Midnight Tryst (NSFW).
The road was empty, and we coasted along effortlessly in the powerful, luxury 4x4, returning home from an evening spent together. Darkness loomed overhead, the shadows of trees alongside us tall, sinister and foreboding. The sky was cloudless, but there were no streetlights or moon to guide us on our way. We neared the crest of a hill and then turned, first onto a smaller, tarmac road, then onto a winding dirt track. A backroad to the ruins of an old castle sitting atop the hill, off to our left. An ancient seat of power, now reduced to broken stones and restless ghosts. I looked over at the driver, my better half, and smiled. My own ghosts were absent, banished by the way her alluring grey-blue eyes beheld me.
We pulled over, killing the engine and the lights. With a flick of an overhead switch she opened the sunroof, the air refreshing. We reclined the heated electric seats and gazed up at a kaleidoscope of tiny silver pinpricks, some brighter than others, some twinkling red and blue through the cold of the atmosphere. I pointed out some of the more recognisable stars and constellations, my other hand resting on her thigh delicately, and then we were wordless, our breath taken by the sheer magnificence of it all. Wondering just what it was we were looking at, the significance of what we could see.
Her hand came to rest on my own, a finger stroking my skin delicately, lovingly. I turned to her, my head resting back, her gaze fixed upon me. Her fingers danced on the skin above my wrist, something she knew was like catnip to me. I watched, saw a faint smile appear on her lips, mischievous and playful. I shuffled a few centimetres towards her and reached across to pull her into my arms. Still wordless, we held each other, chests rising and falling slowly and rhythmically. Her head came to rest upon my shoulder, and I kissed her forehead softly and stroked her flowing, blonde hair. Delicate, fine hair, which smelt good.
Her hand rested upon my thigh, forefinger and thumb gripping the flesh of the inside through my black pinstripe trousers. A jolt of electricity surged through my body, awakening. She sensed this, or perhaps I gave it away by gripping her shoulder in return, and her hand began to climb the inside of my thigh, purposefully. I returned the favour, my fingertips teasing her leg where the hem of her skirt met her satin-like tights. She sighed, and I sighed. My mind was on fire.
She knew all too well how to get me going. She leaned up and kissed my neck sensuously, her hand cradling my face. It was always the delicate touches that got me the most, the little touches that betrayed her love for me more than the animalistic desires. But those desires she had also; she knew how to switch between the two at will for maximum effect. I was always powerless against her charm offensive. Just as I was now.
Her hand reached the top of my thigh, and gripped my groin tightly, as if she was gauging just how much of an effect she had had. She must have been satisfied, for she let out a hum of approval and gripped tighter. I was fully aroused by then, and when she looked at me I saw the carnal fire in her eyes. I’m sure she saw the same in mine. My hand slid under her skirt, and she squirmed as my fingers rubbed her burning desire. She reached for my belt, ripping it back to free it from its clasp, tearing at the fastening to my trousers, yanking down the zip and the prize that lay beneath. My hand pulled at her tights in order to get inside and savour the wetness that awaited my touch.
She groaned loudly as a finger probed her, followed by a second. Her hand grabbed hold of my hardness and worked it furiously, unable to control herself as I lost all control and slid a second finger inside her, as deep as the angle I was sitting at could manage. We both writhed in sync, allowing the pleasure to drown us, oblivious to everything but the stars watching over us; ancient gods and goddesses whom we didn’t care if they judged us or not in that moment. We were lovers bringing each other to ecstasy, lost in each other.
The windows steamed up despite the sunroof being open, and our groans would have been heard by any and all who passed within a few hundred metres, but we didn’t have a care in the world. I throbbed and she pulsed, wanting more but not taking it. Working each other furiously, each desiring the other to climax and feel that punch-drunk relief from the sexual tension being together invariably built up. She came first, her orgasm paralysing and intense, every muscle in her body tightening in spasms simultaneously, her breath held and a fine layer of sweat coating her brow. I pulled her close and held her as tightly as I could in that moment, as I knew she liked, ignoring the sheer strength with which she gripped my hardness. Seconds which felt like minutes passed until she exhaled deeply, satisfied.
Headlight roused us from our reverie, and panicked we dressed ourselves and tried to mask any sign of our temporary insanity. She looked at me in a state of delirium, before looking up at the stars, which had barely moved a millimetre. I caressed her face, stroking her hair, and asked her if she was alright. She nodded, still breathtaken, before pushing the switch to close the sunroof and pressing the engine’s starter button. I smiled at her, and she smiled at me, and through the windshield we took one last look up at the night sky and at the shadow of the ruins, before returning to the main road to continue our journey home, words unnecessary.