Chapter 6

After a hurried packing job, they loaded the car and started on the trip to adventure. "We should have left earlier — the traffic will be heavy. On the other hand, the last few hours were really worth the traffic," he declared.

"I would rather have walked than have missed this morning." Did you just say that? Better be careful.

As they went slowly across the causeway and were held up in traffic, he said, "If you will lean over here and unhook your bra, I will caress your breasts and nipples. Some times, that makes the trip go faster."

His direct invitations always surprised her. How many dozens of hands had she removed from her breasts, put there by overzealous suitors. Shall I do this? I have never done it before. Her body leaned forward so that her hands could get behind her back to unhook her bra long before her brain ever gave the order. On command, she leaned over toward him and removed her breast from her blouse.

He covered her with his Nylon shell. His right hand squeezed her exposed breast lightly, tickling the fine hair, circling the braille on the areola, and finally settled on her nipple, making her aware that it was hard-wired to her clitoris; she had to have her head back, so she reclined the seat. "Oh, God, there. Just like that."

With her body tense and her eyes closed, the only sound in the world was from her screaming nipple. Almost immediately, she felt herself feeling really sexual. Then, he kept rolling her nipple between his fingers as she stayed on the passion plateau for miles. As he would feel her approaching climax, he would ease the pinching and she would come down a little, then he would resume until she was finally overcome and gave her deep moan.

In the back of her mind, she heard the accusing words, "You're nothing but a passive recipient." Not any more, Marcia, not any more. And, by the way, thank you!

"If you will pull your shorts down I will try to make you feel good," he offered.

Dammit, I'm sitting here with wet pants and he's going to make me feel better? Mindlessly she lifted her hips, pushed her shorts down, and waited. As he navigated the traffic he moved the shell over her lap to foil any trucker's prying eyes. Then, he put the heel of his right hand on her mons and slowly stroked her vulva and clitoris.

As he drove the bumper-to-bumper causeway, he was able to keep her in a state of ecstasy for 25 miles. When her clitoris was huge and engorged, her wetness made his finger slide lightly over the skin surface and kept her in incredible pleasure mile after mile. As she reached the pinnacles, she would scream, writhe, and clamp her thighs on his hand. Soon, she was in a blissful zone with no sense of time and place; her only remaining brain was in her clitoris. His fingers drew back the clitoral hood and rubbed a wet finger lightly against the nerve center. That was enough to keep her mindless. She felt no sense of being; only of unimaginable pleasure. When she was between spasms, she whispered, "That is so exquisite. Everything you do brings me pleasures I would never have believed."

After a few more miles, he said softly, "Hey, pretty child, we're out of traffic. If you like, you can put down the vanity mirror and see what my finger does to make you feel good. You can see yourself in your state."

She reached obediently for the vanity mirror and looked at the brilliant red pink swollen vulva and open labia. I have never seen myself like that before. I can see his finger move and feel ecstasy coming on. How long has he been doing this?

Then, he said quietly, "We're almost to the airport. Maybe you'd better dress and brush your hair."

His voice came from a million miles away. Slowly regaining consciousness, Sheila finally was able to get herself up straight in the seat and start to pull up her shorts. The dashboard clock showed that she had been out of the world for the past two hours. She muttered, "Yeah, okay, I'll try. I don't have a lot of brain left." How the hell do I get like that. He says 'take down your panties and I'll try to make you feel good, ' and like in a hypnotic spell, I take down my panties and go orbital for two hours. Shit. I can't handle this. I'm not sure I can hook my bra.

As they drove down the freeway, she looked intensely at the billboards touting a nude-waitress restaurant — "We bare all," showing a buxom, scantily clad woman with big eyes.

When he noticed her interest, he asked, "Been there?"

"No! I wouldn't go there."

"Why? It's a cultural experience. You can see everything while they dance on the bar in front of you and enjoy a nice lunch."

In her mindless state, she pondered, Seeing everything? Having viewed the size and condition of her pussy in the vanity mirror, something about his remark provoked her thoughts.

"Okay, pretty girl, we're right here at the airport exit. We'll get my rental car and then you can go to Kelly. Sit here and relax. I'll be right back."

Relax? I will be surprised if my legs will actually bear my weight.

"Sheila, come on. I'll put my bags in the other car. Try to get yourself together. We'll have to eat," he urged.

They got the right bags in the right cars and then drove down the exit road to find a fast food place. She had chili dogs and he had his with Cole slaw, both of them having sinful fries. They sat on the same side of the booth and she touched his arm and put her head on his shoulder several times. She made sure her thigh was touching his as they ate in relative silence.

She put her arm around him and gazed in his eyes. "Thank you for a wonderful time. I'm about to cry. Don't you laugh."

"Thank you for the biggest thrill I have had in years. I'm not sure how well I'll do without you next to me."

She kissed his cheek and whispered, "I feel like you are being surgically severed. I like being next to you, too." She sighed.

She picked up her cell phone and dialed. "Kelly? It's Sheila. I'm just returning from the beach and wondered if you'd mind if I came a couple of days early," she asked.

"Sheila! Yes. Come anytime. Now. Where are you? Remember how to get here? Are you coming alone?" Kelly probed excitedly.

"I'll call you back when I'm closer. I should be there about four. I will be alone."

As she climbed into the Jaguar, he showed her the controls, showed her the phone control, and as he kissed her lightly on the cheek, "Have a superb time. Do it all. Then, looking deeply into her eyes, Tell Kelly how you feel and be sure to touch her. Don't wait until the last moment. And, as you drive, try to remember what it felt like to be sitting on my lap this morning." With that, he drew her into a lengthy powerful kiss that she found thrilling, then he closed her door and went to his rental car.

Sheila sat in the car until he drove away. She walked around the parking lot for a few minutes in an attempt to re-engage her brain, addled by the morning's activities. Later, in the light traffic, she set the cruise control, after which, she dwelled on the morning's depravity, wet panties and all. He's been gone for less than an hour and I already miss him. What's going on?

As she drove, she called from the car. "Hi, Kelly. Tell me the exit. I think I can find it. I just left, so it will be a couple of hours."

Kelly said happily, "Oh, good. Take the exit for Florida 206 East. Follow the signs to the beach. Turn left on A1A for a mile. Right on Breakers Lane. You'll remember it. I'm so excited. I'll wait to run until you get here. Hurry!"

Kelly was in her jogging stuff looking delicious. She carried Sheila's bag to a downstairs bedroom and was talking a mile a minute. She goes, "Hurry up and change. We'll run. Then snack, then we can rest or walk on the beach. I'm dying to see you."

As she changed clothes, Sheila sat in a fog. What a relief to have a simple plan. Put on your running stuff. Find Kelly. Run. Shower. Eat. Walk on beach.

She came from the back deck. "Come over here. I'll do sunscreen for you."

God, that feels good. It still tingles just like when she put lotion on my back when we swam.

"Now, I'll do you," Sheila said, and took the lotion. Kelly's skin was so inviting and Sheila rubbed her a little longer than necessary as she sat backwards in a chair, put it on her fingertips and rubbed in on Kelly's back. "Remember when we used to tickle each other's back," and started lightly touching her until Sheila could see Kelly's chill bumps follow her fingers.

"That feels so good all over," Kelly replied.

As Sheila was going all over her and tracing chill bumps, she finally regained composure and said, "Shall we hit it?"

Melting Sheila with her deep blue eyes, she said, "It always feels good when you do that. Okay, four miles?"

Sheila barely recovered enough to ask, "Kelly, who is making you happy?"

"You are, Sheila."

"When I'm not here, Kelly," she said directly.

"Well, Jerry. He's still around. When we can, we get together and have a nice time. Jerry is trying to find a job up north, and..."

"You gave him up last year when he found the hot redhead. What's with you?"

"I know. I tried some others, but they were quickies. Wanda and I hang out. She's more company than anyone right now," she puffed between breaths, "and, I have a nice toy box."

Kelly recounted the details of her recent lovers. Each new person had major flaws or didn't fit emotionally or was just not quite better than nothing.

She's so easy to be with. I always love running with her because we can almost get caught up in 35 minutes.

"Where'd you get the Jag?"

"Oh, I borrowed it from a friend."

"I'm not buying that. C'mon, girl, sounds more like a sugar daddy."

Good old Kelly. Cuts right through the crap. Shit. I have to tell her.

During the next mile, Sheila told the whole story from start to finish. How they moved from openly hostile to being very close. How the tennis match turned things around. "He coached me on how to negotiate for my first job. I had known him for only two hours and he really helped."

Kelly replied, "Sounds like he paid his dues. What's his name? What does he look like, what does he do? How old is he?" and about six other questions in the same breath.

"Hold up, girl. Like one at a time. His name is Greg, and..."

"Greg what?" She interrupted.

After several strides in silence, Kelly said, "Sheila — his name... age, size, you know, the good stuff."

"My God, I don't know."

"Sheila, Jesus! You spent three days with him and don't know his name?"

"He is tall, nice looking, athletic, has gray hair, and he smells good," she replied.

.

"What cologne does he wear? What color are his eyes?" She pressed.

"No perfume. None. Smells male. Green. Maybe he's 55," Sheila replied.

Classic Kelly came on again, "Fifty-five? My God. What does he do? When will you see him? Do you love him? He's not married is he?"

Why am I feeling so defensive with Kelly? Something is wrong. I can't answer like I always have. Why can't I just answer her questions? "I don't know what he does — he writes proposals or something. I didn't ask. I don't think he's married. I will see him when I take the car back. He fascinates me and doesn't even try. I want to be next to him. No, I don't love him." Sheila, are you sure?

Kelly knew she was about to get to the good stuff and kept up the probe. "Why did you go there? What did you do every day? Start at the beginning.

"Where did he go to school? Does he have children? What is his sign? Does he like music? What kind? Sheila, did you fuck him?"

"Okay. Okay. Just listen. I arrived at his house on the wrong day. Marcia was supposed to be there, but never showed up. That's another story. I was exhausted and hungry. We had an immediate argument and I was ugly. Finally, we worked out that he would take me to the local beach hotel. He put sun lotion on me, then I went swimming for a while and when I came back, I saw his tennis bag. I wanted exercise and I asked him to hit with me. I beat him, but it took a lot of effort. Then he invited me to his clothing optional hot tub — I wore a bikini and I think he was optional, but I couldn't see through the bubbles."