Raising up her skirt
Raising up her skirt
I was walking south from Fremont Street, Las Vegas, in the hot, hot sun. It was mid-afternoon, and about 90F by my estimation. The reason I was walking is because I blew my every penny at the craps table in the casinos. I did not even have enough money for bus fare back to my hotel on the south end, let alone a taxi. So, I just walked and walked, the sun beating down on me. At least I had some water, so I would not collapse from dehydration during my long trek on foot.
There was not a car in sight for as far as my eyes could see. At least any that were headed my direction, anyway. I could see the heat rising off the highway, appearing as a mirage in the distance. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, dreaming of chugging a cold drink in my hotel room.
Then I heard something. It sounded like a faint hum coming from behind me. I slowly turned my neck, which was getting a bit raw from the exposure. I thought I might be hallucinating — there was a beautiful woman with blonde hair, sunglasses, and neck scarf sailing down the road in a convertible classic Mustang. She was moving at a fast clip, so I expected her to blow right by me.
I turned fully to watch her as she drove by. But then something unexpected happened: she pulled over to the shoulder ahead of me,
skidding and kicking up a pile of dust as she braked. When it cleared,
she was leaning casually against her car. It was like she drove straight out of the 1960's to rescue me.
“You look a bit lost,” she said, in a charming movie-star accent.
“I’m not lost, just broke,” I said. “I know where I’m going.”
“Perhaps I can get you there faster,” she offered. “What do you say, handsome?”
I shrugged my shoulders and opened the passenger door. She leaped back into the driver’s seat. I marveled at her long, silky legs protruding from her pleated skirt.
Her high-heeled foot slammed the gas pedal, and we shot back onto the roadway. She cycled through the gears as we gained speed — hitting 90 MPH, then 110. Any scenery had become a blur.
“Aren’t you afraid of State Troopers?” I asked this mysterious woman, gripping onto whatever I could to brace myself.
“State Troopers are afraid of me,” she laughed, throwing her head back. She was either insane, or amazing, or both.
We continued flying down the road at a remarkably high speed. Her white-gloved hand had moved discreetly from the gearshift onto my leg. It felt comforting, despite her reckless speeding.
Her hand slowly moved up my bare leg, towards the edge of my shorts. Her foot was still burying the gas pedal into the mat, and the speedometer continued to climb. She slid her soft fingers under the cuff of my shorts onto my growing bulge, teasing me through the fabric of my briefs.
Then she grabbed my hand and placed it on her thigh.
“Your turn,” she said.
It was a smooth ride for my palm up her leg towards the edge of her skirt. She guided me further toward her crotch, my hand now under her clothing. I reached the dampness of her panties, massaging her sex gently.
She closed her eyes in approval, and the car veered into the oncoming lanes. I yelled in panic, and she just laughed. Luckily, there were still no other vehicles in sight.
“Keep going,” she said over the roar of the car. I moved her panties aside with one hand and inserted a finger into her sopping vagina.
She moaned softly as I slid it in and out slowly. She had tilted her hips forward a bit to allow me easier access.
Then she raised her lower back and pelvis off the seat. “Take the wheel,” she laughed. She let go of it, and I had no choice but to grab it before we careened into a ditch at high speed.
As I tried my best to keep the car in our lane from the passenger seat, she slid off her skirt. Then she bit her lip naughtily as she rolled down her wet underwear, inviting me over to her with her eyes.
I knew I had to get into the driver’s seat soon, or we would end up rolling the car — or worse. But she was not about to move. So, I slid underneath her and grabbed the vintage steering wheel, my arms around her as she settled in my lap.
“Hi there, handsome,” she said, grinding her bare ass on my crotch, while kissing me lightly on the neck. The car moved from left to right as I tried to maintain a straight course. I stole a glance at her gorgeous, pear-shaped behind.
Neither of us was wearing a seatbelt — one wrong move, and we would be launched deep into the desert. I had to admit though — the extreme danger of the situation was making me extremely hard.
She lifted herself off me slightly, enough to reach underneath herself and find my shorts. She felt around and undid my zipper. She fished my cock out with one hand — it was so hard that it was uncomfortable to keep it inside.
With my excited dick now protruding freely, she lowered herself onto me, both of us facing forward in the cramped space. My eyed widened as my tip parted her lips, and then slid deep inside her. She braced a foot on each of my thighs, bouncing up and down on me now as I tried to control the car. Her heels were digging into my skin, threatening to break through the surface. It hurt, but it was overridden by pleasure.
I was trying to look around her while navigating the barren roadway.
She bucked frantically on my manhood, lifting her top to expose her beautiful breasts. A lone trucker drove by in the other direction, blasting a long horn to acknowledge what he saw. Viva Las Vegas!
I could see her naked tits bouncing in the rear-view mirror as we hurtled down the highway. She was up against the steering wheel, as there was not much space to work with. She suddenly let out a loud cry as she came, squeezing her own big breasts. It did not slow her down though — she kept fucking me as if her life depended on it.
That is when I heard the sirens.
There must have been about five cruisers in pursuit of us. I could see the familiar buildings of the Vegas strip approaching, meaning we were also getting closer to my hotel room.
“Don’t slow down for them,” she demanded, as she lifted herself off me and turned around. Now she was facing me, my shaft firmly back inside her tight tunnel. She had flipped up her sunglasses to reveal her deep blue eyes, worthy of a Hollywood studio.
She flipped a middle finger to the cops chasing us as she continued to ride me. I could feel her body shuddering with pleasure.
The cops were almost on us, although we were doing about 120 MPH by now. I could hear yelling them over the loudspeaker for us to pull over and surrender.
I was feeling around for the brake, but I was also close to erupting. I took a moment to lose myself in my orgasm, firing my load deep inside my mysterious lover. The car veered all over the road while she laughed and cheered.
One of the cops got ahead of us and slammed on their brakes. I followed suit, holding on hand to the woman to keep her from ejecting. We ended up skidding off the road, narrowly missing a sign.
I could hear the sounds of police in foot pursuit as we ran together through the smokescreen we had created.
I tried to get my dripping dick back into my shorts as my lover ran unabashedly bare-assed. She seemed to love every second of this adventure.
“This is where you get away,” she said.
She let go of my hand, running in the opposite direction and disappearing into a cloud of dust still hanging in the air. The cops all followed her instead of me, giving me a chance to run back to the car.
I got back in and hit the gas, fishtailing onto the hot pavement.
The cops were slow to get back into their vehicles, so I put some distance between us. I pulled over when I was at the edge of the main strip. I made a run for it into the nearest building, leaving the car humming at the side of the road.
People inside looked at me strangely, and I realized my zipper was still hanging open. I did it up quickly and headed to the restroom, then slipped out the back door and out of sight from the police who were approaching the building. From here I casually returned to my hotel room on foot, feeling exhilarated.
I flopped down on my double bed after drinking about a gallon of water. I was about to settle into a nap, when I heard a light knocking on the door.
“I didn’t order room service,” I shouted, annoyed and exhausted.
“It’s me,” I heard the sexy voice say. It was the voice of the mysterious woman. I opened the door, and she ran in, her discarded skirt from the abandoned car somehow back on her body.
“Who… who are you?” I asked her squarely.
“You mean when you are,” she winked, flipping up her sunglasses.
“Anyways, plenty of time to explain later over dinner. Right now, I’m parched. Is there a bar in this joint?”