We had been driving quite a long time already. The night was frosty. The snow was falling. Suddenly snowstorm began. Flakes of snow poured from the heavens and whirled in a mad waltz, falling on the windshield of the car and making watching the road impossible. You began driving slower.
— I'm married, - you said suddenly.
You looked down at your left hand, watching the ring long as if seeing it for the first time, then smiled, as if hit by that irrefutable fact and my recognition of the fact that I had been knowing that for a long time. All that made you idly interested in me, and you looked at my hands.
I think I had five or six rings, but you had no time to count them in darkness, moreover, the road became more treacherous and twisty.
You tried to see anything through the glass covered with snow and switched the wipers to enhanced mode, then looked at me in surprise again. I answered your question with a silent chuckle, and you, still smiling, agreed both with my silence and unwillingness to explain anything.
It was warm in the cab of the truck, and I felt great. When you said, “My wife is with the kids at the ski resort,” I said, “We are in the snow as well”. You put a hand on my knee, and I closed my eyes.
Our acquaintance was also a kind of miracle. Because of the season... It was the evening of the twenty-fourth of December...
I was hastily crossing the road with a suitcase in my hand. People were bustling about, almost all of them were loaded with different parcels and packages. A bike passed by, inadvertently pushing me, so I bounced on the hood of the car standing at the curb.
You were on the other side of the street about to climb into the cab of your truck. Large truck, just, perhaps, delivered the oysters to the nearest supermarket.
You stopped, and then rushed to help me. I was a little frightened, but nothing more.
- Are you all right? – you asked. — Are you hurt?
You lifted my suitcase. I noticed that you are much taller than me, — tall as a TV star. With a cheerful smile and sparkles in the green eyes of winter sea colors, reminding me — why not? — fresh oysters. You said:
— Going on vacation?
- Yes, - I replied.
I was going to have Christmas with my parents in Yaroslavl. But I was afraid that the trains are overcrowded, and I was not so smart to reserve a spot in advance.
You looked into my eyes, thought for a moment and turned back to your truck.
— Look, I have an idea...
And here we are...
You quickly filled out the papers in the office, I made a phone call and we went into a long, unexpected and amazing Christmas journey. We had driven on a hill. You started to drive slower, for a second you removed the hand from my knee to switch gear, then put it back.
— To be honest, - you said, - I'm very shy.
I loved our strange conversation, where the words seemed to have a new meaning. The intonation you pronounced “honestly...” promised much.
— Are you serious? Did I hear that right?
— Well, maybe, not always.
— And today? — I persisted.
— Quite a bit.
— Because of me?
— Thanks to you.
- What do you feel?
— I feel like a criminal.
I thought you were talking not the way, an ordinary truck driver would do. And I liked the train of your thoughts as well.
— Funny... - I said.
— For a truck driver, right? — you said and smiled again.
I looked at you and noticed bushy eyebrows and wrinkles around the eyes. I had never had doubts that just the most notorious seducer could have such. And I let you to seduce me...
I took your hand with mine. It was warm, strong and experienced. Having raised my skirt, I offered your big hand to explore my innocence.
— It's funny! I didn't think you are suchlike...
— I'm not...
— What, just tonight?
— Today is Christmas.
The expression of disappointment on your face made me laugh.
- I thought, that’s because of me...
— Thanks to you! — I corrected.
And we sealed our agreement, exchanging meaningful glances and smiles.
— Look at the road. Our hands are old enough to understand everything without us. Especially yours.
— Big hand is not always an advantage, — you noticed, groping for my panties.
I said nothing, but sat up and pulled off the obstructing part of the toilette. Then I sat down deep in the chair, moved my legs apart and closed my eyes.
Your hand was playing modesty. First it behaved very innocent-like, stroking pubic hair, slowly gliding over its surface and gently tapping by fingers. The truck roared and jumped on the rough roads. Its every push was extending to my lower abdomen, making my nerve endings vibrate in unison.
— Tell me... — you began.
And I understood everything right. You wanted to know how I was feeling right away.
— I heard, some call her pussy, - I said. — Now, my pussy is just about to meow.
— I like animals, — you said.
- And they always respond love to love, - I whispered, suddenly I became hoarse after one of your stray fingers entered me.
You seemed to like immersing and then taking it out of me. I gently pushed my hand under your palm, groped for the bud of clitoris swollen from excitement, and slowly, wishing to prolong the magic moments, began stroking him.
I closed my eyes dreaming. In my dreams I was at the sea, rocking on the waves. The sea was my vagina, the waves were beating on the shore, tides, high and low, high and low...
I was swimming in the dark and salty depths, the movement inside of me became more insistent: forward, back, forward, back... I was turning into an underwater cave, a dizzying abyss. Soon I'm gonna need someone strong, powerful, someone I could fight and resist. Ichtiander, Argonaut travelling through the world. I want to be taken...
You confidently drove the car, carefully watching of the road, totally indifferent to the war taking place between my legs. You generously offered me the second finger, and it was enthusiastically received, but gradually you slowed down the movement, evoking the pain of impatience within me.
— You're wet! — ...he said.
— You made me wet. I’m like a pier after storm... After the waves have subsided...
I put my hand on your crotch. You sat up to help me let your cock free.
There is nothing more wonderful than sitting here like that, caressing a fat cock with a hand, and dreaming. That just drove me crazy.
I barely know you, but there is a spot for you inside of me. Even a few. At that moment I realized what successful complements we were to each other. The penis I was holding in my hand, I wanted to try it to all the recesses of my body where it could penetrate. I would love to take it in my mouth, to swallow it with incredible desire and appetite, to make a part of myself and merge into a single whole agony. But I knew if I lean over, you'd have to stop the magnificent movement inside of me, and I didn't want that for sure. The explosion was coming. I couldn’t control myself any longer. I apologetically looked at you.
— I think, I'm gonna...
- That’s fine, - you said and dispelled all my doubts.
Your generous resolution carried the storm clouds of my consciousness away.
— Please, just don't stop!
And you understood everything. Your fingers inside me continued their passionate, exciting journey, timid waltz capable to destroy any obstacle, hard work, comparable to Sisyphus. Forward, backward, gently, slowly forward, almost slipping out and then forward, back again and with strength in the depths... Oh, I want you, I want to be with you... the wave catches me, licks my heels, overcomes... Oh, Lord! Here it is...
I firmly grasped your still, shrunken penis in my hand, floating in the waves of pleasure, sitting on the throne of unearthly bliss, experiencing the effects of sexual shock...
You parked on the curb and turned off the engine. I turned to you, still gasping and burning. You explained:
— If I hadn't stopped, we'd be in the nearest ditch.
- Yes, Yes, you're absolutely right! My strength is almost gone.
— I was feeling very good, - I said, and you laughed.
— I'm happy, - you said and raised your hands theatrically.
And I noticed the shiny drops of my love juice on your fingers.
— Wait, wait a bit and you'll understand that I can give a pleasure to a man.
I leaned over you. Your cock had exciting, wild and masculine scent. Excitement, earlier hushed rapidly rose in me again. I licked the head of your cock. It was slippery. Delicious salty fluid oozed from the small hole and I smeared it first on the pink round head, and then around the thick and sturdy trunk. I want to eat it so much. There is nothing more eatable in a man. It is solid, flexible and so tender that the tongue wants to dance around it on tiptoes.
Your cock is so big that it does not fit in my mouth entirely... Well, at least not in my current state... Everything is still burning under my skirt. My pussy is clearly hungry.
— Give it to me...
— Ask, ask properly...
— Please, please, please, please, I want it madly.
— Ask better!
— Come here, please... I'm burning up. Do touch me. I have all wet inside, take me, otherwise I will go crazy. You will be very good! Come to me!
— More! More!
— Come here, damn it... Look, he wants me as well. He's all fulfilled with blood, he's about to explode, if you don't stick it in me. Fuck me, Oh please! He will enter me without any problems, we are both ready... you can't be so selfish, you cannot store such a great thing for yourself only. Look, I'm open to you. Well, hurry up, otherwise I will come just thinking you're fucking me... We can't lose our happiness...
My prayers led to the desired result. You put me on the seat, knelt down on another seat, pulled your trousers down...
I shivered, and the last thought struck me:
— I haven't even seen your balls! You entered me like greased lightning. I felt your smell. Oh, what an indomitable beast has settled inside of me! Eat me, my little animal. It's Christmas, and I'm your festive dinner!
Your cock penetrates in me so deep inside. It is firm, strong and I can feel it beating on the walls of the vagina, making me shudder with incredible pleasure. And it's still developing its capacity... My finger playing the clit like a mandolin, and my left hand is holding his balls, big, heavy and gorgeous. I'm burning with desire, thinking about them. They are my Christmas dessert. Eat, baby, eat! Looks like this guy is going to release a big stream into me, Oh, how I want it! I'm getting more excited, imagining a picture of the eruption, and I squeeze your balls harder, as if wishing to empty them.
— Come on and cum...
— Well, no, you go first.
— No, I can't, not yet.
How do I explain to you, that my orgasm is directly connected with yours.
— You're the first, you're the first, - you say, and I understand that you are going to wait as long as necessary, while I almost suffocated, suspended over the abyss.
— What do you want? Tell me. What do you want? You are so beautiful!
— Take me everywhere and from behind as well.
You do not dare to argue. My desires are tantamount to orders. You attack my anus by your massive thumb. I get scared, but unbearably pleased at the same time.
— Do you feel me there? (It would be difficult not to feel.) Now you're ready to cum? Ready?
— If you don't stop, I'm gonna cum soon, very soon! Yes... Yes... Here it is! Come on, you too, come on...
You fell on me. You appeared much heavier than I thought, but also more tender. When I opened my eyes, the snow almost ceased falling. You got your bearings, straightened your clothes and took the wheel. The heart in my chest is still beating furiously, a roar of the giant waves that washed me is in my ears.
— You can sleep if you want.
You pointed to the mattress, lying behind the seats. No, I will not leave you alone. I can't sleep.
And the journey continues — quietly, slowly. We are moving through the deserted snowy world. From time to time you stop. People wish us merry Christmas. There is a buzzing bell in my head, champagne is circulating in the veins instead of blood, it penetrates into my heart and stabs it with small bubbles. You're so cute, so funny. I have no regrets.
At dawn you wake me up and, smiling graciously, say: — “Here we are in Yaroslavl. Where can we drop you?”
A grim, sleeping snow-covered city is getting opened to my eyes.
— At the station.
— Yes, I have something to confess to. You know, when we met, I wasn’t leaving Moscow, I was going back there. I was going to spend Christmas there, although I didn’t really want to.
— You were coming back from Yaroslavl?
— No. From Orel.
— But... why did you lie to me about Yaroslavl?
— I saw you. I saw your truck, the words “Seafood”. And I thought “This guy is going to Yaroslavl. Why don’t I go with him?”
Laughter began shining in your eyes.
— That's funny.
— Because when you saw me, I was just about to pass the truck to the relief worker. And I was to stay in Moscow. I was the whole day driving.
— So that’s why you needed to go to the office.
— Yes, I was there to meet the relief.
— You broke the rules?
— Apparently, yes, but nothing terrible. My relief worker met a girl in the capital and he was happy to spend the Christmas night with her.
— And you were not going to spend Christmas with the family, weren’t you?
— No, I had to wait for the next shipment.
— What are you going to do now?
— Go to sleep first, and then go back to Moscow.
- Tomorrow morning, I guess.
— Sure, why not?