G Ch. 03: Road Trip

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This piece is the third in a series of stories that are autobiographical. I’ve not listed names or places to protect the identity of the people involved. All of the events you will read are true. I kept a journal at the time, so the accuracy of what is contained in these stories is very good. Some of the dialog is seared in my memory and some of it is recreated based on the events, but is very much in keeping with the way we’d talk. There is probably less conversation in these stories than I should have — we communicated a lot and would talk during sex — sometimes to turn each other on, sometimes about dreams, desires and wants. I hope you enjoy the memories as much as I have enjoyed writing about them. – Author


After camp I moved back to my parent’s house for a short bit. My folks are great, but growing up they were the original WASP’s and could be pretty uptight about things. After having been on my own for the past four years through college, I appreciated having a place to stay until the job I had lined up for mid-September started, but I chafed at some of the restrictions, including a fairly early curfew and some house rules about guests.

I’d told my folks about the fact that I’d met someone earlier in the summer at the training camp. When they asked what her name was, I told them and my dad’s reply was, “You’ve got to be shitting me.” (G’s name was really a guy’s name — or at least it sounded like it.) I had to disabuse him of the notion that I was talking about a man, and that it actually was a woman I was involved with. If you know where I lived at the time, you’d understand the significance.

I had a job doing casual work that kept money coming in, which was particularly important considering what the pay was like at camp – even for an area director’s position. In the evenings, I was spending my time poring over information about apartments in the area I was heading to, along with new car brochures as my current car kept having issues.

It was just after dinner time on a Thursday, and I was trying to decide on which apartments that I could afford to look at. My dad was reading the newspaper, and my mom was watching something on the television when the phone rang. My dad is – well – conservative with money. The phone was an old hard-wired AT&T wall phone with the retractile cord that was in place since the house was built in the early 1960’s and they hadn’t replaced it with a new version with a cordless handset — it was still rotary dial, even!

My mom went to pick up the phone and I could hear her having a sort of awkward conversation with someone at the other end. You could tell that she was a bit uncomfortable. Finally she called me to the phone.


“Oops. Hiya, sweet cheeks!” It was G on the phone. Somehow I wasn’t surprised.

“What did you do?”

“Well, I asked for my sweet-assed man to come to the phone, but I guess your mom isn’t like mine.”

“Yeah, you could say that again.” I hadn’t warned her ahead of time and in hindsight I wished I had. My folks weren’t talking about whatever G had said to my mom on the phone, so I figured I must be safe.

We caught up on what the other had been doing since our last call in the Medic’s office at camp. Neither of us had written as we were both focused on other things — me, on my impending move, and G on her return to college to finish her Master’s degree. It was mostly mundane life stuff, but it was just nice to talk with her and hear her voice on the phone.

Then she started in on all the things that she wanted to do to me the next time we were together. I’m amazed that the phone cord wasn’t melting. She then asked what I was planning to do to her.

“You already sound like you have a good list.”

“That’s it?” I could hear her disappointment over the phone.


“Your folks are in the room, right?”

“They might as well be.”

“Well, I guess I should get to the point”, G said.

“What’s that, beautiful?”

“This is your booty call. Literally. I’m calling for your booty. You’re driving out here tomorrow and your sweet ass is mine for the weekend.”

“I am? Uhhh, oh I _AM_!” I can be slow on the uptake. “Where are we staying, and when are we meeting?”

“We’re staying here at the the ‘rent’s place and you’re getting here as soon as you can, because you want my sweet pussy. We’re gonna work on my list and you’d better think up your own. Come ready for anything, ‘cos you know I don’t disappoint.”

I was slightly confused about how this was going to work at her parent’s place, but I took down the address and some cursory directions from the highway. For the rest, Rand McNally was going to have to come to the rescue.

“I love you, G, and I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

“You know it. Love you, *MWAH!*”

With that, the line clicked off.

As I hung up the phone, my mom came back into the kitchen. She sidled over to me and whispered, “She sounds like a hot topkapı escort ticket!”

“You got that right, mom.”

She asked about my plans and I divulged the basics — I’d be leaving in the morning heading to stay at my girlfriend’s parent’s house and I’d be back either Sunday night or sometime Monday depending on how things worked out. I went up to my room to put some things together for the weekend as my mom broke the news to my dad, smoothing things over a bit in the process.

As I grew older, I later found out that my mom had been a “hot ticket” herself in her youth. Friends of my mom’s eventually let things spill about her. She’d been a beauty queen in a few local pageants and was a popular girl. She had become a nurse (as had her friends), and they’d all headed out to a big city where they worked together. It sounded like they liked to party. Life is full of surprises.


The next morning I loaded my duffle bag into the car, gassed it up and headed out toward G’s house. It was going to be a pretty long drive, but I figured I’d be there by about lunch time. My car had other ideas.

As I was headed to G’s, the car’s engine started to buck a bit when I was about halfway there. I managed to get off the highway and nurse the car to a local garage.

The guy at the garage didn’t seem happy to see me. He was a balding, heavy-set guy with massive hands, covered in grease from head to toe and smoking a stub of a massive cigar that smelled absolutely terrible. He said was already pretty busy and would look at the car and see what he could do after he finished what he was working on. I was stranded, and I really didn’t want to rock the boat.

After waiting for maybe two hours, I poked my head into the shop bay from the greasy coffee area with slippery red vinyl stools which doubled as a waiting room. I let the mechanic know I had an important appointment that I needed to get to this afternoon that was still a fair distance from here. He looked at me and asked how important the appointment was. (I figured he was sizing me up to see how much he could overcharge me.) I looked him in the eye and simply said, “Pussy.” He roared with laughter and told me he’d get right on it.

True to his word, he headed out to the car and after a little bit of poking and prodding, changed out some spark plug wires and the distributor. With the car running smoothly again, and a much smaller bill than I anticipated, I left him with a generous tip. He told me, “You might not believe it, but I was once young, too, you know. Go enjoy yourself, young man. I wish I was in your shoes today!”

I hit the road again and as I got closer the anticipation of what awaited me started to roll around in my head. It was a bit distracting as I drove and I had to rip myself back from the daydreams that were going on in my head to keep from getting killed before I arrived. Still, no matter how hard I tried to get my head back in the driving game, I was distracted and it was hard not to notice that my jeans were unusually restrictive.

I got off the highway, and managed to find G’s house, navigating the local suburbia with little difficulty. The directions were really better than I thought, as brief as they were. As I pulled up, I noticed that the garage doors were open, but no cars were there. I pulled to a paved spot to the side of the driveway and parked. The anticipation was back, swirling through my mind. I grabbed the duffle and some flowers that I’d picked up along the way and headed to the front door.


There was a slight delay and I heard some rustling behind the door and it swung open. A completely naked G was standing on the mat in the entry hallway striking a pose for me. I stopped to admire the view with a wink and a smirk on my face before I stepped across the threshold closing the door behind me.

She virtually launched herself at me clinging on and mashing my lips with hers. When we finally came up for air, I started to drop the duffle bag and the flowers so that I could return the embrace. “Oh, no you don’t.” she replied. “This is part of my fantasy. You need to be holding your bag.”

She then took the flowers and set them aside on a table. “Oh, poor dead things.” (Lesson learned — live plants ok. Cut flowers? Not so much.) She grabbed something that I couldn’t see from the table and was on her knees in front of me in a flash. G unbuckled my belt and undid the jeans I as wearing, pulling underwear and pants to my knees in one swift motion, my erection springing forth.

“You’re late. Was work hard today, dear?”

Work? My mind spun a bit, but I rolled with it. “Yeah, really rough day at the office –you know how it gets.”

“Let me take that briefcase. I’ll make you feel better.” She reached for my duffle.

Briefcase? I’m slow on the uptake, but I saw the pattern that was emerging. “You always make me feel better, gorgeous. That smoking body and dirty mind do it for me.”

She grasped a hand around my tuzla escort shaft and stroked slowly, looking up into my eyes. “How was your boss, today, was she… hard… on you?”

“Oh yeah. She was on me all day long.”

G’s voice dropped an octave and in a low, breathy voice, “Tell me.”

I proceeded to spin a yarn about how I’d not met a deadline for a project and the boss lady called me into her office for a dressing-down (literally).

“What was she wearing?”

I described the imaginary boss lady’s outfit — business over BDSM.

“Ohhh…” Her voice was low and breathy.

I then proceeded to continue the vision for her with the punishment that I received at the hands of the imaginary boss lady. There might have been some leather involved.

G let go of my cock and was reaching for something at her knee — it was a small bottle. She opened it and poured some of the reddish liquid out on her chest, spreading it between her tits. The smell of strawberry filled the foyer, and she knelt up trying to trap my cock between her breasts, moving up and down slightly so that I was fucking her chest. She bent down and swirled her tongue around the head of my cock which was covered in this stuff. It left me feeling somewhat tingly and maybe a bit numb. The setup wasn’t working well and with a little pout, she released me from the soft, slippery channel she’d created with her tits — I was a little too tall for this to position to work.

She took both hands, now slippery with the strawberry gel and proceeded to grab my cock, rotating her hands in different directions and pulling back-and-forth, stopping every now and again to swirl her tongue around the head. She released me from her mouth with a “pop”.

“Is that all she did to you?”

The yarn became longer as I told her how the boss lady thought I’d done some good work, and should be rewarded for that by being able to lick her pussy as she sat on the edge of the desk.

One of G’s hands withdrew from me as she reached down to cup a breast and tease at the nipple between thumb and forefinger pulling until it hardened. She made up for it by sliding her hand up and down and meeting her hand with her lips as it moved along the shaft.

Pretty soon, I was on the edge and I told G I was going to cum. She looked up at me and her eyes glittered. Just as I was about to cum, she took both hands and went back to her twist and pull routine, looking up at my face the whole time. I finally came — ropes of cum hitting her in the chest, neck and cheek. It felt like my whole body was passing out through my dick.

She grinned as she took a finger to clean my seed off of her, licking it off. “Mmmm… Strawberry cum. Welcome home, honey.”

G grabbed my hand to pull me along and I nearly fell on my face with my pants at my knees. I pulled them up and followed along. We started a conversation as we passed through the house towards her room which was up over the garage.

I asked where her parents were, and she told me that her mom would be out all day and that she was taking G’s dad out to a restaurant with notoriously slow service — they wouldn’t be home until much later. Her little brother was away for a weekend camping trip.

“Your folks are OK with this?”

“Oh yeah. They know I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.”

“Do you do this regularly?”

“You mean do I bring guys home? No. I’ve never done this before. You’re a ‘first’.”

“Well, now I feel special.”

“You are.”

“You know I love you, G, right?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” She looked back at me — my crotch in particular. “Oooh. You’re still hard.” After an orgasm like the one she’d given me, I’d usually be spent, but, well, not this time.

We passed through the door of her room and I had to stop and take it all in. There was a massive 4-poster bed that occupied a good portion of the room with a large window above the headboard that had net curtains. On one wall were mirrored bi-fold closet doors, some of them open. In one of the closets there appeared to me to be princess gowns of bright colors. There was a desk that had a sewing machine on it with some sort of project of brightly colored satin on it, and some sketches tacked to the wall.

Above the desk were a bow and a quiver of arrows and a battle axe beside it. (Battle axe. For real. No shit.) Some floral head-dresses were hung from the posts of the bed. I dropped the bag on a cedar chest at the foot of the bed and she simply said, “I like role playing and I’m part of a medieval reenacting group. You might like it.”

She grabbed a towel off the chest and proceeded to wipe up a bit and tossed it at me before bouncing up onto the bed with a leap and a flop. I did a quick clean up, and was suddenly feeling over-dressed. I peeled my clothes off and hopped up onto the bed beside her. We kissed for a bit while I teased Miss Kitty with my fingers. G stated that since our last encounter that she’d gone on the pill, and that pendik escort spontaneity would now rule. This news excited me no end. I whispered in her ear that I was going to take her.

She gave me a breathy, “Yes. Take me any way you need me.”

I rolled her onto her hip, so she was facing away from me and pulled her leg up to give me better access and slipped into her warmth from behind. She groaned her pleasure at Miss Kitty and Cock Robin being back together as we started a slow, comfortable pace, her breast in my hand as we lazily enjoyed the comforts of each other’s body. This position let me nibble at her neck and shoulder, which she was enjoying. We kept this slow pace up and I started pinching her nipple lightly until it hardened to my touch. She started to press her ass back at me. Without pulling out of her, we rolled to our knees and I continued to fuck her from behind, kissing her back as her head dropped to the bed. I finally came in her and we collapsed in a sweaty heap on the bed.

My curiosity got the better of me as we lay panting together.

“So, gorgeous, you can’t have an orgasm? What do you feel when we have sex? You can never seem to get enough, but how does that work?”

She sat quietly for a minute collecting her thoughts. “Well, it’s sort of like this. You know how when you’re anticipating sex — particularly with someone new — that you get that feeling of butterflies in your stomach?”


“Well, I get that feeling before sex all the time. If I’m thinking about sex and get turned on, I get the butterflies. If I’m having sex, I get all the great feelings that I guess any woman does from touching, licking or fucking. The big difference is that I just don’t have an orgasm. What I do feel is this pressure or fullness in my lower belly — like someone is pressing on me there with the palm of their hand. It feels good — really good. If you play with my nipples it feels like there is a direct line from them to my pussy, too, which really feels good. Both of those feelings are like my version of an orgasm. With you, the butterflies are bigger and the pressure is better. I can’t describe it any other way, but you do it for me in ways that other guys don’t.”

“Well thank you for the compliment — I’m glad you like having sex with me. I love the feeling of your body with mine.”

“I was built for comfort, not speed. Don’t you forget it. Damn.”

“Damn, what?”

“The time. We’ve got to get showered and dressed. I was hoping for a bit more play time this afternoon. Anyway, you made reservations to take this ravishing brunette out to dinner.”

“I did?”

“You did.”

“You’ve got this all planned out, don’t you? When do I get to make some plans for us?”

“All planned out? Most certainly, Milord. I’ve got this all planned out. You can choose when I bring Miss Kitty out to visit your sweet ass at your new apartment.”

We reluctantly dragged ourselves from the bed and headed to the bathroom which was just up the hallway. We enjoyed a slow, sensuous wash of each other’s body with some teasing to go along with the washing. When we were rinsed off, she told me to go get dressed in her room and that she’d meet me downstairs at the front door. She wiggled her butt at me as she left the bathroom and I gave her a playful swat on the ass as she headed up the hallway.

Be prepared for anything. That’s what she said. I didn’t have a huge wardrobe, but had packed some nice pants and a white shirt with some decent shoes. I figured I looked OK for dinner out. I went downstairs and waited. And waited. And waited some more.

Finally, I heard the clicking of heels headed my way. I’m sure I needed to scrape my chin off the floor when I saw her, because she smirked at my expression. Her hair almost looked made-up perfect for a change and she had on mascara, a little eye-shadow and a dark shade of matte lipstick. The dress was a strapless dark blue velvet number that was knee length and hugged every curve down to her hip before it fell into wavy pleats. Her breasts were dangerously on display to the point where she looked like she could fall out at any minute. Her legs were bare and she wore open-toe high heeled shoes that looked to be the same color velvet as the dress. Her finger and toe-nails were painted the same shade as her lipstick. I was shell-shocked by her beauty.

After spending most of our time together in brown shorts and tan shirts of a particular uniform, the transformation of the woman was incredible.

“Wow. You are stunning! What did I ever do to deserve you, gorgeous?” I pulled her in for a hug and kissed her soft shoulder. She sighed, wrapping an arm around my waist and putting her head on my shoulder, melting into me a bit.

She pulled back. “We’d better go, we’re already going to be late. Besides, this is a special occasion — you’d better not waste the opportunity to look at this.” She fanned her hands past her body as If I needed guidance at what ‘this’ was.

“I don’t do this for just anybody.”

We went out to the car, and as we went, I realized how low the dress was cut in the back. It was a dress-making marvel that it stayed on her body. I opened the car door for her and held it as she slid into the passenger seat, blowing me a kiss and giving me a deep look into her cleavage.

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