This deliciously hot erotic story is written and read by Tabitha Rayne. Note: in fantasy we can do things we wouldn’t in real life. Combining driving and sex is one of them. This is a dangerous activity and you should not do it . Obviously do wank about it though because this story is hot as hell.
He thinks we don’t do it enough. And by it, you know I mean sex. Bonking. Shagging. The glue that sets our relationship apart from all the other relationships in our lives. It’s true. We don’t. He might think we don’t, but I know we don’t. You know how it goes, a houseful of kids, pets, oldies, responsibilities, by the time we flop exhausted on to the sofa, barely enough energy to agree on a boxset, we’re fucked. And not in a good way.
So once every two months, I book us a very expensive room in a very expensive hotel. A different one every time. Some are sexier than others, but ALL are sexier than our own shabby messy bedroom, which is certainly not conducive to seduction in any form. How we ended up with all these damn kids is anyone’s guess.
So it’s time.
I squeeze his thigh as we tear up the motorway, cruise control on to allow for a digit dalliance to his growing dick. God, he has the perfect cock. Always has. A woman can go mad for a perfect cock. He’s wearing the grey jeans and cashmere jumper I got him, I know he’d prefer trackies and trainers but this time we’ve really pushed the boat out and picked a spa out of town. He’s got no idea that I’ve booked a massage for the room. The thought of another woman’s hands raking over his body has me shifting in my seat. We’re monogamous which can lead to certain… frustrations… A girl can dream though. Perhaps I should book a burly young thing to massage my back too. A palm slipping below the towel… a finger delving just that little bit too far.
He squeals and I realise I’ve squeezed his thigh a bit too hard and a bit too near his balls for his liking.
“Sorry,” I say, glancing at him in the rearview mirror just in time to catch a filthy smirk flash across his face. I shuffle my fingers deeper into his crotch urging him to spread himself a little more. “Let me rub it better,” I say and he tips his pelvis up in acquiescence.
He breathes out long and low then inhales sharply. “Fuck.” he says and I brace my hand onto the dash just as he slams the brake hard and we’re thrown forward. “Shit, that was close. You OK?”
My heart is thrashing and we’re literally a baw hair away from the car in front. A line of traffic snakes ahead, barely moving.
“Fuck.” This is going to put a delay to our afternoon plans. I check the time of the massage, damn, it’s going to be tight. The adrenaline is still coursing through me at the near miss and I’m all keyed up and panting. He’s breathing heavily too and we smile at each other, big naughty grins with a glint in our eye to match and my heart adds an extra flutter into its panicked rhythm.
“Imagine if we’d died?” I say, in my usual fucking inappropriate way.
“I really don’t want to.” He says and I’m instantly sorry.
“That was hot,” I say, bringing us back to the here and now. “You’ve got the reflexes of a sexy cat.”
“Sexy cat, eh?”
The ride is painfully slow and I’m increasingly frustrated, I bite at my inner cheek and catch myself frowning in the vanity mirror. Unknitting my eyebrows and trying for a sexier look, I glance over to look at his pretty mouth. Always loved those thick kissable lips. Juicy and moist like a woman’s with eyelashes you’d pay for, he’s a naturally blessed specimen and he’s mine – all mine. This odd thought of ownership has my arousal growing, or is it the near death adrenaline still racing though my blood hitting my loins and turning to lust, whatever it is, I have the sudden urge to suck his dick. My mouth twitches into a smile and it’s as if he can sense it.
“What are you thinking about?” he says, knowing fine well. He cants his hips, the leather of the seat creaking and his growing dick tenting his jeans.
My mouth is watering hard, I’m practically drooling. I glance around to check if anyone in the other cars might see us, which of course they might if they weren’t thoroughly involved in their own lives and worlds. I’m glad to see ours seems to be the highest vehicle so not much chance of anyone looking in and the traffic is slow enough that we’d see a lorry with a higher cab before it got close enough. As I lower my head towards his crotch, part of me is disappointed.
He groans as I fumble with his flies, the angle making it hard to undo the top button so I just drag his cock out of the zipper and inhale the musky arousal that drives me fucking wild. My pussy is clutching and I rub my thighs tight together to add in some extra friction as the tip of my tongue reaches his silky slit, already shining with precum. The salty metallic taste as I slip the very tip into the dip has me actually dripping saliva out of my mouth. He groans again and takes one hand off the wheel, fisting it into my hair and shoves my head hard onto his dick.
He knows I love it, I told him once I wanted him to throat fuck me and he was so hesitant I had to pin him down and launch my mouth over his cock, stretching and pushing until he slipped past all my natural resistance and couldn’t do anything else but grab my head and force me even deeper. I can’t even express what it felt like to own and be owned in the most animalistic visceral way. It left me wrung out and raw for days, my mind spinning off to the image and my cunt clamping down in delight whenever the sensation popped back into my mind. It’s an amazing thing, having a physical memory of something. Being able to conjure the feeling of choking and gagging, mucus and tears streaming down my face and down his shaft, mingling with his thick dark curls.
I’m pulled out of my reverie with the actual reality of my husband holding my hair wrapped tight in his fist, hovering my lips over his straining dick. He’s teasing me as much as himself, edging us both and my spit is pouring from my mouth, getting him good and lubed up for the invasion.
His thigh twitches as he adjusts from brake to accelerator and back again. We’re going at a snail’s pace and he’s even more nervous at this speed than if we were going at ninety.
“Let me fucking on you.” I hiss and the way I’ve spoken does the trick. He takes his time though, the bastard. I want rammed on but he does it with excruciating slowness, but pinpoint accuracy. I sheath my teeth with my lips and open wide, taking the head of his shining dick into my mouth where I swirl my tongue around the smooth tight skin, gently biting and squeezing to feel the spongy yet firm resistance that has my clit tingling and pussy clutching around itself in excitement.
Oh my god. He presses my head and my mouth is full. I grip around the base of his cock, I’m brave, but not that brave, a little cushioning just to be sure before I do the great unhinging as I think of it, like a cobra. His dick hits the back of my throat and I start to gag, more saliva, and he adjusts slightly. Fearful of choking me I know, but fucking loving it at the same time.
Oh yes, here we go, he’s gone now. I love thinking of him in that feral place where he can’t believe the base levels of fuck he’s capable of. It drives me fucking wild and he does it.
He pushes me, I resist, my throat closing over but he powers on, his fist releasing my hair and going to the base of my skull, pressing, pushing. I gag again—mainly for show to be honest. I push back so I can take a big inhalation through my nose then relax over my husband’s cock, groaning as I flatten out my tongue and open wider.
This is the hardest bit, but just give it a second longer than you think you can bear. I do, I’m about to choke, but he’s there. He breaches the tightest point, I gag again but it’s suppressed by the tight fit of his dick and he surges on. He presses me down while pushing his pelvis up, I’m bracing myself in the most awkward position, elbow on his knee and hand still wrapping his root, the other around the back of his seat.
Steering wheel and gearstick take turns to jostle me. The suction is happening. I slowly start to bob. He knows what to do—keep me deep—but pull up just enough to allow air out of my nose. We don’t have long like this. I want him to come, want to feel the sweet surge and release of my man’s seed right down my slutty gullet, but he might want to save himself for later. At this point I don’t care, I’m grinding my hips, trying to get friction on my swollen clit, tensing and clutching my cunt which seems to be in direct contact with my throat, contracting, twitching, spasming in unison. I’m starting to shudder, peripheral vision tunnelling as I’m reaching the peak. The brink of my tolerance and incredibly, my clit has hit the perfect spot on the seam of my lace panties, jilling myself off. I let go of his dick and fumble to reach up my skirt.
He’s noticed, takes his hand from the back of my head allowing me a moment to catch my breath. I slide up just enough to fill my lungs with air and vision with blood, the pulsing and beating continues and his hand savagely reaches up my skirt from behind. I’ve mange to get to a position where my rump is exposed just enough to allow it and fuck, I’m screaming with my whole being for him to push his fingers inside me.
As I force my head down, throat opening, he roughly pushes two thick digits into my sopping cunt, forcing my knickers aside, or even inside I can’t tell. Whatever’s happening, it’s dragging the fabric over my clit, roughly building the friction I need and I close my throat again, clamping around his dick while my nose nuzzles the hair at the root of his cock. I’m connected to his body at each end. The surge begins from my core, emanating to my pussy and throat, the pleasure unites, and I’m building, cresting, surging and his dick swells. That beautiful thick and glorious gulp before the release, and I’m hanging on the brink—suspended, floating in nothing… until…
Whoosh, everything comes back into focus. The sensation of the weight of his arm on my back, holding me as he finger fucks me, spreading my ass apart. The noise of my wet pussy sucking and squelching just as my mouth is. Oh fuck. Raw, guttural sounds roar from my throat and I wish I could see the sinews and muscles of his forearm as he ploughs me with one hand, the other gripping the steering wheel as tight as I’m gripping his fat dick, milking it, devouring it, his thick spunk right down into my belly. And all the while I’m coming. The aftershocks keep pulsing again and again, leaving me a sopping shuddering wrecked mess.
His dick softens enough for me to splutter it out of my throat and I breathe hard through my nose, constricted by mucus and spunk. I roll his now soft fleshy morsel around in my warm wet mouth while he lazily fishes around in my still-clutching wet cunt. It’s somehow even filthier than what we’ve just done and I start to softly giggle into his crotch.
I lift my head off his dick and grin as our eyes meet briefly before I look in the vanity mirror at the state of myself. Mascara is streaming down my cheeks leaving streaks through my beautifully applied holiday make up.
We’ve not even arrived, but already, I’ve put the ho in hotel.
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