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o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
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Oh Susana 1 Car Ride (FM)
Author: Martina Lee <susanasue@hotmail.com>
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This is the first chapter of my book of short stories, collectively
entitled "Oh, Susana". I am posting all 17 chapters, including reposts
of the four chapters submitted previously. Please feel free to comment.
WARNING: This is adult entertainment only, dealing with sex and sexual
subjects in explicit language and detail. If you are under age for that
kind of thing, leave now. This story, and others in the Oh, Susana
series, may be reposted on ASSM, and redirected to ASS, but may not be
put to commercial use by anyone but myself. I am willing to discuss them
on ASSD or you can email me at <susanasue@hotmail.com>
Oh, Susana!
The erotic adventures of a South Seas sexpot
by Martina Lee
1. Take me for a ride in the car
"Fuck meeee!" Susana pressed her feet hard against the roof of the car,
bracing herself as Peter pounded away at her pulsating pussy. "Yes!
Yesss! Fuck me. Harder. HARDER. Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK me, get it in,
push it, push it in, push, push, yes, yesss, YESSS . . . Ohhh, fuuuck
YESSS!"
She arched her back on the laid-back seat and whinnied as his plunging
cock drove her once again to the point of climax and beyond. She flung
her arms over her head, jammed her hands under the squab of the back
seat and pushed back against his relentless hammering. "Yes," she
panted. "Yes, ohhh, yesss."
. . .
Susana had decided more than two weeks earlier that she had to have him,
and it had taken her this long to get him alone. In that time, he had
become an obsession with her. She was bored with life in this strange
city, this strange country, where as the expatriate wife of an
expatriate contract worker there was little for her to do except
supervise the housemaid, shop and hang out at the club, usually with
other bored expat wives. A couple of times a month, a group of them
would descend on a hotel disco where they would dance a lot, drink
rather more than was prudent, and flirt with the local male talent. Neil
would be waiting up for her when she got home and she'd tease him with
elaborate tales of how this guy or that had tried to pick her up. That
always turned him on, and they'd spend the rest of the night screwing,
acting out their fantasies of what might have happened if she'd accepted
one of the offers. She never did — she'd seen the mess that some of the
other women got into when they cheated on their husbands and she had no
intention of being unfaithful to Neil. But then she met Peter, and her
hormones got the better of her. He was big, and brown, and beautiful,
and she sensed it would be a mistake to mention him to Neil. More and
more frequently she caught herself daydreaming about him, imagining his
body pressed to hers, his lips teasing her breasts, his cock drilling
into her. Some days she spent hours lost in fantasies about him.
She masturbated constantly, often unconsciously, rubbing her crotch
against the backs of chairs and the corners of tables, caressing herself
in the shower and revelling in the feel of warm water coursing down her
belly and between her legs. Even in the car she found a way of keeping
up the tension, clenching and unclenching the muscles in her buttocks
and thighs as she drove. After one such episode on the way to the
supermarket, she couldn't get out of the car and had to drive home again
to change . . . there was a large wet patch on the back of her skirt.
Waking from erotic dreams in the early hours of the morning, while Neil
slept beside her in their king-size bed, she sought release in
finger-fucking, surreptitiously driving herself to silent and
unsatisfying orgasm after orgasm. None of it helped. The worst of it was
that Peter seemed indifferent to her obvious infatuation, paying as much
attention to her friends as he did to her and showing no sign of being
interested in more than a few dances, a few drinks and the usual
nightclub chat. Susana began to doubt her own desirability. Finally, in
desperation, she told him she wanted an evening alone with him, without
any of his friends or hers, and he agreed, with some amusement, that she
could pick him up from work and they could go out together.
Susana was elated. It didn't matter that he seemed to have no thoughts
of crossing the line separating friend from lover. She had to have him
as lover, and tonight she was going to make sure she did.
He was working late, and it was almost nine o'clock when she picked him
up. She had spent almost three hours getting ready, discarding one
outfit after another and finally going back through the pile to settle
on a full-skirted blue dress that he had once said he liked. The scent
of his aftershave wafted over her as he settled into the seat beside
her, and involuntarily she raised her left hand and touched him lightly
on the cheek. "You smell good enough to eat," she said, blushed with the
sudden erotic image that presented to her, and put the car in gear.
"Where to?" she asked.
He didn't know. They drove around aimlessly for a while, considering one
place after another, Susana rejecting each in turn because they were
likely to run into friends and defeat her whole purpose. She agreed she
was hungry, and at length they settled on a takeaway meal, drove to the
beach and parked, made small talk while they ate in the car.
When they finished, he gathered up the containers and got out to dump
them in the bin. Susana took a deep breath, slid her seat back, then
clambered over to the seat he had just vacated. "Get in the other side,"
she said when he returned. As he settled behind the wheel she turned
towards him and placed a hand on his thigh. "I want you," she said.
"Here. Now."
She leaned closer, pulled his head towards her, kissed him on the
forehead and then, clumsily, on the lips. "Please," she said. "I need it
now." She kissed him again, slipped her hand from the top of his thigh
to brush her fingers against the front of his pants, and was encouraged
to discover that he had the beginnings of an erection.
She reached for his right hand, guided it through the folds of her dress
to her breast. She wasn't wearing a bra and his fingers closed on warm
flesh, began to knead and caress her swollen nipple. Almost feverishly,
Susana unbuttoned his shirt, peeled it open and began to cover his chest
with kisses. She dropped her left hand again to the front of his pants,
found him erect and ready, sought his mouth once more.
His lips parted to admit her tongue and he wrapped his left arm around
her shoulders, pulled her fiercely to him. It was a long, hot kiss, and
they were both panting when, finally, she pulled back from him. "Time to
eat," she said, remembering her remark when he first got into the car.
She yanked at his belt, and he raised his hips and held the waistband of
his trousers as she unzipped him. The tip of his by now rampant cock
poked above the waist of his underpants. Susana lowered her head to his
belly, licked his navel, then peeled back his pants and dipped further
to take his cock in her mouth. He moaned softly, placed a hand on top of
her head and urged her on.
She gurgled with delight, allowed him to press her down until her mouth
was crammed with cock and there was no more left to take. He lifted his
hand away from her head and she began to pump, her left hand lightly
squeezing and releasing his balls as her head rose and fell and her lips
and tongue slid up and down, up and down his burning pole. Soon he was
gasping in time with her downstrokes, and she sensed he was more than
ready for the next phase. She pulled away from him, reached for the
seat-back release and lay back. "Fuck me," she said. She pulled her
skirt up to her waist, dropped a hand between her legs and watched his
face as her fingers brushed aside the leg of her cami-knickers and
busied themselves in her sodden slit. "Fuck me now."
He scrambled across the car to kneel between her legs, pushed his pants
down around his thighs, and dived onto her. Susana grabbed for his tool,
guided it between the lips of her cunt, and shivered in ecstasy as he
rammed into her. Two weeks of dreaming had all come true, and the
reality was far, far better than the fantasy. "YESSS," she yelled, as he
ploughed his way up and down her furrow. "DO IT TO ME!"
. . .
Susana shuddered with another aftershock of orgasm, fell back limp and
exhausted, stiffened again as the pounding continued. "No . . . more,"
she gasped. "No more, don't, stop, don't, don't, stop, don't . . . stop
. . . stop . . . don't, don't, stop, don't . . . stop, don't stop, don't
stop, don't stop don't stop, DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP!"
Peter had no intention of stopping, would not have been able to stop
even if he had wanted to. His face and arms were running with sweat, he
was gasping for breath, lights flashed in the red haze before his eyes
and he was fucking like an automaton, aware of nothing except the urgent
need to rid himself of the mounting pressure in his loins.
He clawed at Susana's breasts, digging his fingers into the soft flesh
and making her cry out in pain as the dam burst and he exploded inside
her, his hips jerking out of control and his bursting cock buried up to
the hilt in her warm, clutching cunt. He fell forward on top of her,
humped spasmodically a couple of times as the hot juice jetted out of
him, and bit at her neck.
Susana wrapped her arms around him, brought her feet down from the roof
and dug her heels into his buttocks as she climaxed again. She hugged
him to her, twisted her head and stuck her tongue in his ear. "Thank
you," she said. Totally spent, they lay still and quiet for a few
moments, then he raised himself slightly and Susana groaned as his
softening cock slipped out of her and flopped limply between her legs.
The leg of her knickers fell back into place, and the fabric was soaked
instantly as their combined juices flooded out of her cunt. She pulled
his head down to hers again, and kissed him.
Suddenly there was an almighty "bang" on the roof, and the inside of the
car rang like a gong. Peter jerked upright, and there was another bang
as he cracked his head against the roof. He cursed, spun around, and
there were three grinning faces peering in through the windscreen. Kids,
maybe 12 or 13 years old. As he struggled to pull up his pants, they
laughed and hammered again on the roof. "Great show," one of them
yelled, "but don't you have a bed to do it in?" They scampered off into
the darkness, hooting loudly with laughter.
Peter was trembling with rage and embarrassment. Susana reached for him,
pulled herself up and hugged him tightly. "It's all right," she
soothed. "They've gone." She kissed him again, buttoned his shirt,
helped him back into his trousers. Then she drove him home.