Soon the officer walked back to the Porsche. Rain drops had started to fall. “Here you go,” she said, handing back my documents. “There’ve been reports of thefts at this construction site,” she continued. “We’ve been asked to keep an eye on it. I’m going to have to ask you to move along.”
“Of course, officer.” I rolled the window up, turned on the engine and carefully pulled away. A huge sigh of relief escaped my lungs as I got up to speed.
A few minutes later the rain was hard enough that I had to turn the wipers on. As I drove, I was almost afraid to look over at my passenger, but at last did so. It was dark, but I could see enough to once again marvel at just how hot she was, especially that now, those breasts outlined beneath her tight tube top were now totally braless, her bra having remained around her midsection to where I had pushed it. The sudden appearance of that female police officer had really killed my boner, but the sight of Brittany was bringing it back. Oh, I knew now that there was nothing else I could do with her except, well, before getting her home, I would have to stop and get her bra back in place beneath her top. I’d have to check her panties, too. I had stretched one of the leg openings pretty far. I hoped I hadn’t torn the damn thing. It had seemed so dainty.
It was then that I realized that the Porsche was nearly out of gas. I looked at the GPS and saw that we were still some eight miles from the girl’s house. I needed to stop for gas before then. That’s where I would get around to making sure that the girl’s undergarments were in place.
Three miles passed until I saw the lights for a gas station between the moving wiper blades. I pulled in. The gas pumps were underneath an overhanging roof, which was good, given the rain. At the pump, I read in irritation a hand written note informing that the pay-at-the-pump option was broken. I pulled the hose from the pump and began filling the tank. Setting the hose on automatic, I stepped to the passenger door of the 911 and opened it. My eyes were greeted by that pair of very nice legs sticking out from that very short skirt, and an instant surge of gratification struck me at having recently finger fucked the pussy that lay at the juncture of those hot thighs.
I squatted by the open door, then hesitated. Where did I begin? I would have to reach underneath her top and push her bra back up in place but, well, while having a lot of experience in taking off women’s bras, I had no experience in putting them back on! I first had to pull the girl’s top down to find the bra. In doing this, of course, her lovely bare breasts spilled forth. For an instant this visage paralyzed me. I looked around me furtively. There was an abundance of lighting by the gas pumps, and anyone watching could clearly see what I was doing. Fortunately there was no one else pumping gas at that moment, but what about surveillance cameras? Maybe there was a pimply teenage boy inside at the cash register gawking at what I was doing?
Fuck it, I thought, and proceeded in my task. To my relief, the clasp of the bra had not come loose behind her back and it was a simple matter of tugging the frilly thing upward until it once again cupped the bottoms of her fine twin mounds. Wistfully I then pulled the top back up and smoothed it into place as best I could. I then reached underneath her short skirt to check on the condition of her panties, and found that they had not really been moved out of position. Pausing, and again looking around me like a criminal, I succumbed to the urge to quickly once again penetrate the sleeping girl’s vagina, this time with the fingers of my right hand. My middle finger eased inside one the panties’ leg openings and sought the entrance to this high school senior’s femininity. I thrust the finger deep inside her and held it there. I then leaned over her and kissed her slightly parted lips, and slipped my tongue between them as my middle finger reamed her cunt. After a full minute of this, with great effort I pulled free from her, bringing my tongue and finger out from the respective bodily cavities of this eighteen year-old honey. Breathing hard, I thought again of the shock wave of fear that had run through me when the lights of that police car had gone on, and reminded myself that I needed to cease my errant ways and simply take this girl home! Enough of this madness already!
I shut the passenger door before the inside of the car got any colder, and went back to the gas pump. It had automatically shut off for some reason after only pumping five gallons, so I squeezed the handle and manually began pumping more. As I stood there while the gas flowed, I looked around my surroundings again, trying to clear my head, trying to forget my passionate lust for this to-die-for young hottie in my car. What I needed was a very cold shower. I thought—only half seriously—that I should stand in the rain for a while. As my eyes aimlessly roamed while I waited for the tank to fill, I vaguely noticed one of those old, mom and pop motels across the road. It had an “old school” neon sign that must have been as old as the motel—fifty years, I would have guessed. I noticed that the “L” in motel on the old, red neon light was missing, so that it read “Mote”.
The handle on the gas pump flipped off automatically, indicating that the tank was full. I then proceeded into the gas station office to pay. As I walked toward the door, I noticed that this was one of those older stations, one that was actually a bit seedy. I really had had no need to worry about surveillance cameras. This was not a principal highway we were on. If it had been, surely this station, and the mom and pop flea trap across the street, would have been torn down long ago and replaced by a fucking Mini-Mart Pump-N-Shop and an Econo-Lodge, respectively.
After paying—the clerk on duty was not a pimply faced teen, but rather a forty year old loser who probably had once been a pimply faced teen—I realized I should probably take a leak. In the dirty bathroom, at the urinal, my eyes looked around the room in disgust as I pissed. Why didn’t that lazy bastard clerk get off his ass and come in here and clean this filth once in a while?
My eyes did a double take on the condom machine. You sure don’t see those anymore in the Mini-Mart gas stations, I thought.
After pissing, I walked to the sink and washed my hands before remembering that I wanted to leave the girl’s fragrance on my fingers so I could smell them while masturbating when I got home. Damn it! At that moment, a trio of images began reverberating around the inside of my skull like pin balls: 1) unconscious girl; 2) condoms; 3) motel across the street.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. After looking into my own eyes for a long moment, my head swiveled on my neck to the condom machine. Only four quarters for a bright colored, ribbed condom guaranteed, as stated on the front of the machine, to “give her pleasure”. I happened to have those quarters in my pocket.
The image of the mom and pop motel danced in my head, as did the vision of that marvelous pair of firm, young thighs that was at that very moment still gracing the passenger seat of my Porsche 911.
Unconscious girl. Condoms. Motel.
I glanced at my watch. It was 9:20. The girl didn’t have to be home for another hour and forty minutes. Staring again at my reflection in the mirror, another image came into focus: flashing cop lights. Remember how freaked you were, Joe, when that cop came sniffing around? Remember that?
Arguing with the face in the mirror again, there were two lines of thought that weighed predominate: no one will ever know, and you only live once. End of argument.
A minute later I was back behind the wheel of the Porsche 911, crossing the highway, and pulling up to the office of the mom and pop motel. The motel consisted of a single row building with the doors of perhaps twenty rooms facing the parking lot. There were only three or four cars in front of various doors, so I didn’t figure that reservations would exactly be necessary. The Porsche, though, would definitely look out of place here, I thought as I stepped out of the car and entered the motel office, which was at the near end of the long building. The rain had mostly stopped, with only a few sprinkles still coming down.
Mom and Pop operation was right. Pop was behind the reception desk. I could hear the TV in a back room where I supposed Mom was hanging out. I asked Pop for a room at the far end of the building. I wanted to be as far away as possible when I carried a body into the room. Plus, I had noticed that the outside lighting toward the far end of the building was darker. It was $38, payable in advance. I wished I had had enough cash in my pocket for the payment, but did not, and had to use a credit card. What, was I concerned about the traceability of a credit card?
The age old adage about a man not having enough blood to run his brain and his penis at the same time is so true. As I sat once again behind the wheel of the Carrera 911 and stared through the windshield at the dark motel room door to which I had driven, the blood going to the brain was sufficient for that little voice again to tell me that this was NOT a good idea, to bail out before taking this any further. What if the girl came to inside the room? How would I explain that? However, there was more blood going to the penis at this moment, especially after I cast another ravenous glance at that incredible pair of thighs that awaited me if I really wanted them. My penis said yes to those thighs, and to rest of the little sexpot high school senior that slumbered in the seat of my car. I reached over and touched those thighs. Yes! Most definitely a fantastic idea! She was not going to wake up. Anyone as drugged as she was going to be out for hours. I certainly wasn’t going to waste this once in a lifetime opportunity for a forty-one year old man to fuck a hot teen honey! Hell no!
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