Message-ID: <10640eli$9804251159@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: Nick Subject: Car Cricket by Nick (F/M carchase) 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: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <3.0.1.32.19980425014011.0079ccd0@pop3.demon.co.uk> 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 -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |