Chapter 2
Rick knew he was acting like an immature teenager when he sped away from Rhonda's house with his tires squeeling. His mind was too full of anger and unhappiness to care about noise or wear and tear on the new car. His anger was directed not only against Rhonda but against himself as well.
He realized that Rhonda wanted to keep her virginity in tact until the wedding; that, at least, was understandable. It was all right with him, too, as long as he could occasionally score with a college girl from out of town or one of the occasional hungry, but discreet older married women he met while working as sales manager in his father's auto showroom. The really big problem was that Rhonda kept displaying these frustrating moments of willingness to go all the way ... until she began getting up tight. She wasn't a "prick teaser", it seemed more like she was really scared.
He rubbed his cock through the material of his trousers. His balls were hurting again-the usual occurence after a date with Rhonda. "Christ, we came so close tonight, and she was almost letting me," he said aloud, and then added, "That goddamned police whistle-scared hell out of me, too.
And Harvey, making all those wise cracks ... that's all we needed!" Rhonda had tightened up like fast drying cement the minute she heard the whistle; it was almost as if she had suffered instant rigor mortis. Then something had seemed to collapse inside her when she realized that there were witnesses. That had been Harvey's idea of a practical joke-butting in just at that moment.
Rick stopped his car at the traffic signal and waited, then he burned rubber away but was cautioned by a passing police car in the opposite direction which blinked its lights at him in warning.
When he turned off onto Main Street, he was surprised to see Harvey Evans' sports car on the side of the road; its parking lights were blinking and a cursing Harvey had his head under the hood.
"What's wrong, pal?" Rick asked as he pulled alongside and stopped.
Harvey looked up. "Oh, this son of a bitching oil line blew on me again. Third time this week. Christ, for two bits I'd drive this thing over the trestle and dance a jig all the time it was sinking into the river!"
Rick laughed. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Not unless you've got three feet of quarter inch copper tubing?"
"Afraid I don't....Can I call a garage for you?"
"Naw. The cops came by a few minutes ago and radioed in for me ... the tow truck is out on the highway with a wreck right now so they can't be here for another half hour or so."
"Okay, see you later then," Rick said, and put his car in gear.
"Hey, wait!" Harvey came over to the side of the car, a troubled look on his face. "Say ... ah ... you could do me a favor."
"Sure, anything."
Harvey nodded toward the front seat of his car. "Can you give her a lift home? Her old man's going to raise hell ... even now; another thirty minutes and he'll probably be waiting on the front porch with a shotgun!"
Grinning, for the first time Rick saw Betty Miller peering at him from the dimness of the front seat. "Hi, there," she said brightly.
"Hello, Betty." Rick shrugged as he turned back to Harvey. "Would you rather I stay with your car and you take her home in mine?"
"Naw. I have to sign the auto club slip myself. Besides, with an honest John citizen like you bringing her home, her old man will have to believe that I really did have car trouble this time."
"Right." Rick leaned across the seat and unlocked the door. "Come on Betty."
Betty slid out of the driver's side of Harvey's car, and her little mini skirt crept up almost to her waist. From the position of her legs, it was difficult to tell if she was wearing panties or not. Harvey paid no attention to her or her legs. "I'll call you tomorrow," he said, patting her shoulder, and then looking over at Rick, "Thanks."
"No sweat," Rick said. "Want me to come back after I've dropped her off?"
Harvey shook his head and said, "Not necessary. I'll manage." A moment later he was lost to sight as Rick turned the corner and sped away.
Rick was all too aware of Betty's body next to him, even though she sat next to the opposite door. She'd made no effort to pull down her skirt when she got into the car. Her well-shaped thighs were really something to look at, he thought, her breasts were proudly upthrusting beneath her sweater and gave ample evidence that she had not bothered to put her bra back on after the beach episode ... if, indeed, she had even worn one at all. He'd be willing to bet that she wasn't wearing panties either. These thoughts and remembrance of the beach scene brought stirring life to Rick's penis again. The vision of Betty being soundly fucked by Harvey came back all too vividly. He knew he was tensing up, knew his prick was beginning to swell painfully again ... knew also that Betty was aware of his tenseness. God, that's all he needed now-another hard on! And with Betty, one Rhonda's best friends.
It was she who spoke first, saying "Look ... I'm sorry we ... Harvey and I ... ah ... interrupted-intruded tonight."
He shrugged. "It's okay. You really didn't see anything anyway, because nothing happened."
"I really didn't think so."
"What do you mean?"
Now she shrugged and gave a knowing little smile. "You're too up tight. You'd be more relaxed ... if something had happened."
"Is it that obvious?" Rick asked, mildly astonished at the girl's boldness.
Betty grinned. "You might say that it's obvious as hell." Without a warning, she reached over and touched the bulge in his trousers. "Like so." The contact created the same result in his loins as a match struck in a gasoline-vapoured chamber. She left her hand, not teasing him, not caressing ... merely resting her fingers on the throbbing cloth lump created by his desire. Betty's eyes were locked on his face; the intensity of her glance was something he could feel. She seemed to be asking silent questions-and receiving silent answers. Rick was aware that he was driving very slowly now-the car was barely moving in fact. His breath caught with the next comment from the girl, "If we hadn't intruded, you wouldn't be up tight. Would you?"
Rick had to force the words out of his suddenly dry throat. "I guess not." He kept his eyes on the road.
"Then ... I'm responsible in a way." She looked over her shoulder out the rear view mirror and then glanced ahead of them. "Keep driving," she ordered. She had some plan, obviously; her actions were unmistakable.
Through a haze of uncertainty and growing heat, Rick felt her hand leave his leg and begin fumbling with his belt. "Take a deep breath," Betty said. He did as instructed, and she quickly unfastened his waistband. A second later his zipper scraped, and her knowledgeable hand and fingers released his hot throbbing cock from the imprisoning confines of his shorts. He groaned deep in his throat as she stroked it a couple of times. "My ... it's beautiful," she said, breathlessly. "So big! So hard!" She lovingly pumped it for a few seconds, then rolled it like a thick cigar between her fingers. The reflected light from the dashboard instruments showed her hand moving up and down on his long white prick. God, how he had wanted a girl to do that! It was almost more than he could stand. Already, even though only thirty or forty seconds had elapsed, he could feel the gathering thunderheads in his balls. The girl was an expert; she knew exactly what to do and how to do it. He groaned, and his breath began coming faster.
He was so caught up in the delicious sensation that Betty had to make the request twice.
"What?" he muttered, not really sure he comprehended.
"Move the seat back further," she repeated.
Rick mentally knew what was coming next. Eagerly, he reached down on his left for the seat release and pushed with his back. The seat slid all the way back. He was forced to drive with his arms straight out in front of him.
Betty glanced out the rear window again-looking ahead at the vacant street-and ordered, "Just keep driving....Tell me if you see any cars coming from behind. Call this my wedding present to you." She bent forward and her hot lips slipped wetly down over the head of his bulging cock.
"Ahhhhhh," it was a moan of delight wrenched from his soul. Nothing had ever felt so beautiful before, or at least nothing recently. Her tongue flickered at the urethral opening and then ran maddening circles around the head. She had pooched out her lips so that her mouth felt like a soft hot clamping vaginal ring, wonderfully moistened. With her free hand, she reached down into his shorts and began gently squeezing his testicles in rhvthm to her sucking movements. Up and down her mouth moved, gently bobbing like an oil pump pulling precious liquid from the subterranean depths. Rick was about to go out of his mind from the sensation. The girl had said to keep driving, but it was almost impossible to do that because of what he felt. He couldn't have been travelling more than three or four miles an hour when the girl, as if sensing his impending orgasm, began taking the cock deep into her throat. Faster, faster, faster her head moved until Rick could stand it no longer. He arched his back and raised his buttocks off the seat in an effort to jam it further down her throat. She took it all, and as the head of his prick began swelling to enormous size, Betty started sucking voraciously, interspersing the vacuum with occasional little nibbles using her teeth against the trunk and head. The dash lights showed her lips being pulled out grotesquely as they clung to the white driving rod. He continued to push up to meet her, and she continued to take him. His mouth was swollen shut and long hoarse pants of breath whistled through it. His prick felt as though it weighed a ton-a ton of hot molten lava restlessly surging below the surface of a volcano. He knew he was on the verge of cumming and felt he should prepare her but as her motions became more rapid and the suction increased, he suddenly knew it didn't matter. She obviously had done this before; she was an expert. The lava gathered, seethed and boiled. The eruption was imminent ... low guttural noises of delight came rumbling out of his throat. He was cumming ... cumming ... almost there. Almost. Now ... now! Now! The first hot spurts of sperm boiled out of his balls and screamed along the duct heading to the head of his cock. "Ahhhh ... hahhhhh." His cry was meant to give her some warning, but the sound merely increased his frenzy. The hot cum roared out of his cock in great, smooth gushing quantities and she went on sucking furiously as he shot everything he had into her wonderfully warm, generous, greedy mouth. And still he came, as weeks of pent up frustration and abstinence manifested themselves in almost half a cup of the viscous elixir of love.
She used her tongue to tease, her mouth and lips to suck, until his penis became less osseous and began to deflate. It was as though she felt it necesary to suck every last drop of lust from him. She continued to work until he was sure he was getting ready for another erection, then she suddenly stopped.
Rick gave a mumbling sigh of happy release, and abruptly became aware that his car-lights on, motor running-was standing motionless right in the middle of the street. Betty withdrew her head which was inflamed from her nibbling and smeared with her lipstick. She slithered up until she was enclosed in his arms. Then she kissed him wetly; her tongue darted and licked around his mouth. He could taste the alien taste-the taste of his own sperm in her mouth. Betty's face was slippery-glistening from his seminal juices and streaked with her lipstick. She scooted back over to her own side of the car, opened her purse, and carefully wiped her mouth with a kleenex as he began driving away. He turned onto the street where she lived as she glanced over toward him, "Do I look presentable?"
He inspected her face and nodded. She smiled as he stopped in front of her house and started to get out of the car to open the door for her. "Don't bother," she said quickly and slid out. As her skirt flared up, he realized he had been right; she wasn't wearing panties after all. The crack in her smooth young buttocks was a dark inviting line at the tip of her white thighs.
Rick saw her father part the curtains and stare angrily out into the night. "He's seen you," Betty said. "So now he'll believe the story about Harvey's car." She grinned impishly at him as she closed the car door and leaned through the window, "Did you like my wedding gift?"
"The greatest!"
Her laughter came floating through the cool night air and she tossed back over her shoulder, "Make sure Rhonda sends me a 'thank you' note." She was still laughing when the door closed behind her excessively wiggling little ass.
Relaxed and sleepy, and feeling only a minor pang of remorse at having "betrayed" Rhonda with one of her best friends, Rick drove slowly home. He puzzled over the opposite sexual reactions of the two girls; there was all the difference in the world in them. Rhonda was loving. She had moments of great warmth and tenderness that seemed to engulf him like a pleasant comforter on a cold night. Yet, she had very obvious sexual hang-ups. He knew-from the way she reacted when he caressed her-that she couldn't be frigid ... at least not in the technical sense. She seemed almost "frightened".
Betty was a different proposition. She was 'hot'; from the gossip among the fellows, Rick knew she fucked like a bunny and had been doing so since the freshman year in high school. She also had other talents in the sexual line, as she had just demonstrated! There were a lot of girls in the world like Betty; he had known a few himself before he became engaged to Rhonda. Some of them-already at 14 or 15-were 'tramps', and that, he knew, was the kindest word for them. They pretended sexual excitement, they screwed, they bellowed, when they reached their pitiful little climaxes, but there was always something missing. Betty really couldn't be considered a tramp. She considered sex as merely another adjunct to friendship, and thus she enjoyed a good fuck. She would probably suggest "swapping" after she was married!
But Rhonda? There was an untapped reservoir of passion in her; he could sense it. There was more power, more heat in her loins than in Betty's ... But, how to reach it ... that was another thing entirely.
As he drove into his own garage, he thought sleepily: Maybe Rhonda will change once she gets the wedding ring. He was sure she would, otherwise the marriage would never go. She wasn't at all like her mother-dour and dryed up and seemingly hating me. At least ... he prayed she wasn't like her mother.
As he got out of his car, he felt the dampness of his shorts where the seminal juices had seeped after Betty had finished her ministrations. For a moment, he visualized Rhonda doing that for him; such an act would be clear evidence that she had rid herself of some of the hang-ups.
And, abruptly, he had an erection-just as big and powerful ... and painful, as earlier. The thought of Rhonda doing that to him stayed with him even after he hopped into the shower and until he soaped his penis-running his slippery hands up and down its throbbing trunk. Then ... feeling as foolish as a 15 year old ... he soaped until his huge rod spat out its load against the tile walls of the shower stall. He watched the cum run down the tiles, and he thought: That's the last time I'll ever have to do that again....