by jmichaeledwards on April 22, 2012
It had been an awkward few moments. I was shy and he was either bored or shy himself. I was starring at the way he dressed, brown beanie hat, dark brown leather jacket, slightly baggy dark blue jeans, and untied Jordan shoes. A little thuggish. He had some street in him.
I asked him, “Wanna go for a ride? Show me what this car of yours can do?”
Michael was way too proud of his car. I made the mistaking of calling it a 240, but he sternly corrected me that is was a Sylvia. I didn’t know what that meant, but he assured me with much car talk that it was different and faster.
We walked outside, and I locked the door behind me. He waited for me to finish and then he took my hand. We walked done the two flights of stairs and through the hallway where my neighbors were stacked like Lego’s. We walked towards his car and he started on the passenger side in order to open the door for me. He was sweet.
I got in.
We drove. He didn’t get on it at all. He held my left hand with his right while he reached over to shift gears with his left. When I tried to give him his shifting hand back, he didn’t let go. He looked over at me and just smiled. We got to the park. I wondered why parks always spooked me out at night. We got out, I didn’t wait for him, but he came around to help me out anyway. He looked like he thought about kissing me, but he didn’t. I wondered if he didn’t like the way I smelled, or if he just wasn’t that attracted to me. A million thoughts of inadequacy ran through my head. Try as I might, the most likely truth, that he was just shy, didn’t comfort me at all. I decided he was just holding my hand to be nice. I decided he didn’t like the way I looked in this dim lighting. Shy or not, I wanted to be so irresistible that he would have no choice but to disregard whatever was holding him back.
We walked through the park, slowly, not saying a word. We came to the swing set, and he sat down on one of the swings, and I followed. We rocked back and forth a little. The silence was killing me. Why couldn’t I just be ok with the silence? Because I was thinking too much. But he broke the silence.
“You get high?”
“Yes!” I said enthusiastically. I was so relieved and excited to have something to talk about, or do. I wondered if he had some. I wanted to get high. I needed to get out of my head.
“Let’s get high.” He pulled out a small glass pipe and some bud. I could easily smell it from 3 feet away. Skunky. Yummy. It was exactly what I needed.
I was already high. I was a total pot head. I got high before he even came over. But smoking always relaxed me. It always made me feel like all my cares were inconsequential.
He loaded it up, gave me green hit, and we smoked until it was gone. He reloaded twice. We got ripped. It was good. Three hits and I would have been happy, but we had about 15 each all together. I was baked out of my mind. And the cotton mouth. I remember when I hated the cotton mouth. Now it meant I was happy. It was part of the package. And I loved all of it. No more cares. Everything was ok. Everything was weird, everything was moving a little, but everything was ok, as thoughts just went out of my head as easily as they came in.
He got out of his swing and came up to me and took my hand, stood me up, and said, “When I’m high, I don’t lie. I don’t know if this is a rule I came up with that I just won’t break, or if THC is some sort of truth serum, but I won’t lie to you, so you can ask me anything.”
My question came out as soon as his statement was finished. “Do you want to kiss me?” He moved in to kiss me before I was even finished. Once, gently on the lips, one kiss, pulled away, and he looked me in the eyes, looking for approval. I couldn’t see straight, but my mouth was just hanging there waiting for more. Then he came in again, with a little more this time. His lips caressed mine slowly, and he sucked, first my bottom, than my top, then pulled away again. I opened my eyes. He seemed to be moving back and forth without actually moving. I very slowly, very carefully put my hands on his cheeks. I was slow so as not to knock into him. I was having a little trouble balancing. I pulled us together. I kissed him, full, open mouth, tongue caressing tongue. He kissed well. A little timid, but as he got comfortable we just fit together perfectly.
When we were done I stumbled back a little. I was ridiculously high. “Is this weed laced with something?”
“I don’t know, it sure does fuck me up though.”
“Yeah…” I was so high. I couldn’t believe I could still get this high. I could tell he wasn’t as high as me, but he was very well baked too. “How often do you smoke?”
“A lot.” He wasn’t one for verbosity. His answers were almost always as short as possible. Again I wondered if it was him, or me that made him seem so shy.
We walked around the park some more. I noticed things I I probably wouldn’t notice sober. Like the smell of the grass from the soccer field. The cicadas chirping, singing. The swarm of almost microscopic insects by the street light. Maybe other people noticed this stuff all of the time, but if I wasn’t high my mind was just racing through my list of anxieties, torturing me with ideas that right now I knew were meaningless. But right now, the curiosity of the street lamp bugs had me fixated. What was it about those bugs? My dad once told me that bugs were attracted to light because other bugs were there. And the bigger bugs ate the smaller bugs. Right now, the question I had never asked, at least that I could remember, was what about the smallest bugs? Were they just suicidal? Stupid? Hoping they weren’t the smallest?
He broke my thoughts by stepping in front of me to make out with me again.
Our mouths were really communicating now. We got better and better. Cotton mouth kissing. I loved it so much. My panties were getting wet, and my hips wanted to thrust towards his. I came up to him closely as we kissed, and to my pleasure, as he felt this, his hands wrapped around me, embraced me, and pulled me all the way in. He was so tall. My five foot five to his six something. He smelled so good, like sage scented sweat. His mouth tasted like the green bud we had just smoked. And it was sticky. His body was hard. He was strong. His hands were moving up to my shoulders and back down to my ass, slowly.
He pulled away, wiped his mouth lightly, looked proud of himself, then looked at me with an inquisitive expression, but didn’t say anything.
“Well…” he paused, “You want to really go for a ride? I mean, let me dog it out, show you what I can do, what the Silvia can do?”
“As long as you don’t kill me. You sure you’re good to drive?” I asked, knowing that no matter how fucked up he was, the answer would be yes. And it was.
“As long as I don’t kill you, huh? I get that answer a lot. But I always wonder what you would do to me if I did kill you, haunt me?”
I shivered, not from what he said but I was suddenly aware of how cold it was. I picked up on this. My sweater wasn’t enough. He stopped and put his jacket on me. It smelled like leather and him. Musky. Manly. Strong.
“Yes,” I giggled, “I would haunt the shit out of you. And then I would…”
He stopped. My eyes had been fixated on his and I was using his body for a crutch. Bow that I was on my own two feet, the world was moving. There were two thuggish looking black men standing fifteen feet ahead of our path, glaring at us.
“What’s up?” the tall one asked.
“Hey,” Michael said. He wrapped me up on his right side tightly and just started walking towards them, to pass them. But they made it clear that this was not going to be such a brief encounter. As we moved over to walk on the grass they moved over to block our path. I was terrified. I wasn’t giggly high anymore. I was absolutely scared to death. Thoughts of armed robbery, gang rape, and being left for dead in a ditch somewhere were flying through my mind. My heart was racing as if I was sprinting. And that is exactly what I wanted to do, but I clutched onto Michael’s body because that was the safest feeling I could acquire.
Michael walked right up to the tall one who was making sure that he was in the way so that him and Michael would be face to face. Just a couple of feet apart, Michael put my behind him. He got within half an inch of the guy, nose to nose, completely ignoring the shorter one. The tall one was at least three inches taller than Michael, maybe 6’5 or more. The shorter one was about 5’10, certainly not short, but dwarfed next to my man, and his new advisory.
In my own head, on our first date, I just called him my man. But right now that is exactly who I needed him to be. My man. My hero. My protector.
The shorter man walked around towards me.
“J, get the fuck away from her.” Michael said, sternly, confidently.
He knew these people. A wave of relief washed over me for a second, followed by a renewed sense of terror. It wasn’t necessarily a good thing that he knew them.
And J was not obeying Michael’s command. My head tucked into the middle of Michael’s upper back. I concentrated on his smell. But I smelled fear. His body began to shake. I felt the tremors. I had this sudden urge to bite him. I did. Gently. I opened my mouth and gathered as much skin as I could underneath his shirt and gently bit down, and held it there. I felt safer. I could hear J breathing down my neck but I was one with Michael right now.
“Heather, I want you to step out of the way, to your right, right now.” This was the last thing I wanted to do. I couldn’t separate. I let go of the bite, but I didn’t move. His left arm came to my left hip, and he threw me out of the way. I stumbled and landed on with my ass on the grass. J started to rush towards me before I had even hit the ground but Michael swung around with his left and clocked him right in the jaw. J hit the ground face first right next to me, motionless. And then before I even looked back up, Michael and the tall one were in a fight.
They were scrambling. Too close to throw big punches. Just uppercuts and knees. They were locked up, wrestling. And then the tall one caught Michael with an uppercut to his head, his temple I think, and Michael’s knees gave out, and he hit the ground, with the tall one right on top, about to throw repeated blows to the head.
But Michael thrust his body up towards him and locked his arms around him, into a headlock with the tall guy on top, facing each other. With his left arm wrapped around the bad guy, Michael hit the ground again from his thrust, and pummeled the guys face with his right hand.
There was a lot of blood. Michael broke the guy’s nose. He shattered it. There was so much blood.
The guy quit moving. Michael him off, and then quickly got up to come to me. J was starring at the fight just as I was, no longer out of out, but dumbfounded. And scared. I was relieved, J was now tasting a little of my fear.
Michael ignored J, and extended his hand to pick me up off the ground. He hugged me. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to put you in danger.”
We looked at the tall one laying on the ground, moving slightly from side to side, totally out of it, blood almost pouring out of him face.
I whispered into his ear, “What about J? Will you hurt him some more?” It turned me on to even ask. It turned me on so much to have the power to have this fucker hurt if I wanted it. And I knew Michael would do it for me. My heart was beating just as fast but now it was beating for the pain that my man was going to inflict on this mother fucker who tried to intimidate me. It felt amazing. I felt like a queen. A vengeful queen. And Michael pulled back a little, looked at me with his hazel eyes that I could see clearly despite it being so dark, and said, “Sure baby.”
He stepped around me towards J who was getting up timidly off the ground. “I’m sorry man, look, it’s cool, you can just…”
Michael kicked him right in the chest before he was all the way upright. He went sprawling backward as all of his air left his lungs. I heard him wheeze in trying to refill his lungs as he lay sprawled out on the ground. Michael took another step towards J but stopped when he heard the sound of metal scrapping concrete. He and I turned to see the tall one trying to pull a gun from the back part of his pants, but it was difficult for him as he was mostly laying on his back side. Michael rushed him, kicked him in the head, grabbed the gun, and shoved the barrel into the guys mouth. But there was no response to this action. The guy was now completely knocked out.
Michael pulled the gun out, put it in his pants in front, and took my hand and rushed me to his car.
I could still hear J trying to catch his breath.
He didn’t open the door for me this time, and I wasn’t expecting it. We hoped in and drove off. He pulled the gun out and put it on the floor under his seat.
“Jesus Christ…” he murmured.
I was so freaked out, and wet, and absolutely amazed that I was so charged, so turned on.
“I’m a drug dealer,” he told me. “That was Terry. He was an unsatisfied customer.”
“Ok,” I said, completely and totally satisfied. His shirt was ripped to shreds. He had blood all over him. I finished ripping his shirt off as he drove, randomly through Atlanta.
I could have asked him why they were unsatisfied. I could have asked how they knew he’d be there. I could have asked a million questions. But I knew he didn’t want that right now. And I wanted to clean him up. I wanted to take care of him. I needed to make him feel good.
When I got his shirt off of him, I used the clean parts and my spit to clean his face off. His stomach and back were all scratched up too, and bleeding, from concrete and desperate nails from Terry.
He looked back and forth at me and at the rode. He was jacked up. His adrenaline was still coursing through his veins. And his veins were pulsating hard at the surface of his skin. His vascularity was arousing me as well.
When I was almost done cleaning him he took my left hand and put it to his crotch. He didn’t look at me. He was now just looking at the road. But his hips pulsated and slightly pushed upward. And he was growing, getting hard. He pushed down on my hand, down into his crotch. I felt his cock rise.
I frantically unzipped him. I needed it. My mouth went to it as soon as he helped me expose himself to me. And as soon as my mouth was wrapped around him he punched the accelerator. We were on Roswell Rd, a four lane street on the north side of Atlanta at 2am on a Thursday, I was giving this wonderfully dangerous man head, and he was accelerating to speeds that made me frightened, and so fucking wet.
All of this was so new to me. I had never been one for the adrenaline rush. I had never been one for the driving BJ either. But I needed to please him, and needed nothing in return. And I wanted to feel all of the fear I could, and trust that he had me safe.
The car shuddered. “That’s the governor,” he said.
I pulled my mouth up, “The what?”
When the car hits 120 mph a computer cuts off fuel to the engine. That’s what you felt.
“Holy sh…” he put my head down, gently, back to my duty, before I could finish speaking.
I sucked. I sucked hard. I gave it everything I had. I was careful. The logistics didn’t allow for my hands to assist, so I just sucked, up and down.
I never let anyone cum in my mouth before. But I had no problem abiding by his wishes. In fact, I wasn’t even planning on pulling up. I wanted him inside me in every way. I would take him into me. He came. He pushed my head into him hard, chocking me. I didn’t struggle but it scared me. I was chocking. I was gagging. But I was also swallowing. And after about 6 seconds he let go, and I eased off.
I felt as though I was discovering darkness inside me tonight. I felt as if I was leaving innocence behind me, traveling down a strange road, knowing that people didn’t come back from this trip. I wanted to be his bitch. I wanted to follow him wherever. I wanted to suck him whenever he wanted me to. I wanted him to own me. And I loved knowing he could hurt me and he could protect me.
I had no idea where we were at this point, but I didn’t ask. He pulled over. It was a freeway. Maybe GA 400. I took off his jacket and put it behind us. He leaned towards me, let my seat back, and told me to spin around so I was on my back but with my head facing the dash. My hips were in the crack of the seat, where the back met the bottom.
He stripped me of my pants and panties. He took off his jeans, and pulled out his cock through his underwear. He got on top of me, and kissed me hard. He pushed himself into me. I was so wet it slid right in on the first effort and made my body sing, and vibrate.
He kissed me hard, deep, our tongues searching for each other’s tonsils. He took his hands and held onto something under the dash. He pulled with his arms, and then pulled back with his feet that were holding on to the headrest area. He pushed into me both up and back this way. My my hips being in the crook of the seat kept me locked in, I didn’t move, and this made for incredibly deep penetration moving forward, and his cock sliding against my clitorious on the way back, radiating orgasmic energy up my spine, pulsating through me with every thrust.
It was amazing. And the whole time I was waiting for a knock on the car window. You know, the flashlight knock the cops do?
He pulled out to cum on my stomach. His O face was not too intense, almost a poker face compared to some I’d been with, but his breathing and his body tremors were. My shirt had been pushed up past my breasts. He stood there looking at me. No smile, just gazing into my eyes.
He took his bloody ripped shirt and cleaned off my stomach. He didn’t go near my vagina with it. Then he put one hand down on the floor by my head, and he used the other hand to hold my head up. He kissed me again. Gently, slowly, lovingly.
He got up off of me. I stayed there. I wanted to cum. I wished I could cum from fucking. If ever I could that should have been the time. But my clit was too spoiled by my shower massager and my fingers barely could do the trick these days.
He got into the driver’s seat, and turned on the defrost. The car was completely covered by interior fog. I started touching myself. I pulled at my nipples, I squeezed my breasts, I mounded, and I just imagined we were still fucking as I slid my fingers inside my pussy. Soak and wet. I went back and forth from my fingers inside me pushing in as deep as I could to rubbing my clit voraciously as my left hand took turns pulling violently at each of my nipples. He pulled out back onto the freeway.
I rubbed, and he drove.
And then after a few minutes I felt the governor kick in again. The vibrations, and the knowledge that we were well over 100 mph made me need to implode in orgasm. I did. I came so hard. He kept the car at the mark that sent the energy pulsating throughout my whole body and I just kept coming. After a minute of this, the car slowed and he told me we were getting onto Peachtree Street. He sped up again, driving as fast as before, and then stopped at a red light, and told me to keep pleasuring myself. I could see we stopped at the light next to a Grey Hound buss. I was almost completely naked, masturbating next to a bus. From my angel, still upside down in the car seat, I couldn’t see if anyone could see me.
“They can see you. A couple of passengers are staring at you. Don’t stop.”
I was so amazed at what I was doing, and I kept doing it, and again, to my surprise, I was loving it. I was dirty. I was skanky. It felt amazing, and wrong, and wonderful.
“Oh God…” I mumbled, and came again just as the light turned. And then a car passed us in the turning only lane, and Michael got on it. We were racing before even knew it. I couldn’t see anything, but he was swerving a bit more this time. The competitive driving was much less smooth, and it felt much more dangerous. We hit the limiter a few times, the car shook as it had before. I could see Michael grabbing gears, as he slowed to corner and sped up to exit them. He was focused, but every now and then he would look down on me and smile. And then, as I continued to rub myself, he hit the governor again and immediately put his hand on me, moved my hand, and shoved three fingers into my wet pussy hard, the vibrations pushing them in deeper and deeper.
I came with his fingers inside me and my fingers still rubbing my clit. I squeezed his fingers with everything I could as I orgasmed for the third time.
And then I heard a siren.
I started to get up, frantically. “Stop. Relax. Stay down. Loser gets caught. I’ve got this babe. Cum again for me.
I came again for him. He won the race. We lost the cop and the other driver. We pulled into the Emory hospital parking deck. My head was so tired and sore from holding itself up I had to move. He helped me into the back seat.
Then he got out to dispose of the gun. He put the gun in the trashcan out in the parking deck after he wiped it down thoroughly.
Then we made love. It was gentle, slow sex. Lots of kissing, lots of touching, lots of bewilderment and amazement. I wondered if he felt for me the way I felt for him. Sitting in the tiny back seat of his car, on top of him with him inside me, slowly grinding and pushing into him, I wanted to know so badly if he was loving me the way I was loving him. I pulled into him so hard, but slowly. I kissed him so slowly, but passionately, he responded with absolute perfection, he could do no wrong. He couldn’t possibly feel less than I felt right now. There was no way this was a usual occurrence for him. The night was just too insane. I had to say it.
“I fucking love you!” I whispered loudly, sharply, with all my conviction. I had to soften it. I couldn’t just say “I love you.” I had to adjust it somehow. I felt less vulnerable. He didn’t say it back. But he kissed me really hard, full, all the way in.