From Front Seat to Back Seat: Sensations #7


When her car breaks down in the middle of nowhere during a thunderstorm the last thing she expected was hot sex in the back seat of her savior’s car.

Normally I take very good care of my car.

I keep up with the regularly scheduled maintenance. Tune-ups. Brakes. Tires. It may be that I’m just very lucky but I’ve never had my car surprise me. I’ve had it for six years and it’s special to me.

I call her Jasmine. She’s family when I don’t really have much of one.

I treat her right and she serves me well, like a wonderful friend or kind sister. If that’s something one would ever be allowed to say of a car they own.

Today, though, she disappoints me. Having spent the afternoon visiting some stores in a neighboring town I am on my way home, via multiple back roads because I love the scenic route, when she ceases to go. It’s not done in dramatic fashion, either. No, she just decides to roll to a stop. Luckily, because she doesn’t shut down completely and freeze, I’m able to guide her off to the side of the road. That should allow any passersby, if there are any, to continue on their way unhindered by my car trouble.

It’s quiet. My car is silent. The sky is cloudy, threatening rain. I sit there, hands gripping the wheel too tight and I wonder just what I’m going to do.

Friends. That’s my first thought. I grab my phone then let out a loud curse. It’s got spotty reception and not only that it’s about to die. Is the world conspiring against me today, I wonder. It sure feels like it.

I open the door and get out, slamming the door harder than necessary. It’s my way of telling Jasmine I’m mad at her.

She doesn’t respond.

Sighing I stare at my phone while leaning against my vehicular friend. There are a lot of miles between here and anything else and I’m not inclined to walk. I glance down. I’m in a skirt and heels. Dirt roads, lined with rocks and holes, are not kind to women who dare choose that kind of footwear.

I swear again, this time louder and aimed at the entirety of my world.

Suddenly the sky opens up and rain pours down. The universe is retaliating at my childish behavior. Quickly I yank open the door and climb back into the front seat. Now I most certainly am not going anywhere.

I’m stuck.

There’s nothing to do while I wait, either. I can’t use my phone. I don’t have a book. I don’t even have a notebook and pen to doodle with. I sigh again, the action obviously my current go-to move. Without options I reach down and push the lever to move my seat back. Then I lean it down so I can at least recline, making my predicament a little more comfortable. On one hand I’m lucky because this problem won’t make me miss work. I’m off today. On the other hand, however, I have no plans for tonight so it’s highly likely no one will think me missing and send out a search party. At least not until I miss work tomorrow.

Crossing my arms behind my head I watch the lightning that’s filling the sky and listen to the pounding of the large drops as they hit my car. It could be worse. I could be out in that, I think.

Hours pass. No one drives by.

I have to go to the restroom, my bladder full to the brim. I want to wait until the rain stops, or until there’s at least a lull, but the chance of either of those happening isn’t likely. I can’t wait any longer. Taking a long deep breath I ready myself and open the door, climbing out quickly and slamming the door behind me.

Instantly I’m soaked. My long hair hangs in clumps down my back, the strands sticking to my thin shirt. I’m wearing contacts, not my glasses, so there’s that to be thankful for. At least I can see. The road is becoming muddy and my heels sink. After stumbling all the way around to the back of the car I finally just take them off and toss them into the ditch. No doubt they’re ruined anyway. If I’d been thinking I would have left them in the car to begin with.

Squatting down behind the car I pull up my skirt and take off my underwear. Just pulling them down would have accomplished nothing. Not to mention they’re already sopping wet from the rain. Just like my shoes they’re useless. I relieve myself, smiling as the pain disappears, and then stand. Wet underwear works well as toilet paper! I stand there staring at them. Normally I wouldn’t litter. I do my best not to break the law, even the simple and easily broken kind. The idea of putting wet and urine covered underwear into my car makes me a bit nauseous, though, so I say a soft “sorry” aloud and toss them towards the other side of the road. They don’t make it very far, my throw a bit pathetic, so they land only two-thirds of the way across. I have no idea why I didn’t just drop them in the ditch with my shoes.

It’s as I’m deciding whether to walk barefooted over to them in order to throw them the rest of the way across that I hear something new. Wiping the water out of my eyes I look toward the sound.

Indeed there is a car coming my way. I stand there, waiting, hoping against hope there isn’t a road between it and me that it can turn off onto. The driver of the car may be my only hope of rescue.

Moving to stand beside the front door I wait until the car is close enough to see me before waving both my arms. It’s not like I’m hard to spot but I’m not leaving anything to chance. The car slows to a stop. They’re going the opposite direction so the driver’s side window is on my side. It rolls down and I’m flabbergasted by the hotness of the man inside.

Now I’m not usually attracted to bald men but this guy pulls it off. It’s smooth, as if recently shaved with a razor. It’s pretty dark, still, but the intermittent flashes of lightning reveal he’s got bright white teeth, an earring in at least one ear, and no five o’clock shadow.

I want to touch him, to feel if his skin is as smooth as it appears to be.

Are you okay?” He asks. I stand there, starting to shiver. Whether from the chill of my wet clothes or from being so close to masculine perfection I can’t say. I don’t utter a word before he’s rolling up the window and pulling away. My mouth opens, shock registering on my face. My heart plummets. My one chance is heading away. Except that he doesn’t. He only pulls off to the side and parks, leaving a small channel for nonexistent other cars.

As I watch he opens his door and gets out. He’s wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes, all of which become instantly drenched. Rivulets of water trail down his head and for some reason that makes me giggle. That’s how he finds me when he jogs over to where I’m leaning against my car. His hand reaches out, lightly grabbing my arm. “Ma’am, are you okay?”


I stop laughing and tilt my head. “Ma’am?”

He grins and, after a gentle squeeze of my bicep, steps back. I figure he’s doing his best not to scare me. Lone woman on a deserted road with a strange man. That can lead to bad, bad things and not the good kind of bad. I automatically respect him for that, already feeling like I can trust him.

Sorry. Habit,” he explains.

I smile and nod. “It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you.”

I appreciate that,” he says then gestures to the car. “So what’s the problem? Out of gas?”

I shake my head. “No. Nothing like that. I honestly have no idea. It just won’t start and my phone’s about dead. Not to mention no service.”

He nods and moves around to the front of the car, opening the hood. I watch as he peers inside and messes with a few things. Eventually he shuts the hood and steps back over to me. “I’m not a car guy so I can’t say for sure what’s going on with it. If you want I can give you a ride. Let you get out of the rain and you can even use my phone if you want.”

I smile. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

What kind of guy would I be if I left you here. Overnight? I don’t think so.” He gestures to his car. “Come on. Hop on in.”

Okay. Just let me get my purse and phone out of my car,” I tell him. I grab them real quick, doing my best to keep them as dry as possible beneath my clothes, and follow him, still barefoot.

He glances at my feet, seeing how gingerly I’m walking. “What’s up with that?” He asks.

Heels. They got trashed and I don’t have an extra pair.”

He nods and in an instant he’s got me scooped up in his arms. I let out an oomph and then laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck. My eyes meet his and I say, “You don’t have to carry me. It’s only across the road.”

Consider it the gentlemanly thing to do,” he says as he lowers me down to my feet beside the rear driver’s side door.

I look at it and then him questioningly. “I’ve got a backpack in there with some dry clothes. They’re just my gym clothes but the shirt should at least be big enough for you to wear. The shorts you can save for me.”

I’m certain I’m blushing but I’m hoping he can’t see it because of the darkness of the day and the rain pouring down. “Okay,” I say and climb on in. He gets into the driver’s seat and turns to look at me. It’s quieter in here, or at least loud in a different kind of way.

He offers his hand. “Chet.”

I take it and shake, “Susie.”

Nice to meet you. The bag’s right there. I’d let you use my phone first but as you saw we don’t have service yet. The storm’s pretty bad and I don’t live far. I can take you home or you can come to my house until I can get you home. It’s up to you.” He turns around and starts the car, the heater kicking on. Just a waft of that warm air puts prickles on my skin. I dig through his bag, thinking on what I should say.

The safe thing would be to have him take me home.

The not so safe thing would be for this man who isn’t wearing a wedding ring – I checked – to take me back to his house.

I find his shirt and hold it up. It’s got alocal high school’s logo on it. I steel a glance into the mirror and see that he’s looking back my way. He’s waiting for an answer.

Before I can change my mind I blurt out, “Your house is fine.”

He grins and puts the car in gear. “Sounds good. You can get warm and I think this storm isn’t supposed to last much longer.”

What about the storm inside my chest and between my legs, I have to wonder. Like a school girl he’s got me all hot and bothered. Sweet. Respectful. Where’s he been all my life?

It’ll take about fifteen minutes to get there. I’m going to take it slow. Sometimes the bridges wash out. That okay?” He asks.

I nod, my eyes looking at the shirt in my hands. I know he can see me, if he chooses to, so getting naked in his backseat doesn’t seem proper.

Fuck proper.

Scooting to the center of the back seat I pull off my shirt and then unhook my bra. My breasts, hanging free, sport hardened nipples. Quickly I slip his shirt over my head. Then, leaning backwards, I unzip my skirt and pull it down. Now all I’ve got on is his shirt. My bare ass, still damp and now getting damper from something other than the rain, sits on his back seat.

What about the shorts?” I ask him, holding up the bag.

I don’t need them now. I can wait till I get home,” he says.

I could have waited, too,” I tell him. “Now this shirt will get wet, too.” Chuckling, I shake my head and watch out the window. He doesn’t answer with anything but a chuckle. I know we should be talking, sharing at least a little about ourselves, but we don’t. We steal glances at each other and say nothing.

Finally we pull up to his house. It’s a large farmhouse, well taken care of. There are no other cars in the drive. I wonder if he lives alone or if he lives with his parents. It seems like a big house for a single man. I definitely start wondering when I see a swing set. It’s on my lips to ask who it belongs to when my door opens. I hadn’t heard him get out, hadn’t even noticed a door open or shut. I stare at him, standing there once again getting drenched. I turn towards him and his shirt shifts, my pussy revealing itself. I don’t even try to cover it. I’m overcome with desire, with need. I reach out my hand and when he takes it, instead of letting him pull me out, I pull him in.

He climbs in, shutting the door behind him.

Is this what I think it is?” He asks, unbuttoning his pants.

I nod.

This a thank you?”

Something like that.” I pull off the shirt I put on only a few minutes ago and lie there, naked, before this man I barely know. “Or not,” I tell him. “I don’t know what it is,” I admit.

He pulls down his pants and boxers, freeing his cock. It’s hard and aimed right at me.

One of his hands rubs my stomach, his touch light. He’s so gentle it lights my nerves on fire. Thunder booms and I jump, startled. We both laugh as lightning arcs across the sky.

You’re beautiful, Susie,” he tells me. “Your body and somehow I just know you’re soul is, too.”

I spread my legs and readjust my body, angling for least resistance. I’ve never had sex in the back seat of a car but I’ve seen it on television. If I’m honest I’ve fantasized about it, as well. I reach a hand up, my fingers tracing a scar on his chest, just above his heart. He looks down at me. “I’ll tell you about that later if you want. Right now, though,” he says as he buries himself in me, “Right now I want to make love to you.”

Oh, god,” I cry out. “Thank you, god.”

In my head I whisper, “Thank you, Jasmine.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *