you whole with torrid pleasure. Your cock is hard, I can feel it butt against my walls, at the back, and the soft blows reverberate all the way through to my arse. It’s exhilarating… I’ve a finger on my clit, doing God knows only what, and it feels good, like a mandolin player. And with my left hand, I held your balls, heavy, thick, gorgeous. My imagination is on fire thinking of them, swollen and creamy. Eat, kiddo, eat! Soon it will be time for dessert… This guy is soon about to spurt all the way into you, the way you like it! My brain grows more excited as it pictures visions of eruptions surging upwards at the speed of light. I naively press hard against your balls, as if to empty them.
“Come, come…”
“No, not before you do. Come quickly.”
“I can’t. I just can’t, yet.”
How could I explain that my lust was dependent on yours?
“You first, you first… you keep on saying,” and I realize that you are going to wait as long as it takes while I’m almost suffocating here, suspended above the abyss.
“Tell me what you want me to do? Tell me… You’re so good to me.”
“Take me everywhere. Behind, also.”
You are obedience personified. My desires are orders. You stab my arsehole with your thick, aggressive, fiery thumb. It scares me and fills me with joy at the same time.
“Do you feel me, there? [Hard not to. I feel only you.] Are you ready to come, now? Ready?”
“If you keep on stretching me open so, everywhere, yes, yes, it’ll soon come… Listen, listen, it’s coming, it’s coming, it’s almost here, it’s… now, right now, give, give it to me, you too…”
You fell upon me. You’re much heavier than I thought you would be. And so much more gentle, too.
When I opened my eyes, the snow had stopped falling. You caught your breath back, readjusted your clothing, settled again behind the steering wheel. My chest is still resonating, my ears too, full of the roar of the giant wave that has washed me away. With sharp burns everywhere, their scars gradually declining and being replaced by a wholesome feeling of lassitude.
“You can sleep, if you want to.”
You indicate the cot, behind the front seats. No, I don’t wish to leave you on your own. I will not sleep.
And the journey continues, quietly, slowly. We’re in a sleigh smoothly sliding through a white and sleepy landscape.
From time to time, you stop. People wish you a merry Christmas. We go again. There are bells in my head, champagne flowing through my body, and my heart. Small bubbles sparkle and tickle me everywhere. You’re nice, you’re funny. I don’t regret anything.
In the morning, you lightly brush against my drowsiness.
“We’re arriving in La Rochelle. Where do you want me to drop you?”
I open my eyes, see a dead town amidst a still black dawn.
“At the railway station.”
“What?”
“Yes, I have to tell you. You know, when we met, I wasn’t leaving Lyon. I’d just arrived. I was going to spend Christmas there. I didn’t feel like it…”
“You’d just come from La Rochelle?”
“No, from Grenoble.”
“But…? Why did you tell me of La Rochelle?”
“I saw you. I saw your lorry, the sign ‘Marennes’. I thought, ‘That’s where that guy is going back to, tonight.’ And I reckoned ‘Why not?’”
Your eyes flickered with laughter.
“It’s funny.”
“Why?”
“Because, when you saw me, I was about to hand over the lorry to a mate. I wasn’t supposed to bring it back. I was scheduled to sleep in Lyon. I’d already been driving all day.”