I watched as you approached the car. Just as I asked, you were wearing a short skirt and a hoodie. I pushed myself off of the hood and met you partway. I took your arm and guided you to the car. Changing hands, I opened the door and allowed you to step in, offering my steady hand for support.

Once inside, you look up at me with a subdued excitement in your eyes. You don’t know where I’m taking you, but you know I have something planned. You can see the brief lightning flash in my eyes as my brain speeds up, yet I can’t take my eyes off yours. Your clothing is simple, yet it feels elegant. Anything you wear becomes first-class material in my mind.

After a moment of hesitation, I lovingly brush your hair behind your ear. The familiar touch of my confident hand resonates with you and you feel a sense of comfort wash over you. I close the door and move to the driver’s side swiftly, not hurrying, but smoothly. The butterflies rise in my stomach, but I push them back down and keep a level head.

Entering the car, I glide into my leather seat, the familiar material welcoming me to my rightful place behind the wheel. “Did you do as I asked?” I calmly inquire as the engine purrs to life.

You are suddenly reminded of your nakedness beneath your skirt as you nod your head. Your panties are nowhere to be found, yet you’re comfortable with that. You may not feel this way around anyone, but you feel a simple sense of belonging here by my side.

“Good,” I acknowledge as the vehicle begins to drift forwards, slowly leaving the security of home.

Almost immediately, you find my right hand resting intimately on your bare thigh. You wait for my hand to move, but it stays planted. Imagining where I could move my hand, your body heat resonates. You can feel your cheeks begin to turn red, but you press the feeling down, waiting for me to make a move. Before long, you grow impatient, but when you look over at me, my eyes are indifferently fixed onto the road.

You almost give up when you feel my hand begin to slowly caress your bare skin. I feel the heat rise as I inch my hand toward your inner thigh, never taking my eyes from the road.

I gracefully drag my hand upwards along your leg a short distance, then pull away and return my hand it it’s starting position. My next stroke brings my hand closer to the area you want my fingers to invade, but I pull away once more. You feel the tension growing as you spread your legs on the next stroke to allow me easier access. Still, however, I only make steady progress toward the area of your deep desire. The next pass of my hand nearly brushes your crotch. You can feel the heat of my hand as it lingers there for a moment. Your body heats up in anticipation, but I pull away once more, moving at what seems to be the slowest pace yet. Reaching it’s starting point, my hand begins to slowly creep it’s way back up your skirt. You can feel the moisture build within you.

I slow to almost a standstill as you toss your head back against the seat in frustration, but I make steady progress. I can feel the moisture in the air as I approach your crotch. I continue my hand’s movement until I am cupping your crotch, trapping the heat and moisture against your body.

You begin to feel a moan rising from your throat as I flex my middle finger against your wet hole, refusing to give you the penetration you crave so deeply. I wiggle my digit against your pussy as you try to stifle a moan. Your ears turn red as the stoplight I am pulling up to, going slightly too quickly, though you are too focused on gripping the center console with your left hand to notice where we are.

I continue to progress toward the red light as I pull my hand away slightly. You let out a gasp of frustration as you feel the warmness of my skin leave yours. You begin to become aware of your surroundings just as I reposition my finger, only the tip teasing your wetness.

Your checks flush as I aggressively apply the brakes, lurching you forward onto my finger. I bring the car to a stop, but continue to press my digit into your hole.

The light turns green as I pull out my finger. I begin to accelerate the vehicle and add a second finger to my assault. I piston both fingers in as you let out an approving moan. I give you a satisfying five pumps (during which your eyes are squeezed shut as your head lurches against the seat) before removing my hand entirely, rubbing the inside of your thigh as I make my retreat.

“Look in the glovebox,” I confidently order you as I return my hand to the wheel. “You’ll know what to do.”

You feel excitement coursing through your heart as you lean forward in anticipation. You reach the handle and give it a slight pull, but you are met with unexpected resistance. Confused, you look over at me, but my eyes are on the road. In my left hand, I am holding a simple key. I am unwavering as you reach for it. Just before your hand reaches mine, I release my grasp of the key, allowing it to fall into my lap.

“Oops,” I utter. Glancing down, you are met with the glimmer of the key resting squarely on my crotch. Understanding what I expect to happen, you gingerly reach for it. As your hand meets my body, you are greeted with a familiar hardness beneath my pants, the swollen mass struggling to escape its cotton prison. You allow your hand to rest in the familiar position for just longer than necessary before pulling away with the key grasped within your delicate fingers.

Once again, you lean forward in your seat and insert the key into its rightful hole. With a simple twist, the glovebox pops open.

* * *

Your anticipation builds as the glovebox pops open and you peer inside. You are distracted by the sopping mess between your legs, but you know that I would not let you get away with pleasuring yourself. You want nothing more than to lean back in the seat and feel the vibrations of the car as you pump your fingers in and out of your soaking hole, but you have instructions to follow.

Inside the glovebox, you find one lonely object: a spherical object resembling the size and shape of an egg. Confused, you reach for it. Just as your trembling fingers touch it, the object vibrates to life. The sidden movement makes you withdraw your hand. You glance over at me. I am still staring straight ahead at the road. But, in my right hand, there is a small remote. I depress a button and the hum of the egg ceases.

Now you understand precisely what I expect.

Tentatively, you once again reach for the object. It is warm in your hand as your imagination begins to rekindle the fire burning between your legs. For its size and shape, it is surprisingly heavy. You weigh it in your hand in anticipation, hesitating to place the vibrator where it belongs.

“Don’t make me ask twice,” I say monotonly, giving you a sideways look that ignites passion deep in your stomach. You couldn’t sit still for a week after the last time you disobeyed me, and you aren’t eager to repeat the experience. Your pussy tingles at the thought, but you put your fantasy aside and return to the very tangible reality of sitting in the car alongside me, obediently doing what you’re told.

So, your trembling hand makes its way between your legs. You close your eyes, readying yourself for the bulbous invader. You let your mind wander to the thoughts of our adventure last week. You visualize how I forced you to smile in front of that waiter and order your food while I shoved a finger deep into your ass. You recall the sudden presence beneath your dress, followed by a resounding gasp as my digit made its entry, the wetness from your feminine folds supplying ample lubrication. You imaging reliving the event, ordering the first item off the menu because you could not focus well enough to remember what you had decided to eat that day. The heat between your thighs only grows as you reexperience the climactic aftermath of that day.

You are only brought back to the present by the familiar touch of my hand on yours as I take the egg from your hand. Eyes still squeezed shut, trying desperately not to let out a scream of pleasure, you feel the warm object press up against your slit. Your breathing grows heavier as you feel the egg buzz to life, your soft, sensitive skin feeling the full impact of the humming object.

I slowly press deeper as you let out a moan. You are leaning back in your seat, fighting to maintain control of your climax. The vibrations seem to course through the entirety of your being, and they only grow more intense as the object penetrates your sensitive hole deeper, stretching the outer edges over so delicately. You feel yourself nearing the point of no return as your pussy accepts the foreign object and swallows it. All you need now is a few more seconds of this intense pleasure.

You toss your head back against the seat as you prepare for your climax to overwhelm you, bracing overy muscle in your body as every cell prepares for its long-awaited release. You aren’t sure how much longer you can hold out. You grab my forearm, trying to ensure that I do not pull it away as you approach the edge of your climactic release. And then it stops. You can feel the fulness of your cavity. You can feel the hot presence of my hand against your skin. But the vibrations have ceased.

You let out a wobbly sigh of frustration as your body retreats from the edge ever so slowly. My hand is unmoving. The only vibrations you feel are that of the car racing down the street nearly as fast as your heart seems to be beating. Disenchanted, you open your eyes and let your head flop forwards as your body begins to relax. You crave release, yet you cannot fulfill this desire yourself. Finally, my fingers retreat from your opening and you feel the hole begin to close, trapping the egg inside.

Sensing your tension, I leave my hand between your thighs and circle your sensitive pocket gingerly. This is a familiar sensation and it helps to calm you, slowing the anticlimactic fall from the edge of sexual release. I accumulate wetness on my middle finger and plunge it into you one more time in a quick piston motion, quickly retracting my dripping digit. Instead of withdrawing my hand entirely, I move my attention downwards, dragging your own wetness along your skin.

I finally reach your ass as I wedge my lubricated finger between your cheeks. You feel the foreign presence of moisture on your most private hole, yet you don’t pull away. I flex my finger, applying pressure. You slowly tilt your head back against the seat as you give in to the pleasure. You understand that you are mine.

You moan as I rub my finger across your anal entrance, stimulating the sensitive nerve endings located there. You tense your body as I apply pressure, the heat once again radiating from between your thighs. You slowly relax as I make an entrance. A sudden gasp breaks the otherwise quit sounds of your heavy breathing. I progress deeper, flexing my finger to gain progress. You close your eyes gingerly as I begin to make a retreat from your tightest passage. The feeling is comforting as the pressure inside you begins to subside.

That’s when the intense vibrations return. Your eyes pop open as I make a thrust deeper into your hole. The vibration of the vehicle on the road is ever-present as you become hypersensitive to your surroundings. As I very slowly pull my finger out of your ass, you let out a shaky breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. I allow my ring finger to grag against your responsive slit as the vibrations build in intensity.

Though your eyes are open, you have no clue where you are. Your vision is distorted by the sexual pleasure that radiates from the entireity of your body. You have no concept of time. Your pleasure builds up as my finger leaves your pussy, dragging along the inside of your thigh. You feel yourself begin to approach that edge of climax once more, but then the vibrations stop.

Once again, your subsequent sigh marinates in frustration. You long for the familiar presence of my hand betwixt your thighs instead of the inanimate object currently shoved inside you. You wish for the feeling of your ass stretching as it allows space for my finger to return. Alas, you understand that it is not to be. Not yet.

You regain your senses, your stomach feeling full from the intruder, and glance over at me. The car is now sitting still and I am lovingly staring at you, patiently awaiting your return to the grounded reality of life. You can feel your legs trembling as I open my door and smoothly exit the car. Watching me walk around the hood, you finally recognize our location: the entrance to the hiking trail where we first kissed.

You feel a gust of the outside air brush your face as I open your door. You look up at me as I offer my hand. “We’re here.”

* * *

You hesitantly take my hand and step out of the car with shaky legs. I can feel your weight resting on my arm for stability. You are constantly conscious of the egg-shaped object stuffed inside you, and every movement reminds you of its invasive presence.

I lean into the door behind you and reach into the back seat, holding my hand steadfast for your support the whole time. In fact, you don’t think you’d have the strength to pull away if you tried. I reemerge with a backpack. Tossing it lightly over my shoulder, I close the door and lead you towards the trail. My grip is firm and unrelenting, yet you find a certain comfort in it. Despite how frustrated you feel at the moment, you feel an overwhelming sense of trust towards me. While I may do bad things to you, you know I’ll never let someone else hurt you. Even when my punishment stings while you’re bent over my knee, you understand that I’m only doing it out of love.

Your first step is terrifying. You have to force your legs forward to stay alongside me. The whole time, you are terrified that the egg nested inside of you will pop out and everyone will see. While the trail is not crowded, we are nowhere near close to alone. You long for the security of the car, yet I progress forward, making you remain at my side with a firm grip on your delicate hand.

Your second step is even worse. As your thighs slide past one another, trying desperately to keep the egg in place, you feel a slick wetness lubricate their passing. Briefly glancing down in horror, you can see a large wet spot on your short skirt. Almost as if in slow motion, your eyes trace theri way up to me, scanning over the ground, my shoes, eventually the pronounced bulge in my pants, and finally my face. I am looking down at you dominantly. I know what you’re scared about. I’m also scared of somebody noticing the hardness sheathed within my pants, but I don’t let you know. “Better hope nobody sees,” I tell you as I give your hand a squeeze. You thought that my grip couldn’t grow any tighter, but that momentary squeeze brings you back to reality as you take another step forward.

Your third step is a fight to maintain composure. You can feel the heat rushing to your face, yet my complection is cool as ever. You have no clue that inside I am terrified of getting caught in what I’m planning. You can’t see anything on my face but impatience.

Fearing what I might do, you take the fourth step, making the egg inside you gyrate ever so sensually. Your fifth step is marked by the first drip you hear. On the sixth, you hear another faint drip. You’re surprised that such a quiet sound can penetrate the chaos consuming your mind. You can’t stand to look forward anymore, so you look down in shame, following the path of my feet.

Your seventh step makes you locate the source of the slight drip that puncuates each and every movement. You see a translucent liquid trail off the back of your skirt and hit the ground. Drip. Logically, you know that nobody else has noticed. It’s such a miniscule detail. But still, you’re terrified that an onlooker will point it out.

Drip. You take the eighth step, the egg inside you seeming to rearrange your insides. Drip. Your ninth step. You feel the gooeyness between your thighs create a trail in the air as you walk. Yet there’s nothing you can do about it.

Drip. Your tenth step stops you in your tracks. You feel a sudden lurch at my hand as I move on. You still are unmoving, frozen in paranoia. Maybe he’d be less confident if he were the one with a waterfall between his legs. You immediately scold yourself for the thought, thanking God that you didn’t utter it under your breath.

Drip. You feel a familiar hand on your chin. I raise your eyes to meet mine and I stare into them intently. You know that one word is all it would take and it would all be over. Yet you don’t say it. A moment passes. Drip. It feels like an eternity staring into my deep blue eyes. Drip.

I let go of your hand and move to your left side. You’re still immobile, head unmoving, legs shaking, eyes following my movement. You completely tune out the outside world as you feel a strike on your ass. The CRACK resounds heavily in your ears as you flinch forwards. The sudden sting reignites the pain of a recent punishment. You couldn’t sit for a week, your ass was so abused. Yet you know that you deserved it for being disobedient.

As the pain subsides, you’re aware that my hand remains where it had made contact on your left cheek. You feel me massaging your ass through your internally damp skirt. Drip. Your face is as red as the sports car we drove here in.

My hand slips beneath your skirt and you are frozen in place, fearing what comes next. You can’t muster the willpower to look into my eyes, but you can feel my penetrating stare digging into yours. Drip. Cruel as I may be, I can’t take my eyes off of your beautiful face. You’re so adorable when you’re embarrassed. And I’m about to make it worse.

You gasp and lurch forward, back arched, as you feel my finger plunge into your sopping pussy. The stimulation is surprising, and the penetration is unusual, given that your insides are already partially filled by the vibrator. My finger leaves nearly as fast as it came.

My digit works its way to your back entrance. Drip. You feel the pressure against your sensitive hole, the wetness of your vaginal juices stimulating the thousands of nerves contained within your outer ring. You try to take a step forward to avoid the inevitable, but your legs simply won’t respond. Drip.

You let out a stifled moan as my finger shoves its way into your butt. As I apply pressure, you finally find the strength to move forward. Another drip punctuates your eleventh step.

It’s impossible to keep a perfect pace with me, so you feel my finger move into and out of your ass with every step. Drip. You nearly forget about how much wetter your thighs have grown since this additional intruder. Drip. With every step you can feel both your pink cavern and your back passage experience my torment. Drip.

You can’t keep your eyes up. Drip. You feel the unadulterated assault of my fingerdriving you forward. Drip. A brief glance in my direction sees that the bulge in my pants has only grown larger. Drip drip.

After a final step, you feel my finger smoothly slide out of your butt as I stop walking. Drip. You feel my arm wrap around your shoulder as my right hand finds its way to your right breast. Drip. You finally find the will to look up and see why we’ve stopped. Drip.

We’ve made it to the entrance of the trail. The walk out of the parking lot has finally concluded. Drip. You feel my eyes burn into your cheek. Drip. You feel the hum of the vibrator inside you as it purrs to life. Drip drip.

I take your hand and take a step onto the trail, pulling you behind me. After a short hesitation to regain some semblance of composure, you force your feet to follow me onto the trail, your thighs only growing wetter. The deep vibrations continue on as your legs carry you onto the trail, unsure of what lies ahead.

Drip.

* * *

I glance over to you and your flushed face ignites a desire deep within me. I’ve removed my hand from your breast, but I can still feel the warmness of your skin. The knowledge that I caused the sopping mess between your legs makes my hardening member stir. I can sense your discomfort (though I know you love it), so I deactivate the vibrator stuffed into you. Some color returns to your face and your eyes look more aware. Now that the distracting hum deep within you is gone, it’s easier to focus on what lies ahead.

I allow you to regain your composure as we walk for several more minutes. You’re constantly afraid that I’ll restart the purring between your thighs. Your legs tremble at the thought. It’s hard enough to keep moving with the egg crammed deep into you. If I were to reactivate the vibrations, you aren’t sure you could remain upright.

Still, these thoughts do not settle the waterfall beneath your skirt. The lubrication between your thighs does not dry away, despite the exposure to the warm outdoor air. You can’t bring yourself to look at how wet your skirt must be. You can feel the weight of it sticking to your thighs and clinging to your butt. Each and every step reminds you of your exposure.

You feel a faint humming between your legs as I reactivate the egg. Glancing over at me, you see my eyes deadlocked with yours as your juices flow. I know that I’m driving you crazy by denying you release, but I also know that it’ll be worth it in the end. Though I thought it impossible, the monster between my legs grows even harder as I see your steps slow to mere waddles, trying to contain your pleasure and maintain your faltering composure.

Looking ahead, there is a bench not too far in front of us. I place a hand on your skirt, squeezing your ass through the wetness. Though you would like to stop here and feel the relief of climactic orgasm, I push you forward.

Every step is torture. You aren’t sure if you can restrain yourself for much longer. The vibrations seem to intensify with each movement. The familiar sensation of my hand on your butt is the only thing driving you forward.

I lead you to a bench facing away from the trail, overlooking a ravine. Moving my hand to your opposite hip, I stabilize you into a seated position. It’s the same bench on which we had our first kiss. I can feel your core trembling from the tension. You lean back against the bench and close your eyes: it’s all you can do to hold back your rapidly building climax.

And then the pleasureful vibrations cease. You let out a shaky breath as you retreat from the very brink of release. Your eyes remain shut, blocking out the sensations still torturing your mind, pleading for a climax. You work yourself down from the edge, confident that I would not allow you to get away with an easy orgasm.

Suddenly, you feel the familiarly comforting warmness of my hand between your thighs, forcing them apart. Your shoulders shudder as I make contact with your hole, teasing your surrounding folds ever so delicately. A gasp escapes your lips as I plunge in two fingers with an audible squish.

You feel my digits work their way around your insides, exploring every nook and crevice. You feel me brush against the egg nested tightly inside of you. You lurch a hand over to my lap, rubbing the still expanding bulge in my pants. You feel the hardness pulsate as I work my way around your insides. The sensation of an oncoming climax begins to build up once more as you feel my fingers finally grip the egg and begin to pull.

You feel the stretching sensation reach your outer rim as I keep pulling. You thrust your head back as the feeling engulfs you. You aren’t sure if you can force yourself to back down from the edge this time. You feel the slick wetness coating your inner thighs. You shudder as the egg leaves the warmness of your body with an audible pop.

With the object gone, you feel a sudden emptiness inside you. Though you lament the tortures of the vibrator, you long for something to fill that newly vacated space deep within your wetness. Even though you are now devoid of outside sensations, your buildup does not cease. You’ve been teased and edged so much that you don’t feel as if you can back down now.

Your mouth opens to let out a shaky breath. You are met with a slick, wet object at your lips. Recognizing the sweet taste of the juices coating the object, you open your mouth and accept the vibrator. It fills your mouth comfortingly, the taste of your own wetness coating your tongue. Your buildup towards climax does not halt.

You feel my hardness pulsate more strongly in your hand. You begin to rub more vigorously, desperately trying to give me the pleasure I am bestowing upon you. The delicate touch of your hand arouses me deeply, but I’m more focused on you.

You feel my warm hand return to the waterfall between your legs. I cup your pussy, feeling the juices gushing out. With two fingers, I encircle your opening. You desperately try to keep yourself from going over the edge.

Your hips buck violently as my digits make an entrance. With only a few strong, deliberate pumps, you’re almost ready to go over the edge against your will. Another pump causes you to grip the lump in my pants tightly, focusing your energy on anything except what I’m doing to your body. Another pump. Your eyes squeeze even tighter shut and you suck wildly on the egg in your mouth. One more pump and you don’t think you can hold back.

I lean over and place my mouth on your neck, sucking delicately. You try to turn your attention to my mouth as you surprise yourself by withstanding another pump. You feel my lips sensually make their way up to your ear. You simply cannot hold back with another pump. You’re physically hurting yourself by restraining your pleasure.

My lips reach your ear as I shove in my fingers once more. “Cum,” I say to you, ever so commanding. The deliberateness of my voice sends you over the edge finally. Your hips buck violently and your torso thrashes around wildly. Your grip on my member tightens as every muscle in your body flexes. Your toes curl as you finally reach your climactic release. It seems to to go on forever as I keep pumping my fingers in and out of you.

Just as you think the pleasure is dying down, I add a third finger to my onslaught as your muscles tighten once again. You climax a second time as I slow down. Your heart is beating out of your chest and your breathing is heavy. You shudder as I pull my fingers from your wetness.

I hold them up to your lips as you push out the cleaned vibrator with your tongue. A sigh of relief punctuates this ejection of the vibrating menace. I move your hand from my crotch and you just lean back, eyes closed, recovering from the ordeal.

After a moment, you open your eyes to find me staring lovingly at you. You give me a sideways smile, eyes exhausted. Your eyes trace down to the still raging bulge in my pants. “Later,” I respond. With a clean, warm towel, I wipe away the sopping mess between your legs. I’m careful around your hypersensitive hole.

I take your hand and help you to your feet. I stoop down and towel off the wetness encompassing your butt and thighs. Replacing the towel into the backpack, I pull out a pair of your favorite sweatpants. I help you step out of the soaking wet skirt, which I wrap into the towel inside the bag, and steady your trembling legs as you step into the familiar comfort of the loose sweats.

Zipping up the bag, I give you a comforting embrace. You feel my strength wash over you and provide you the energy you need to hike out of the trail. You feel my stiff member press into your stomach. When I release you from the embrace, you immediately cup your hand around my crotch, feeling the heat radiating from the hard-as-rock shaft. I take your wrist and pull you away. “Later.”