She had waited no more than ten minutes when a car stopped. Tires crunched on gravel as a dark green sedan swung over onto the shoulder. Carmen picked up her rucksack and trotted up to the passenger side door. An electric motor purred as the window slid down.
She leaned her head in and smiled at the driver. “Hi. Can you give me a lift?”
The man behind the wheel was young, and dressed in a suit. “Where are you headed?” he asked, smiling in return.
“Into the city.”
“You’re in luck. That’s where I’m going. Hop in.”
He flicked a switch to unlock the door. Carmen hoisted her heavy rucksack and slid into the passenger seat. The window was already sliding upward as she closed the door.
“What’s in the city?” the man said, swinging adroitly back onto the road. He had to wait a moment for a long black limousine to go by.
“Boyfriend.”
Carmen liked to get that out in the open right away. It saved her from fending off passes for the whole trip. It was several hours’ drive into the city.
A long-distance relationship was difficult enough without the added inconvenience that Carmen didn’t own a car. The nearest train station was in the next town. Carmen’s friends kept telling her it was dangerous to hitchhike, especially for an attractive young woman. They had heard all the urban legends about hitchhikers being robbed and ravished and ruined. In reality, the worst thing Carmen had to put up with was constantly being asked out on dates. She seldom had to wait long for rides.
“Nice car,” Carmen said, taking in the luxurious surroundings. She always said that, as a way of making the drivers feel better about picking her up. This time she meant it. The car was big, comfortably appointed, and smelled new. Her seat was as deep and comfortable as a stuffed chair.
He grinned. “Thanks. Just got it this week. So far the bank owns more of it than I do. I’m Lane, by the way.”
“Carmen.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Carmen. Hey, you might be more comfortable if you put your pack in the back seat.”
“Oh, good idea. Thanks.” Carmen unsnapped her seatbelt and twisted around awkwardly. She swung the rucksack over the console and set it on the floor behind the seats. The backseat was already cluttered with boxes of computer parts and CDs. She thought she caught a glimpse of Lane checking out her backside as she stretched over the seat. By the time she got settled in her chair the man’s eyes were back on the road again.
Carmen was accustomed to men looking her over. She wasn’t concerned. This fellow was clearly harmless. Carmen was dressed in “student chic” for hitchhiking: low-rider jeans and a sweatshirt over trendy athletic shoes. She wore her black hair in a ponytail.
“What’s all that behind the seat?” she asked, refastening her seatbelt.
“That’s my business, as it were. I’ve come up with a new product that I think will be a hit. I’m on my way to a trade show to see if I can find some distributors.”
“Oh, I see.” That explained the suit. “So you’re a businessman?”
“Please. I prefer entrepreneur. It sounds more elegant.”
Carmen smiled at that. “What is your product, exactly?”
He looked at her coyly. “Relaxation tapes.”
She raised a plucked eyebrow. “Relaxation tapes? You mean like mood music? Or those tapes that sound like the ocean or a forest or something?”
“Well, something like that.”
She stretched out in the comfortable seat. It smelled of fine leather. “Pardon me for saying so, but there are lots of those on the market. One of my girlfriends has some. Don’t you think you’ll have trouble selling in a crowded market?”
He smiled again, looking at the road. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble. Once people try my music they’ll snap it right up.”
“You seem very confident.”
“I am. Because my tapes really work. They’re not just birds singing in a forest or soothing waves rumbling against the beach. My music is specifically calibrated to promote relaxation and reduce stress. I have clinical research trials to prove it.”
Now he sounded like he was repeating a practised spiel. “OK, OK, I’ll take your word for it.”
He shot her a glance. “You don’t believe me? Why don’t you put one on now.”
“What, in the car?”
“Why not? We’ve got some time to kill, and you’ve nothing better to do. Road noise won’t affect the music.”
In fact, the luxury car was very quiet. Carmen could barely hear the engine. “All right, why not. Do you have a demo cut or something?”
“I just happen to have one right here,” Lane replied. He opened the utility box mounted between the seats and pulled out a standard CD. “Give this a listen.”
The car had a built-in CD player, of course. He slipped the disk into the slot. Lights on the front panel lit up. At once a complex, gently swelling music filled the car. It was deep and beautiful, and seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.
“Wow, great sound system!” Carmen cried in genuine appreciation.
Lane grinned. “Thank you. Custom job. Designed it myself. What do you think of the music?”
“It’s . . . interesting. What’s that hum? Are you getting feedback or something?”
“That’s part of the music. I told you, this soundscape is special. Every part contributes to the whole. Now give it a chance. Relax for a moment. Lean back in your seat and watch the road. Don’t think about anything.”
Carmen did as instructed. She sank into the soft seat. She listened to the music. She watched the centre line flash by as they cruised down the highway.
It was pleasant, she had to admit. The music was complicated, sort of symphonic but at the same time incorporating unexpected tones that sounded like a synthesizer. It rose and fell in long, gliding crescendos that matched her breathing. She leaned back against the headrest. She closed her eyes for a moment. She could feel the gentle vibration of the engine through her seat, as soothing as a massage. She felt the music swirl and pulse around her.
The car sped on down the highway.
Carmen opened her eyes. She blinked twice. “Where . . . where are we?”
Lane grinned at her. “About half an hour closer to the city than when you began your little nap.”
She blinked again. “I fell asleep? I’m sorry, I . . . must be more tired than . . . that music.” For the first time she realized that the music was gone.
“No need to apologize. If you fell asleep you probably needed the rest. How do you feel?”
Carmen interlaced her fingers and stretched her arms over her head. “I feel awesome! Like I just woke up from a long night’s sleep. This car is so comfortable!”
“It’s not the car. It’s the music.”
She chuckled. “Lane, I hate to burst your bubble, but a few minutes of mood music is not enough to put me to sleep. I’ve been up late this week.”
“If you say so. But I think the music helped.”
At least he believes in his product, Carmen decided. She looked him over. Lane was sitting loose in the seat, steering with one hand. He was watching the road, but Carmen noticed the way he admired her chest while she was stretching. Yes, there really are boobs under there, she thought smugly. And they’re gorgeous. She was seized with an idea.
“Do you find it a little warm in here?” Carmen said.
“I can turn up the A/C if you like.” He reached for the air-conditioning controls.
Carmen said: “No, no that’s all right. Let me get this off.” She was already lifting her heavy sweatshirt up her chest. She pulled it over her head and shrugged it off. She tossed it over the seat into the back. She fluffed out her ponytail. “There. That’s better.”
Beneath the sweatshirt she was wearing a fashionably tight, red tank-top that advertised her pert figure as diligently as the sweatshirt disguised it. The top had spaghetti straps on the shoulders that contrasted with the lacy white straps of her bra. The word “Princess” was stitched across the bust in flowing white script.
Now he really was looking. For a moment Carmen indulged herself and merely basked in his admiration. Eventually she said, “Hey, eyes on the road.” Her eyes were twinkling, though.
“Of course,” Lane replied. “I was merely admiring some of the local scenery.”
She turned sideways in the seat, facing him. “Oh? Did you see something impressive?” She dragged a finger across her bare midriff. For a moment she wished that she had worn her other pants, the really tight ones.
Lane was looking again. “It is very . . . picturesque countryside about. I like the landscape of hills and valleys.”
Carmen giggled. “I’ll bet you do.” She had never really noticed before, but Lane was cute. Well dressed too. He had a little dimple in his chin. “I bet you wouldn’t mind taking a stroll in the hills either, would you. Maybe climb a couple of peaks?” She pulled up an errant shoulder strap.
“I was thinking,” Lane replied, “of stopping to get the lay of the land.”
Carmen turned back in her seat, still smiling. It was sexy fun flirting with Lane, but she wasn’t about to let it get out of hand. “I think you should drive on,” she said with mock primness.
“Ah, I hate it when they close the countryside,” Lane said amiably. He glanced curiously at a police cruiser sitting by the side of the road. Its warning lights were spinning, but the car was empty.
“You never really told me what you thought of my music.”
She considered it. “It was . . . well, to be honest it was a bit strange. Nice though. I, uhm, don’t honestly remember that much before I . . . drifted off.”
“You drifted off because you were tired and the music helped you relax. I told you these CDs are genuinely effective.”
“Yes, and I told you, I’ve been keeping late nights. I sit down in your comfortable car and I take a little nap. I don’t think your music had much to do with it.”
“Still not convinced? Why don’t we try another one. Maybe you’ll like it better.” He was already reaching into the tape box.
“Well, all right, why not,” Carmen conceded. “We still have a way to go.” She was curious to hear more of that strange music.
Lane pulled out another CD and deftly switched it with the one in the player, steering with one hand. “Now remember, the music is not for listening,” he explained, as the new melody poured out from the speakers, “it’s for immersing yourself in. Let yourself sink into it like a hot bath. Clear your mind and let your thoughts run free.”
The music was different this time. It had the same complex, ethereal melody as before, but with a gentle, insistent beat pulsing in the background. Again Carmen was impressed with the vividness of it. Phrases and tones as complicated and interlaced as a symphony soared from the multi-speaker sound system, dancing and swirling about her like a swarm of butterflies that had learned choreography. Some of the sounds resembled familiar instruments, perhaps woodwinds or violins, while other were foreign and unplaceable.
The background hiss was there again. Even that blended with the rest of the music. After a few minutes Carmen hardly noticed the individual notes at all; the diversity of sounds blended seamlessly into a rich, melodic whole. Well, it is relaxing, she conceded, leaning back in the deep leather seat.
Somehow it seemed like everything around her was synchronized with the music. The flash of the centre line on the highway, the rise and fall of the gentle hills drifting by the moving car, even the muffled vibration of the engine had somehow become part of the river of sweet music flowing all around her. Carmen settled a little deeper into her chair. The vibration of the seat from the engine and little bumps in the road was both relaxing and impishly arousing. It made her crotch tingle inside her trendy jeans.
Carmen yawned hugely. Surprising, she reflected, that she could be drowsy again so soon after a nap. She should stay awake. It would be embarrassing to miss the music a second time. Her eyelids drooped.
The music flowed and curled and drifted around her like a slow, friendly river. It carried her away down an endless valley of sleepy comfort. The last thing Carmen noticed before she closed her eyes was handsome Lane admiring her bust again. She wondered happily if he could tell that her nipples were stiff.
She drifted away down the river of music.
A bump in the road brought her awake. She looked around. The car had slowed down. Lane was turning in to a parking lot. The small restaurant looked welcoming. There were a few other cars in the lot.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Lane said politely. “but I could use a bite to eat. Not to mention a piss break.”
Carmen looked around her, shaking off grogginess. “Where . . .?” she managed.
“We’re about a half hour out of the city. You dozed off again. How do you feel now?”
“Marvellous!” She was grinning broadly. She couldn’t help it. She felt like she was high.
Lane was grinning too. “Of course. I told you my music was effective.”
“Mmmmmm, you are soooo right,” Carmen replied. She stretched luxuriously, arching her back to make her boobs stand out. She felt a surge of affection. Lane had turned out to be a great guy. It was too bad she was all covered up. She wanted to show off.
“Come on. Let’s have a snack,” Lane said. They climbed out of the car into the warm sunshine of early afternoon. Carmen opened the back door and retrieved her backpack. She absolutely had to do something about these jeans. She was in the mood for something more feminine.
They entered the little diner and headed for the washrooms. Carmen used the facilities, but when she was finished she stood and pulled off her jeans completely. She rummaged around in her backpack until she found something more appropriate for a woman. When she was dressed again she stuffed her old clothes into the pack.
Carmen stepped up to the mirror over the sink. She pulled the band out of her ponytail. Midnight black hair tumbled free around her shoulders. She applied a little lipstick and some mascara to highlight her lashes. She berated herself for not bringing more cosmetics. Still, the image in the mirror looked pretty good. When she was sure that all was set, the black-haired beauty picked up her backpack and walked out of the washroom.
Lane was sitting at a table by the window, devouring an order of fish and chips. He looked up as Carmen approached. His eyes widened.
Carmen had ditched her jeans in favour of a pair of tight red shorts. The little garment skimmed south of her navel but stopped well up on tanned and toned thighs. They matched her sexy tank-top. She wore nothing else but her immaculate white sport shoes.
Carmen paused by the door for a moment, pretending to look around for Lane. She gave him—and a couple of staring farmers—plenty of opportunity to memorize her delicious curves as she ambled over to where he was sitting. Her breasts bounced freely.
Lane was still staring. “You’ve changed,” he observed, gaping.
Carmen sat down across from him. She set down the backpack. “For the better, don’t you think?” she teased. She studied him from behind lowered lashes.
“Definitely.”
Carmen fluffed out her hair deliberately. “I simply had to get out of those jeans. I’m much too hot in long pants.”
“I’d say you still look hot,” Lane pronounced. His eyes were at the level of her chest. Carmen’s bra was in her pack.
She leaned on her elbows. “Maybe I need to be hosed down,” she suggested.
“I know where you could find a stiff hosepipe.”
Carmen giggled. She snatched a chip off Lane’s plate. She slipped it between her lips lengthwise, tilting her head back to slowly suck it in. “I need something to eat.”
Lane waved over the server, a middle-aged woman who evidently ran the diner along with her husband. She scowled in disapproval at Carmen, but she brought her a salad and half-pint soon enough. Carmen made little “mmmmm!” sounds, and licked her lips after every bite. She could almost feel the sexual attraction between her and Lane. The man was hot!
She paused for a moment to wink at the farmer at the next table, who was staring at her legs. She was turned on. Her nipples were tenting the stretchy fabric of her tank. She loved putting herself on display like this. If it weren’t for her boyfriend . . .
On the way back to the car Carmen made sure to walk ahead of Lane so he could check out her ass. She put a little extra bounce in her step. She reached back absently to tug down the cuff on her rump-defining short-shorts.
They climbed back into the luxury automobile and hit the road again. Carmen relaxed in her seat, legs extended, seatbelt undone. The deep tan on her legs contrasted with her snow white shoes. The day was getting warmer. Lane turned up the air-conditioning. He was wearing a lot more clothing than Carmen, but she didn’t mind. The cool air kept her nipples pointy and prominent.
Lane said: “We’ve about forty-five minutes into the city. Want to hear one more CD?”
“Absolutely!” Carmen exclaimed. “That music is so cool!” Actually, she didn’t remember the music very clearly; she kept falling asleep.
Lane grinned. “Well, it grows on you.” He reached into the console box for another CD.
“Here, let me,” Carmen decided, brushing him away. “Which one is best?”
Lane hesitated. “Uhm, try the one labelled “Introduction 3”
She flipped through the CD cases, already smiling in anticipation. “You spelled it wrong,” she declared, laughing. “This says Induction 3.”
“Well, whatever.”
Carmen removed the old CD from the player and put it back with the others. She slid the new CD into the slot. There was something vaguely erotic about watching it disappear into the warm darkness. She noticed her hand: liquid red fingernail polish would look good with this outfit.
At once music began to pour out from the multiple hidden speakers around the car. The sound system was so good, the music seemed to have no particular source, but rather to exist everywhere at once. Carmen imagined this was what a symphony would sound like if she were seated in the middle of the orchestra. The sensation was palpable; she could almost feel the music raining down on her from all directions, like flower petals from some fantastic bower of roses.
This CD was different again. It had the same multi-layered, melodic harmonies as the others and the same complicated synthesis of notes and sounds. But the background beat in this cut was insistent and powerful. It throbbed like the heartbeat of some giant beast. Carmen found herself twitching her hips in synchrony, a few millimetres each way, back and forth, back and forth. The hiss was there again, but she hardly noticed.
She leaned back in her seat, enjoying the delightful music. She decided Lane was right after all: his music truly was relaxing. Since leaving the restaurant, he had been dividing his attention between the road and his passenger’s barely covered curves. If the road was winning, Carmen decided, she wasn’t doing her job.
She felt her eyelids droop. She wasn’t concerned about falling asleep again, not after napping twice earlier. Half-way through that thought she was distracted by an enormous yawn. She slumped back against the soft leather of her seat. She cast a glance sideways. Lane was admiring her tits. She tugged down the bottom of her tanktop to display them a little better. Maybe he’ll molest me while I’m sleeping, she thought dreamily, as slumber overtook her.
She floated along the road, wrapped in a warm blanket of mind-melting music.
The car decelerated. Carmen stirred. She looked around sluggishly. She blinked, yawning. The vista of the countryside outside the car window had been replaced by houses and sidewalks. They were in the outskirts of the city.
“Welcome back, sleepyhead,” Lane said conversationally. “Feeling rested?”
Carmen turned to look at him, moving in slow motion. “Floating,” she murmured. She ran a long strand of hair through her fingers. “I’m . . . floating.”
Lane chuckled. Carmen was slumped limply in her seat, gaze unfocused, her face flushed. “So what do you think of my CDs now?”
“Mmmmmmmm . . . they’re . . . awesome. Absolute . . . best. Never . . . felt . . . soooooo relaxed.” Her voice was slow and thick.
In truth Carmen was feeling more than merely relaxed. She was exquisitely aroused. The feel of her pebble-hard nipples against her tight tank-top was divine distraction. She could feel moisture seeping into her panties. She was tingling all over. She looked over at Lane, casually handsome in his dark business suit, and her heat soared. She loved men, and he was every inch a man.
Lane said: “I don’t want to boast, but I did tell you these pieces were effective. You look like you’ve had a good rest.”
“I . . . feel . . . sensaaaational!” Carmen purred. She stretched, long and lazy like a well-fed cat. She ran both hands boldly down her chest, revelling in the feel of her aroused breasts against her hands. She hoped Lane could see the desire in her eyes when she looked at him.
Lane’s grin was a little smug. “Well,” he said, apparently unsurprised by his passenger’s condition, “I’m happy to have the endorsement of my product. I’ll be heading to the convention now. Where would you like me to drop you off?”
Carmen didn’t answer for a moment. She slid gracefully off her leather chair and onto the low console between her seat and Lane’s. She let one long leg slide down against his. “I was hoping . . .” she cooed, slipping an arm around his neck, “that you would . . . take me . . . all the way.” Lest her meaning be lost, she began planting kisses on Lane’s neck, just above his shirt collar.
She turned sideways, swinging her other leg across his lap. Her spandex shorts stretched tight across the perfect half-moons of her ass. They were in traffic now, and people in other cars were beginning to stare. Carmen didn’t care. Lane was the sexiest man she had ever laid eyes on. There was no way she was leaving this car without letting him know it.
He struggled gamely to steer the big car. “Uh, Carmen, honey, uhm, I’m trying to drive,” he explained gently.
“Then stop driving,” she murmured. “Stop somewhere. Anywhere.” She licked his ear with her tongue. She was almost in his lap now, insinuating her lush body between Lane and the steering wheel. Her hips undulated on their own accord. She had never felt so turned on.
Lane muttered something in protest. “OK now, wait, hold on a . . . let me steer . . . don’t usually respond so fast . . . new speaker system . . .” Carmen wasn’t paying a lot of attention. Just rubbing herself against him had her on the brink of cumming.
“Stop for a moment, darling. Please,” she begged, still kissing and caressing. She was paying no attention to the streets and traffic they were moving through. Yet something outside caught her eye. A new idea flashed in her head.
“Oh! Lane, darling, stop here. Stop the car. Right here! Please!” Her voice held new urgency.
“What? What is it?” Lane demanded. He pulled over to the side and stopped. A car honked, then swerved around them.
Carmen disengaged herself from Lane, trembling. She was already facing backward. She reached into the back seat, opened a side pocket on her rucksack and extracted a charge card.
She pulled herself back into the front seat. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” she exclaimed. “Please wait for me!” To give him incentive she took his face in both her hands and kissed him on the lips. The kiss was informed with all the lust and need she felt thrumming inside her. “I’ll be right back!” she gasped, before scrambling out of the car.
Carmen dashed into the street, weaving between the passing cars. Being a gorgeous babe in a tank top and short-shorts helped; cars slowed for her as she darted across the pavement. She waved thanks to the blonde driver of a black stretch limo. She reached the far side of the street and dashed into the store she had seen from the car.
She kept her promise to be right back. She emerged from the shop less than five minutes later. She crossed the street more sedately this time. The wobbly high heels on her new boots were not made for running. She hadn’t even bothered to bring back her sport shoes.
The new boots were perfect. They were ash-white and knee-high, with sexy pointy toes to match the stiletto heels. An elaborate pattern of stitching ran up the front of each boot. They cost about as much as half the shoes in her closet, but Carmen wasn’t thinking about that now.
The boots were exactly what she needed to finish off her sexy new look. The extravagant heels shaped her legs and transformed her walk into a slow, feline prowl. The off-white of the stretch boots contrasted with the deep tan of her bare legs and the dark fabric of her shorts.
She jaywalked back across the street again, quite literally stopping traffic. Nobody honked. Somebody whistled. Carmen revelled in it. She watched Lane watching her as she approached the car. The approval on his face increased her mind-numbing heat even further. She climbed into the passenger seat and tossed her chargecard in the back.
“Thanks for waiting, Lane. Will you take me where I want to go now?”
Lane ogled the braless, boot-clad, black-haired beauty sitting across from him. Carmen was sitting with one leg curled under her, half-facing him. “I’ll take you anywhere you want,” Lane said.
“McGrath Park. It’s a few blocks up the road. Turn off on Downing Street. Hurry.”
“A park? But why—”
“Lane! Please!”
He put the car in gear and eased back into traffic. Carmen watched him longingly, ignoring the road. She fought the urge to rub her crotch with her hand.
They arrived at the park. Trees and tended grass momentarily replaced houses and shops. Lane turned into the parking lot. “Over there,” Carmen urged, “beneath those trees.”
Lane parked the car beneath a row of towering oaks. There were no other cars nearby but a elongated luxury limousine with tinted windows. Carmen was climbing out before he even turned off the engine.
He followed her around the front of the car. She was leaning against the bonnet, hands behind her, legs spread slightly. Before Lane could speak she threw her arms around him and pulled him in tight for a hungry, needful kiss. She felt Lane’s manhood pressing against her crotch. Automatically she began flexing her hips, humping against it. She was so horny she could barely think.
“I didn’t want to leave you,” she gasped, when their lips separated a little, “w-without thanking you properly.”
“But, mmmmmmmm, what, hmph, what about . . . your boyfriend?” Lane managed, between kisses.
She shrugged dismissively. “He doesn’t have to know everything.”
She kissed him again, but this time her hands moved down to find his belt buckle. She fumbled for a few moments, but then his belt opened. A moment later his zipper yielded also. She made a happy sound in her throat as her hands dove into his distended shorts to find what she was looking for.
This all would have gone faster except that Lane was trying to take down her shorts at the same time. He got his hands inside, against her hips, and shucked the tight garment and wet underwear down in one go. Carmen wiggled her hips until her clothing fell around her ankles, then hurriedly stepped out of them. A moment later she was back in his arms, her muff exposed to the cool air and Lane’s hardness.
“Lean back against the car,” he urged.
She did so, panting with need and heat. She pulled Lane by his tie until he was nestled between her long, wide-spread legs. He yanked off his suit jacket and tossed it on the grass. “Hurry!” Carmen cried.
She needed both hands to steady herself against the car. She could only watch as Lane aimed his spear at her snatch and moved forward. Her triangle was dark and wet and neatly trimmed. He made contact with her pussylips and wiggled forward, pushing in. Carmen moaned. “Hurry,” she whispered.
Lane was hurrying. He pushed in deep, and deeper, and deeper still, until he was buried inside her, pinning her by the hips against his car. Immediately he pulled back, then thrust in again, faster. He fell into a rhythm, pistoning in and out of the receptive warmth of her pussy. “Oh god yes fuck me,” Carmen blurted.
Lane was hardly about to stop. He pitched into her energetically, thrusting forward with his hips. He propped his hands against the bonnet for balance, flattening her tits against his chest, breathing in her ear.
Carmen’s wet cunt made soft slurping sounds as the two lovers screwed in the open air. Her long black hair flew about wildly. Her bare ass slipped and slithered against the metal of the car, lubricated by her perspiration and cream. It was not the most comfortable position for sex, but at the moment she was too steamed up to care. The heavenly pleasure of getting drilled with Lane’s cock was the centre of her attention.
Carmen made a guttural sound as a spasm of pleasure rocked her body. The orgasm was so unexpected all she could do was gasp as her body went rigid. “Cu-cu-cummmming!” she shouted.
So vigorous was Carmen’s climax that Lane lost his rhythm for a moment. He got it back swiftly, while Carmen was still riding the pleasure-wave, and the second orgasm came just minutes later. Lane was thrusting faster now, grunting with each penetration, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Carmen humped up to meet him. Her high-heeled boots scrabbled on the grass, trying to find purchase. She was surfing on the threshold of orgasm constantly now. When Lane stiffened, shuddered, and began to fire his load into her she wrapped her arms and legs around him and rode out the biggest climax of all.
Some time later Carmen was admiring her dishevelled reflection in the polished finish of Lane’s big car as she leaned over the bonnet, long legs spread wide, while Lane fucked her leisurely from behind. Her tank top had joined her shorts on the grass. Now she was wearing nothing at all but a blissful smile and her sexy new boots. Her full breasts bounced perkily with every thrust. The nipples skimmed against the car, sending shivers of excitement up her spine. She had lost count of her orgasms.
When the first frantic coupling ended, Carmen had simply collapsed, sliding down the front bumper to land in a contented heap on the grass. She sat there for a moment, recovering, until her pulse came down a little. She looked up at Lane. He was leaning on the car with one hand, breathing deeply, looking slaked. His suit pants were down around his ankles. He smiled down on her. “You sure know how to take a girl for a ride,” Carmen said fondly.
“Wow,” was Lane’s summation. He blew out his breath. “Are you ready to go now?”
“In a while,” Carmen cooed, rising up on her knees. “What’s your hurry?” She leaned forward and licked a drop of cum off the end of Lane’s cock. He twitched gratifyingly. She licked him again, slower this time, then planted a kiss right on the end of his wang.
“Carmen, what are you—Wow,” Lane exclaimed, looking down. “This, this is fantastic. I never expected this kind of response so soon. You must be—aaaah—must be very responsive to the second harmonics or—oh god do that again.”
Carmen wasn’t sure what he was on about. It didn’t matter much. Not when she had a nice warm cock in her mouth, stiffening slowly in response to her attention. Getting Lane hard again so he could throw her another bone was all Carmen cared about at the moment.
She was entirely successful. Now she was standing again, long hair swinging loosely, as Lane made her pussy sing. He had his hands on her hips for traction. He pulled her back against him as he thrust his own pelvis forward. From time to time he paused to playfully slap her bare ass. A couple of shapely young women climbed out of the limousine nearby, one of them barely dressed, but Carmen hardly noticed.
“Carmen, baby, I, huh, just had, huh huh, a great idea,” Lane said, between grunts.
“Idea? Wha?” She brushed damp hair off her face.
“Why don’t you, oh sweet, why don’t you come with me. To the convention.”
Carmen had already come with him once. “Convention? W-why?”
“You could be, oh fuck you are tight, you could be my uhm, assistant. You could show off—I mean, show off my product. You could give it away. Free, huh, huh, samples. To distributors. Help me build sales. They’re mostly men.”
It was hard to concentrate on what Lane was saying while she was being fucked. But the idea of strutting around in a convention hall full of men sounded appealing. Very appealing. She could wear something skimpy and tight. She could sweet-talk the men into trying Lane’s wonderful music. She could encourage them to give the CDs to their wives, their secretaries. If the man was unsure, maybe she could lead him into the room behind the booth, and help him make up his mind . . . Carmen moaned out loud. Her hand slipped on the smooth metal of the car.
“I can’t afford to pay you much at first,” Lane continued, still pumping. “But, of course you could listen to the CDs whenever you wanted. What do you say? Will you come with me?”
“YES! YES! I’m cumming!” Carmen screamed. She dropped her head and rocked and rolled through another blissful orgasm. Behind her she heard a sound and felt Lane fire into her again.
The booted beauty collapsed against the luxury car, twitching and sighing contentedly. It was all perfect. She would be Lane’s sexy assistant. She would help him build his business. She would listen to the marvellous tapes whenever she wanted, over and over again. Her boyfriend could wait until later. Or whatever.
“Well now,” said Lane, catching his breath behind her. “That was the best. Did the earth move for you?”
Carmen sighed happily. “No, darling,” she answered. “But I definitely heard music.”
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