M4F - The Road dirtypenpals

We're going way too fast, not that we care. The flat, empty landscape is a blur in my periphery; the roar of the engine and the howl of the wind through the open windows an assault on my senses.

I lean back in my seat and watch you drive. Your mouth is curled into a smile I know intimately - one of pure, unadulterated joy. We are free to do what we want, when we want, how we want.

Take our ride, for instance. Some Italian thing - I've never really given two shits about cars. You'd spotted it when we'd gone "shopping" in a big-money college town; told me how wet it made you, how we absolutely must have it. The owner had been less than pleased when I told him this - some pumped up frat boy, big on muscle but with no idea how to use them. He'd squared up to me, puffed his chest out, told me to go fuck myself. He really should have been more prepared for the shot to the kidney you gave him with a tyre iron. You gave him a kiss on the cheek when we'd stopping kicking him, a small thank you for the car.

I stare for a while at your nipples protruding through your tank top, evidence of your arousal. I pull at the fabric with my fingers, expose one perky breast to the open air, before leaning over and taking your nipple in my mouth. I can feel you shift in your seat, know I'd hear you moan if it wasn't drowned out by the engine and the wind.

I remember the last time I made you moan. We'd knocked over a gas station somewhere behind us in this desolate wasteland; taken the forty bucks from the till, stocked up on snacks and gas. The attendant hadn't given a fuck - none of it was worth risking his life over. We'd tied him up anyway in case he'd gotten brave, propped up against one of the refrigerators near the counter. We'd let him watch as I fucked you over it. He'd enjoyed the show - cock stiff as a board when we were done. You'd slipped your hand between your legs and let him taste you off your fingers, a thank you for his service and a small sample of something he would never have again.

We are a 21st century Bonny and Clyde - pillaging the country as we fuck our way across it. We know it will end badly, but we don't care. The only thing that matters is the next stop on the road.

Submitted July 31, 2015 at 12:06AM by heavenlysketches http://ift.tt/1DSZG7T dirtypenpals