As it turned out, Harry had all the right equipment to give Felicity a really good ride. Though not as big as Jason (what other man was?), his cock filled her nicely, and in this position - kneeling across his lap - the muscles she used to push herself upward in rhythm with his thrusts also caused her pussy to squeeze down on him, creating a delicious friction.
“Oh, man,” he said from between gritted teeth. “I never felt anything like this.”
“Enjoy, Harry.” Truth be told, she was having a pretty good time her-own-self. The special herbs and moss Ma had laced her food with heightened all sensation, so not only did the thrusting of Harry’s erection inside her come through loud and clear, but her breasts had become super-sensitive, the nipples grazing against her costume with every movement.
“Shit, I’m gonna come,” Harry said.
“Not yet. Too soon.”
“Can’t hold off.”
“Yes, you can.” She reached into her mind and found the center of her power - what Jason had labeled the Slutray. She didn’t manipulate people’s sex drive or organs lightly, but Harry here needed to learn some control. Her mission in this world was to make sure all nice people had really nice sex, and Harry’s future partners would thank her for his new staying power. She stared into his face. “Harry, look at me.”
“Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he said as he continued plowing into her.
She took his face between her hands. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
“Gotta come.”
“Do what I say, or you won’t come, not now not ever.”
That got his attention. He opened his eyes. “Huh?”
Without saying a word, she sent a charge of power from her mind into his.
Immediately, his expression cleared. “I understand.”
“You can last as long as you want.”
“Hot damn,” he said. “Thank you, Wonderslut.”
“All in a day’s work. Now get back to fucking me,” she said. “Like you mean it.”
He did, and he did a bang-up job of it. His strokes became sure now, sliding into her with a precision that would make an angel weep. Lord knew she was no angel, and there was a great big orgasm waiting in the near future, just for her. Harry even got creative enough to ease her French maid’s costume down to free a breast. He cupped it, massaging the flesh, and then tugged gently at the nipple. Now that she didn’t have to worry about Harry finishing too quickly, she concentrated on her own pleasure.
Easing her hand between them, she managed to get her hand into the hairs that covered her pussy. As you’d expect after how she’s spent the night and was now passing the morning, she’d soaked herself completely. When she reached her clit, it was already throbbing in anticipation of climaxing. She fondled it gently, stretching out the approach to the peak. Man, but it felt good - Harry’s sweet fucking and her own expert touch on her hot spot.
“You’re going to come, aren’t you?” Harry said.
“Oh, yeah.”
“What about that?” he said. “I’m going to make Wonderslut come.”
He was getting a little help with that, but why argue at this point? She kept riding him and diddling her clit, feeling the pressure build and counting down to a major lift-off. Ten, nine, eight…oh hell, three, two…
“Don’t stop, Harry,” she cried. “Don’t…stop!”
Her entire being became one exposed nerve as the orgasm rocketed through her. Deep, hard spasms rocked her, gripping at Harry’s shaft. Sweet, sinful, perfect. It held her in its grip for long seconds, finally leaving her limp, her pussy fluttering around him.
“I can come now, right?” Harry asked. “I need to in the worst way.”
“Go for it, lover.”
And he did, with a great deal of enthusiasm. Staying with him was like riding a bronco, and she might have thrown one arm up for balance if she didn’t need it to hang onto his shoulders. He moved as if he had the devil inside him, thrusting upward with powerful jerks of his hips. Finally, he stiffened, slammed inside her one more time, and stayed there while he opened his throat in a roar. Harry had arrived, and he’d done one helluva job of it by all appearances.
Then, he did a rag doll imitation, crumpling into a moaning pile, and this time, she held onto to him to keep him from sliding down against the gear shift. He could take an eye out that way if he hit it with his face. She’d suggested fucking in the Slutmobile, after all, and she had some responsibility to make sure he didn’t hurt himself…at least, not too much.
“Wonderslut, that was amazing,” he murmured against her shoulder.
“See how nice it is when you stick around for the Big Finale instead of leaving at intermission?” Nice analogy. She’d have to remember that one.
“I should never have questioned you,” he said. “You’re the expert.”
Of course, he hadn’t questioned her, at least not while she’d had brain enough for it to register. He could have recited The Gettsyburg Address while she was fingering herself, and she would never have noticed. But now, she had other problems to deal with.
“We need to move,” she said. “I’m getting a cramp in my thigh.”
He opened his eyes and gave her a wicked smile. “I can massage it for you.”
“Not in here. No room.” She started to climb off him and hit pain bad enough to stop her. Between crouching in the foot well and all the thrusting she’d done, she was having major muscle problems. Namely, they’d stopped functioning. She tried straightening out a leg and only managed to bump her shin against the gearshift. Damn, but that hurt. “Shit.”
“Let me see if I can help.” Harry grabbed her ribs and tried to hoist her upward. She only ended up leaning over his shoulder with her foot jammed under the side of his seat. The angle bent her back in ways only snakes could move, and she let out a loud moan.
“Just don’t help me,” she said between gritted teeth.
“Sorry,” Harry said.
She settled back down onto Harry’s lap, which was now without a hard-on - a situation she had no desire to fix at present. After a couple of deep breaths, she tried pushing herself up onto her knees. Her thighs trembled with the effort, and after a second she folded and fell back into her original position.
“If we yelled, your friend could come out and help,” Harry said.
“No fucking way.” She would not give Jason a reason to laugh his ass off over her predicament. She got herself in here, and she’d have to get herself out. No matter how she did it, she was going to end up stiff. Right about now, she’d kill to be in the hot tub in the Slutgrotto with a good, stiff brandy in her hand.
“Then, how are we going to get out of here?” Harry said.
“Open the door.”
“The door?”
“The metal thing on your other side,” she said. “The one with the handle.”
“It is open,” Harry said.
She glanced down to discover he was correct. In their eagerness to get to each other, they hadn’t bothered to close it. “All right, you lean that way, and I’ll lean toward the door. On three. One…two…three.”
They came apart, sort of. Harry more or less climbed over the gearshift toward the driver’s seat. Felicity didn’t look to see how his family jewels made the journey, but he didn’t make any noises, so he couldn’t have hurt anything important. She grabbed the doorframe and pulled herself out of the car. Unfortunately, her legs still didn’t quite hold herself up, and she ended up falling out onto the ground. Luckily, the redwood duff cushioned her fall, and at least she was free of the car seat and Harry.
For a while, she lay there, staring up into the trees, contemplating life and how she’d come to arrive at precisely this place. Sure, she had a pretty unusual occupation, but the past twenty-four hours had certainly been strange. Role-playing with a pair of strangers - just the samo samo for Wonderslut and her sidekick, The Piston. But then, things had gotten weird. Captivity, group sex, drugged biscuits and gravy, oral sex in the foot well of a Maserati. Now, here she was, flat on her back, dressed in the remaining scraps of a French maid’s costume with redwood duff getting into her hair and, yes, a rock beneath her right hip. Maybe she should have listened to her mother and majored in engineering or something that would have gotten her a real job, after all.
“Do you like working on trucks, Harry?” she asked without bothering to sit up.
“It’s good most days.”
“Do you ever get bored?” she said. “After all, if you’ve seen one truck bed, you’re pretty much seen them all.”
“Not at all.” Harry rose, zipped up his fly, and adjusted his clothing. “There’s small ones and big ones…and really big ones.”
“That pretty much describes my own job, you know?” And didn’t that just underline the unity of all human experience? Truck beds and cocks, the truly important things in life.
“Say, how do I measure up?” Harry said.
“There’s a question you never want to ask, Harry. You might not enjoy the answer.”
“Shoot. I thought you liked me.”
“I do, but by now, a gentleman might have offered to help me up.”
“Sorry.” Harry reached down a hand and assisted her to her feet. There wasn’t a lot left to her costume, and one of her boobs hung out. She had redwood duff all over her, and twigs stuck out of her hair. She needed a long, steaming shower, and somehow, the shack didn’t seem as if it would have enough hot water to get her clean.
“Hey, Felicity,” Jason’s voice called from the cabin. “Are we staying for dinner or not?”
She turned toward him. “Not. I’m not sticking around for another orgy.”
Jason’s eyes widened as he took her appearance in. “What have you been doing out here?”
“My job. What were you doing in there?”
Jason’s clothing was what one might call in disarray, with his shirt buttoned up wrong and the tails hanging out of his pants. He didn’t answer her question but merely blushed. Playing with ma’s girls again, no doubt.
“Did you eat more of Ma’s food?” she asked.
He avoided eye contact. “Maybe.”
“We’ve both had enough. I’m going to have a little conversation with Ma, and then it’s time to go.”
What does Felicity have to say to Ma? Will the girls let Jason leave? Does Ma have ammunition for the shotgun in the shack? And can the French maid’s costume be saved?
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