Standing, no—shivering, by the side of the road I looked around and noticed people rushing back and forth in singles and pairs; huddled under their clone-like black umbrellas they have no character whatsoever. I liken their movement to a giant black amoeba crawling its way through a mud puddle. As I look at the window of my car (for the hundredth time) and will the door to unlock, I can see a rippling reflection of myself. The smell of exhaust tickles my nose...of course I'd have to lock my keys in the car while it is RUNNING! The rain has soaked my long brown hair causing the usual graceful curls to hang heavily on either side of my face, the ends reaching to my belly button. My skin, normally a healthy looking tan, is slightly mottled with the cold and covered in goosebumps. My clothes--well, what can I say, they're clothes and they're wet. I had already been waiting an hour for the service guy—Griff, I think the operator said his name was, and my patience was growing thinner by the second. Why oh why did I have to insist on buying a car that couldn’t be opened with a slimjim?! Finally I notice a monstrous service truck pull up, its headlights piercing through the rain like a lighthouse beam on a turbulent ocean. Salvation at last! I think to myself, now open the damn car before I--OH! The driver’s door opens and a man, no, a god, steps out of the truck. From the short distance between us I judge him to be pretty damn tall, I know--it’s a technical term. Easily head and shoulders taller than I, his bulky frame stood out against the gloom of the day. As he walks over to me the rain beads on his face and dribbles off, accentuating the square-ness of his jaw and his smooth ebony skin. His shirt, slightly damp, clings to well formed pectoral muscles and hints at a strong, defined abdomen. “Hey, I’m Griff. Let’s get this car unlocked for you, shall we?” He said in a low, bass voice, “Why don’t you wait in the truck where it’s dry? It might take a while, so make yourself comfortable.” Walking over to the truck I open the door and climb in. The heat is on full blast and there’s a towel on the seat. I figure he won’t mind, so I use it to squeeze the water out of my hair. Rain obscures my view of this knight in shiny black armor enough that I decide he probably can't see me...besides, his back is turned! After having been wet and cold for so long all I can think of is to try and get at least some of my clothes dry, if not warm; I quickly strip off my shirt and wrap the towel around my shoulders. My shirt (which isn’t dripping quite as much as my hair was) goes over the heat vents on the dashboard. Hot air forced through the soaked cotton fibers of my shirt cause the windows to fog slightly, I breathe in and notice the subtle smell of aftershave. Not enough to identify what brand, but just enough to leave me intrigued. He works diligently for some time then quickly runs back to the truck. I hope it is only to get some tools out of the back; it might be awkward to explain why I’m sitting half naked in his work vehicle. Then again, it might not...think to myself. He opens the door and hops into the driver’s seat, grabs the CB radio and starts talking before he even looks in my direction. “Hey Matt, you there?” “This is Matt, over.” “Matt, it’s Griff—this job is taking me a bit longer than I thought; it’s a tough lock to hack. Why don’t you send Andy to my next job? Over.” “Will do, Griff, be careful out there—weatherman says the storm’s only gonna get worse.” “Copy that. Griff out.” Griff puts the CB back in its cradle; I notice a stream of rainwater running along the line of muscle in his forearm at the same time that he notices me. “Uhh…hey,” he says. “Hey,” I say back, with a weak grin, “I’m Kelly. Sorry about using your towel, I was soaked, though.” “No problem Kelly, just, uh…yeah…I’m going to go work on your car before I …” He doesn’t finish the sentence, just hops out of truck and slams the door. He stares at me through the window for a moment and then runs back to my car. Alone again I look around the truck and find it to be immaculately clean. No clumps of dried mud on the carpet, no fast food bags or soda cans, no candy wrappers. I’m almost disappointed. Not only is Griff insanely hot, he smells good and he’s clean! I turn on the radio and listen to the smooth sounds of a woman crooning through the speakers, cello and bass adding depth to her creamy voice. Not exactly the kind of music I’d picture a guy like Griff actually listening too, but it’s good. I readjust my shirt on the heat vents and notice that it’s getting dry pretty fast. Griff comes back to the truck and gets in again. “I need to get something in the…” he points the glove box. “Oh go for it,” I say. He leans over, slowly, and reaches for the latch on the glove box, his elbow resting lightly on my thigh. The whole time he never takes his eyes off mine—his deep brown eyes look as though they could take me in and never let go. Grabbing whatever it is he was looking for, Griff straightens up and grabs the door handle. “I’m almost done. I think,” he says. “I’ll be waiting right here…”A burst of cold air blows through as the door is opened and then quickly shut behind him. I shudder with the quick contrast of the warm, moist air in the cabin of the truck and the chilly storm-blown wind. I listen again to the silky words of the lady in the stereo, almost jealous of the time she gets to spend with Griff, the man who so valiantly came to rescue me (for a small fee, I’m sure). The CD plays its last song and I am saddened that she no longer sings to me, so I push the play button and hit "repeat all". Reaching behind my back, I unhook my bra and place it over the heat vents, hoping it will dry quickly as I move my shirt to the other side of the dashboard. A little damp (but warm!) the towel clings to me slightly, accentuating the roundness of my breasts; I’m oddly turned on. I wonder what his hands would feel like here, I think as I cup my breast with my hand, and here… as I gently massage my nipple. WHAT AM I DOING? I wonder, I’m fondling myself in a strangers work truck!!! A very hot stranger, though. And my hand finds its way under the waist of my soaked pants to part the soft, curly mat of hair underneath, exploring the folds within. My fingers, still slightly cold and clammy, are a strange sensation against the warm, moist nub of my center. I sigh with odd contentment. Alone in the truck I embark on my own private fantasy, staring Griff the Valiant. I imagine his strong fingers running through my hair, tugging lightly, his lips dancing along the ridge of my collarbone; strong fingers exploring the slickness between my thighs. Opening my eyes for a moment, I look out the rain-streaked windshield and see him walking toward me. With reluctance I remove my hand from its devious ministrations and dry my fingers on a corner of the towel still haphazardly wrapped around my shoulders, barely covering my breasts. One more time Griff opens the door and eases into the seat. “Well, the good news is your car is now unlocked.” “You’re my hero,” I purr. “Bad news,” he says, turning to me, “is that you’re out of gas. I can…uhhh...you…” he points to the towel. Exasperated he says quickly, “look, I’m trying here, but I’m not going to be able to remain a gentleman for much longer.” I raise an eyebrow, “oh?" Griff clears his throat, "Yeah...how could I not be tempted? I get to come rescue a damsel in distress and return to find her half naked in my truck!" I lean over a bit and inspect a smudge on his face. I know, I know...what can I say? The last time I had attention from a guy that was even a tenth of a degree as hot as Griff, well, let's just say I've recharged my battery operated boyfriend WAY too many times since then... “You’ve got some grease or mud or something…” I say quietly as I wipe at it with my fingers; he presses his jaw into my hand. The towel falls to the seat. “You know,” I say softly, “in weather like this it might not be safe to drive for a while…what do you say we wait out the storm?” I scoot toward him on the large bench seat and lean forward, so my breast rests lightly on his arm. I kiss the place my fingers had been just moments before. “Yeah,” Griff agrees with a husky exhale, “waiting out the storm. Good idea.” And he mates his lips with mine, gently parting mine with his tongue. He tastes like licorice, like soft red licorice. The gentle roughness of his tongue against mine, swirling and exploring, urges me closer until I am sitting astride him, topless and wearing damp jeans. My breasts press against his cold, soaking shirt, causing my nipples to stand proudly erect. Wandering fingers find the buttons of his uniform shirt. One by one I undo them, working quickly as I nibble on his jaw, his earlobes. Finished with the task at hand I slip my fingers beneath the soaking cloth and spread them wide against his firm, solid flesh; warmth from my hands radiates through to his skin and I push the shirt off his chest and down his arms, feebly getting it out of the way as he unbuttons my jeans. Still straddling his lap I lift myself up using the steering wheel as support while Griff fights the fabric over the roundness of my hips, over my butt and down my legs—he makes a soft moaning sound, apparently pleased that I wear no panties. As he nibbles the ridge of my collarbone he works free of his own denim prison and tosses them over his shoulder. As I ease back down I feel the hardness of his erection nestle itself between the folds of my labia. I gasp slightly—it seems he too does not care for undergarments, or at least they were removed with the pants. “Do you have a condom?” I ask, panting lightly. “I think, in the glove box maybe?” He says between nibbles on my bottom lip. I lean over, contorting myself to look in the compartment. Aside from a truck manual, a few loose tools and a couple pens there is nothing. “Well?” I ask, “What do you want to do?” “I sure has hell don’t want to call it quits just like that! Try the ashtray--dear God! Please let there be one in the ashtray!" I slide open the ashtray and there it sits, I can almost hear the host of heavenly angels singing the hallelujah chorus as I pluck it from it's hiding place. As I straighten up he lifts a breast, feeling its weight in his hand, and brings it to his mouth, sucking and teasing my sensitive nipple while he gently rolls the other nipple in his fingers. I moan with pleasure. “If you stop now you may come to harm...” I say with a hint of warning. “Well I guess that settles it then.” With deft hands he takes the condom from me, opens the package, and slips it on. Murmuring adorations Griff clamps down lightly with his teeth, capturing my nipple and flicking at the tip with his tongue. Suddenly two fingers slide inside me, working in and out, massaging my g-spot while a thumb circles my engorged clit. Outside lightning splits the sky and a gale of wind buffets the truck, we rock lightly with the vehicle. “I want…we need…” I can’t quite formulate the words so I physically move him, turning Griff so that his back is against the door and my back is no longer pressed against the steering wheel (which had caused the horn to honk a few times). Sitting upright with his legs stretched out on the seat I free myself from his attentions and slide down his torso, eager to find and orally abuse his erection. On my way down, I pause to suck lightly on the nubs of his nipples and pave a trail of kisses to his navel where I explore momentarily with my tongue. “Hmm...tastes like rain…” Continuing downward I rake my nails down his chest, arousing half-grunt, half-sigh from my rescuer. Finally at my destination I am amazed by the length of him, a full seven inches or perhaps more. I kiss the tip of Griff’s erect penis and circle my tongue around the head a few times. Looking up I see his eyes roll back and his hands clench the small handle above the window. I take him into my mouth and am surprised to feel him grow even still, expanding slightly in my mouth. My lips and fingers circle him, moving up and down, up and down, to the cadence of beat only I can hear; the thumping of my own adrenaline, endorphin charged heart. With my free hand I gently massage his testicles, squeezing gently and rolling them in my palm. It occurs to me that there is a new sound in the car, one that changes the rhythm of my ministrations; Griff must have accidentally hit the lever for the wiper blades, as I hear them swish-swish, swish-swish across the glass. “Oh, God!” Griff moans, “Oh, Kelly!" I know he’s close so I suck a bit and come up, his penis making a cute ‘pop’ as it leaves my mouth. Eyes wide-open Griff captures my stare and I lower myself onto him, his girth surprising me, filling me completely and stretching me with a pleasant twinge of pain. With my hands on his shoulders, nails digging slightly into his hardened muscles we ride each other in a wicked, hip-grinding dance. The slick sounds of our joining are drowned out by angry belches of thunder and hail pounding the pavement, the roof of the truck, the windows. Faster and faster we move, racing toward the sweet release of orgasm; I feel the tightness in my belly and tiny sparks of electricity coursing through my veins and know that I could explode at any moment. “Oh Griff!” I yell, and with a few fierce thrusts I dig my nails in deeper and draw them down his chest as I scream with the rapture of our union; my muscles contract and I squeeze him inside me, clenching and releasing until moments later when he comes inside me, joining my release with a loud exclamation of his own. Spent, and still coupled, we kiss, tongues joining in sweet culmination. I feel him slowly soften inside me and whisper in his ear, “I’m going to sit right here until this storm lets up or until you’re ready to go again. Then, when we’re finished the second time, I’ll see what naughty things I’ll have to do to get some gas…” Griff the Valiant smiles back at me, “Oh, I think you’ll have to do some very naughty things.” Another strike of lightning, more hail and rain. “Aren’t you glad you locked your keys in your car?” he asks with a wink. “Yup, I am one satisfied customer.” He laughs lightly. "My boss is always telling me that I should go above and beyond for our customers. Do you think this is what he meant?" I wink and smile, "Griff, you not only have excellent customer service, you have serviced the customer excellently." I reach over and wipe the steam from the window, watching as rain sheets down the glass. Outside I see people scurry by, huddled under their umbrellas and wonder if they know what has just happened here. It doesn't matter, really--after all, I'm just a girl waiting for my car to be unlocked. There's nothing to see here, folks. |
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| Tastes Like Rain By Kelli Chai |
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© 2005 KC |
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