The End Of The Road

The road stretches empty ahead. Charlie Dean grips the wheel, but his eyes keep drifting to Nesty's bare feet resting on the dash. Her toes flex, catching the light. She watches his gaze and smiles. They pull over without a word. The car stops. Nesty slides over, her skirt already hiked. Charlie reaches for her legs first, runs his hands along her calves, then lifts one foot to his mouth. His tongue traces the arch. She leans back against the seat, blonde hair spilling over the headrest. She frees his cock, wraps her fingers around it, and lowers her head. Her lips stretch, take him deep. Spit glistens. She pushes further until her nose presses against his stomach. Each stroke sinks lower. He groans, one hand still cupping her heel, the other in her hair. She sucks harder, throat working around him. Charlie pulls her up. Her mouth leaves his cock shiny. He pushes her back, lines up, and sinks in. The seat creaks. Nesty's feet stay in the air, toes curling each time he drives deeper. He fucks her slow at first, then harder, her body rocking with every thrust. When he pulls out she drops to her knees again. Her hand pumps fast. He comes across her tongue, thick ropes hitting the back of her throat. She swallows, licks the last drops from the head, then looks up at him with wet lips and lazy eyes. The road waits, but for now they linger, skin cooling in the open air.