Tuesday, January 04, 2005
You know how much I enjoy being in your arms, feeling you inside me. And I don't think you mind it at all either, because you indulge my desire as often as you can. Today, you hold me as I bury my face in the spot where your neck and shoulder come together, breathing in your scent, feeling you inside me and your arms so tight around me. We stay like this for a second, or an hour. I can no longer tell how much time has elapsed, I am so caught up in you. The way you smell, the feeling of your breath on my cheek, your arms surrounding me.
But you are, as always, aware of everything that is going on around us, including the passage of time. You lift me off your cock, moving me back to the passenger seat. "We have to get going," you say. "The rental place will be closing soon."
I think about protesting - why would I need a car if we are together? But you want me to have a car, so a car I will have. I may not understand it, but you never require anything of me without a good reason, so I'm not about to start questioning you now.
You drop me off at the agency, keeping the suitcase and my blazer with you in the truck. I am to rent a car, making certain to leave an impression at the rental place, and meet you in an hour. You kiss me on the forehead, hand me my purse and leave.
I walk in to the rental agency and approach the counter. I have a reservation, and I have used this particular rental company before, so it should be smooth sailing. Or so you might think. It is going to be one of those days, I'm afraid.
They don't have the car I reserved, so they are going to upgrade me. Now, the last time I got an upgrade from these people, they gave me a bright red station wagon instead of the nice, quiet blue coupe I requested. Hard to blend in when they hand you the key to the ugliest car on the lot. But I am hoping for something better this time around. I lean over the counter, forgetting that you have been in the same vehicle as my blouse, and that it is therefore unbuttoned most of the way to my navel.
The girl behind the counter can't be much more than twenty-one, and probably wouldn't be allowed to rent one of the cars she is responsible for as part of her job. But she smiles at me, and offers me the car of my dreams... a Mustang convertible. I jump at the offer, and she comes around the counter to give me the key. Haven't had that kind of service before, but who am I to complain? She's very helpful, standing over my shoulder as I fill out the rental agreement, giving me a discount because they didn't have the car I wanted, even though the one I'm getting is a better car. She's a doll. And when they call her to let her know that the car is ready, she shakes my hand, holding it just a moment longer than necessary.
As I walk to the parking lot, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window and feel my face start to burn. Too late to do anything about it now, but in all the excitement of seeing you I had not only neglected to rebutton my blouse, I had forgotten that I was wearing a skirt a girl half my height would have considered short.
But you are, as always, aware of everything that is going on around us, including the passage of time. You lift me off your cock, moving me back to the passenger seat. "We have to get going," you say. "The rental place will be closing soon."
I think about protesting - why would I need a car if we are together? But you want me to have a car, so a car I will have. I may not understand it, but you never require anything of me without a good reason, so I'm not about to start questioning you now.
You drop me off at the agency, keeping the suitcase and my blazer with you in the truck. I am to rent a car, making certain to leave an impression at the rental place, and meet you in an hour. You kiss me on the forehead, hand me my purse and leave.
I walk in to the rental agency and approach the counter. I have a reservation, and I have used this particular rental company before, so it should be smooth sailing. Or so you might think. It is going to be one of those days, I'm afraid.
They don't have the car I reserved, so they are going to upgrade me. Now, the last time I got an upgrade from these people, they gave me a bright red station wagon instead of the nice, quiet blue coupe I requested. Hard to blend in when they hand you the key to the ugliest car on the lot. But I am hoping for something better this time around. I lean over the counter, forgetting that you have been in the same vehicle as my blouse, and that it is therefore unbuttoned most of the way to my navel.
The girl behind the counter can't be much more than twenty-one, and probably wouldn't be allowed to rent one of the cars she is responsible for as part of her job. But she smiles at me, and offers me the car of my dreams... a Mustang convertible. I jump at the offer, and she comes around the counter to give me the key. Haven't had that kind of service before, but who am I to complain? She's very helpful, standing over my shoulder as I fill out the rental agreement, giving me a discount because they didn't have the car I wanted, even though the one I'm getting is a better car. She's a doll. And when they call her to let her know that the car is ready, she shakes my hand, holding it just a moment longer than necessary.
As I walk to the parking lot, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window and feel my face start to burn. Too late to do anything about it now, but in all the excitement of seeing you I had not only neglected to rebutton my blouse, I had forgotten that I was wearing a skirt a girl half my height would have considered short.
