“I’ll give you a choice,” she says after entering the code for her gate, “car or front lawn.”
I laugh, but she doesn’t seem to be joking.
“Front lawn?” I ask.
“It’s not totally private,” she says, “but it beats driving for three hours only to end up with ants all over your body. I’m asking you to choose between the car and the front lawn, because honestly, I don’t think I can make it much further than that.”
I smile and laugh, and because I’m a little worried about ants myself, I answer, “Car.”
The gate’s closing behind her and Emma’s parking in her garage. She’s barely pressed the button to drop the garage door before her seat belt is off and she’s halfway out of her seat, kissing me.
I manage to unfasten my own seat belt before Emma’s halfway out of her seat and into mine, tearing my shirt open as she moves from one side of the car to the other.
“You’re in a good mood today,” I tell her.
“I told you I was,” she says between hot, hard kisses.
She’s ripping her own shirt from her body, and I’m undoing her bra, allowing her perfect breasts to breathe.
I coyly tongue her nipples, and she’s lifting her body to allow herself better access to undo my belt and my pants.
Before I even know it, she’s facing away from me, sitting on my lap, and she reaches over to the side of the seat and leans it back all the way.
“There,” she says and turns back around to face me with more ease than one would think possible given the limited amount of space we have to work with, “that’s better.”
“You know,” I tell her, “you could have just asked.”
“I know,” she says, “but I was trying to stay in the moment.”
That seems fair enough.
“Put your hands flat on my sides, fingers pointing down just above my waistline,” she says.
I tease her specificity, but I do as I’m told. Emma unbuttons her pants and unzips the zipper.
“Slide your hands down my legs,” she says. “My pants should come right off.”
“You’ve done this before,” I muse, and per her instructions, I slide my hands down the sides of her legs, taking a moment to grasp that movie star ass of hers.
I slip her pants down as far as I can and she kicks her legs out from there. When she moves her bare gorgeousness toward me again, she places one knee on the outside of each of my legs, and without another moment’s hesitation, she lowers herself onto my hard and waiting erection.
Instinctively, I grab my shaft, and as I slip out of her just a little, I start working my tip over her already swollen bud when she grabs my hand and stops me.
“I think we can spare the upholstery a deluge,” she says, and replacing my hand with hers on my penis, she puts me back at the mouth of her entrance and lowers herself onto me again.
We kiss and our bodies writhe together, every intentional and unintentional touch of her skin against mine only taking me more completely into the sensuality of right now.
She presses her body into mine, and I hold her close, running my fingertips over her upper back as she rides me.
Her hips are churning over me and I lift my butt just enough to add that extra bit of momentum as she falls completely onto me.
“That’s it,” she tells me. “Now, grab my hips,” she says. “I don’t have a lot of room to move, so you’re going to have to help me if you want me to fuck you harder.”
“I can’t believe I used to think you were a prude,” I tell her, putting my hands on her hips.
“All right,” she says. “Do it hard and with my rhythm,” and I let my hands move with her body to familiarize myself with her pace before I strengthen my grip enough to guide her body with greater drive up and down my erection.
Glancing out the rearview mirror, I see how the car is rocking, and I chuckle with a pretty decent amount of immaturity.