High Desert Hijinks: The drive up

There were benefits in achieving Empty Nester status.  The ability to be in any level of undress, in any room of the house, at any time they wished, had created a never-ending array of opportunities to amp up a sex life that had already been good for years. 

“The best level to attain,” he used to whisper to her as he glided his tongue from her neck to her nipple, “is always the next one.”

An empty house and renewed focus on pleasing each other sexually, in new and different ways, helped them find that next level. 

When both adult children married and negotiations with the new in-laws included splitting holidays, the tradition of the two of them spending Thanksgiving alone in Santa Fe created opportunities to expand those possibilities to new locations and even more variations of sexual exploration.  As soon as the fall semester began in late August, he began looking forward to the trip every year.  By the time November rolled around, he found it hard to focus on teaching his classes.  His thoughts had turned to creating a new history rather than teaching the old one.  

By early Saturday morning, while he was loading the back of the Volvo wagon with luggage, he’d already planned out the scenarios for the first and second days they’d be away.  The small antique train case was the first item to be loaded to be sure it wasn’t left behind.  The toys contained therein were key to Day One.

As she joined him in the driveway, ready for departure, he opened the door for her but stopped before she could slip into the cabin of the car. 

“Go back in,” he told her.  “Take off your bra and panties, fold them, and put them in your purse.  You won’t be needing them for the drive to New Mexico.”  

They were equal partners in their marriage and always had been.  Her opinions were valued and sought after, and her wishes were always considered and usually prioritized.  Theirs had always been a 50/50 partnership.  However, they had reached an agreement years earlier that, when it came to sex, he would be the one that was in control.  Her surrender to him was a gift she had willingly given, and he had never provided her a reason to regret she had.  She went back into the house and came back a moment later, this time with her purse a little more swollen—just like the lips of her pussy.

The first hour or two of driving was mostly casual conversation and soothing music.  Only occasionally would his fingers brush her nipples, sometimes gently tugging at one, then the other, through her sweater.  He knew the effect this would have on his wife, and therefore, him as well. 

Two hours in, he told her to part her legs and hike up her skirt.  The talk turned to past favorite escapades they each remembered fondly.  When he reached down and slid a finger between the plump outer lips of her pussy and then the thin ones tucked inside, he was rewarded with a generous coating of cream.  He lingered there a moment and then held it up to her mouth and told her to lick it clean. 

Of course, she willingly obliged. 

The next trip to the honey trough was just for his own enjoyment and he made sure his fingers were well soaked with her juices for his own tasting.  The involuntary movement of her hips let him know the rest of the drive would go just as he had planned. 

Lightly stroking her clit brought her to the edge quickly, but the edge is right where he wanted her to stay.  When he felt she might be getting too close, he withdrew his fingers. 

“Not yet, Babygirl,” he told her.  She loved the disappointment.

There was not another car to be seen ahead of them for miles on the two-lane desert highway and nothing in the rearview mirror as far back as he could see.  The scenery stretched out on either side of the rolling blacktop for what must have been twenty miles in every direction.  He reached down with one hand still on the wheel, unbuckled the worn leather belt on his Levis, and slowly unbuttoned each of the five silver buttons on his fly.  Nothing was said.  It didn’t have to be.

She reached over and let her fingers follow the thick, trimmed hair from his navel down to his boxers and took her time reaching in to release his cock from cotton bondage.  As she held the length of it, she used her other hand to reach in and gently lift his balls free as well.  He had freshly shaved them that morning and she loved the way his full, smooth-skinned ballsack felt in her hand.  She gently tugged them all the way out, rested them on the waistband of his boxers, and turned her attention to his cock.

“How long have you been this hard?” she asked him.

“Fifty miles.”

Grabbing him firmly by the base, she encircled the full circumference of his manhood—or tried to.  The tips of her fingers weren’t quite able to touch due to his girth.  But it was enough for her to slowly, with just enough pressure, pull her full fist towards the head and see a thick round bead of clear pre-cum present itself from the slit atop his cock.  She took the forefinger of her right hand and spread the secretion all over the throbbing, purplish head, making it shine in the sunlight. Not giving it a chance to dry, she bent down and licked it clean.

“Stroke me,” he told her.

She knew just how.  Long, slow strokes with just the right grip.  He kept his eyes mainly on the road but could not help but glance down and enjoy the sight of his wife’s fingers wrapped around the girth of his manhood, the red polish on her nails contrasting with the veiny flesh. 

“Do you want me to suck you?”

“No.  Not now.  You will later,” he told her.  “Right now, I want you to lift your skirt all the way up or slide it all the way down, whichever is easier.  Then spread your legs.  Wide.  Don’t stop stroking me while you do as you’re told.”

A minute later, the skirt was in a heap on the floorboard.  Her legs were spread as far as the cockpit of the Volvo would allow. 

“Next time, we’re getting something with a bench seat,” he told her.  He glanced over and saw the deep-pink, thin inner lips of her pussy, swollen and poking out of the smooth, larger outer lips, everything coated with a thick icing of anticipation.

“Stroke yourself with the exact same movement and intensity you’re stroking me.  Slowly.  I want to hear you.  I want to see you.”

He watched her stroke his cock with one hand while the fingers of her other hand parted the lips of her pussy and spread the nectar from within all over the outside.  He noticed the speedometer read almost 90 MPH, where his leg had stiffened, pushing the accelerator further than he’d intended.  He reached up and set the cruise control to just over the speed limit and watched his wife push herself to her own limit while making the strokes she gave herself match those she was giving him.

There was another accumulation of pre-cum covering the helmet-like head of his cock, and he knew he was probably close. 

“Two fingers,” he said.  “Slide two fingers in and make yourself cum.”

She threw her head back against the headrest as her hips bucked wildly.  The grip of her hand on his cock told him she was close.  The way her hand sped up as she jerked him made him almost fear he would blow his load on the steering wheel, which was NOT part of his plan.

As he was about to reach down and grab her wrist, she withdrew her hand from his shaft, using it to rub her clit furiously while whimpering words of pleasure that included expressions she’d never use if she wasn’t having an orgasm.

There was a small slippery pool of cream on the leather seat below her as she collapsed at the end of the final quake of her now satisfied body.

“Let me make you cum,” she pleaded.

“You will,” he told her.  “Repeatedly over the next five days.  In more ways than you can imagine.”  The entire cabin of the car seemed to be consumed with the musky scent of his satisfied wife, making his next planned move even more challenging.

He somehow managed to wrestle his erection back into his boxers and fight to get his jeans back up over most of the length of it, only the thick slippery head poking out above the leather belt.  He took the car off cruise control, slid his fingers over his wife’s wet, bare mound, and grinned, knowing just how big the size of his load was going to be when it would finally be released in front of the fireplace of their hotel room once they checked in.  Some things are just worth the wait.