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Home Slash Fiction Het/Gen Fiction Donatella's Head

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"Thanx for the Ride"



Title: "Thanx For The Ride"
Author: DeSilva Moon
Rating: Totally NC-17
Pairing: Mike /OFC
Summary: Shelly gets a ride home from a handsome stranger
Warnings: Language, sexuality

Shelly sighed angrily as she started her walk down Topanga Canyon Lane. Another fucking overblown Malibu coke party that Jack had dragged her to. If there was any one thing wrong with coke, it was that it seemed to make boring people all the more boring. Especially if they wouldn’t shut up about this project or that project and what actress they were porking. So many of these film guys were such slimy fucks.

Musicians had always been her bag. With a musician you could have a drink and not have the conversation lead back to them every five minutes. Actors were always so goddamned full of themselves. She’d ended up talking with three of them tonight…or more precisely, listening to them talk while she stared into her wine glass and prayed to the grape gods for escape.

She’d told Jack that she was going to start walking in five minutes. Five minutes passed, and Jack continued on, putting the schmooze on some producer with a bad rug. And so Shelly turned on her heel and stomped away out the door, cursing herself for not taking a separate car. She could have been home already.

‘Any minute now’, she told herself, ‘he’ll come creeping down the road. He’ll come up from behind and apologize. We’ll get in the car and we can finally go the fuck home…’

She tried to check her watch in the moonlight. Too dim. Bright as it was, the light barely penetrated the thick copse of the trees. It would have been a lovely night otherwise- a nice summer wind from off the ocean gently rustling the trees. The jasmine and the honeysuckle sailed on the breeze through the canyon and off to tickle noses in parts unknown. None of it any good when you’re in a huff.

After what she figured was a mile and a half, he feet began to get sore. Heels were not the shoes of choice for a trek down this hill. And though it looked thoroughly smashing, her little black halter dress left her chilly when away from the fire pit at the party.

"Fuck!" she cursed herself, remembering she'd left her shawl on her host's bed. Maybe Jack would have the good sense to bring it with him when he came to get her.

She took an imploring backwards glance towards the house and saw two headlights winding their way downward.

“Its about fucking time, Jack,” she grumbled to herself.

She turned back and kept walking, picking up just a tiny bit of speed for dramatic effect. The lights made their way towards her, but she couldn’t see the car.

A sound crept closer. Something like the purring of a kitten played over the loudspeaker at the Whiskey-A-Go-Go. With the bass turned up. The large cat stalked closer, a little more slowly this time. But it was not Jack’s prized brand-new-from-the-dealer, bargain-hunted, blood red 1974 Jaguar (now with 8-track!). No, it was a different cat altogether. Black as night, a throaty growl…a panther.

It pulled up beside her.

A break in the trees spat moonlight upon it, and it was clear that the throaty beast was not a panther, but a sleek black GTO with a darkly handsome man at the wheel.

“Yew need a ride?” he asked.

Shelly stopped for a moment to consider. She’d seen him at the party…a friendly smile as they reached for the same wine bottle (he’d poured her glass for her). A sweep of the hand as he let her through a doorway first. A delicious southern drawl like molasses- slow, sweet and thick.

“Sure,” she said.

The great black thing swallowed her up as well.

‘Fuck you, Jack,’ she thought as the door shut.

“Great car,” she smiled, settling into the plush seat. “It’s a real beauty.”

“Beauty nothin’. This thing is a sexy beast,” he said. “Ah’ve had her for near on ten years now. Still purrs like a kitten. N’ fast like a bat outta hell.”

Shelly glanced appreciatively around the interior.

“Where you goin' to?” he asked, remembering his manners.

“As far away from that party as possible,” she replied.

Another half-cocked smile. “Well, the party’s wherever you make it.”

‘Flirting…’ she thought appreciatively. ‘I remember flirting.’ She found herself smiling for the first time in hours. “I'm Shelly. You got yourself a name, cowboy?”

“Name’s Nez,” he winked.

“Just Nez?”

“Nez is all ya need, babe,” he said with a sparkle in his eye.

Shelly cast him a look. That sparkle was equal parts mischief and self-confidence, with a twist of animal magnetism.

She hadn’t paid much attention before, but face-to-face, she noticed that his features were angular and striking. A long and regal -if somewhat pointed- nose, strong jaw, and plump cupid’s-bow lips. Beautiful brown eyes...and you could paint your house with those eyelashes.

Long and lean...that she remembered. Tightish brown trousers (slightly flared) with a tasteful white shirt and coordinating tie. Very sedate for that party. He seemed a sedate man, though. A bit on the serious side. Seemed to choose words.

"Well, ya think yew wanna head home or would ya rather find a better party?"

"Whell, who else ya know that's throwin' a shindig onna Fridey?" she said, mangling even an impression of a Texan accent.

Another tight-lipped smile from Nez. If it annoyed him, he never let on. He radiated a sort of calm sex appeal...a unique sort of cowboy cool, like he was John Wayne or somethin'.

"Ah got a friend celebratin' a birthday offa Sunset, not too far offa the PCH. Where d'yew live?"

"Mullholland," she lied. That was Jack's house. But he didn't have to know that.

"Well, that's nice and close, now. And Ah reckon he wouldn't mind me extending an invitation."

Shelly let out a smile. She'd never found a Southern accent sexy until now. "I could do with some cake."

With that, he turned his attention to the road ahead, shifted gears and bolted down the canyon road, straight towards the Pacific Coast Highway.

"So how d'ya know Bob?" Nez asked, trying to spark conversation after a brief dry spell.

Shelly sighed. "Ugh...he's one of my boyfriend's producer pals. Jack apparently wrote some script that Bob produced about five years ago. Jack said I shouldn't even bother watching it because it just bombed out so horribly. But they made another movie together that I thought was great." She shrugged. "Anyway, I think Bob and half his people are just so dead boring. Actors, ya know? Always talking about themselves." She paused for a moment, biting her lip, hoping that perhaps she hadn't put her foot in her mouth. "So, what do you do?"

"Ah'm a musician," he said more than a little proudly.

"Awesome!" she chirped. "Would I have heard anything of yours?"

"Maybe. Yew ever heard a' The First National Band?"

Shelly wilted. She tried to keep on top of things since she got together with Jack. He always knew what was going on, and she always felt so unhip. "No... I haven't. I'm sorry."

"S'okay. Ah know we ain't the most popular band. An' that's how Ah like it." His chocolate-brown eyes seemed to melt a little, taking on a wistful look. "Writin' yer own songs...bein' able to play what ya wanna play and not have anybody tellin' ya how to play it."

"Must be nice," she said encouragingly.

A smile spread across Nez's face as he swerved the car onto Sunset. "Darlin', next to good sex and hot chili, it's the best thing in the world." His eyes hardened, and he began scanning the road for signs. "Now yew keep an eye out for Marquez Avenue. That's our turn."

Shelly devoted half her attention to the street signs and the other half to Nez. The latter was much easier, since at his white-knuckle speed reading street signs was damn near impossible- racing down Sunset like the proverbial bat outta the proverbial Hell. Still, the car was gorgeous and so was the man inside.

She seemed to have left her weariness in the canyon and was ready for whatever the stranger was gonna dish out. In fact, she thought she'd like a taste.

She turned, giving him a sidelong look. "Is there a Missus Nez, Nez?"

He gave her a guarded smile. "Not at the moment. But Ah'm sure Ah'll find the future-ex-missus-Nez someday."

That was single enough for Shelly.

"Here we are," remarked Nez as they turned up the winding road. "Now Ah'm always messin' up these streets here. They sound so darned alike. I'll just keep drivin' 'til what I see looks familiar."

"Okay," she marked, unaffected, staring out the window at The Strip below.
The view from up here was incredible, and got better as they climbed higher into the hills. Though she wasn't sure how he could read a street sign, or even find a landmark in this kind of blackness. Save for the moonlight, the headlamps and the occasional streetlight, it was just as dark as the canyon, maybe darker. Jack loved his place on Mullholland...she thought it odd that people paid so much to live up in these places with these great views, and as soon as night fell you couldn't see a damned thing.

"Aw, shit."

When the speedometer dipped below forty, she figured something was amiss. She looked forward to find a large yellow sign blaring bright in the headlamps-
"End of Road".

"Sheeit," he spat again. With an annoyed huff, he backed up the car, turned it around, straightened it, and rolled it onto a flat bit of the road's shoulder. He then killed the engine and put on the emergency brake.

Shelly got high school flashbacks. This is what Rob Murray had done to try and get in her pants before Homecoming. Well, not exactly -and if Rob Murray had looked like Nez he might have gotten further than he did- but the whole stopping and parking was old news.

Nez turned in her direction, arm extended. For a second, her heart skipped a beat. She worried that maybe he was just going to take what he wanted and leave her there when he was done. No one to help for a hundred yards in any direction. But instead he simply reached past and into the glove compartment, removing a folded map. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

Nez clicked on the overhead light and began to study the map. He gave her a slightly goofy, apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout all this. Harry hasn' lived up here but three months. N' Ah'm always getting these streets confused. Ah didn' mean to get us stranded up here." He gave her exposed knee a little pat. "Ah'm sure I'll find it in no time." He then leaned in and began tracing lines along the map with his finger.

She looked over at him- leaning in, studying his map with a scholar's intensity. This was getting too lame for words.

"I'm gonna get some fresh air," she said cheerily, opening the door.

Shelly settled gingerly onto the hood of the car, trying her damnedest not to muss anything. It really was a beautiful car...chrome reflective and fresh, the hood waxed to shining and the whitewalls cleaned to perlesence. He took a lot of care of this thing. And again it disappointed her that with the gentlemanly demeanor, the tasteful clothes and the gorgeous car, he had absolutely no way to go about seducing a woman.

Nez climbed out of the car, ambling a few yards down the hill, map in hand. 'Hopeless or not', she thought, her eyes following him, 'he's got a nice ass.' She turned her head dismissively, trying to ignore the hopeless Texan and concentrating on the great expanse of the city below.

And back he came, walking right up to Shelly. "Why doncha git back in the car and we'll head up? Ah found my way now."

She raised an eyebrow. "You really want me back in that car, don't you?"

"Whut'r yew talkin' 'bout?" he asked, his heavy eyelids at half-mast, brows knotted.

"Oh come on!" she said, rolling her eyes. She was almost disappointed...what happened to that cowboy cool? But a hint of a grin curled at the sides of her mouth. "You just happen to park in a secluded spot in the hills off'a Sunset -in your 'sexy beast' of a car- to check your map? My God. If you were going to try to seduce me you could at least be suave about it. Don't give me any of this 'pull
over and check the map' shit. It's very, very high school."

He slapped his neatly folded map down on her lap. "Accordin' to this," he said with a crooked, cocky smile, "we passed Dulce Ynez 'bout a mile ago." He pointed to a sign in the dark distance. "That's Donna Ynez there." She squinted off in the direction of his finger.

As if summoned, a car quickly turned down onto Marquez, just long enough for her to catch the street sign in the glow of its headlamps.

She picked up the map. Down the big blue vein of Sunset, up the artery of Marquez, were the tiny filaments of Jacon, Donna Ynez, and finally Dulce Ynez. She let out a little 'Well-I'll-be-damned' laugh and handed it back to him.

Two big hands plopped themselves on the car hood, centimeters from each thigh.

Shelly felt her temperature rise.

He leaned in close. Whisper close. His big brown eyes looked straight into hers, and he said very quietly, "And if Ah were out to seduce yew, little girl, Ah wouldn't put on airs." He paused, building the tension, not even blinking. "'Cuz Ah know Ah don't need to."

Shelly bit her lip. He was right.

"I have a boyfriend," she purred, more a challenge than a rebuff.

"Yeah?" he said, leaning further, eyelashes straining for a butterfly kiss. "Well, where is he?"

She used her best 'naughty little girl' voice. "Back at the party."

"'At's right. Now where'r yew?"

She spoke the last two words to his lips. "Right here."

Time seemed to slow down, as each coy mouth refused to be the instigator of that kiss. But somehow, each pair of lips -like magnets- bobbed, weaved and then connected softly. Two sets of eyes closed. A low, heavy breath escaped from someone.

His lips were soft, his kiss was firm, and his warm, wine-flavored mouth welcomed hers.

Two sets of eyes opened slowly, just for a moment, each gauging the other. When it seemed that no more words were to follow, the mouths met again. And again. And a couple times more before his tongue slowly traced her lips and slipped inside.

Shelly felt a spark ignite between her legs, and its warmth expanded over her thighs. She tried squeezing them together -hard- to try and smother the flames. They had spread wildly...beyond her control. Frying pan be damned.

She figured that this man was gifted with such a gorgeous mouth for a reason. And she found she no longer cared if their little detour was purely by accident or through purported lust. Hooking a leg over a skinny hip, she grabbed him by the tie and pulled him closer.

Nez's hand rose to park itself on a slim, tanned leg. That little black dress was rather little...less than six inches from obscenity. And as such, Nez could feel the heat radiating from the center of her as their lips locked and unlocked, tongues met and parted.

His fingers petted the smooth skin, and a long, thin thumb kneaded at her inner thigh. Shelly thought she might have purred. His hands were big and strong, and his fingers were callused at the tips. She wondered for a moment if he was a guitarist…he had the hands. She hadn’t asked. And she couldn't now- her mouth was full of Nez’s tongue.

Shelly's hands -which had crept under Nez's shirt, naughtily undoing a few vital buttons near the bottom- had nestled into the small of his back. She'd let them wander across the expanse of his chest. While his broad shoulders made his frame a bit more manly, he was still thin as a greyhound- all tight muscle and bone with hardly an ounce of fat to spare. Mostly hairless so far. Only little tufts under his arms, and an orderly little trail leading from the patch on his chest straight into his trousers.

Shelly followed that little trail southward, over the fabric of his pants and found the button that kept them up. With a single-hand motion, she popped the little button open.

That hand dropped down, finding his cock outlined in high relief under the soft brown cloth. Yes, these pants were plenty tight. She teased the head with a thumb (feeling a quiver unmistakable to an experienced hand), while the rest of her fingers snuck underneath to cup his balls.

He stopped to give her a reprimanding look. "Ornery little girl, aren't you?" he said. But with the way his eyebrow perked upwards, she knew he wasn't going to stop her. She put her hands on his skinny ass and gave it a good squeeze, just to drive her point home. She wanted as much of him as he'd let her take. And she wanted it now.

He leaned in for another kiss; both sets of eyes were open. And when he kissed her again, he missed her mouth by an inch. Then he kissed a spot along her jaw line. Then slowly down onto her neck.

Shelly closed her eyes and let out a deep breath of longing. Her neck was her weakest spot. His hot breath made her hairs stand on end. She craned closer to him. To that warmth...to those lips.

Nez moved down one side, planting kisses in a neat row. Then it was upwards, his head resting in the crook of her shoulder. Very, very hot. He seemed determined to span the entire area of her neck. Moving backwards, his lips made their way under her chin, and across to the other side. Shelly was in ecstasy.

A finger traced tiny circles on the back of her neck, sending tingles down her spine. (No one really pays attention to the back of the neck.) It was an odd -yet welcome- sensation.

There was not a bone of innocence in that finger. It was joined by another, and together they found the catch to her halter and unhooked it in a single, deft motion.

She let out a little gasp as half her dress fell away. Her nipples became hard and blushed as cherry pits when exposed to the night air.

The kisses continued unabated, descending hotly over her collarbone; the tip of his pointed nose journeyed through the valley between her breasts. Half the thoughts she was thinking were in sighs.

Nez drug his lips softly over the teardrop curves and, taking one in hand, rolled his tongue over her nipple, flicking it back and forth before taking an entire mouthful. A thumb twiddled the other, lolling it around, feeling it pebble with his touch.

Shelly arched her back, pushing her chest out to receive his affections. She was sure now that she was radiating excitement; broadcasting pheromones that transmitted "Fuck Me, Nez" in stereo. Her panties were halfway to soaking.

He took a poor little pink peak between his teeth and bit down, grinding it lightly. A loud cry escaped her- half agony, half pleasure. Any harder and she would have made him stop. But right there it hurt so well. Her hand found itself full of a shock of brown-black hair, bringing him closer. He alternated between the two, lavishing them with tiny nibbles and long, languid rolls of the tongue, all the while cupping the velvety heaviness of her breasts.

Shelly's hand still hung on his bony hip, squeezing and digging as Nez concentrated his attentions on her chest. Her thumb strayed beneath the waistband of his pants, petting the downy hairs on his belly. An index finger toyed with his navel. Only the faintest sigh from Nez let her know what she was getting anywhere.

Damn it all. The heat of Nez's hands and mouth- added to her burning spite of Jack and the warmth of the engine beneath- had sent her into a bubbling boil that she didn't wish to keep a lid on any longer. It was time for action.

A seconds' worth of searching produced his zipper. Little metal jaws gave way, and brown pants revealed clingy white briefs. She peeled all layers away like a ripe fruit skin. Those pants were so tight that they refused to simply fall off. They clung to his fuzzy legs at mid-thigh.

Shelly's fingers slowly hiked downwards along the thin, patchy trail like they were following a treasure map; over Stomach Valley, across Belly-Button Chasm, past Pubic Bone Ridge, through the dense, dark forest and finally to Penis Point.

She thought she heard a subdued groan when it made contact with the skin of her palm. Fingers wrapped around the length and it jerked upwards in salute, grew thicker and harder with her touch.

Nez's lips abandoned their post. His thumbs found the elastic of her panties and eased them away from her ass, then guided them slowly down her legs, fingertips tickling and tantalizing the entire way. She wasn't sure how much of it all was planned. Surely he didn't make every move just to arouse her. But whether by sexual cunning or pure beginner's luck, he was driving her crazy.

Once successfully off her legs, he tossed her drawers aside and into the darkness. As far as she was concerned (at least, for the moment) she'd never need them again.

She grabbed the front of his brown trousers and pulled (mindful of his cock, of course), letting them fall unceremoniously in a pile around his ankles. She opened his shirt; finally revealing what was behind the curtain. Shelly was not disappointed.

Long...that she had figured while she teased it through his pants. She grasped the base and held it hand-over-hand. The head still cleared the top of her second hand by more than an inch. The width was what surprised her. Her grip was firm, but she could barely touch her thumb and forefinger tips together. With that sort of length and girth, it looked more like a weapon. Unsheathed, brandished and ready for battle.

The hands that had been teasing her thighs now spread them open wide, revealing all of her to him. Nez wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her towards the very edge of the car's hood.

The smooth head slid along her inner thigh, leaving the slightest residue of pre-come. Despite his perfect poker face, his dick was giving him away. He was just as excited as she was.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer still. The crown of his cock dawdled near the hot, slick opening for a moment, aimed confidently, then plunged deep into the waiting wetness.

Shelly let out a long, deep gasp. Good god! That thing impaled her like a pig on a spit. She instinctively grasped for something to hold onto. She ended up digging her fingernails into his shoulder, pressing her forehead to his chest, her breasts crushed against him.

Nez held tight to her hips, pumping in rhythm, working her with the entire length of his cock. He filled her so completely that his pubic hair ground against hers. But it was not only the delicious length- it was the way he moved in circles so that his cock touched her inner walls in different ways. It was the solid thrusts, putting his weight into the pounding and the pushing.

Somewhere, Jack might well have been looking for her, wondering where she'd gone to. And at some other point in the evening, she might have cared. Now she only thought of Nez as he filled her to brimming, delighting in the friction of skin against skin as she breathed onto his chest, clutching at his back and trying not to tear him to shreds with her nails.

His thrusts gradually increased in vigor as he began the climb to his peak. Her legs clamped around his thighs, pushing him in as far as he might go. He was like an oasis in the desert-- at first a mirage, then a savior, and then manna to be gorged upon, lapped up as if the likes of it could never be had again. But he was refreshing to her, and it made her greedy.

She let out open-mouthed moans as he took her, her head still pressed against him, her tongue tasting tiny droplets of sweat as they rolled from his collarbone and into the thicket of his hair.

Her lips brushed by a stiff nipple as she moved to taste the salt. She thought to turn the tables on Nez. Her tongue found it, diddling it back and forth.

A sound came from him. A murmur of pleasure in inaudible words.

She smiled to herself. Excellent. She moved towards the other and hotly affixed the little point between her teeth. That produced a groan from deep within his throat.

Slowly she removed her mouth, tugging the hard little nub with her as she left, and looked up to his face. His eyes were closed, brows knotted, and lips were parted and seemingly gasping.

Much to Shelly's surprise, he pulled out of her suddenly and completely. She let out a little cry of protest…like a child told No Cookies Before Supper. Before she could speak properly, a finger pressed itself to her lips.

His breath was shallow and whisper-like. Beads of sweat were collecting at his temples, shining like glass in the moonlight. And Nez held his cock in hand- glazed with her lubrication, giving it an attentive tug.

He looked at her with a sort of feral hunger, his eyes dark and serious.

“Turn over,” he growled.

Those brown eyes meant business. She slid to her feet and turned around. Bending over, she lifted her dress, offering herself to him with legs spread. She quivered a bit. But it was a good quiver. Controlling...she thought she could like that.

Strong hands forced her legs still farther apart. One hand steadied her by settling on her outer thigh. The other forced her nether lips open wide with two fingers. The hard tip of his cock dallied, avoided, and explored for a trice before finding her wetness again. Nez’s other hand settled onto the other thigh, and he pushed in his erection to the root.

Shelly let out a long groan. ‘Holyfuckingshit,’ was all she could think.

He pulled back, almost completely out of her, and lingered for just a moment before letting it glide back in.

She bit her lip as another groan was forced out of her. Shit, this one was good.

And he teased her once more. Her hips stuck out, trying to meet his dick halfway. She was hungry for it. And he knew it. Perhaps he was too good.

To her relief, and a bit of surprise, he quickly jammed it back inside, filling her to the brim. He continued then- no teasing, no pauses. Just the same slick, quick, firm strokes he'd begun with.

She bent over fully onto the car's hood to brace herself against the pounding. Her antagonized nipples were being rubbed across the still-warm hood, sending jolts of pleasure and pain through her. They seemed to be almost hot-wired to her cunt. She could feel her juices trickling down her thighs as Nez continued to bore into her.

This was the 'zipless fuck' Shelly had read about...fiction made fact. 'Zippers falling away like rose petals' and all that. Away from Jack, away from everything, and being rammed into by a guy she'd met a handful of hours previous. The thought of this rarer-than-the-unicorn thing was almost as satisfying as Nez's cock itself. She closed her eyes for a while, concentrating on the sensation.

He soon pushed her further up on the car. So much farther that her feet were having trouble keeping contact with the ground. But he never lost rhythm or force. And moments later it was clear: the head of his cock was thumping against the spot. That little Shangri-La that Jack -after many failed expeditions- decided was non-existent. Nez had found the gates and was going at them with a battering ram.

“Nez...” she moaned into the hood of the car.

He gave her ass a firm, correcting slap.

“Michael,” he commanded.

As if to add an exclamation point to this, he pounded her with three deep, solid thrusts.

She yelped “Michael!” and he seemed pleased.

His thrusts were stronger now, ticking down to the final strokes. Each one seemed to raise her a little farther off the ground. Between his sexual weightlifting and her oncoming orgasm, she stood shakily on her legs like a new foal. Her calves tightened, steadying her as she anticipated a quality climax.

The slapping hand eased its hold on her thigh and slid slowly to cup her mound. A long middle finger drenched itself in her wetness, prodded for her clit. It had all the pleasure of a doctor's exam until it brushed across that little pink bundle of nerves. She almost jumped when he found it.

The slick, calloused finger traced circles around the edge of little bean. Her deep groans turned into short, shallow gulps of air. She closed her eyes tightly. She couldn't see the lights beyond. She could barely hear her own squeals in her ears. Every sense except touch deadened. She needed every goddamn nerve ending she had.

Shelly was beginning to see stars in front of her eyelids. This was becoming a transcendental fuck.

The circle got tighter, over the edges and straight onto her clit. He rubbed at the little pearl; first gently, then with increasing determination. "That's it...come for me, darlin'," he said in a fierce whisper, hoarse from his own pleasure. His voice was cracking.

Nez was merciless, driving her quickly to a peak. She would have clawed at the hood if she weren’t afraid of scratching the paint. She settled for balling her fists. So hard, in fact, that her nails left little crescents in her palm for ten minutes afterwards.

A few animal noises escaped her before she remembered. She groaned his name long and low, with the same tone as a rutting cat. She was tensed and ready to spring.
His finger pressed against her button, diddling it back and forth rapidly. Unrepentantly.
A ball of string quickly becoming unwound. She almost couldn't form words.

And with that squeal, the floodgates to Shangri-La were opened.
Her mind swam in the bliss of it all, and every pore seemed to radiate post-orgasmic Zen. She welcomed the scent of the trees and the warmth of the car; the weakness of her knees and Nez's sopping hand on her thigh as he ran for his finish.

She tightened her inner grip over his cock. It was his turn to sound an appreciative moan. His thrusts lost rhythm and became semi-desperate jabs. His grip on her thighs got tighter.

She contemplated just how sore her pussy was going to be, between the length of time and the girth of his cock. But it was delicious. Nez was an incredible fuck. She was sure that there had to be a puddle at her feet.

His drenched hand wedged itself between her and the car's hood, cupping her breast and giving it a good squeeze. Not for her pleasure, certainly. But with the way he'd gnawed at her nipples she'd pegged him as a tit man long ago.

He squeezed his handful harder. Fingers dug deeper into her thigh. The thump of skin against skin took on a primal rhythm, like that of war drums. Nez's muffled groans sounded in time. Shelly whelped as she was pounded, adding treble to the mix. Even the car began to rock slightly. The whole cacophony was swallowed up by the poor acoustics of hillside and it's roads.

Nez let out sounds that were half grunt, half moan and all sounding up from deep within his balls. Building up inside, ready to burst, from the very bottom of his curling toes to his lovely, open, gasping mouth.


Shelly was thoroughly unprepared for him to pull out. She was even less prepared for him to let loose on her ass, almost directly on the slapped spot. And for a moment she was utterly disgusted. Did he think he was in a blue movie or something?

She was about to protest when she realized that it ultimately made more sense. It would be difficult to explain away to Jack how she'd ended up full of another man's spurt.

He collapsed on top of her. Large hands on either side of hers. Hot, labored breaths onto the back of her neck, a deep sigh if relief and contentment. A big hand wrapped up one of hers and gave it a squeeze. A very gentle, thankful peck was planted right behind her ear.

Shelly let him linger like this a moment. He didn't strike her as the cuddling type. She took his hand in hers and caressed it affectionately.

When she turned her head, Nez swooped down to deliver a hot, tongue-first kiss onto her mouth. He rubbed her thigh appreciatively. Another tiny sigh, and what sounded like "Mmmmmm". She couldn't see for sure, but she knew there was a smile on his face.

His breathing soon became steady. The cock that had been pressing intrusively against her buttock had retreated back to softness beside his emptied balls. Slowly, he rose.

Shelly heard him moving behind her. His belt buckle clanked. Fabric glided up fuzzy legs with a soft sound. A zipper returned to full mast.

She stood up fully, trying to avoid smearing her dress with Nez's come. What the hell was she going to do about all this gunk? He obviously hadn't thought that far ahead...not unless he had a towel somewhere in the car.

Nez seemed to be pondering the same thing as she. His eyes scanned the dark, woodsy floor for the answer, and he bent to pick something up. It was that pair of little blue panties that had been carelessly cast aside. His look seemed a might guilty and just a tad sheepish as he offered them to her.

She wiped the slick goo from her backside with them. Ball them up, toss them in her purse, then toss them in the hamper. She did most of the laundry at Jack's house...he'd would be none the wiser. She just hoped that that mark -the Scarlet Handprint- would fade by the time Jack made it home.

She brushed herself off, though she wasn't the least bit dirty. Nez hooked back the little teeth of the halter and smoothed the back of her dress, silently trying to make amends.

He cleared his throat slightly, like one does when one wants to change the subject at large. Nez took up his map and proceeded to fold it up to glove compartment size. He managed another half-guilty, half-sheepish smile. "So...yew still wanna go to that party?"


The sky was the blue-black of breaking Dawn when Shelly got home. (She noticed that Jack's car was suspiciously absent.) She'd had fun. She almost didn't want to leave the gorgeous Texan behind. If it were her place she would have asked him to stay the night. Maybe the week. Hell, just until she got tired of fucking him. It was probably a bit too much to ask, but she was hoping against hope for one more ride with the cowboy.

“Thanks for the ride," she said, trying her best to project a naughty gleam.

Nez looked back, seemingly unaffected but for that same sly wink.

"Anytime, babe."

She gathered her purse, her shoes and her balled-up panties (avoiding the dried gunk on them) and moved to open the door when he asked, "Yew know Bob's ol' buddy Mitch Kramer?"

"Yeah," she nodded. Mitch was one of a handful of decent guys Jack knew. A music producer with a real palace in the Hollywood Hills.

"He's havin' a party next Wednesday," he said, the cowboy cool returning. "Ah'm shore he wouldn't mind me extending an invitation."

"I'll be there," she said, trying to echo that same nonchalance (though the mere idea of another 'ride' would emit sparks from the wettest of places).

She could feel the burning stare of those coffee-brown eyes as she closed the car door and walked to her front steps...up and down her legs, up her dress. She didn't dare turn to face him. She had enough cool of her own.

As soon as the door shut, she heard a powerful growl from outside. No doubt that the panther had run off. She leaned against the door and sighed, now realizing just how tired she was. There was still that weariness in her calves from bracing herself, and a low ache in her pussy from the solid fuck she'd received. She gave it a little rub, soothing it. Yes, there was more Nez to be had later. But for now, sleep.

Shelly unclasped the back of her dress and let it fall right off of her. And another shiver. Dear God in Heaven, that man could fuck. She kicked off her heels and climbed into bed.

The sheets were soft and welcoming to her skin. Her stressed nipples relaxed against the silk, and the cool of the fabric caressed away the last trace of red on her. It was like a good rest after a long workout. Embracing her pillow, she rolled over and shut her eyes.

In what seemed like minutes, she heard the door slam. Lazily turning onto her side, she saw Jack stumble in and remove his clothes. Not even a word to her. He plopped his corpus clumsily on the bed -reeking of whiskey- and only when his hand nudged her ass did he notice she was there.

“Hey darlin',” he slurred. “How’d you get here? I thought you were still at the party.”

“No, Jack,” I left. “You stayed at the party. I got a ride home.”

“From who?”

“Some guy named Nez,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant about fucking a
strange man she’d just met.

A burst of laughter came from Jack. “Did he come walking down the street? Did you give him a funny look?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Here weee coooomee, waaalkinn' downnnnn the strreeeeetttt…” Jack had a fit of drunken guffawing. “That was that guy from the fuckin’ Monkees! He was the one who always wore that stupid green hat.”

“I dunno,” she shrugged. “I never really watched the show.”

“Did he give you a ride in the Monkeemobile?” Jack laughed again, thoroughly amused with himself.

“No, just a regular old car.” A regular old GTO that I just happened to have been bent over and given one of the better fucks of my life on, she thought.

“That’s great, baby,” Jack laughed a final time. “That’s great.” He gave her a congenial slap on her behind before rolling over to sleep. Right were Nez had left that red mark. It tingled pleasurably with just a hint of pain.

She gave a little half-sigh as she rolled over again and closed her eyes. She was seriously going to rethink this whole Jack thing. There had to be more out there. Better.

She feel asleep despite Jack’s snoring, dreaming of the coming Wednesday and the throaty growl of a sexy beast.