I walk along the road in the pouring rain, in deep contemplation of my situation. I guess if I wore a mini skirt instead of jeans and my short jacket from last night, I might have a lift by now.

My long hair hung heavy in the rain, and I stopped for a minute to find something in my bag to fasten it back. From somewhere behind came the sound of an approaching car, and I instinctively stuck out one thumb, as I pinched my hair back with the other.

*****


By the time I saw the figure on the road ahead, I had nearly passed him by. I squinted through the gap that my wiper blades made in the winter rain, and eased off the accelerator slightly.

The hitchhiker was standing with his head down and thumb outstretched, as he tied back his soaking wet hair with a gesture that reminded me of my own during college days.



I had never picked up a hiker before. I'd seen them, singly or in pairs by the motorways and thought about it, but when it comes down to it, I'm a loner and I don't get on well with other men. But in that moment of indecision, the rain picked up again, clattering against the glass like ball bearings and I made an executive decision.



I brought the car to a long, squelching halt, and the figure looked straight at me, making my stomach jump. It was a girl was standing there, intelligent eyes staring at me through locks of black bedraggled hair. What I had taken for a short man, was the perfectly proportioned figure of a lady, maybe ten years younger than myself. The rain had soaked her jeans and plastered her blue top across her chest. I glanced away hastily, and leaned over to open the door, but I suddenly realised I was starting to feel aroused. Tight, feminine Jeans will always to that to me.

I muttered something about a lift and waited for her to slam the door and walk away.

****


As I finished tying back my hair I heard a car pull up, and looked up into the face of the driver.

He was good-looking guy, in an ordinary sort of a way. Slim face, brown hair and the beginnings of afternoon-stubble. Rather studentish, except that he was a few years too old to carry that one off. He leaned over, opened the side door and offered me a lift.

He had a pleasant face, but after everything that had happened to me that day, I didn't need to be told that men are all the same.

I hesitated, before getting into the car beside him. Whatever else happened, at least I was out of the rain.



"I'm going all the way to London," I said. "I'm going to be staying with some friends."

"If you tell me where, I'll drop you off as close as I can. There's a box of tissues down there, by the way."

And we were away.

****


"Doing anything for Christmas?" she asked me as we drove through the rainy December gloom.

"Not really," I said. "I'm not really looking forward to Christmas"

"You've got to look forward to Christmas!"

"Well, when you've had as many Christmases as I have, they start to wear a bit thin."

"You're not old. It’s not like you're seventy or something. You don't look a day over twenty-five" she grinned.

"I'm thirty next spring" I moaned in mock-sadness. "Thirty, and on the re-bound! I'm looking forward to having a really good mid-life crisis next year."

"That's forty" she said. "If you get a girlfriend half-your-age now, they'll arrest you."

We laughed as we drove, and the sky brightened up a bit.



"Would you mind if I take these off?" she said after a while.

"No," I replied, wondering what she meant

"I want to give these a chance to dry," she said, and shook her shoes off. Then she unbuttoned her jeans, arched her bottom off the seat and started working them off. The wet fabric clung, and it took a minute before she freed both legs. I glimpsed pale green knickers for an anxious second, before her shirt hung down to cover them, and her legs were slim, though slightly blotchy where the dye from her jeans had run.



I watched her out of the corner of my eye, and chided myself for having the libido of a fourteen year-old. I was just wondering whether a period of promiscuity when I was her age might have gotten it out of my system when I caught her eye and knew that she had seen me looking at her legs.

****



I can't say why I did what came next. I was still angry at what had happened that morning, and partly it was a way to prove that I was still desirable after what He had said. But at the same time my chauffer was rather attractive and for once I was once I was starting to find the voyeuristic attention exciting.

If it was all that men wanted, I'd give it to him.



I waited until a lay-by appeared up ahead on the country road and said "Could we pull-over, please?"

He did so, and this time he didn't look away from my face.

"Would you dry me?" I said, pressing a fist-full of tissues into his hand. The 'please' was gone now, and without saying a word, he began dabbing the tissue on my face, removing spots of water that still dripped onto my cheeks and neck from my hair.

As he worked, I held his gaze and listened to his breathing grow heavier. Then he left my face and began wiping my legs with the other side of the tissue-wodge.



I felt a thrill inside at his touch, and satisfaction at the sight of his trousers straining between his legs. I still had it, which was for sure.



I took his hands in mine, leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips, as I might kiss a good friend goodbye. Then I let go, and started to unzip his trousers.



In retrospect, I have to admit that it rather spoiled the atmosphere when I couldn't get it out. His trousers were tight and his cock had grown long and hot down the inside of one leg. I had to bend it to get it out, but he didn't seem to mind, sitting there breathing fast and heavy.



His cock jutted from between his legs and fitted neatly in my hand. I moved my hand experimentally up and down it, mimicking the way I've seen men masturbate themselves. His foreskin budded like a flower and the glans inside peeped out. The strength of his erection stretched it smooth and tight, reflecting the light like a purple mirror.



I grinned, and began to wank him, slowly at first then faster and faster, pumping my fist while the purple head appeared and disappeared between my fingers. After a while I slowed down and started to lick across the head of his cock, enjoying the dry hot texture on my tongue as I continued to masturbate him. He let out a groan, the first sound I'd heard him make. I carried on, trying to trap my tongue inside his foreskin with each stroke, faster and faster until suddenly he held my hands still. "Stop," he said. "Or I'll come..."

****


She looked up at me, and tried to straighten up in the confines of the car. I thought that I had blown it, but then she started climbing across the hand-break to get on top of me. I leaned my seat backwards to make more room and when I looked up, I myself staring into her face. She still had one hand on my cock, but now she put the other between her own legs and pulled the crotch of her knickers aside. I glimpsed a cleft and damp hair, and her face took on a look of studied concentration, as she guided me into her.



At the first touch my foreskin started to open, and I felt the sensitive head enter first. We both moaned, and she started to move backwards and forwards on top of me, taking my cock a little deeper inside her with each movement. When she was penetrated to the hilt and resting her thighs on my lap she leaned forward and lifted the top she was wearing up to her armpits.



Her breasts were small, like teardrops. Before I could reach up to touch them she leaned against me, pressing my face against her chest, and moving her body from side to side as I licked and suckled on each brown tight nipple in turn. Her breasts were cold from the weather and still slightly damp. Then she began to grind her hips against me, and I gasped from the sensation, letting go the nipple I'd finally managed to catch. She leaned down further and kissed me again on the lips.

"Come, then" she said, and began to move up and down my cock as we lay on the car seat, the crotch of her knickers chafing the side of my cock with each thrust.

****


Another car sped past us on the road, making our car wobble slightly to and fro as I straddled his body there. His seat was pushed back and I straddled him, the top half of my body visible to anybody who might happen by. I later realised that the exhibitionistic urge had felt as good as his cock deep inside my belly and I rolled and stretched my own nipples with my fingers, as I rocked on top of him.



Without warning he let out a gasp and stiffened, and I realised that he had come. I kept on moving, enjoying the look of anguish on his face. He must have been very sensitive, but he didn't make any further sound until I started to work my way up his body, leaving his bedraggled cock behind and a trail of semen up his shirt until I had my crotch against his face.

"Now it's my turn" I said earnestly.

I learned forward and stretched my arms to the rear seat, as he went to work on me, sperm glistening on his chin.

****


When I've given oral sex in past after fucking, it had always been just a delicate stimulation of the clitoris, keeping everything else at tongue's length. Now with her hips straddling my shoulders and her face on the back seat, I began to work my tongue in and out of her vagina; ignoring the dribble of semen that gravity was delivering onto my tongue and mouth, making my lips numb. With one hand I held her knickers aside, and with the other I reached down and tried to find her breast, but my fingers touched hers. She already had one hand to her chest as she squeezed her nipple. I found the other and she gasped as I left off her vagina with my tongue, and finally circled her clitoris.

I had barely started when I felt a drumming deep inside her, and eased off making her yelp in frustration. I went back to sucking her labia, full like the edges of oyster flesh in my mouth, and then started lightly on her clit again. When I felt her start to come close a second time I slowed my rhythm still further trying to stop her from boiling over as long as possible.

Finally her body went rigid and I heard her grunt in my ear, then she relaxed.



I kept on kissing between her legs until she grabbed my hair and pulled. A way of saying "Too much," I think. br>
*****


I lay there, half on, half off the back seat of the car, breathing hard as clots of sensation still ran around my body. That had to be one of the longest orgasms I've ever had, but all I could say was "Fuck!" as I started to climb back onto the passenger seat.

He looked a little worried at that so I kissed him again (tasting his sperm for the first time), and said "Not you. You were great."

To make the point, I bent down and gave his cock a last quick peck with my lips.

*****


We didn't talk much during the rest of the journey, and when I delivered her to her friend's I didn't offer to come up. I gave her my mobile-number before watching her walk away, but somehow I don't think she is going to be in touch.

I think that maybe what happened in that lay-by was a joint unspoken decision to end something that might have become friendship in favour of something different. And out of that, we both got what we needed at the time, more than sex or love or friendship.