The Drive (A Weekend Away – Part One)

My wife and I made a date a few weeks in advance. We were both excited. To this point, I would say this was the pinnacle of our sex—our best weekend away.

Caught in the excitement of the moment, I let her know she was supposed to wear a dress or skirt, and no panties. She said ok, to my surprise! We laughed, then kissed and hugged on it, and went on with our day.

This was my wife’s first time going out without any panties. All signs pointed to her being very willing, so I played it cool. I had to support her, as she would be out of her element. I even offered that she didn’t have to, if she didn’t want.

The day came. We packed the van, said our goodbyes to the kids, and left. Out in the van, I asked how she felt about leaving the house without panties on. She explained that she still had them on.

She was self conscious about being around the kids like that, so she had left them on. I was kinda miffed at that, but let it be. I wrestled with this meaning she was leaving them on. I resolved that if she didn’t want to, I wasn’t going to fuss. I would live.

We had to stop just up the street from our house to get gas. I went in, paid, and pumped the gas. The place was busy. It was Friday, and rush-hour busy at this popular gas station. Still trying to keep cool about the panties, I got back in the car. I asked her when she was planning on taking her panties off.

She said, “I already did.”

The world just came to a halt.

“You just took your panties off, here, in the van, while I was pumping gas?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Right here in the middle of a busy gas station? In broad daylight?”

“Yes.”

Oh, wow. Umm, ok, I thought. That changed the dynamic a little.

She wondered if anyone saw her, because some people had walked close by. I was a bit bummed that I didn’t get to see her take them off, but she had done it. My cock was paying attention either way.

I told her, “I wanted to see.”

“Well, ok.”

I pulled the car out and stopped in the lot, out of the way.

She spread her legs and let me explore. The heat between her legs was impossible! Her position in the seat played against my wishes, but I still felt her sweet slit. I even got a quick peek! I saw my wife’s nice, fresh pussy illuminated under her skirt. I was surprised how lit up it was under there. It was a Christmas in July miracle!

We had to get back on the road, so I had to stop drooling and concentrate on driving. 

We took a state road instead of the usual highway. The route followed a long, straight road, took a turn, then followed another long straight road to our destination. The drive would be about an hour.

I was still trying to play it cool. I didn’t want to overdo the touching and feeling, but I would still caress, touch, and massage her in between cars driving by. This was just frustrating to me. I would go in, then a car would go by. I was trying to warm things up between cars, but I wasn’t getting anywhere having to reset with every car! But stay calm, I thought. It’ll happen. Right?

In her defense, the open cock-pit of our minivan seemed very open to the public. At least, that was my fear. My conservative wife would not approve of giving anyone a show. Even if it was at 55+ mph. So I tried to keep things inconspicuous as much as possible.

At the time, I had no idea, but later she told me that with my hot man hand on her cold thigh, with my fingers playing then pulling away, with traffic, and the cold A/C pointed right between her legs, she was starting to leak.

Her skirt was not a tight one, and it came to just above the knee. It was pretty easy to maneuver, so I would get up there and touch, leaving the skirt up where I pushed it to. I wasn’t just going for it all at once. I rather enjoy having a slow hand.

Like fingers play over plush, I slid up her bare thigh, and gently squeezed her leg where my hand met her naked lips.

My fingers found her deep, wet place, waiting for me to open her. Her slippery, velvet ointment coated her and me.

Playing slowly, I would occasionally go back down her thigh, then take my hand away to drive.

I noted to myself that she wasn’t pushing her skirt back down.

I started to get more into her slit, while gently massaging her mound, thighs, and labia. My hand began to stay there as cars went by. No one was protesting. She even rocked her body to get her skirt up little by little. Eventually she was sitting bare-butt on the seat. I had not given any cues or suggestions. I was driving, she was accommodating. My cock was hard!

Her knees were open against the door and  console, her skirt bunched up in her lap. After a few more minutes, I could see a pale, white/pink pussy from the driver’s seat.

Opening her labia was delicious. The sun was bright, shining in through the big windshield. My first and third fingers held her lips open, while my middle finger played all over her hard clit.

My wife’s quivering “Ahh” told me she was all for it.

I kept playing, slowly finding ways to move about her open hospitality.

At one point, she sat up straight in the seat, put the seat back down as far it would go, then laid back down. She pulled her skirt up above her hips, leaving herself naked and on display from the waist down. As she placed her feet up on the dashboard, the bright summer sun lit her up, with all her details out for examination. My amazing wife was out to play.

The view of her split—oh my. Her pink bloom inside her white skin was a view that could move mountains. She glistened.

My fingers went to work while I drove. Her pussy was so hot—so wet you’d have thought she slathered lube on just before we left. Her knees were wide open in her seat, with one leg now lying across the console. I enjoyed my search, and she began to hum.

I gently parted her, my finger tips sliding up and down, top to bottom, playing.

I pressed in, slipping over her inner lips, following her open cunny. I wet my fingers even more inside her. She was so wet and buzzing. My finger slid in like it was being gently sucked into her. My fingers tasted her inside, taking in her slick, wet smoothness.

Then it was time to find her—that place where everything about her comes to a point. Her clit was hard and wet from my play. She sucked in her breath, then fell silent. My fingers started rolling, circling, moving slowly.

“Ahhhh,” she sighed.

Her clitoris was tasting me. We both savored it all. She slightly angled out toward me, the position of her hips hinting that her pussy wanted some petting. She purred.

We kept driving. We were all alone in our lane, but there was traffic coming at us. Not hugely consistent, but enough. But it was all small cares, so one could see from that angle.

Her face was turned toward her window. Her breathing was mixed with ohhhs and aggressive humming. She sounded close.

“Don’t tense up,” I told her.

She immediately looked at me, then looked down at my hand at her pussy. My request gave her a momentary pause in the action, but she didn’t close up shop. The pause was not anything of a real stop.

She exclaimed, “What? Why?”

She kept staring down at her pussy, just watching it being manipulated by my fingers. Between panting, her chest rose and caved. Three fingers kept swirling around her clit. She couldn’t concentrate to argue.

“Don’t clench up,” I said. “Relax your muscles just like you’re going to pee.” She got a panicked look of on her face that seemed to say, “Why!?” But she still did as I asked. 

She closed her eyes and got a blank look on her face. She was concentrating on relaxing. Then her expression shifted, as if to say, “Oh, wow…”

A big “Ohhhh” jumped out from her mouth, and she now knew why I made my request. I never let up any tension, but now relaxing met sensation. She spread her feet apart as far as they would go across the dash as she opened her thighs wider and relaxed her genitals and pelvic floor muscles. Her head went back into the seat, with a tense “Ahhh.”

She couldn’t clench up and make herself cum. She had to ride her sensations until they alone took her over the edge. No pelvic floor muscles, only the prickly tension and tickling sensations of tingling nerve endings. It was like taking sight away and putting all focus on hearing.

Her pussy started to sting with tickling tingles. Without muscle contraction, the tingles were heightened. She was panting, heaving, shuddering. Moans and panting came from her voice. She fought not to give in. Her breathing became longer. She consciously kept from contracting her orgasm muscles. She went crazy. She would buck, using leg and butt muscles, convulsing before she came. It was a beautiful contrast involving every muscle, with everything but her Kegels (her pelvic floor muscles) tense. She tried to relax, but was tense with the effort of trying not to cum, struggling because the sensation was so great.

I sped up my revolutions on her clit.

I was well into a finishing rhythm when a semi truck appeared, maybe a hundred yards away, pulling onto the road and coming toward us.

I broke my silence. “There’s a semi up a little bit that just turned our way.” I did not remove my hand. I kept my quickened pace, playing all over her blooming petals. She was too open, too beautiful in my hand to stop now. My wife said nothing. She hissed out a few more deep, long breaths as my fingers quickly changed direction, now sliding from side to side rapidly and vigorously between her legs.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked

“I don’t care,” was all she could gasp.

You could hear my hand and her pussy lips making wet smacking sounds inside the vehicle. I moved my hand faster, now using my forearm with a stiff hand.

“Ohhh, yeah,” she moaned as she pushed herself up on her elbows, arching up in the seat. She wanted so badly to tighten up and make herself cum. As she watched herself react to my hand, struggling to relax, it was to no avail. It was cumming.

My wife had a vice grip on the door on one side and my upper arm on the other.

The truck got closer. I knew that in our minivan, we were in an open line of sight, and nothing would obstruct the view straight in to see our activity.

I instantly stopped my vigorous play and intently pressed hard on her ignition, putting hard—but not painful—pressure on her tingling clit.

I watched the truck driver as the semi drove by. My wife was in full view: legs spread, feet in the window, my fingers playing the fiend!

My wife let a series of moans and went into a shuddering shock! Wave after wave crashed over her with orgasmic violence! The flesh of her thighs and calves quivered. She constricted her breath as it escaped her. She whispered a heavy, shaking, “Oh-h-h-h” as she came. Her arms came up in front of her and froze in the air. She stiffened and bore down on her orgasm, jerking in rhythm. She let out several percussive Ohhs and Ahhs. With each spasm, she closed her knees a little more. Finally, she clamped her legs closed around my hand. She jolted as the orgasm mounted her & drove her through a fit. She rode it out, then finally collapsed, exhausted.

As she lay there and put her feet down, I withdrew my hand.

She had rode that orgasm hard, and lay there wet and exhausted. She stayed half naked as she recovered.

She gasped in disbelief, “Did you see when my arms were up in the air?”

“I did, ” I said.

“I guess I blacked out for a moment, and then they were like that. I don’t remember lifting them there. I guess I really lost control!”

When she recovered, she sat back up and put her skirt down.

Later, as we continued with our trip, I asked her, “About what happened when the truck was headed toward us… When I asked what should I do, what did you mean when you said, ‘I don’t care?’ Were you saying you didn’t care what I did? Stop, or keep going—it didn’t matter to you?”

She plainly said, “I was cumming.”

At that moment, she didn’t care what was going on. She was cumming, and she was not stopping that for anyone.