The evening before it all went to shit was beautiful and magical
if you like those sorts of things. My car had broken down and I was forced to
ride shotgun. Not that I minded her fancy upscale late model mustang but I was
and still am fonder of vintage cars. There was something about them that
attracted me and kept me coming back much like women do if I were to be
completely honest. Women and cars have and will always go hand in hand. And if
anyone said otherwise they were either a fool or gay or both.
We drove up to Lake Wiggins Mill Reservoir. It was just after
sunset and the sky overhead was a blackish violet and a scattering of stars
shone down upon us like tiny pinpricks of light. A few fishermen were downstream across the way from us. We had parked farther down the drive and had taken
seats on the hood of her stang. She stared at the starry sky and I kept my gaze
focused on her. Then slowly we worked ourselves closer together until I held
her in my arms. A slight breeze gusted up rustling fallen leaves and pushed the
marginal chill from the water from the lake but I felt warm in her embrace and
I’m sure she was too. Our hearts beat fast and steady as we locked lips and
kissed clearly audible over the rush of the water cascading down over the
cement boundary. And one thing led to another and before long I had relieved
her beautiful body of its burden of clothes and bra revealing her soft milky
white skin and perky breasts. Her pretty little pink nipples were cold and
stiff much like my cock. She glanced down and smiled and reached her free hand
down to my crotch and groped my manhood. "That's a man-boner my
dear," I told her as if I was experienced in this sort of shit.
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