trying to drive.

by s.m.

“I’m sure I caught you at a moment of weakness,” she said, walking her fingers up his thigh.  “And I intend to do it again.”  She marched on towards the fly of his tuxedo pants.

“I’m trying to drive,” he said, reaching over her arm for the gearshift.

“Is that a problem?” she asked, tracing her fingers around the bulge in his trousers.

“It is when you’re wearing a coverall.”

“Jumpsuit,” she corrected.

“Jumpsuit.  Whatever.  I won’t be able to get you out of it in this car, so yes, it’s a problem.”  He didn’t try to stop her hand, though, as she continued playing with his stiffening cock through his pants.

“I don’t think that’s a problem,” she purred.  “We’re almost home.”

“What do you think your uncle would say about you now?” he teased.

“Leave my uncle out of this,” she said sharply, retracting her hand.

“Whoa, wait.  I’m sorry.  I wasn’t thinking–”

“That’s just wrong, Paolo.  He’s my uncle.  It’s not funny.  That’s like saying, ‘imagine your mother watching you jerk off.'”

“I didn’t mean it like that.  I’m sorry.”  He pulled into the courtyard of her building and turned to look her in the eyes.  “I’m sorry,” he said again, more quietly.  “That was rude and out of line and now I’ve ruined the amorous mood that you had going here in the car–” and he moved closer to her face– “and I’m going to have to sleep on the couch by myself and dream about you in the next room, all warm and lithe and perfect under those sheets–” and then he kissed her, carefully at first, then probing, and reaching with his hands for her breasts.

She kissed him back, and moved her hand back to where it had been, touching him through the fine wool of his Tom Ford tuxedo.  She unzipped him and reached in to free his cock, grasping it all around and beginning to jerk him off, first slowly, then working up to a faster rhythm.  He reached in between her legs and began rubbing.

“Damn your jumpsuit,” he said raggedly.

“We’re steaming up the windows,” she observed, maintaining her steady conquest of his shaft.  She felt him tighten.

“Wait–” he said, barely able to speak.  “I don’t want to make a mess–”

She leaned over and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock.  He came almost immediately in her mouth, and stroked her hair as he leaned back in the seat.

“Oh, Cesca.”  He was still breathing heavily.  “Damn.  Oh, fuck, that was good.”

She sat up and wrapped her fur around her shoulders again.  “Let’s go inside,” she said.

He zipped up and got out of the car, and they walked across the cobblestones to the front door.  “You don’t think anyone saw that, do you?” he asked.

She looked around the courtyard and back at the car.  “Listen.”  The building was silent.  “Everyone’s asleep.  And look at those windows,” she said, pointing to the Maserati.  “You couldn’t see in them if you tried, they’re so steamy.”

Paolo grinned.  “You’re wild, you know that, don’t you?”

“You make me wild,” she whispered in his ear, leaning on his shoulder.