“My country is literally an island” Oh, Little Miss Smartass better be careful. I’m about to bite that smirk off her mouth. “But our beaches are shit and the sea is about as blue as a watermelon.”
“Hmmm, anyone ever tell you that mouth will get you into trouble?” With the bed of the truck full of necessities for an afternoon of fun in the sun, we start down the long drive fromthe property with a trail of brothers right behind us. Just around the bend, I pass a small Honda that’s seen better days, but I don’t give a fuck about that. What I do care about is the man behind the wheel. The same man who got me fired up this morning.
Which reminds me…I need to kill Boner. Well, maybe not kill all the way, just a little. His mom is scary and I refuse to get on her bad side.
“Only every day of my life. See? You just did it so my streak is alive and well.”
“I have a theory,” I start, but my thoughts trail off when I see the Honda stop as Mac passes him. I’m rounding the bend way too fucking soon to know what’s going on. Or more importantly, what his plans are.
He’d left after our hot-as-fuck encounter in the hallway. The one that almost left me with blue balls. I say almost because I did what any sane man would in my situation. I jacked off a couple of times to the taste of him. By the time I made it to breakfast, Spencer was gone.
“You gonna share your theory or you just gonna stare and drool at the hot doc?”
I laugh at her lack of filter. It’s like we’re two sides of the same coin. Gold, of course.
“Both. I’ll tell you my theory and also stare at the hot doc.” I look over at Parker, and where I expect some kind of jealousy or competitive streak, I see none. “I reckon if your mouth is busy sucking my cock, your chances of getting into trouble are slim to none.”
It’s her turn to laugh, and fuck, I want to swallow those sounds and let them run through my veins.
“I suppose it depends where I’m doing it. Word on the old continent is that Americans are prudes. Wouldn’t sucking you off get me in even more trouble?”
With one hand on the wheel, I let a smirk loose as my free hand flips the button to my jeans before unzipping the rest. With just a practiced wiggle and careful shifting, my cock is out and proud, ready to prove a point. I don’t actually expect her to give me a blowjob on Highway 17 in the—literal—middle of the day, but if she’s going to hang around, she needs to know that words have consequences. There’s worse than having a mouthful of dick so it’s more of a reward than a punishment.
“Interesting. Is this what you do when you’re losing an argument? Whip out your cock and hope for the best?” She’s cute.
“Darlin’, when I whip out my cock, I don’t need to hope for the best. The best just…comes.” I throw a glance in her direction, a crooked grin in place, as my hand works my cock slowly from root to tip.
People think this is dirty. I disagree. Pleasure is the cornerstone of our civilization and there’s nothing healthier than loving oneself in order to better love another. At least that’s what the motivational poster hanging in the common room in my sister’s dorm said. “Love yourself and the world will love you back,” were the exact words. So, that’s what I’m doing, one stroke at a time.
Parker leans in, her seatbelt straining against the pull, and cocks her head to the side like she’s a med student making the greatest discovery.
“You know what’s cool?” I ask, my gaze fixed on the road ahead.
“What’s that?”
“If you touch it, it grows.” Yes, that was too easy. A softball, even.
“Why, Grinder,” she starts with a weird accent I’m guessing is supposed to be a southern drawl, except it sounds like she’s been living in the deepest corners of Texas instead of the NorthCarolina coastline. At this point, it’s no longer a drawl, it’s skimming the edges of incest. “Are you tryin’ to seduce me?”
I should be turned off yet here I am, harder than riding a bike in the snow while doing a handstand.
“Might be. I’ll know for sure if you lick it and the tip offers you a bead…of cum.” I smirk, knowing I’ve probably just shocked her back into her seat. Which is fine, I’m a persistent motherfucker. One day, the combination of my good looks, charm, and enough Latino ancestry on my mother’s side to warrant her calling me Diego, will bring her to her knees. Obviously in the literal sense, otherwise, what the fuck am I even doing on this Earth?
Except this woman can’t and won’t be put in a box. In fact, she will actively blow the box up and come out laughing maniacally like some kind of super villain who’s just one upped the hero.
In a move I did not expect, although I hoped really fucking hard for it, she brings her face right up to my cock, the steering wheel just inches away from her deep-red hair. A fucking army of doped up clowns couldn’t get me to move and I will drive this fucking truck into the goddamn ocean if it means her lips or tongue or, fuck it, just a whisper from her mouth, touches my dick. I’m already holding my breath, anticipating the touchdown, so may as well go for fucking broke.
Chancing a glance below, I’m a tiny bit disappointed that her hair is hiding the erotic scene happening at crotch level. My brain is searching for a way to get a visual, but aside from stopping on the side of the road and alerting the entire fucking clubhouse that I’m getting blown by the VP’s little sister—holy fuck, I’m going to Hell and I don’t fucking care—I come up with nothing.
The moment she blows on the tip of my dick, I almost run off the road when my hand jerks to the right. This isn’t my first road head, far from it. Hell, I once got blown on my bike by a contortionist who performed for the biggest circus in the world.Allegedly. All I know is that I came in her mouth while doing ninety on the highway. This is amateur hour on my part, but for some fucking reason, the idea that Parker’s breath is brushing against my dick makes me so hard it’s painful.
“Darlin’, you’re playin’ with fire right about now. Might I suggest you either deepthroat or go back to your seat?” If she chooses the latter option, we have a chance of making it to the beach without dying in a big ball of fire after crashing into any number of gas stations on this road.
Although, how poetic would our epitaph be? “They met and died near the regular unleaded going at about three dollars a gallon. May they rest in the fiery balls of Hell.”
I don’t have time to chuckle at my own internal musings because Parker does the exact opposite of what I expect, and dear baby Jayzus in a manger, my mind goes completely blank. The moment her mouth becomes the tunnel for my cock, my neurons fire in all directions and my ability to drive flies out the window right along with my morals and long-lasting friendship with Sledge. That last part is salvageable, but the first part? Well…what morals?
“Fuck, Stabby, you’re gonna make me crash.” I’m talking through gritted teeth, trying really fucking hard to control that last stubborn neuron holding down my motor skills.