Mustang Cindy

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


Cindy straddled the bucket seat of the ’67 Mustang fastback she was in. She felt a deep connection with the car as it reminded her of a lover.

The jet black interior matched the exterior, and its lines – hard on the front, then sloping sexily to the back of the car – were beautiful. The intoxicating mix of the thick musky scent of leather and a mild hint of motor oil hung in the air, like a hint of sex the morning after an especially dirty and pleasurable night. She inhaled, absorbing the musk with every cell. The lines, the curves, the smell – even with the engine off and the car quiet she could envision what the car was for. Every inch of design pointed to the car’s sole purpose – it was a machine of pure, unrestrained, passionate pursuit, and of speed and of power.

Silver pedals for acceleration and gauges for velocity and pressure. A gear shift, elongated, angular and erect, a decidedly phallic protrusion, culminating in a sleek, inviting knob the size of her palm. She was in the cockpit of an intoxication chamber of unadulterated masculinity, in a machine with the sleek ease of a jaguar poised and ready to pounce at the slightest encouragement. Like her men, it was a machine of capable, attention-stealing power.

Outside, a throng of men and women meandered between Camaros and Challengers and polished motorcycles, a swath of classic autos on a barricaded street. Spectators peered at massive silver engines and at hoods tattooed with serpents and flames and women. She enjoyed another breath, her nose basking in the machine’s aroma, like a shirt discarded by a favourite lover.

Cindy’s gaze fell on a particularly form-fitting pair of jeans and a white shirt that silhouetted a pair of masculine, well-formed arms. Brad Walloway felt her gaze and returned it with his own sly smile. He moved from sight into the mass of bodies. Cindy smiled. She could look at Brad’s ass all day.

On her way out, Cindy sidestepped a leering forty-something man in a faded shirt and looked for her favourite pair of jeans in the crowd. There was a burble in the crowd, a commotion forty feet away. “Stop him!” The mass of people, hedged by curved metal bodies, an array of fat-tired sports cars, shifted to see the crier. Eliot Thompson, the car club’s president shouted again. “That bastard gouged the Baron”.

Cindy knew the Baron well – the president’s beloved ’66 Shelby Cobra. Thompson had rescued it from a rusty shell, and had persistently transformed the car to its former grandeur. The Cobra, full of round in all the right places, and showcased in a classic “Guardsman Blue” with broad white stripes, looked as though it had just come off the factory floor.

The crowd rippled as the culprit pressed through astounded onlookers, then parted and spit the boy out and over the outstretched leg of Brad Walloway. Cindy completed the maneuver, snatching the culprit’s passing ear and wrenching it in the direction of Thompson’s shout. The boy skidded, Cindy’s momentum canceling his own, his body following his ensnared ear. A pry bar clanked at his feet. The crowd parted enough to allow her through, and while most of the the spectators stared angrily at the boy, Cindy noticed Brad’s eyes searching for hers. Cindy smiled at Brad and brushed her chest along his as she passed. She inhaled deeply, inches away from his body, her receptors bathing in his aroma, her nose translating the scent into a minute pulsing in her thighs.

Cindy brought Thompson the boy. The crowd had assumed an awestruck, respectful distance around the Cobra, as though Cindy were a doctor approaching a human body collapsed on the sidewalk. A coarse oval the size of a pizza pierced the glossy finish on the hood, and the beginnings of another mark had been Trabzon Escort etched under it – an incomplete gang sign, made of jagged metal valleys and cracked flakes of paint. The boy, sensing her distraction, spasmed to loose her grasp, and Cindy regained her lock and ripped his ear toward her.

“What the hell was that for!?!” Thompson again. The boy shrugged, and Cindy traced his cool glance to a teenaged boy with cropped hair and plentiful facial piercings deep in the crowd. Sensing the dare that happened earlier, Cindy looked at the boy’s features. Deep-set don’t-give-a-shit eyes, framed by a rugged jawline and a crooked nose twice broken in earlier scuffles. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Cindy stared a moment, then expelled her breath deeply.

“Young Offenders Act won’t do shit about this.” Almost a whisper. Then, to the boy, “Let’s not tie up the courts needlessly.”

Sensing another possible escape, the boy bowed his head, dramatizing deep remorse. Unfooled, Cindy pulled back and drove her knee, like a piston, deep into his testicles. The kid collapsed around his groin as if from gunshot. On the periphery Cindy saw the boy’s accomplice, eyes wide, a laughing smile formed at his friend’s misfortune. The pierced teenager bolted from the crowd. Cindy’s prey shouldered people away and waddled quickly from the street.

Eliot Thompson gave Cindy a frank nod and asked Brad to move the car from the street. “I don’t want anyone to see the Baron like this.”

The Baron had been moved, and Cindy and others had expressed their anger and condolences. Having moved from the morning unpleasantness, Cindy was enjoying the car show – the warm summer air, and a plethora of cars and people obviously passionate about them. Cindy basked in the heightened sense of men, on a testosterone high from the car show, not-so-secretly staring at her body. Luckily for them, Cindy made it easy.

“And what year is this one?” She leaned toward a bright red Charger, allowing it’s owner a full view down her shirt. Men were so easy to play with, and she toyed with him, showing him goods she had no intention of selling. She smiled to herself as he stammered, stating it was a ’72.

Brad approached the car from the other side and made sure he was caught looking at Cindy’s ass. “You sure know how to make a guy take notice,” he said.

“You mean this old outfit?”, she asked, coyly bringing a hand on either side of her chest, propping her breasts slightly.

He teased her, “I meant the knee to the kid’s junk. He’s not going to forget a move like that.”

She smiled, drinking in his attention. “He won’t do anything that stupid again, I hope. And thank you, Brad for tripping him up and helping Thompson with his car.”

“Anytime.” A flash of pearly white teeth. “And Cindy?”


Brad made a show of looking at Cindy’s breasts, only partially concealed under her shirt. “I was talking about your shirt.”

“Aw, you’re making me blush…”

She felt his eyes on hers now, playful and intense. “I’d like to do a lot more than that.”

Cindy had been around enough to know where he was driving, and she wanted to play. Her eyes held his, and she rose to her full height, her chest stretching out slightly, straining against her shirt.

“Let’s go.”

Brad took Cindy’s hand and led her through the crowd, away from Charger and its open-jawed owner, away from the spread of metallic car bodies, away from the noise of men and children boasting and tinkering. Cindy’s heart beat loudly in her chest, intoxicated by thoughts of what could come. Brad led her into the alley, and in an alcove sat a Cobra-shaped figure with a fabric shroud.

Brad pulled the fabric Trabzon Escort Bayan cover from the figure, revealing Thompson’s Baron. Cindy looked at the car and touched the scarred paint, as though tracing a cut along a child’s cheek. Cindy felt the warmth of Brad’s hand on her wrist as she traced the abrasion, the car’s low, round front end touching her thigh. Brad whispered something delicate in her ear from behind, his warm breath brushing across her lobe. He caught her ear with a trace of his tongue. “You’re in for a treat”.

The Cobra purred to life, the remote starter in Brad’s free hand. With the weight of Brad’s chest pressing her from behind and the sun-kissed metal hood of the car pressing from the front, Brad leaned close, his lips triggering goosebumps along Cindy’s exposed neck. The trembling hood of the car created delicious rhythms at the epicenter of her thighs. Cindy felt Brad slide his hand along hers and kiss her neck with long, full kisses. The rhythm of Brad’s heart behind her mimicked the rhythm of the car caressing her front. Brad’s hands and hips were at Cindy’s back, and Cindy clenched her mouth, loving the car reverberating along her vagina. Brad leaned into Cindy from behind and she smiled heartily, her clit grinding against the polished blue hood. It felt like the start of a threesome, with a lover on each side. She sighed hard, knowing she could eventually cum from this position.

Cindy sensed Brad moving away. He appeared in the car, and locked eyes with her again from inside. Half-sitting in the Baron, Brad pressed the accelerator, not revving the engine which would have been too much pleasure, too fast, but lightly. Even with that minor invitation, Cindy knew the car wanted badly to surge forward with enough power to thrust through her. Instead, anchored to the spot, the engine’s increased desire translated like the instincts of a caged, animalistic beast compressed by the car’s stationary state. The tremors around Cindy’s thighs got more intense.

Cindy stared at Brad through the windshield, her cheeks were flushed and moisture gathered in the skin of her vagina. She stared at Brad through the window and adjusted herself appropriately. He gradually increased the pressure again on the pedal and she leaned onto the car, straddling part of the hood, just slightly, the vibrations reaching deeper inside. Cindy pressed her entire body along the curves of the car, enjoying the vibrations along her pussy, across her belly, and along the supple flesh of her breasts, feeling like hundreds of miniature fingers with groping at her flesh. Cindy’s low cut shirt afforded Brad a beautiful vista of Cindy’s wonderful round tits and with her eyes, Cindy invited him to burn the image of her chest onto his retinas.

Cindy locked eyes with him again. Neither could blink. She pressed further along the car, her face almost touching the windshield. If not for a thin veil of glass their lips would touch right now, and her tongue would be tracing along his lips. Brad pressed the pedal further. Cindy, spread eagle and hugging the warmth of the car, moaned with pleasure. Cindy gasped, like an engine about to stall, then gulped air back into her lungs. “Oh, fuck!” Cindy’s clit and pussy pulsed twice, cumming on the hood of her personal, pussy-wetting, four-hundred horsepower vibrator.

Brad went to the front of the car where Cindy’s body quivered once more, and she regained her composure. Cindy slid to the front of the hood, half-sitting on the bumper, her legs spread enough that the car, still massaging her ass, continued sending small quakes to her vagina. Cindy’s fingers yanked Brad close by the belt loops and she ripped open the buttons of his jeans. Ah! There’s that scent – that Escort Trabzon musk, that car leather smell like sex that comes from his manhood.

Her hand was cool, all her blood having been pulled to her clit. Cindy enjoyed the contrast of his cock’s warmth as she pulled it from his pants. She licked her lips, still staring at him, and opened her mouth slightly to slide the tip just inside. She soon realized that wasn’t enough. Her fingers locked in his belt loops, Cindy pulled him forward until there was no space between him and her; until she had his whole penis in her mouth. Cindy felt Brad’s hand on the top of her head, involuntarily pulling into her. A grunt escaped his throat.

The sensation was incredible; the warmth and moisture of his penis and her own warmth and moisture mingled inside her mouth, and the car continued sending pulses along her ass. Cindy inhaled the smell of his sex, then ran her tongue along the cock in her mouth. She felt it form and expand inside her mouth, pushing her tongue aside, and expanding into her cheek. Enraptured, Cindy sucked on the full girth of Brad’s cock. She pulled it from her mouth, stroking it in long slow strokes, his glistening penis generating another strand of pre-cum. Cindy played with the liquid with her tongue and licked and licked. The taste of his liquid ignited the fire in her pussy, and Cindy’s eager and hungry mouth swallowed his dick. Brad grunted and Cindy finally looked up at him, knowing how hot it was for him to see the pleasure in her eyes as she sucked. She moaned, moving the length of her tongue along the length of the cock. She pulled the hard member from her mouth, her lips moist, and her breathing shallow from blowing him. “You have to fuck me.”

Cindy scrambled backward up the hood. She slid her damp panties aside, and ran a finger just inside her slit. Her finger glistened with moisture from her wet, wet cunt.

Brad was on top of her immediately, gliding his dick confidently inside, filling her like he did her mouth. Again their juices mingled. The car’s vibrations subtly massaged her while Brad placed his entire cock inside Cindy’s hungry pussy. Cindy’s glistening lips dragged along his cock, coating it with her juices with every entry and near exit. Brad’s hands appeared on either side of her, bracing himself to thrust fully inside. Cindy bit her lip and whimpered slightly, feeling his cock fill her. Cindy and Brad’s bodies pressed together and she licked his lips, wanting every part of him deep inside her. She kissed him hungrily, sucking on his tongue.

Cindy pulled her thighs further apart, increasing the range of Brad’s movement inside her. Brad thrust his cock forward like a Mustang. He continued pumping into her pussy, her thighs welcoming each penetration. Cindy was flush, a thin layer of sweat on her breasts, and sounds of pleasure from her throat. Her heart pounded in sync with the pounding in her cunt. Brad’s hard cock slid through Cindy’s juice in and out, in and out of her body. “Keep… keep fucking me,” she managed to say.

Then, Cindy trembled as her clit pulsed twice as his lubricated cock rubbed it from the inside. “Aauugghh.” Her sweet cry of orgasm. “You feel so good inside me.” Brad impaled her again and again, each time reaching further into her cunt, his balls slapping against its opening. Suddenly his body tensed, contorted. His eyes closed and his face froze. Brad let out his own guttural breaths. She felt his groin tension, then quiver, then spasm. Cindy felt a throbbing pulse in her pussy as he sprayed semen inside her. Brad’s orgasm continued as his cock loaded another stream of cum into Cindy. Brad groaned again, pushing his hips farther forward. His penis twitched twice more, and erupted deep inside her cunt. Cindy was full of his cum.

Brad leaned forward and held her for an instant. It felt good to have him still inside.

In his post-coital bliss, Brad killed the engine. Cindy sprawled across the hood and purred. “Well. That would have scratched the paint.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir yanıt yazın