Making Memories

I forged through the strange wet blackness surrounded by metal and glass. Rain and wind played vicious games with the old truck. The engine rumbled angrily, causing the seat beneath me to vibrate with its power. City lights filtered through the pitch black tinted windows, occasionally drowned by terrifying streaks of light that raced through the night sky.

The radio was nearly overtaken by nature’s noise. Still, the slow, mellow notes reached my ears and his memory filled my mind, unbidden. It had been months, years, since I’d thought of him. I preferred it that way, usually. But I’d heard him sing this song to me before and now it was his voice that filled the cab.

I listened to the words. I remembered the way he’d looked when he sang those lines to me, naked, smiling lazily, crooning steamy promises of pleasure. My hand slipped beneath the thin layer of my skirt before I realized what I was doing. I felt the stirring between my hips and held the palm of my hand over the wet slit. The heat of my hungry pussy radiated from my body.

I thought of how he’d wake me in the night, strong hands pulling my nude, sleeping form against his, bringing the curve of my ass into his hips. I’d feel him grow against me, his hands would explore me, lips kissing my body as if I was a precious treasure. I would open my eyes then, reach for him to slip inside me, but he would wait. He had an evil patience. Before he’d allow my lips or my pussy to slide over his cock, he would drive me past the edge of sanity.

I rubbed my cunt, the thunder echoing the strength of my desire. My hair was as damp as if I’d been walking outside in the rain. A sheen of sweat caused my thin dress to cling to my breasts down to my narrow waist, where the skirt was bunched up. I worked my pussy, remembering how he’d always flip me over, pressing my breasts to the mattress. He’d grab a fistful of my hair and lean forward, kissing me deeply, breathing my name as he fucked me hard. Sometimes he’d clamp a hand over my mouth and drive his cock so deep inside me I swore he’d split me in two.

I remembered how he’d pick me up in his arms, placing me on his cock, on his face, or contorting me however he wanted. I was his toy and he owned me. He would toss me around as if I weighed nothing, his muscular frame dwarfing my petite one. He loved watching his large cock disappear into my little pink mouth. I loved watching the burly badass writhe and shudder beneath me when I sucked him the way he liked.

I felt it consume me. Exploding from somewhere inside me I’d forgotten about. Moisture covered my hands and for a moment my world went black. He’d given me one more orgasm.


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