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From: Nick <nick@cassandra.demon.co.uk>
Subject: Car Cricket by Nick (F/M carchase)
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Story attached: Car Cricket by Nick	(M/F carchase)	(c) April 1998
-------------------

The following story is for adults. If you are a child this is not
really for you - you won't enjoy it!

I would like to thank Kim for her comments and proof-reading, despite
her busy schedule! Much appreciated!

Now read on!

It is only as I accelerate onto the M6 south of Manchester and fully
open the windows, that I become aware of the crawling tension in my
shoulders. It's been a tough morning, and the meetings have now moved
beyond being openly hostile. The threat of legal action if delivery
schedules are not met has now become real, and the pressure is
beginning to get to me!

Shit!

I hate this!

Technically it's not my fault - it's those incompetent bastards back
at base, but that doesn't help. The sense of failure is still there,
and I can only helplessly watch the destruction of a good working
relationship - carefully built up over the years, now undermined by
necessary but transparent lies and excuses. Now we distrust each
other.

There is a bad taste in my mouth as I remember Jenny's eyes, now cold,
now businesslike, gazing at me as she tells me about the layoffs she
is going to have to make if we can't meet our next deadline.

Christ, she even took me round her factory!

"These are my girls," she had told me, "they are wives, mothers,
daughters trying to make ends meet in difficult times!"

I had stared down at the Danteesque hell-pit beneath me. It was full
of sweating females, operating hot whirring machinery. Cheap sweated
labour, and I knew she was using them to extract every ounce of the
guilt she knew I felt. All is fair, I suppose, but I realise that for
her part she is as guilty of cynically exploiting these women - her
sisters - as the worst of the male fat-cats! I could have unkindly
pointed out that her salary could have paid for ten of them.... but
that would have got me nowhere!

I'm thinking about the angry glances they kept shooting me.

They knew!

I feel desperately sorry and I would dearly love to help them, but at
the same time the naked animal hatred they showed me makes me fearful
- impotent.

I remember an anonymous obscenity and the raucous, sneering laughter
that accompanied it! I remember the glowering face of one of the
supervisors - her eyes never leaving me as she stood there hands on
hips, while I fumbled with my eyes.

If Jenny had left me there - I'm quite certain they might have gone
for me and torn me apart, but then that's how she wanted me to feel!

A vision flashes through my mind.

I am trapped. I can hear them screaming in the engines of the cars
that now flash past me, as they pin me to the floor. That supervisor
kneels on my shoulders, while the others strip my business suit from
my body, laughing obscenely at my limp manhood

Oh, at another time I might fantasise about this, but I can visualise
the woman, her eyes still burning into me. She is not attractive, she
is not compliant and she is not looking for my pleasure! She lowers
her crotch to my face, and I turn my head at the sight of rampant
pubic hair protruding from stained pants. I retch at the fishy stench
of raw unwashed womanhood....

I'm sweating despite the cooling breeze on my face, and I push the
accelerator to the floor to try to blow these thoughts from my mind

Give me men to deal with any day. You can screw them without all these
complex feelings getting in the way!

I have 200 miles of motorway ahead of me, and the heat is stifling.

There is nothing to do now but drive - just get to the end of my
journey as quickly as possible. As the speedo climbs, and remains
steady way beyond the legal limit, I try to take on board that the
urgent pressures on me will have to wait at least while I am in my
car. Here my time is my own, but I resent the fact that it has been
stolen by the need to bring my seething mind back under control.

I hold my hand out of the window, feeling the rushing wind in my
cupped palm. The flow of air has the same consistency and feel of a
woman's breast. I gently squeeze my fingers against the pliant
resistance, taking comfort from the "flesh of the goddess". A strange
but gentle fantasy, and I use it to offset the curdling, festering
sense of frustration. 

As I pass Stafford the traffic begins to slow and the need to pay
attention to my driving takes precedence over my current worries, but
it is another frustration. It is always the same north of Birmingham
at any time of day or night the traffic always stops, but the
foreknowledge does not stop me from bellowing an angry obscenity at
the groaning wall of traffic. I prepare to engage in yet another
battle to make sure my progress is hindered as little as possible.

I choose my lane carefully. There is a science to this, but sadly I've
never mastered it. I decide, more on a whim than anything else, that
the outside "fast" lane is where I'll stake my progress. I growl
menacingly as this lane of traffic stops and the inside lanes stream
past sickeningly. Eventually, however, it makes no difference at all.
All lanes pretty soon become virtually stationary.

It is then, I see her!

I glance across at the sleek red open-top sports car, and there she is
staring straight ahead, completely unaware of my presence. She, like
her car, is the essence of sleek sophistication. Her dark hair is held
in place by a scarf knotted tightly under her chin. A wisp has
escaped, and uses a rare movement of air to explore her cheek. I study
the profile of her face, the forehead, the aristocratic nose and the
full red lips.

She is here - now - in front of me and this remote siren presents me
with a beacon to guide me from the hell I have created for myself.

What is behind those mysterious dark glasses? I feel I need to know
everything about her despite the fact that she knows nothing of my
existence -yet. Where does she come from? Where is she going? What is
her life story? Most important - what is her name?

Suddenly she looks round and directs her hidden gaze at me. I am
gawping stupidly, but I smile at her. She smiles back.

She smiles back!!

She then switches her attention back to the traffic, consigning me
once again to oblivion. I see her shoulders move slightly as she slips
the car into gear, and I can only dream of her flexing thighs as she
engages the clutch to move car forward.

Shit! A huge gap has opened up in front of me, and already cars from
the middle lane are moving in to fill it! The car behind me blows his
horn and, embarrassed, I kangaroo forward to fill the space.

My lane moves now, but it is only a matter of time before it slows
again. She passes me, glancing across as I rev my engine noisily, then
a few yards ahead she grinds to a halt. Slowly I edge towards her
becoming aware of the hissing juggernaut as it too slows to a halt
beside her in the inside lane. I glance up at the cab. The driver is
staring idly down into the well of her car, admiring her unseen legs.
There is a smile playing on her lips - she is clearly aware of both of
us.

The airbrakes suddenly fizz alarmingly and the cab bucks like a
stallion! The drivers eyes are wide! His horn blares through the
traffic attracting the attention of everyone - except, it seems, her!
Her face remains inscrutable, that enigmatic smile unchanged. I would
do anything to be in his cab!

Now the outside lane goes and keeps going. It is the turn of the
others to fall behind, only now I feel far more democratic in my
ambitions for progress. Every car and lorry I pull past pushes her
further away from me.

At the top of Birmingham, the M5 splits off the M6 taking traffic to
the south-west of the city, while the M6 goes to the south-east. The
two motorways part above the city like a pair of thighs. I have a
choice as to which motorway to use, but I will eventually hit the M40
south towards Oxford and home. I wonder which route she will take, but
it is probably futile. With extraordinary difficulty I try to resign
myself to losing her forever and returning to my tortured reality.

I signal and move in for the M5 exit - it may be longer, but there
should be fewer hold-ups - and accelerate along the slip-road onto the
motorway. There is a series of sharp bends which take the motorway
through and over the stinking industrial areas of North Birmingham. I
dodge the ponderous lorries and coaches, swinging into the inside lane
and out again to the outside to ease the impact of the curves.

Suddenly my rear-view mirror lights up!

Fucking boy-racers!

I move in  to let the angry driver behind me pass. A powerful sleek
red sports-car shoots past and I glimpse a waved acknowledgement.

No boy racer - it's her!

Immediately, I put my foot down. My company saloon is certainly not
designed for this and as I weave in and out of the traffic, my tires
actually squeal. One or two drivers blare their horns, and glare at me
angrily.

I see her  running. Her brake lights flare as some clown pulls in
front of her. She swings the car into his inside and accelerates past
him before he can react.

My heart skips a beat at her breathtaking daring! I must have her!

Three cars line up in front of me - an impenetrable wall as I see her
race away. Slowly - ever so slowly - they ease past each other. As
soon as the gap opens up I'm there - foot on the floor, chasing!

But where is she?

I weave and dodge, watching the cars around me, but there is no sign
of her. Perhaps - God forbid - she has turned off!

Two lorries on the inside travelling sedately like mechanical whales.
I shoot past them, paying them no attention, but a lucky glance into
my wing-mirror and a flash of red gives her away! She is there nestled
between them - cunning bitch!

I brake hard - she sees me and I catch her laughing face. Then she is
out behind me like a hawk - for a fraction of a second frighteningly
close - and then into the fast lane where she floors her accelerator
past me, taking my heart in her talons as she goes

I see her signal and realise with a shock that the M42 junction is
coming up! I would have missed it, following her all the way to South
Wales if necessary!

She negotiates the tight curve that takes us onto the next motorway,
at speed. My car wallows frighteningly as I try to keep up. She
extends her lead over me, but not much, and as we move onto the
motorway proper, which is much clearer now, I realise she is looking
for her top speed. I match her mile for mile, but she has better
acceleration and my car starts to judder alarmingly at 110!

As she pulls away I start to feel slightly desperate. I really don't
want to lose her!

Then she slows. Elated I race towards her, and pull out to pass her,
maintaining my speed.

Then I see why she has slowed!

A police car lurks in its lair! I brake hard and my wheels scream back
at me. My speed carries me past her on smoking tires and on past the
police car. I glimpse the two officers staring hard at their radar
readout as I pass them! What is it 90, 80! I glance nervously in my
mirror, but by some miracle, they don't move. A sigh of relief!

I move into the inside lane, feeling slightly chastened. I see her
drawing up behind me slowly in my mirror. As she draws level.  She
looks over to me. The light glints off those impenetrable black lenses
and for a moment I feel naked under her blank stare. She calls the
shots. Her car can outrun and outmanoeuvre mine. If she wants to she
can lose me. If not, I'll follow her until my car runs out of fuel!

She accelerates away and I accelerate with her. Matching our speed we
carry on for several miles then the motorway splits. The middle lanes
carry on South on the M40, while the one I am trapped in carries on
south of Birmingham. I slow, to let her pass so I can pull out behind
her, but she slows too! I accelerate, and she picks up speed! I glance
across at her, she is grinning wickedly as she crowds me away from my
chosen route.

The bitch has me trapped!

God, I want her!

At the last moment she pulls ahead and I swing out behind her, my
tires throwing up the loose gravel at the intersection, my headlights
blazing. Then I move out to the fast lane to pass her. She lets me go.
 Ahead of her now, I'm comfortable. I can see her, and she isn't going
anywhere. She may try to pass at any time, but she knows I can keep
her behind me. Maybe she is waiting for me to lose my concentration,
to choose her moment and break away, or maybe she is simply waiting
for her exit - or for mine.

As we approach Warwick Services I see her indicator. This is it! This
is where we park together, extinguish our purring engines and..... I
signal too and move in. She follows me onto the sliproad and I slow
past the 'End of Motorway' signs.

Shit!

Her car is back on the motorway and it's too late for me to change
direction!

This time, she really has sold me a dummy! I have to crawl through the
tortuous service roads avoiding wayward kids and blind caravanette
drivers, before I can hit the road again!

Finally, after what seems an age, I can accelerate away, my engine
screaming up through the gears, trying desperately to make up lost
ground and peering desperately ahead to try to glimpse that familiar
red tail of hers.


And the passing traffic is watching her!

I'm not the only male to drive past that spot erratically, but I am
the only one to deposit the top layer of rubber from his tires onto
the road and screech to a halt on the hard shoulder!

Her car is there, and she is sitting on the grassy bank, skirt hitched
up around her thighs, catching the hot sun and watching me through
those magical sunglasses. The smell of burning in my nostrils, I
glance briefly in my rear view mirror, before loosening my seat-belt,
but like some witch, she has vanished once again!

A streak of red flashes past me and her car-horn dopplers! I react
immediately, shaving another inch off my tires as I get my car moving
after her again.

The Mercedes behind bellows angrily at me. The driver waves his fist
as if I should care!

Again I chase her, then Junction 12 and, once more, her signal. I stay
behind her, maintaining a  good distance to react in case of any more
changes of direction!

Before long we are chasing each other at high speed through country
lanes. It's dangerous - a tractor pulling out, or a cyclist hugging
the hedgerow would be fatal. I drive blindly round bends that I would
normally be cautious about, in order to keep her in sight. There is a
"Stop" sign ahead - normally plenty of time for anyone driving at a
sensible speed, but despite slamming on the brakes I find myself
skidding impotently across it.

Death whispers past me!

For the first time I feel real fear - fear for both of us! I am
sweating profusely, and it's not the heat! Is it worth it? It can't be
worth it! It's not worth it - maybe I misinterpreted the signals.
Maybe she never smiled at me. Maybe she tried to force me off the road
because she was frightened!

If so I have a responsibility. If she smashes herself up, it could be
hours before she's found on these roads! I must follow!

I glimpse her car take a crazy left turn. I follow her down the
dirt-track and almost immediately I lock my wheels throwing up clouds
of dry dust. Her car has swerved across my path and now blocks it. She
is standing, facing me as I screech to a halt - my front bumper
snarling at her knees.

Everything falls silent as I switch off my car engine. My hands are
shaking and I wrestle with my door. Her face watches me as I step from
the car, still  mysterious behind those sunglasses. I don't know what
I'm going to do, to say, but I just know now that I have to go to her.
The sunlight reflects through her blouse off the underside of her
breasts - quivering breasts, as she too is shaking. Her brow, like
mine, is covered in perspiration. I reach out and remove her
sunglasses.

There is something familiar about her and that part of my
consciousness which tells me how unattractive she really is, is
swamped by my desire. I can smell her own desire, smell her body, and
there is so much need in those big blue eyes!

I touch her cheek, as that wisp of hair did a few hours earlier, but
suddenly she is in my arms, and her sighing lips are locked on mine as
the tension in her quivering body transmits itself to me.

The sunglasses clatter to the ground and shatter!

I swing her round and we fall onto the hot bonnet of my car. The steel
warps under our weight, and she arches her back against me and writhes
against the heat of my engine. My face is on her belly, and we both
slide to the ground, her skirt riding up exposing panties pulling into
her crotch. I notice the deep red of her sex, exposed and distorted by
the material, matching the deep satin red of my car.

We fall, locked together onto the soft grass verge, partially shielded
by the two cars. I am on my back, and her knees pin my arms as I stare
up at her glistening thighs and into her crotch, breathing in the
heavy scent of her sweat and lust. As she lowers her hips, I see her
eyes smouldering unflinchingly down at me.

Familiar!

I know now who she is, but so much is different now!

This time I don't turn my head away. Instead I shoot my tongue out to
dip into that inviting slit.

I hear her moan as it flips at the salty folds of her flesh and her
panties. Her body shudders as she floods my mouth and face with her
lust.

I am dimly aware of the approaching lazy clip-clop, but this is
irrelevant to both of us. She slides down my body, trailing her wet
sex over my shirt, and licks the juice on my lips, before kissing me
hard.

My manhood is liberated, somehow, from its painful confines and she
gasps as it slides effortlessly into her warmth.

The hooves slow and are momentarily silent..

She cries out as I thrust into her, her dark hair sweeping back and
forth across her ecstatic face. I feel yet more of her hot juice
flooding over me, soaking my trousers as I fill her body with my own
inevitable orgasm. 

There is a nervous whinny followed by a click-click from the tongue of
the rider, and the hooves start to move away. Her vagina spasms and
her body arches as she screams her own orgasm after them like a
banshee. Their departure more urgent than their arrival.

My spinning head slowly returns to normal and I become acutely aware
of my surroundings. It is so peaceful now. I can hear the symphonic
buzzing of insects as they come and go and feel the grass tickling my
ears. She is beside me now, holding me tight, her heart beating
against mine.

A dragonfly hovers over my face its transient beauty mirroring the
eternity we have for each other. I hear the gentle click of our car
engines as they cool with our bodies, mimicking our own subsiding
heartbeats.

All but drowned out by the gentle humming of the dragonfly's wings, I
hear a distant "Aahzaaat!" carried over the breeze, followed by
sporadic cheering and clapping - the unmistakable sounds of a far-off
village cricket match.

I start to doze.....

.....the blue flashing light of the police car indicates that I should
pull over!

Shit!

I bring the car to a halt and resignedly watch the officer approach.

He leans forward to address me.

"Lose our concentration a bit, back there did we sir?"

THE END

All comments welcome. E-mail me at nick@cassandra.demon.co.uk




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