Message-ID: <5428eli$9711061309@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/5428.txt>
From: proust@scsn.net (Marc Proust)
Subject: My Brilliant Hitchhiker (mf, light dom)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <proust-0611970849240001@ppp176.coladlp2.scsn.net>


The following story is for mature (age-wise, anyway) audiences. If 
you are under 18, please donıt read it. 

My Brilliant Hitchhiker
by Marc Proust

I decided to drive. It was only six hours away and I needed time to 
gather my thoughts together. My topic was ³Lust and Poetry: Can 
Either Survive in the Post-Industrial World?² It was a new paper, 
and the bugs werenıt fully worked out, but I was excited about the 
question and eager to give the paper. Prof. Tyson of Jacksonville 
University was a world-renown scholar on such matters, and our 
meeting the next day was a source of much anticipation on my part. 

I was nearly to Charleston when I saw her hitch-hiking. I was tired 
of thinking already, and figured a bit of female companionship 
would help pass the time. I had until 2:00 the next day, which was 
ample time to come to grips with post-industrial society, at least that 
part that had eluded me so far.

³Gee, thanks. I thought Iıd be there forever! How far are you 
going?² 

³Only to Jacksonville. Does that help?²

Well, it turned out it helped a lot since she was also going to 
Jacksonville. She was about my age, perhaps a bit younger, no babe 
but very pretty in a lost, waifish sort of way. In spite of her slightly 
immature demeanor, however, it was clear from the start that she 
was no dummy. She wore a simple cotton top and I saw, before the 
dome light expired at the hands of its timer, that her breasts were not 
confined by a bra. I love that. It is so rare these days. Lust began to 
get the upper hand over poetry in my ruminations on the post-
industrial world. 

³My nameıs Marc. Whatıs yours?² 

³My friends call me Dandy.²

³Now thereıs a name you donıt hear everyday. While I am prepared 
to believe you are pretty dandy, I canıt imagine thatıs why your 
parents gave their kid such a name.² You can tell Iım no smooth 
talker. If fact, for some reason (and Iım not alone) I sound like a 
pedantic fool the minute I encounter a beautiful woman. I really 
thought I was getting better.

³My middle name is DıAndrea and for as long as I can remember 
Iıve been called Dandy. I think my dad started it. My first name is 
Laura, which I donıt much like, so Iıve kind of gotten used to being 
Dandy.²

I asked how she came to be hitchhiking and she proceeded to tell me 
a long story, most of which I have forgotten, involving a boy and a 
girl, another girl, and a banjo. I didnıt believe a word of it, but it 
made me laugh, and we had sailed past Charleston when she said, 
by way of conclusion to her tale:

³I guess I get into trouble, because when I like a guy I just want to 
do *anything* for him. They take advantage.²

Even I recognized that this was my cue. All thought of industry and 
poetry was gone; only lust remained. My cock began itıs inevitable 
swell. The beginning is the most electric: slow jolts penetrate the 
testicles and tell the blood to quit what itıs doing (what *does* it 
usually do?) and rush to the penis. I knew it sounded dumb, but the 
only thing I could think of to do was to ask: ³Do you like me, 
Dandy?²

³Yes.² She said it submissively, and we were off to the races. Now, 
I had read about such women, but no one I had ever been involved 
with had been interested in such games. In fact, I have day-dreamed 
of dominating or being dominated, but never really thought seriously 
about either. In the next few seconds, however, I resolved to play 
my part as best I could. My post-industrial world had just expanded.

³Dandy, touch your left breast with your right hand. It would make 
me happy.² As I said this, we were gliding past Savannah. I love to 
drive at night. It is so lonely and quiet; cars shy away from the dark. 
Not only did Dandy follow my instruction, I noticed that she gently 
began to massage her left breast, and squirmed, if ever so slightly, 
on the seat of the car. My penis was swelling in earnest now, and I 
was really enjoying getting in touch with my dominant side. It is 
good for all of us, occasionally, to act like a macho asshole.

³Excellent!² I said. ³Now, Dandy, take your top off and show me 
your tits. Itıs dark, and no one outside the car can see. Feel your 
nipples; pinch them and pull them.² Although it was dark, I could 
easily make out Dandyıs profile as she shed her white cotton shirt, 
and began to touch herself. She started slowly, gently feeling her 
nipples, but it wasnıt long before her intensity increased and the 
gentle touches gave way to slow, gripping gropes. She was 
breathing hard, too. As oncoming cars passed us by, their headlights 
allowed me to see how her nipples responded: they became 
enormously firm, proud and disproportionate to the size of her 
lovely, small breasts. Big nipples on small tits are nothing short of 
poetic: the promise of happiness, some philosopher said in another 
context. I reached over to feel them, to softly pull and pinch them 
myself, and elicited a groan from the beautiful lady as she let me take 
over.

³God, you are a pretty slut.² I said. I didnıt usually talk this way to 
women, but now I *had* to. ³Now, Dandy-slut, I want you to open 
my pants and pull out my dick. Thatıs it. See how big it gets when it 
knows thereıs a slut around. Now, suck it, cunt!² She sucked it all 
right. She was a real artist: she knew exactly how to tease a man; she 
brought me to the edge several times before hauling me back again, 
panting from the sweet agony of unfulfilled sexual union. 

³Not bad.² I tried to be nonchalant, but I could tell she knew I was 
impressed, very. ³But youıre not having any fun, are you slut? 
Listen, I want you to take your pants and panties off, and sit Indian-
style on the seat.² She did. I should not have been surprised, but I 
was. This was great! Then I said: ³Now, while you suck me, you 
have to play with your cunt. Thatıs right, stick your fingers in that 
wet pussy. Smear your cunt juice down your ass; rub it all over your 
pissy cunt. Thatıs right, slut, I want you to get good and wet. Cunts 
are wet. Cunts are full of piss. Cunts get big, and puffy, and rose-
like when you touch them. They get wet when you pee out of them. 
Your ass-hole gets wet when cuntish piss flows down your crack.² I 
was damn near incoherent; thatıs how good she was. ³ Now, 
Dandy, I want you to suck me till I come. But, you have to come at 
the same time.²

We hurtled down the highway pell-mell while I kept up this constant 
chatter. Dandy was really getting into it; every time I mentioned her 
cunt, she groaned with my enormously expanded cock in her mouth. 
Her lips were silky on my penis, and she used her teeth in a way 
that, falling just short of pain, felt exquisitely real as they raked their 
way up my swollen shaft. Just when it was getting to be too much, 
she would stop and use her tongue to retrace the tracks of the teeth to 
soothe and cool, and every so often would turn her head from side 
to side as she emitted low, humming noises. Here was a woman to 
be celebrated! A woman who knew full well that not every male 
orgasm was the same; that those that are properly constructed in time 
will provide physical and emotional side-effects that are not only 
gratefully received, but long remembered.

³Dandy, Iım close! Youıd better be, too, you cunt!² I nearly 
screamed. By the looks of it, she was. As she sucked me to 
perfection, I could tell that she had two fingers up her pussy and 
was rubbing her clit furiously  with the other. ³Yes. Yes.² I babbled 
on. ³ Iım going to come in your mouth! O Yes, you slut!  Yes!²  
And it *did* occur to me, as it must to you, that while I was 
nominally in control, Dandy was calling all the shots. I was as 
helpless and pitiful as newborn baby, responding to each and every 
subtle manipulation of her great art and heart; yet she was 
supposedly submitting to me. 

I began pumping ropes of white semen down Dandyıs throat, just as 
she let out a muffled holler and jammed her legs together over her 
hand. Perfection!  I had slowed the car in anticipation and was very 
glad that it was so late at night; there were no other cars around and 
we floated on through Georgia with only a slight tremor and swerve.

When I had settled down a bit, and regained my composure, I 
engaged her in conversation. She asked why I was going to 
Jacksonville, I told her about my paper and, to my utter delight, 
discovered that she had some interesting and original ideas on poetic 
lust in the post-industrial world. It never fails to impress me how 
total novices can sometimes cut through layers of academic fat and 
get to the heart of the matter. Yes, yes, it may have been a bit 
childish, her idea, but there was energy and originality there that had 
eluded my colleagues. I made a mental note to steal her idea for my 
talk the next day.

We got to Jacksonville late, very late, and Dandy insisted that I stay 
with her, rather than the hotel room reserved for me by the 
university. Of course, I agreed, and called the hotel to let them know 
I would not be coming, and to ask them to please inform the 
Department, should they call, that I would be there for my seminar at 
2:00 the next day. Her apartment was surprisingly elegant and 
cheery, and was located near the harbor in an exclusive part of town. 
Books lined the walls, providing a decor that made me feel right at 
home. We were both exhausted, and I fell asleep in seconds, hardly 
thinking of post-industrial literature or sex. 

The next morning I awoke feeling great, bursting with ideas and 
eager to give my talk. Dandy was in the shower, and as I waited for 
her I thought about what a fantastic time we had had the night 
before. Before long, my cock was hard again, and I gently played 
with it, stroking it softly, rubbing the tip, and running my fingers 
slowly over my balls. I was feeling downright languorous, sexy and 
romantic, not at all bossy like the night before. 

³Good morning, Marc. Your turn. What a day!  I love it when it 
turns a bit cool like this.² Dandy was looking lovely. As if by 
chance, her robe drifted open as she swept around to sit by me, and 
I stole a glimpse of her soft, small breasts, and her silky mound, 
sprinkled with its sparse thatch of down. There was indeed a cool 
breeze blowing through the window and it made her beautiful, too-
large nipples stand stiff and puffy.

³And what is this!??!² 

She had turned back the covers, discovered my erect member, and 
was expressing mock shock. Though she made moves to touch it, 
and even bent over towards it so close that I could feel her hot breath 
on me as she stared in feigned surprise, no contact was made. She 
left me twitching as she stood up and embraced herself to secure the 
robe.

³You are absolutely filthy, Marc. Now get in the shower and we will 
reevaluate the situation when you come back.²

She was right: I really was filthy and I made quick tracks to the 
bathroom for a pee and shower. It is not unusual that I wake with a 
hard-on but this morning was different and I waited longer than 
usual on the seat before enough flacidity had returned to enable me 
to pee properly. Minutes later, the heat of the shower put me in a 
state somewhere between extreme sensuality and overpowering 
ennui: liquid, languorous, languid, fecund, Rousseau, jungles, 
humid, post-industrial torpor, poetic licentiousness, lusty, busty...

³On your knees you cur!! Get out of the fucking shower THIS 
MINUTE you dog!! How dare you keep me waiting?!??!

I could have left. She wasnıt at all big. A waif, just like I said 
before. But I didnıt. My lecture wasnıt for two hours, and the 
university wasnıt far. Plus, was terribly curious how I would 
respond to being dominated. 

³Now come here, dog, and look at my cunt.² As she commanded 
me, she let her own robe fall off, scooted her bottom to the edge of 
the bed, and opened her legs to show me her beautiful pussy. ³Just 
look. Donıt touch!² 

Now, I love vaginas. Whenever I see one, I am thunderstruck anew. 
Hers was delicate, like her frame, and the outer lips were small and 
rounded. While I did not mind looking, as my cock swelled again, 
making me look indeed like an obscene dog, it became harder and 
harder not to touch. Her cunt meanwhile was changing, ripening, 
glistening, opening, and beginning to emit that astonishing earthy 
aroma. As I looked, she closed her eyes.

³Lick my asshole. Donıt touch my cunt! You dogs are all alike. You 
like ass, donıt you. Now lick!² 

I really donıt know who was calling the shots, but I did lick it. She 
scootched her ass over the side of the bed a bit more, and I began to 
gently caress the little rosebud with my tongue. What could be 
lewder? This has always gotten me as hard as a skiff pole. My dick 
was twitching, and I felt like a dog. Dandy, was in heat and began to 
moan. The juice dripped from the cunt she refused to let me touch, 
and as it dripped it fell across her tight little anus and on to my 
tongue. I swallowed eagerly, a ran my tongue down her crack and to 
her back, to allow the temperature around her asshole to cool, so I 
could slowly approach it again. I teased her, but I did her bidding. 
She kept moving her bottom to try to make contact. Contact. 

³Stop!² She screamed it, but I could tell there was laughter behind 
the yelling and I could barely contain a bright smile of my own. 
Clearly, neither one of us was really cut out for this domination 
stuff. ³Now stand back, doggie, and watch a minute. Look at me 
now.² And as she said this, she peeled back the engorged lips of her 
cunt to reveal what to me is as breath-takingly gorgeous, in its own 
way, as Turner sunset. Fully visible were the gaping void of her 
tunnel, the excited convexity of her clit, and the tiny mini-slit- 
opening of her pee-hole, all glistening and fat and very nearly 
available. ³Stop! Donıt touch!² She said. ³I mean it. Now look at 
this...²

Picture this, reader. I was back on my haunches, dick swollen and 
pointing straight up, poised between the action of animal lust and the 
pure visual poetry of her shimmering, boiling cunt. We were 
suspended in time and I thought we might be there forever when it 
finally happened. As I stared at her, the little urinary hole above her 
tunnel began to change, acquire great definition, pucker, open, and 
start to burble a pale liquid that mingled imperceptibly with the 
viscous juice of her pussy. I had always wanted to see a woman 
pee, but now it was simply too much. Oh, way too much! It 
shattered my equilibrium, and put everything in motion at once. I 
sprang to my feet, shoved her ass back on the bed, and plunged my 
cock up her cunt. I vaguely remember her shouting something like 
³FUCK ME, you dog! FUCK ME NOW!!, but that may have been 
my imagination. I was beyond words; there was only one thing to be 
done, and I was doing it: plunging, ramming, pistoning (synonyms, 
I need synonyms!) nearly clubbing her with my huge cock. I was 
only half-aware of the exquisite, immediate, soft, womanly 
resistance of her cunt as I split the walls on the first thrust. Mostly I 
just fucked her, and was completely oblivious to her desires. 

I really donıt know if Dandy had an orgasm or not that morning, but 
I sure did. It didnıt take long, either, and I felt like I was exploding 
as the white heat rose up from my depths and shot into her body. 
Judging by her laughter, I think Dandy got just about what she was 
looking for, too, and we lay there just holding each other for a long 
time, until I remembered why I was there. 

³My God! My lecture!² Time was short now, and we dressed 
quickly, got in the car and drove off to the university, where she let 
me out, said good-bye and wished me well. ³I hope Dr. Tyson likes 
it², she said as she closed the car door. How sweet of her! I was 
really sorry to see the last of Dandy, but only ten minutes remained 
until I was due to speak and I was feeling bad that I had so far 
completely ignored my hosts.

I soon found myself before the assembled group, but Dr. Tyson had 
not yet arrived. Dr. Gordon asked me to wait, as the eminent 
professor was expected any minute. Of course, I was happy to do 
so, and even appreciative of the extra minutes to think about Post-
Industrial Lust and Poetry. 

All of a sudden, I froze. Into the room strode none other than 
Dandy!  I thought: ³What the Hell is _she_ doing here?². But before 
I could even begin to think of something awkward and stupid to say, 
I heard Dr. Gordon intone: ³Ah, Dr. Tyson, at last! Laura come sit 
here so we can begin.²

---------The End--------------

-- 
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
\ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/>    .../assm/faq.html> /