“Higher,” you say, as I move my left leg further up, “bring your knees closer to your face. And raise that ass so it’s lifted from the seat.” Balancing with my foot against the passenger door, I slide my right leg up close to the gearshift, where one of your hands rests patiently. A finger drags across my exposed skin and pulls my right knee closer to you, opening my thighs even wider as my hips hover above the seat. “Like that,” you say, a satisfied smile on your lips. “Just like that. Good girl… Now, get to work.”
The words I was waiting for. At your command I finally sink my fingers as deep as I can into myself. Inside I am warm, and completely filled. When I slip my fingers out they’re covered, thick and glossy, with you. I move to bring them to my mouth when your hand grabs my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. For a split second the only thing in the world is the shine of my skin as I watch us ooze down past my knuckles, the sunlight through the car windows illuminating our mix like wet strands of pearls as your grip holds my wrists suspended between the two of us.