A Ford Pickup – Girl’s Best Friend
Release comes in a lot of different ways. For me, Sunday evening had been a bit tough and my rear end was still sore. On the flip side, I had experienced a really awesome vanilla orgasm, which let me tell you, doesn’t happen very often. The vanilla thing. Not the awesome orgasm one. I have awesome orgasms all the time. Just they rarely occur when I’m having plain old vanilla sex. Call me deviant or kinky if you want, but it’s normal for a nympho humiliation pain slut.
Monday started pretty normally. I had put my chastity belt back in after the picture and dinner with Kari the previous evening, this despite the fact that I had been given a powerful orgasm. I figured that technically I still needed to keep it in until I finished the second of the three assignments. That was what I agreed too. Kari thought I was right and helped me get my chastity belt back on, complete with Stinging O lubrication. She DID let me take off the nipple clamps before going home, so at least those weren’t distracting me on the drive Sunday night.
But like I said, Monday started normally. I was in my chastity belt. I did my chores. I wrote up Sunday’s assignment. I chatted with Master Barrett, which oddly enough didn’t result in any new punishments (I wisely DIDN’T tell him about my unauthorized orgasm, instead taking the coward’s approach and letting him READ it.)
It was pretty late Monday evening, after dinner, and well into the darkness when I pulled up in front of Becca’s place. Becca is one of my close friends, and yes, she’s a lover too. She’s a lesbian, totally not into BDSM and is not a NHPS. Too bad too. She’s really cute and makes these adorable whimpering sounds when….
Uh… never mind.
Anyway, Becca sometimes backs me up on these assignments. I don’t always mention my backup, mostly because they don’t play a part in a story, but if you’ve ever said to yourself “what the fuck is she doing? That’s nuts!” chances are I had backup. Kari backs me up occasionally (though it costs something usually, and not in money), Robert’s backed me up. Julie has backed me up. Mistress Sara has accompanied me on assignments, and last but not least, Becca. She has trouble handling assignments that are more… intense… though.
So I picked up Becca. As usual, she was wearing a dress, flower print, not to short, not to long. I knew that underneath would be her normal white granny panties and sterile bra. Becca NEVER goes commando. She’s very conservative. Becca had laughed when I told her what I had to do over the phone, and now she came out with a grin on her face and a light in her eye. She never did anything herself, but she’s confessed that watching me do sexy things turns her on.
So we headed out in my truck. Originally I had been dressed in boots, socks, jeans, chastity belt, tee shirt, and bra. Now, despite the warm weather, I was in my duster and a set of high heels. I wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. The temp had fallen when the sun went down and it hovered right above seventy. I turned back toward town and Becca and I discussed the best place to do what I was about to do. After several minutes, we settled on a strip mall parking lot. We needed something without security, or cameras, or people moving in and out rapidly. To be honest we considered quite a few options. Wally World, the mall, the cinema, the grocery store. We even drove by a few. But when we finally pulled into one of the strip malls near the freeway, we realized it was perfect. I parked the truck and Becca and I walked through the sparse lighting to find a dirty car or truck.
I took us all of thirty seconds. If that. We found a rather dirty mini-van just three spots down from our truck. With a quick glance around assuring me of our solitude, I opened my duster and pressed my breasts to the van, rubbing them around slightly. When I pulled away I saw two rather indistinct circular imprints on the window, smeared dirt, with no discernable nipple. And my tits were really dirty. Becca laughed at my expression.
I found another vehicle, a sedan this time, down another row. I pushed my bare breasts against the back right hand side window. Again, I got to blurry vaguely circular blobs that no one would recognize as breasts. I voiced my frustration and Becca told me to get back in the truck.
To my surprise, she directed me to Wally World. I felt a bit self conscious walking in wearing only my duster, since I looked exactly like a flasher. But Becca knew exactly what she was looking for. We proceeded to the health and beauty supplies and went to hair care. Next thing I knew she was holding a small generic squirt bottle, the kind with the sprayer that looks like it came from a bottle of glass cleaner. I realized Becca’s evil plan in a heart beat and laughed. I took her elbow and we ALSO picked up a few rolls of paper towels.
After our purchase Becca filled up the bottle in the women’s restroom and we were off, headed right back down the road to that strip mall.
We parked and went looking for new cars and found another van almost immediately. This time Becca was standing by as I opened my duster. She directed the sprayer at me, squeezed the handle, and a fine mist of rather cold water coated my boobs. I squealed a bit, but then turned and mashed my chest onto the back window of the van. A few quick smears later and I found myself looking at a rather serviceable, but still warped imprint of my breasts. I lifted a finger, then under them, I wrote “breanneNHPS”. There you go Michael – MARKETING!
On our next vehicle, a truck this time, we tried spraying the window of the truck first. This worked much much better. The breast imprint LOOKED like breasts, complete with little spots where the nipples obviously had pressed against the glass. It was awesome. So with my dirty mud smeared breasts still exposed, I wrote my twitter name underneath the imprint.
And so on.
By the time we got to twenty, I had already wiped my chest a few times, letting Becca spray me directly in order to get some of the muck off. It didn’t help that much. I was still going to need a shower. Dust had turned to mud and slid in smears down much of my front.
But we did a full twenty cars. Actually, twenty two, since the first two didn’t count. Then, once we were finished, Becca and I went back to my truck. She kept a look out as I opened my duster all the way, moved to the tailgate and then straddled the hitch.
My truck has a ball hitch attachment. It’s not especially large, but it’s clean, black enameled (or whatever), and I’ve never ever fucked it. Until now. I squatted down, facing the tailgate of course, and ended up having to turn around so that my back was to the truck. Thus, with my duster open, my dirty tits on display, not to mention my shaved pussy, I lowered myself down and began rubbing my already quite wet and ready slit over the two inch wide ball.
It went in rather easily. It was cold and hard. I moved up and down, impaling myself. It felt… different. Not unpleasant, but not exactly comfortable either. The hitch was a weird shape for my pussy to adjust too. After about four minutes, my legs were getting tired. That worked out, because that’s when we were interrupted by a car driving through the parking lot. I stayed impaled, but I got my duster closed as they drove by. Yeah… fun.
Anyway, I finally came. It wasn’t much of an explosion, and I had to help things along by rubbing my clit. But I was successful. Afterward we drove back to Becca’s place and got in the shower together. She cleaned my dirt smeared body, planting little hot kisses all over. Then we dried off, laid down in bed and she made these really cute adorable whimpering noises when I…
Have a Happy Thanksgiving…
I was wondering why you ran off as soon as you posted your write up.
Kari isn't the only one you are in trouble with. I was very specific about when you were allowed to cum and it wasn't while being fucked on a bed was it? You were to have you first orgasm only after being fucked in the ass five times, doing your thing in a car park and then and only were you to make yourself cum by fucking a trailer hitch. Though it does seem that you had a great orgasm so perhaps I will have to keep you in frustration and denial more often? I've always thought the slower the build up to an orgasm the more powerful it is. So I wonder how hard you would cum if I kept you on edge for a week or two?
Due to you fucking up not to mention not coming out and telling me that you fucked up directly, your Thanksgiving task has been amended. Yyou now only get to turn on the vibes for TWO minutes every hour which should result in a lot more frustration and a lot less fun for you. This is just an interim measure though rest assured I will be thinking of a suitable punishment for your transgression.
- Master Barrett