Fantasy #5

Fantasy #5
By: Prybar (frnkcmmngs@gmail.com)

The speedometer needle hovered just under 100 mph. The sunroof was open, and I had the stereo cranked up. Twas a wonderful way to spend a mid September vacation morning.

In 1979, nobody worried much over how fast you drove on the remote two lane highways in Nevada. You took your own chances and paid your own dues, out in the middle of nowhere. Besides, the NHP only had a few cars to cover the whole state, so my chances of getting busted were pretty slim.

My BMW was built for the Autobahn, so I probably could have asked it for ten or twenty more mph, and the car wouldn't have objected. But I wasn't in any real hurry, and the scenery was so special I wanted to be able to look around without worrying about wandering onto the shoulder. That could have been embarrassing at that speed.

A wall of mountains loomed along the western horizon. I knew the aspens were turning up there, but they were just too far away to see. I watched for and found that little jeep road that I knew left the highway and disappeared into the jagged country to the east. Someday I was going to have to follow that thing and see where it went. But, not in a BMW. Not today.

There wasn't a building in sight, and I hadn't seen but two or three cars since I left Wells nearly an hour earlier. The car and I burrowed through one of the more deserted parts of a deserted state. It was great!

Not one cloud sullied a perfect blue sky. The sun that morning took the edge off the chill air, but I still had the thick chamois shirt buttoned up to my neck to moderate the effect of the wind coming in through the roof. There was no California smog or pollen to corrupt the air. The clean air cleared the perpetual frog from my throat, and I sang along with the stereo, loudly and without my usual self-consciousness. Nobody around to hear how bad I sounded, anyway.

About fifteen miles shy of the Idaho line, I spotted a car in my mirror, coming up from behind. It was just a speck on the horizon, but on the off chance that it was a cop, I lifted off the throttle a bit and kept my eye on it. Whoever was driving that thing, or more correctly piloting it, was flying. The speck grew as I watched, and it soon became obvious that there were no lights on the roof, so I put the hammer back down. I was going a hundred again, and that car caught me like I was standing still.

I soon recognized the familiar roofline of a Porsche. My Beemer was quick, but the Porsche was fast. No wonder it caught me so easily. I figured to get passed in the blink of an eye, but just as it caught up to me, we crossed the Jackpot town limit, and the 35 mph speed limit sign. That is one speed limit that is enforced in Nevada, what with all the geezers crossing the road, and the tourists not watching where they are going, so the authorities have learned not to let folks motor through there too quickly.

So I dutifully stuck the needle on 35, and the Porsche impatiently followed, about one car length behind, as we passed between the casinos. All I could see of the driver in my mirror was a black baseball cap.

Getting passed by fast exotic cars on the back roads of Nevada was not uncommon back then. The rich guys took their Ferraris and Cobras and such out on the empty highways, because they could really open em up. Usually you saw such toys when you were closer to Reno or Las Vegas. That kind of money gravitated to those cities. They might fly over this end of Nevada in their private jets, but they rarely actually came here. And this Porsche had California plates. What do you suppose it was doing this far out?

Two big trucks pulled onto the highway just in front of me as we approached the state line. This was not a good thing, for I knew I wasn't going to pass them in the first few miles north of town. What with the hill and those curves, it was posted no passing for quite a while. And the Idaho Highway Patrol liked to hang out near the border with their radar, just waiting for the eager ones.

So I settled in behind the semis, patiently waiting for them to pick up some speed, but they were clearly running heavy, and we weren't going anywhere fast. So I checked out the Porsche again. As I watched, the driver punched it and pulled across the double yellow into the other lane. As it pulled beside me, I got my first look at the driver. She was blonde, beautiful, and clearly fast.

Oh my lord. She was right out of Sexual Fantasy #5! Except she kept right on going. On a blind, uphill corner, she passed me and two semis, and then disappeared into Idaho, and out of my life.

You remember Fantasy #5. Southern California blonde, ponytail hanging out the back of a baseball cap, long legs, tanned and fit. Porsche Targa, with the roof open, and not a cop in sight. In the fantasy you race her, or you stop to help her out on the road, or she picks you up while hitch-hiking. She has a name like Cherry.

She's got a body that wouldn't just stop a clock, it would melt it. Dancer's legs, white hip hugger pants, flat tummy, that gap between her thighs just below the crotch, and the top two buttons causally left undone on her blouse, calculated to reveal the bulge of her breasts in that low cut bra. Funny how all the women in my fantasies wear the same clothes as the ladies I lusted after in high school and college, even though it's years later, and those styles have long since departed.

She bends over all the time in your dream, when she greets you, when she gets in and out of the car, when she asks your help cause the Porsche won't start. So from the front you get the great look down the front of her blouse, at those jiggling tits and the nipple that just barely peers around the edge of her bra. Or from the back, her ass is hanging around just under your nose, as if she can't wait for you to slide in there and poke her with that prodigious cock of yours.

You get the Porsche started for her, and she gives you a sweet look.

"Oh, you are so good with your hands! Are you that good at everything?"

You drop a little hint back at her, and with a sly smile she asks if that means you were planning to set aside some time to make her really happy too, as the blouse falls open and the tits spill out. And you do and she does, and the two of you have just a fine time.

She is rich, and gorgeous, and hot, and she can't get enough of you. She acts demur, but sucks cock like a pro. And whatever you try on her drives her from one climax to the next, with nary a break in between.

Don't ya just love Fantasy #5? Geez, it's always been one of my favorites.

Well, it wasn't happening that morning. I was still sitting behind two big trucks, sucking down diesel exhaust, grinding up the hill at 40 mph, and there was just no way I would be able to catch up with this beauty now. She was gonna be so gone by the time I got past this moving roadblock. And let's face it; she didn't even glance my way when she passed. I quickly realized she wasn't going to be groaning under my panting passion any time soon.

Oh well, such is the fate of most fantasies. I was still on vacation, the day was still lovely, and there, finally, was a bit of clear road, and I could pass those trucks. So I just got on with my trip.

Still wary of those highway patrol radar traps, I settled in at a legal 65 for the last forty miles to Twin Falls. I could be in Jackson Hole by late afternoon at this pace, so I felt no need to hurry. The air rushing in through my sunroof was scented with fresh mown hay, and I had not a care in the world.

I almost blew right by the Porsche without seeing it. Miss blonde lady had pulled into the gravel lot next to the truck scales, and she was standing beside her parked car looking totally disconsolate. I didn't know what was up, but what kind of man would I be if I didn't stop to find out?

I got on the binders and turned in beside her. The dust cloud I created as I slid into the gravel parking lot caught up to me as I parked, swirling around our cars and making her blink in distress.

"Sorry about that!"

"Jeez, you fucking idiot! Slow the fuck down!"

I always try to make a good first impression with the ladies. That's how I win so many over in the initial few minutes.

"Hey, I said I was sorry. You looked like you could use some help, so I thought I would offer. I can leave if that will make you happy."

"Oh don't leave! I'm out of gas! I don't know what went wrong. I knew I was running on empty, and I might not make it to Twin Falls, so I floored it. I thought if I went faster, I would get there sooner, and I'd have more gas left."

Briefly, I considered explaining the hole in her theory, but somehow I figured that would go right over her head, or perhaps clean through from one ear to the other. I almost asked her to drop her pants right then, so I could see for myself if she really was that blonde. But that would have been mean. And deep down inside I am a nice guy. So I just offered her a lift into town to fetch some gas.

I did try to make small talk with her on the way, but she wasn't talking much. At least I got a chance to check her out up close. She was a looker. She didn't have the white hip hugger pants, but her designer jeans had been painted on those dancer's legs and they looked plenty good enough.

And she had left the top buttons undone on her blouse, as per my fantasy, so I got the good look at the bulging breasts, barely constrained by a frilly low-cut bra, when I held the door for her to get into my car. The seat belt settled in between her breasts, accentuating the twin bulges. I'm not going to pretend here that the thought of her fitting into Fantasy #5 didn't slip into my mind when I saw that, but she was so darn hostile, I quickly pushed any erotic thoughts out of my head.

The first service station on the edge of town wasn't the cheapest, but she was in a hurry for her gas, so we stopped there. We needed to buy a new gas can, and then three gallons of gas, and that's when she told me she left her purse in the Porsche, and so I got to pay for it all. And then it was thirty more minutes of silence as I drove her back to her car. I saw a Porsche that looked just like hers driving north, right before we got back to her car. I didn't say a word.

When I slowed to turn into the weigh station parking lot, my pretty passenger snapped upright and started looking around. The only thing in the whole empty place was one 5 gallon plastic gas can sitting forlornly on the gravel.

"Where's my car? Where's my car!?! My fucking car is gone!!"

Sure enough, no Porsche. Unless you consider the one I had just seen speeding north on 93. When I mentioned that one, I got my head handed me again.

"You saw my car? Why didn't you say something? Somebody stole my car, and you didn't say a word?"

I grabbed her wrists to keep her from hitting me again. I did not need that shit. Not on top of all the other abuse.

"You left your purse in the car, right? I was just wondering if you left the keys in the ignition, too."

She got this funny look on her face.

I turned and headed for my car.

"Where are you going?"

"Lady, I'd like to thank you for a fun morning, but I have places to go and people to meet."

"But, my car! You've got to help me! We have to go after him!"

"Maybe you do, but this is no longer any of my business. Have a nice day."

The crying thing always gets me. When I turned to look back at her she was crumbled in a pile on the gravel, next to the gas can, between the two skid marks that memorialized the launch of her missing Porsche, sobbing. Shit!

"All right! Get in. But keep that precious mouth of yours shut."

I didn't hold the door for her this time. I just fired it up and headed north, just a bit quicker than the legal limit.

"Can't you go any faster?"

"Lady, we aren't gonna catch a Porsche that has a half-hour head start on us. And I'm not getting a ticket on your account."

Topping a small rise, we were greeted by the flashing red and blue lights of an Idaho Highway Patrol cruiser that was sitting on the right shoulder. Instinctually, my right foot lifted off the accelerator, even though I could see the cop already had someone pulled over for speeding. But maybe this was my chance to ditch one bitchy blonde Porsche driver. I would leave her to report her theft to the authorities, and I could be on my way.

And then the news got even better, for parked on the shoulder in front of the cop was one beige Porsche Targa. I pulled over just in front of it. And my passenger bailed out shouting.

"That's my car! That bastard stole my car!"

What happened next was just a bit exciting. The cop apparently looked upon folks who just dropped into his traffic stops as cause for some concern, so he already had one eye on us and a hand on the grip of his handgun when the blonde lady popped out of my car screaming. And since the driver of the Porsche was having a little trouble matching his paperwork with the registration in the glove box, the cop was already in a bad mood. So after staring down the barrel of a 9 mm Sig-Sauer, we all got to lay face down on the ground with our hands on our heads and our legs crossed at the ankles. This day just kept getting better and better.

At least we got to stand up and try to explain ourselves about an hour later, when the other two cop cars arrived. I was able to keep my car and my freedom, and nobody gunned down the blonde lady, even though she made herself a fine candidate for such treatment, what with all the shit she piled on everyone.

The cops arrested the crook, and they towed the Porsche, with the purse sitting on the front seat. And then they were off to some other emergency, having been fetched by the radios in their cars. They left the blonde lady standing on the side of the road, twenty miles south of anywhere. And there was no one left to take care of her save me.

She was broke, and couldn't get her purse or her car until the next day. We frittered away the afternoon in the lobby of the IHP office, but the lady who handled the necessary paperwork wasn't working. She was a barrel racer, and the rodeo was in town.

There was no place for my blonde lady to go, so guess what happened to my little trip to Jackson Hole? It went on the back burner. Of course, there was only one motel room left in the whole place. And we got to share.

And you were wondering when I'd get back around to Fantasy #5. Yeah, me too. Cause something good had to come of all this.

"This is it?"

That would be her pronouncement upon viewing our room for the night.

"I can't believe this is happening to me!

That would be her summation of the day's events.

"There's only one bed!"

"Lady! Shut the fuck up! You ran out of gas. You left your purse in the car. You left the keys in the ignition. Everybody in southern Idaho, except for one misguided car thief, has been trying to help you throughout this whole damn day. And all you can do is bitch. So I repeat; Shut the fuck up!"

There had to be a bottle of Jack Daniels somewhere in that damn town, so I went looking for it. Took me about a half hour. When I returned she wasn't in the room, but I could hear the shower running in the john. I headed down to the office for a bucket of ice. She was still in the shower when I got back.

I hate those flimsy plastic motel cups, by they are a darn sight more tolerable when filled with Jack and ice, so I set about improving one of them. I soon had a better outlook on life. And the scenery got a whole lot better, too.

I chose a chair at the little table by the window, leaving the bed to my grouchy room mate. The curtain was closed, so the room was dark. The light was on in the john, and the shower was reflected in the mirror. Where I sat in the dark, I figured I didn't exist. So when she finally turned off the shower and pulled back the curtain, I had the front row seat.

I had to admit she looked pretty good wet. And she looked damn good naked. For one thing, she really was blonde. She had trimmed her blonde bush down to just a landing strip, which happens to be my favorite, and with her trim figure and long legs, it highlighted her pussy nicely. The tan line suggested that she preferred a thong bikini.

Her breasts were truly a collector's delight. Firm, upright, with pure white skin contrasting with her tan, and those perky erect nipples. They jiggled slightly as she toweled off her hair. I suppose I could have said something to let her know I was in the room, but at that point I didn't think I owed her much, and in fact I figured I was just collecting on a debt. So I just enjoyed the show as she slowly and carefully dried every damn inch of skin on that fine body.

I watched as she wrapped a towel around her hair, and a second one around her torso. Then she stepped into the room.

"Oh, you're back."

"Yep."

Her eyes settled on the bottle of whiskey.

"Want some?"

"Oh god, I'd love a drink."

"Help yourself."

I'd be damned, but I wasn't gonna pour her a drink. She could get it her own damn self. Besides, I enjoyed watching her walk across the room in a towel that barely contained those fine breasts and gave tempting glimpses of her butt cheeks and even the back of her pussy as she mixed her drink.

She came over and sat in the other chair, across the table from me. She closed her eyes as she sipped her drink. Setting the glass down, she looked me right in the eye. I did my level best to lock my eyes on hers, but they really wanted to wander down to where I noticed the towel wrap working loose from where it covered her tits. She smiled at me.

"I've been a complete boob. I am so sorry. You are right. You've been helping me all day, and missing out on your vacation, and I've just treated you like shit. I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's ok. Everybody has a bad day every once in a while."

"No, I mean it. I'm really sorry!"

"Fine, I accept your apology. Are you about ready for some dinner?"

"I'd buy you dinner if I could, but I don't have a dime."

"That's all right. My treat."

I gave her a smile with that, and she smiled back. Then she stood up and walked in front of me.

"Can I have a hug?"

I stood as well, and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, pressing her into me in a nice healthy bear hug. Her damp hair just under my nose smelled real good. Those breasts felt pretty good, as well. She let loose a little humming noise that sounded good, too. Then she pulled back slightly and looked up into my eyes. That's when the towel finally gave up and fell to the floor. I peered down at those luscious tits that were filling the distance between us.

"Oops, I lost my towel. Too bad."

She ran her hand up to the back of my head and pulled me down to her lips. The breasts smashed into my chest again, this time without all that un-necessary padding from the towel. My hands slid down to the small of her back, and I pressed her in close. She made that humming noise again.

She pulled back so she could attack the buttons on my shirt. I shrugged the shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her fingers were working quickly to even things up for us, since she didn't have a stitch on, and my pants soon joined the shirt. Her breasts swayed with her exertion, and heaved up and down with her breathing. She tried to hug me again, but something got in the way. So she grabbed my cock and moved him to the side so she could get close. One hand stroked my cock, while the other was behind my head as she rammed her tongue into my mouth. I had one hand on her breast and the other slid down her butt crack to the back of her pussy, which was already open and slick. She pulled her legs apart to grant me entrance. We were both moaning and trying to suck each other's lips off.

I guess that meant we were now friends.

When we came up for air, she took my hand and walking backward, she tugged me over to the bed. Falling back, she pulled me down on top of her. Her legs parted and I settled in between. As her knees came up, she immediately reached down and guided my stiff cock into her. I guess extended foreplay wasn't on her mind at the time.

Neither of us wasted much time. As my thick rod worked its way into her she let out a gasp, and when I pressed firmly into her mound she wrapped her legs around my waist tighter than anyone down at the rodeo, and with a cry she tossed her head back and twitched and contorted beneath me. She didn't even give me a chance to move in her before she came the first time.

She finally relaxed enough for me to start working in and out, and with each thrust she let out a soft grunt. Her pussy clamped down on my cock as she quickly came again. Her fingernails raked my back and when I leaned down to nuzzle her neck she crushed me into her with her arms, while working her crotch back and forth against mine.

Her hands came up against my shoulders and she pushed me over onto my back, so she could mount me. Sitting straight up, impaled on my cock, she worked herself back and forth on me, tits flailing as she massaged my nipples with her fingers. I reached up and grabbed for her tits, and she came again when I pinched her nipples.

I was trying to be a good boy, and I held myself from coming as long as I could, but the sensation of her tight pussy clamping onto my cock, and her pinching my nipples, and the sweet sounds she made each time she came finally got to me, and since it would be easier to come through my cock than to blow off the top of my head, I finally let it go. I could see her pupils dilate when she felt my cock surge inside her. I always grow a mite right as I come, and she certainly felt the difference. She stared straight into my eyes as I shot into her, and with each spurt my pleasure magnified because she timed squeezing her pussy around me with each shot. She milked ever drop out without once needing her hands.

Then, with her collapsed on top of me, we settled in for some quiet recovery. She was breathing gently into my ear as she fell asleep. My soft cock finally slid out of her, and she twitched slightly in her sleep. And my cum slowly dripped out of her, drip, drip, drip, onto my balls. I could think of worse ways to spend an evening.

She was quietly watching me when I woke. Still lying on top of me, her face hovered just above mine.

"Hi"

"Hi yourself."

"I was sleeping so nicely, and then something started poking me in the crotch. It woke me right up."

I realized my cock was erect again, and it was gently rubbing up and down against her pussy with our breathing. It took little maneuvering on our part to re-aim him and let him slide back in. She let out a sigh and began moving back and forth on me again, working my cock in and out of her, and grinding her clit between us. Moments later, she came with a grunt. Smiling, she looked down on me.

"You're good for me, mister. I haven't felt this nice in a long time."

"Yeah, well I'm not feeling too bad, either."

"I hate to break up the mood, but I'm getting really hungry. Do you suppose we could go get something to eat? I promise we can finish this up later."

"Sure lady. Go get yourself dressed."

She was splashing some water on her face in the john when I walked in. My cock was bouncing around in front of me.

"Oh, we can't leave him like that now, can we?"

So she dropped to her knees and grabbed my erect cock, licking her juices off the end. Soon she was sucking and stroking with enthusiasm. And I was groaning with pleasure. I was just about ready to come again, when she stopped sucking and stood up.

"Pardon my selfishness, but I'd like a little more of that."

She hopped up on the bathroom counter and spread her legs. Her pussy gaped open, inviting me in. I had no objections to that. I didn't last long, for the pump was well primed, but she still managed to come again before it did. I filled her with my load, and then we laughed together as the neighbor in the next room started pounding on the wall.

We dressed quickly and headed out for some eats.

Twin Falls shuts down early, but with the rodeo in town we found a restaurant that was still open. We were waiting for our steaks when she looked up at me and smiled.

"What's with the wry smile?"

"Oh, I was just wondering. I'm Sherie. What's your name?"

"Wow, now there's a novel idea. Actual introductions. I hate rushing into these things, but I guess we've been through enough today. So, I'm Frank. Pleased to meet ya."

"This has been a totally amazing day, Frank. You rescued me on the side of the road, and then you made love to me over and over again. And here's to having another go at that."

She raised her wine glass, and as we clinked glasses I felt her hand slither up my thigh and settle around my growing cock, somewhere down under the table. She looked me right in the eye and asked,

"Do you belief in premonitions?"

"Yeah, sometimes. Why?"

"Well, I had this dream last night, and you are not going to believe it, but I dreamed about a perfect stranger, and my Porsche, and how he helped me out on the side of the road. And in my dream we made love, just like you and I did today. He was fantastic in bed, just like you. Imagine that, a sexual fantasy that came true."

And she gave my cock another squeeze.

"Yeah, imagine that."