On a road somewhere between here and there, where sky and land seem to meet, and the sun is not a big yellow ball of light, but instead just a glow from beyond, you notice me. You are driving and I am riding shotgun with my bare feet on the dash, allowing a damp breeze to ease my cotton dress up my thighs. You glance over periodically noticing thick and dewy flesh. My fingers resting somewhere between knees and breasts, moving up and down occasionally, I convince you I am water and you are thirsty.
Your eyes ramble over the length of my body, from toes to knees, knees to breasts, and so on. You wipe your brow with a filthy napkin and steer with the other hand. You don’t want to loose control of the wheel, which is understandable. The desert is no place to loose control. No place at all.
Your hands rest on the wheel with fingers tapping languidly to some tune in your head. You glance over again and notice my hand hidden beneath the fabric, and suddenly you become interested in what is on the radio. With one hand you steer and with the other you turn dials. Nothing is on the radio in the desert. Not even the weather.
You return tapping fingers to steering wheel.
“Nothing’s on the radio,” you say, with hazel eyes sneaking around your face to mine.
“That’s a shame,” I casually reply, fanning my wet flesh with the other hand.
Faraway glow bows and evening rises and the cool breeze still rustles beneath the fabric of my dress.
“I should turn on the headlights,” you say, speaking just to be polite.
“Yeah, it’s getting dark,” I say, returning the favor.
You turn on headlights and a dim light illuminates the interior. You still see my hands and I watch your fingers.
“So, you come to many of these?” You ask, probably knowing the answer. We’ve worked together for two years in the same department. You’ve never noticed me until now.
“No…this is my first trip to Las Vegas. I usually travel to our other offices in Seattle.”
You nod your head as if realizing why you’d never noticed me. I smile to myself in a dark corner of my mind. I adjust my feet for leverage and your eyes pray they stay planted on the dash.
“Do you travel here often?” I ask, breaking restless silence.
“Yeah, once a month or so,” you say, watching my hand wiggle beneath the flimsy piece of cotton.
“I see.”
You swallow hard. You’re thirsty.
“How…much… longer… do we have?” I ask, in between breaths.
You look at the clock on the dash, but not before you allow your eyes to lick my knees.
“We have about an hour left,” you say, with bated breath.
“Mmmmm. That’s all?” I ask, resting the other hand on my knee.
You glance at me with curious eyes.
“Why?” You ask with eyes and lips.
“No reason,” I say, other hand disappearing between shaking thighs.
You turn on the air conditioner with windows still down. The cotton dress blows and hovers like a kite above my fingers. Your eyes bend forward to see what’s beneath. The arctic air tickles places that are wet and sticky. The dry wind from outside balances the temperature, but its still hot, and you’re still thirsty.
Both fingers dance beneath a red cotton kite. You lick your lips involuntarily. You wipe your brow again, but this time with your bare hand. You turn off the air conditioner because it doesn’t seem to help. The dress falls down softly above my hands and I realize I really like flying kites.
“So, what do you plan on doing once we get there?” You like making small talk.
“I don’t know,” I respond, spreading legs wider.
I hear you moan in your chest as you divert eyes to hands, wrists, and fingers.
You lick your lips again sensing that cool water is near. I grow tired of watching open road where sky meets land and recline my seat to a flat position. My feet walk up the length of the dashboard and rest on the windshield. My thighs open and close like clapping hands. My knees kiss and tell.
Somewhere between here and there you pull over under the cover of darkness. You gaze at my damp flesh in fluorescent interior light. Your eyes have thirst. You take your fingers and lift my dress for your view. You see my fingers rubbing, massaging, and covered in a slick gloss. You want to salivate, but you are too dehydrated to muster up saliva. You need water. You need me.
I understand.
“Get in the back,” you demand, in breathless anticipation. Your words are guttural, hoarse, and raspy. I close my legs and your eyes plead with me. I smile and languidly crawl over the armrest, stopping for a brief moment to allow you a touch…lick… drink.
I spread my legs, resting my left foot on the back of your seat, and the other someplace between headrest and roof. You reach for the dome light.
“No, don’t turn it off. I want to watch,” I say, gasping and trembling from anticipation. You agree. You want to see too.
You crawl down the middle and rest your chin on soft foam between my thighs. Your hands move up my thighs, to the thickest part, and lift the dress above my waist, breasts, and over my head. I am naked. Your eyes grow big. You take your finger and touch my lips. I take it in and suck. Your finger roams from my lips down my chin, circling my nipples, leaving each with their mouths open wanting for more. Your finger travels down the middle of me to the running faucet below. You take both your thumb and index fingers and spread thick, slick lips apart.
You can barely get your trembling lips to the fountain.
Your tongue is wide and thick as you glide it across its throbbing opening slowly and carefully. Every part of me moans which seems to make you hotter with thirst. The tip of your tongue teases the pert and swollen head of my clit. Your lips wrap around engorged flesh, pulling and sucking and drinking. Water pours from inside, drenching the coarse hair on your chin. Your tongue slides around aching lips and flesh, curling the tip when need be.
Then, you drink.
Your mouth swallows the mouth of me and your tongue pushes inside. You suck, swallow, and siphon away every drop I have to give, while folding and bending your tongue inside of me. I come multiple times in the cup that is your tongue. When your thirst is quenched, your lips brush the soft hairs that sit at the top of my valley. Your lips roam freely across the plane of my belly, between my breasts, and up to my mouth. You kiss me. You kiss me over and over again until faraway glow rises and sky seems to meet land.
(c)love_riot

I'm a writer-whore, I know. }(