Perhaps

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Amateur

My morning commute is usually a time for reflection, appreciation, listening to music and fantasy. It is a route so familiar that I can put one small part of my mind on autopilot to drive the car while the rest of my mind enjoys its reveries.

Since the road has been improved, there is more traffic. Over the months I have begun to identify at least a few regulars whom I often see making the commute at the same time of morning. I wonder about their lives and the jobs they are going to. There is the dour-faced older man driving a Prius at exactly the speed limit, often to the irritation of the more impatient commuters. I have him pegged as an accountant. The tradesmen and construction workers are recognizable by their trucks and tools, others by their uniforms. Then there is the woman in the blue Honda Civic I have come to think of as HER.

Not often, but often enough that we recognize each other, we pass on that road. Sometimes she passes me, at other times I am the one passing her. She is attractive enough to engage my attention, with the ageless kind of beauty that will change little with the passage of years. I wonder about her. The day always seems to go better when I have seen her, and I feel cheated when I don’t. Crazy really, wanting to flirt with a complete stranger that I might see for a few seconds once or twice a month.

The ice had been broken a few months earlier, when I was singing along with more than my usual abandon to one of my then favorites, Chris Brown’s Forever. This was one of those days when I passed her, and with a quarter mile of empty straight road ahead I drew along side, pacing her, and mimed singing into an imaginary microphone:

It’s like I waited my whole life for this one night
It’s gonna be me, you and the dance floor
’cause we only got one night
Double your pleasure, double your fun
And dance forever.

I was rewarded with a broad smile and a blown kiss before she dropped back so quickly I couldn’t be sure if I had imagined her reaction. From then on, there would be a smile or a wave whenever we shared the road.

It’s yet another beautiful morning, and I consider again how blessed I am to have to make this commute several days each week. My drive climbs over the saddle between two mountains, through some of the most spectacular scenery on this island. The sky is mostly clear, the rising sun casts gold on the mountain tops still flecked with snow from the last winter storm, and a few fluffy clouds ring the base of one as escort eryaman a petticoat.

Coming around a corner I see approximately 200 yards ahead a car pulling off to the side of the road, the left rear tire flapping with an obvious flat. As I near, my heart starts pounding as I recognize the blue Civic. It’s HER! She is getting out of car as I pull in behind her, I see what I have only imagined and fantasized these last months, and what I see does not disappoint. The white cotton sun-dress falls just below her knees, clings to her curves, and is thin enough to reveal that she is bra-less, wearing only a thong beneath the dress. Her body is perfectly proportioned, with firm breasts, narrow waist, tight ass and what appear to be well-toned long legs, the body of an athlete. I want to enjoy the moment, imagining my hands slipping beneath the dress and running up her thighs, but I have to push the thought out of my mind lest I get out of my car with an obvious boner.

“You must let me help you, you’re not dressed to change a tire” I offer.

At first apprehensive as I walk towards her, she laughs as she recognizes me from other mornings on the road. “You’re right, I wouldn’t want this to get dirty.” Her voice is deeper and huskier than I would have imagined, and for a moment I begin to fantasize about telephone sex with such a voice at the other end. My body gives a tiny involuntary shudder of pleasure at the thought. “Let me open the trunk.”

She opens the trunk, and reaches deep inside to rearrange some items inside. I can almost convince myself that she is deliberately taking her time, giving me permission to enjoy the view of her fine ass as she bends over and the backs of her shapely legs and thighs as the dress rides up in back. I can barely breathe. Now my boner is insistent and isn’t going away, and I take advantage of her momentary distraction to “rearrange” myself so that my arousal is less obvious!

“Now you can get at the spare.” I am thankful for the distraction from the erotic fantasies that crowd my mind, stimulated by her physique, voice and, now that I am close to her, her perfume.

The task of changing the tire goes quickly, accompanied by introductions and small talk, and the admissions that we had both taken note of each other on other mornings during the past months. She is relaxed and engaging, easy to talk to and there is clearly a flirtatious quality to our interaction. Music is still playing on the car stereo in my vehicle, “what station is ankara escort that?”

“It’s not the radio” I explain, “it’s my iPod patched into the car stereo. I listen to a lot of nuevo-tango, that’s Tanghetto, one of my favorite groups.”

She listens more intently while I stow the flat tire and tools.

“It sounds like great fuck music.”

She is right of course, a perfect tempo, a hard driving beat, music that is often lyrical and always sensual. Nonetheless, I am blown away by the comment and can barely stutter the words “you got that right.”

She steps close to me, her hand caressing my groin, “let’s get a little further off the road.”

I grab her hand and practically push her into the passenger seat of my vehicle. A track from the turn out leads a couple of hundred feet behind a copse of trees where we will be hidden from the road. I get out and hurry around to the side to open her door and give her my hand. She smiles up at me with a mischievous and knowing grin and rejects my hand, instead quickly unzipping me and releasing my throbbing erection. Still sitting half in the car she licks my hard cock and then swallows me.

“Not yet, that’s way too exciting. I want this to last.” I pull away and encourage her to step out of the car and around to the rear.

I turn her away from me, and press my hardness against her firm ass. I kiss the back and sides of her neck while my hands reach beneath the hem of her dress, slide up over her taut thighs, over her hips and belly finally to cup her breasts, kneading them softly. I leave one hand stroking her breasts, while my other hand slips back down to reach to her already wet pussy. She groans softly, grinding her hips against my groin, and her clit against my hand. She turns her upper body far enough that our lips can join in a demanding kiss, tongues reaching hungrily for each other.

She turns away from me again, hooking her thumbs into the thong and dropping it to the floor. My hands explore every inch of the curves of her body that I can reach, alternately caressing her breasts, stroking her thighs and hips, spreading her pussy lips, vigorously rubbing her engorged clit and pushing fingers deep inside her juicy core. I bring my fingers to my lips to taste her excitement, then offer them to her to suck on. My hard cock rides against her ass as she grinds against me.

I take one of her hands and invite it to join mine at her clit, knowing full well that she knows what feels best to her, elvakent escort and the natural rhythms of her arousal. My fingers entwine with hers and follow her lead in caressing her clit and exploring her pussy.

“I want you in me.” She bends over, resting her upper torso on one arm on the trunk of the car. As I enter her from behind, plunging deep, she utters an involuntary squeal, grabs my balls tightly with her other hand as if to pull me in to her and grinds her ass against my groin. For a moment we strain against each other, finding the depths of my penetration within her hot pussy.

“I want to feel you cum first” I whisper breathlessly. I take her hand and return it to her clit where it finds its tempo in time to the music that is still playing. Her hips play in circles, enjoying my hard cock within her. When her panting and moaning tell me of her rising excitement, I begin to pump her. Slowly at first, small strokes, but increasing in depth and tempo. I am aware that she is close to climax and give three long hard thrusts, pulling her roughly towards me, and pushing deep within. She pushes hard again me and then shudders. The contractions of her pussy round my cock are almost enough to send me over the edge, but I am able to enjoy every moment of her orgasm. When the last wave has passed through her body, I start pumping again, this time slower and more deliberate, long strokes almost out and then as deep within as possible. As my arousal peaks to the point of being almost unbearable I slow, enjoying the intensity of the moment.

I can hold back now longer and she knows it. We both savor the last stroke as I penetrate deep within. As the first spurt of my orgasm explodes within her, she tightens every muscle in her pussy, gripping me tightly. The intensity of my orgasm is immediately increased 10-fold and I can barely stand up as I convulse in ecstasy. We are both trembling as my orgasm dissipates. Finally I must pull out before we both fall to the ground.

She turns toward me and leans back against the car. As she does so I drop to my knees in front of her and bury my face between her thighs licking at the juices, hers and mine. I stand, and kiss her deeply, sharing the taste of our sexual encounter.

We both know implicitly that words can only spoil the magic and unbelievable sexual intensity of this improbably moment, so we are silent as we dress and return to her car.

Before getting back into her car, she turns to me and gently strokes my cheek. “Perhaps . . .” is all she says.

“Perhaps . . .” I agree.

I never saw her again. Perhaps . . . . perhaps she was a figment of my imagination . . . . perhaps she was an incarnation of a spirit that inhabits this magical place . . . . perhaps.

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