No Stopping

GENRE:  ADVENTURE – FEMALE/MALE

By Colin Kurtz

She had her thumb out just past the junction of Highways 395 and 190. I was hauling ass – making good time – barreling down out of the cool Sierra Nevada’s and roaring across the harsh, hot flats below. I shot her a quick glance as I motored by, did a double-take; she was a looker. I pumped the brakes, hesitating, then stomped down on the pedal, slewing over to the shoulder of the shimmering asphalt.

I was hell-bent for LA., things to do and people to see, miles to go before I slept with anyone. I didn’t have time to stop and smell the hitchhikers. But I thought, “what the hell”? It’d been a long, hard, lonely drive from Chi and a little innocent conversation wouldn’t slow me down any.

I drummed the steering wheel of the rumbling car, watching in the rear view mirror as she ran towards me – twin, golden-brown ponytails flopping, breasts bouncing free and easy beneath a green tank top, legs flashing brown and smooth in a pair of khaki shorts and black boots. She had a big, Army-style pack strapped to her back, and a beaded choker around her neck. And as she pulled even with the rear bumper, I noticed that she wasn’t any flighty teen queen thumbing a summer away; she was a woman, a woman in her mid-to-late-forties.

She yanked the door open, shrugged off the backpack and stowed it in the back seat, then slid inside. The dust and dry, oven-hot air of the road came with her. She slammed the door shut and said, “Hi. Thanks.”

I stared into the brightest, bluest eyes I’d ever seen. They were shining pools in a sun-browned, pretty face. I pulled away from her eyes, gave the rest of her the once-over, taking in her freckled chest, the warm, inviting depth of her cleavage, the twin points indenting the thin material of her top, her slim, supple arms and legs. There were crow’s feet spreading out from the corners of her eyes and laugh lines around her mouth, and her chest hung a little low, but somehow all that only enhanced her seasoned good looks. She smelled surprisingly fresh, clean.

“No problem,” I said, glancing at my watch. Time was a-wasting. It stopped for no man, or woman. I punched the accelerator, fishtailed back onto the highway in a spray of gravel. “Where’re you headed?”
“Anywhere.”

I shot her another look. She was staring straight ahead, hands in her lap, smile tugging on the edges of her lips.

The car ate up the road, like there was no stopping it.

            The last thing I wanted, or needed right then was to get mixed-up with some crazy broad fumbling her way through a mid-life crisis, looking to drag down the first thing in pants that drove by, ride him for the thrills and the food money. But I’d picked her up for conversation, so ten miles down that melting ribbon of black tar, I started some.

“What’s your story?” I said.
She told me. Man, did she tell me. But I guess I asked for it.

She’d gotten hitched when she was only eighteen – to her high school history teacher sweetheart – and long story short, three kids and twenty-seven years of marriage later, the cradle-robbing educator had died, leaving her the emptiest of nests. So she’d flown the coop, the little house on the Nebraskan prairie, and ventured out into the big, bad world – to see what new and different experiences she could find.

“A second childhood, huh?” I grunted, reaching over and cranking up the A/C, brushing her knee.

Her brilliant blue eyes went icy. “No. Not a second childhood. I just want to see … what I’ve been missing. I don’t believe you’re ever too old to explore new possibilities.”

I watched her nipples harden even further in the stream of cold air, beginning to believe myself.

“Watch where you’re going!” she yelled, grabbing the steering wheel and jerking it hard to the right.

The car leapt out of the path of an oncoming semi, just in time.

That should’ve taught me to keep my eyes on the road.

. . . . . . . . . .

We stopped at a rest area just before Randsburg. Barbara had to use the restroom, and I was thirsty, among other things. Three hours cooped up with a good-looking lady had left me harder than Mount Whitney. I was thinking maybe I had time to get me some – quick and dirty, in and out and gone. No stopping.

I chugged a Red Bull and caught up with Barbara, from behind. She was staring off to the west, where somewhere in the parched, breathless distance lay the City of Angels, and a big, blue, beautiful ocean. I slid my hands around her narrow waist and pressed my hard-on up against her taut ass. “What say we grab us some exercise?” I breathed in her ear.

She went rigid, not looking back. I moved my sweaty hands over her stomach, up to her tits, gripping and squeezing the fleshy, low-slung pair. I kissed her neck, her funky choker, licked behind her ear, my cock pressing hard and needy in between her rounded cheeks, my hands working her tits. She was hot, and I was on fire.

She spun around in my arms. “I don’t want any … commitments, Jay,” she said, those blue eyes of hers blazing. “I’m free – for the first time in my life – and I want to stay that way. I’m going to see things, do things. I can’t be tied down. I’ve got to keep moving.”

“We’ll do things, baby,” I growled. “Hey, we’re thinkin’ along the same lines. I just want to fu- … have some fun, is all. Not get married.” I crushed her slim body against mine and kissed her. And she clutched my shoulders, kissing me back.

There wasn’t a soul around, just the crickets chirping away in the scrub, the sun glaring down, the dust kicking up every now and then. I pushed my tongue into Barbara’s mouth and she pushed back. We swirled our slippery tongues together, my damp hands glued to her back.

She caught my tongue between her white teeth and sucked on it, pulled on it with her lips like she was sucking my cock. It drove me wild, and I grabbed onto her ponytails and ground my cock into her belly.

After flailing away with our tongues for a while longer, I gripped Barbara’s bare legs and lifted her up, light as a feather. She coiled her legs around my waist and I carried her over to a picnic table, our mouths never breaking contact, her hot, sweet breath steaming into my face. I set her down on the end of the table, and we finally did untangle our tongues, so she could pull her top out of her shorts and up over her head.

She was a rich, smooth, dark brown all over, and I held her by the shoulders and admired her for a moment – her full, hanging breasts, her fat, burnt-sugar nipples. She was twice as sexy as any girl half her age.

I grasped her bare breasts and squeezed, and her eyelids fluttered and she shivered. I bent my head down and licked at one of her swollen nipples, and she cried, “Oh yes!”
I thoroughly tongue-lashed her nipples, feeling the rubbery appendages stiffen, lengthen still more. I kneaded her hot tit-flesh as I licked at her buds, then sealed my lips around one thick nipple and sucked hard on it.

“Yes, yes!” Barbara groaned, leaning back, planting her hands on the sun-bleached wooden slats and urging me to feed on her chest.

I hungrily inhaled as much of her left tit as I could, tugged on it, then let it slide dripping wet out of my mouth. Then I pushed her overripe melons together and bobbed my head back and forth between them, sucking and licking and biting her nipples, leaving them shining with my lust, achingly hard with hers.

She tore my t-shirt out of my jeans and pulled it over my head. I fumbled my belt, my fly open, shoved my jeans and shorts down, my cock springing up hard and yearning, vibrating in the buzzing air.

Barbara arched her body so that I could slide her shorts off, leaving her breathtakingly naked except for her boots. Her pussy was covered with springy, dark brown fur that glistened in the sunlight. I could smell her desire. I pushed her down onto the table and gripped her legs, felt up her firm thighs, kissed and licked her muscled calves, my straining prick sniffing her downy pussy.

She cupped her splayed jugs and pinched and rolled her nipples, looking me in the eye and hissing, “Fuck me!”
I steered my fat cock into her damp bush, penetrating her slickness and plunging inside, grunting with satisfaction as her pussy lips gripped my shaft, hot and wet and silky. I started moving my hips, sliding my cock back and forth in her slit, motherfucking that sprawled-out forty-something right out there in the open for all the world to see.

Barbara moaned, her body, her breasts bouncing in rhythm to my thrusting. I brushed her hands away and clutched at her tits, bending her legs backwards with my body, her boots riding my shoulders, pounding cock into her pussy. Sweat poured off my face and down onto hers.

I fucked that spectacular MILF faster and faster, pistoning away inside her, the sun scorching the two of us, the wet smack of our bodies slamming together filling the electrified air. She bit her fingernails into my arms and her mouth broke open in a silent scream. She stared blindly up at me, her slick, brown body quivering with all-out release.

“Fuck, yeah!” I bellowed, my cock exploding. I sprayed my semen deep into Barbara’s velvet cunt, hips flying, cumming with a primal force I’d never experienced before, over and over.

When the frenzy finally ended, I leaned against the lady’s legs, struggling to get my breath and my bearings back, gazing down into her smiling eyes.

She had to remind me what it was all about, saying, “Maybe we should hit the road, huh?”

. . . . . . . . . .

We made it to Adelanto by ten. The time and the miles flew by as I gushed all over Barbara like a teenager, all about my LA dreams. She listened, patiently and soothingly, like so many women before hadn’t.

I pulled into the Pinewood Motel on the outskirts of town, buzzing with energy and excitement. We rented a shack of a cabin in a scraggly clump of trees that passed for a forest. And as soon as Barbara set her backpack down, I was all over her.

I gathered her in my arms and kissed her, babbling about how beautiful she was and how happy I was that I picked her up. She wriggled free, ran off into the bathroom, yelling behind her that she needed a shower and I needed to cool off.

But there was no way I was letting her escape that easily. I stripped off my clothes and then waited impatiently for the water to start running, for her to get nice and lathered up. Then I burst into the bathroom and tore the shower curtain aside, and jumped into the tub with her. I greedily kissed her soft, moist lips, swallowing her protests, grabbing onto her slippery butt cheeks and squeezing, cock burning into her belly.

“I can’t get rid of you, can I?” she said, when I finally let the both of us come up for air.

“Not a chance, Mrs. Ferguson.”

Her hair was loose and wet about her shoulders. She looked even prettier that way, reminding me of a friend of my mother’s when she’d come out of the water one hot summer day, dripping and wonderful, after swimming with us at our cottage.

We kissed some more, the bathroom steaming up with the spray and our heat for each other.

Barbara dropped to her knees. She captured my twitching cock in one hand and my tightened balls in the other, and started stroking the one while squeezing the other. I groaned and tilted my head back, then jerked my head back down when I felt her lips wrap around the head of my cock.

She popped the tip of my cock in and out of her warm, wet mouth, before sliding her lips over top of it and all the way down. My cock glided into her mouth, and she began sucking on it with the practiced skill of a knowing woman – no scraping or biting or gagging or spitting up. She took me down almost to the hairline, fingering my balls, tugging on my sack, then slowly pulled back, silky lips sliding up my veined and pulsating shaft.

I rode her bobbing head with one hand and gripped the curtain railing with the other, the water splashing against my heaving chest and cascading down as Barbara sucked hard on my cock. She reached up and played with my nipples, lightly raked her nails down my stomach, never stopping sucking on my cock.

“Fuck that feels good!” I gasped, balls tingling and dick throbbing.

She suddenly grabbed my ass and jerked me forward, slamming my cock all the way down her throat. I hung on for dear life, staring down at her staring up at me, my prick buried to the hilt in her mouth and throat.

She pulled back, and the pressure eased – a bit. Then she disgorged my cock, leaving it raw and dripping from her saliva. She left me quivering in front of her lips, before saying, “Fuck me up the ass!”

I pulled her to her feet, and she spun around and bent forward, facing the jetting water. I scooped up the soap and used it on my cock, her crack, then shoved my bloated cock head up against her tiny asshole. She pressed her hands flat against the tiles, her arms shaking, and I slid my soapy dick slowly into her ass.

“Oh, God!” she whimpered.

I took hold of her waist and pushed forward, squeezing my big, hard cock into her hot, tight opening, till my balls kissed the twin fleshy mounds of her violated bottom.

“Fuck me! Fuck my ass!” she screamed, twisting her head around, her face streaming.

I pumped that mature babe’s gripping chute, slowly and surely, my body surging with sexual electricity. I moved faster, getting a good, hard, wicked rhythm going, sawing in and out of her ass.

She pushed back, matching my strokes perfectly, like we were made for each other. Her ass checks rippled deliciously as I plunged deep inside her, over and over. Steam was everywhere, water flying all over the place. I desperately fucked Barbara’s ass, knowing it was too good to last for too long.

She reached down between her legs and frantically rubbed her pussy. We were a well-oiled machine, my cock rocking back and forth in her vise-like ass, her expert fingers fondling her clit, our bodies shuddering with the impact of our ferocious lovemaking.

“I’m cumming!” she screamed into the spray.

“I’m cumming!” I hollered back, churning my hips in a frenzy.

She was jolted by brutal orgasm just as I was, dancing around on the end of my cock as she came and came and came, as I blasted torrents of cum into her ass.

. . . . . . . . . .

We lay together in the utter blackness of the night, completely drained, only the whisper of an occasional car on the highway breaking the perfect, contented silence. She traced a fingertip over my chest, a nail around my nipples, and I hugged her close.

“Why don’t we stay here awhile – get even better acquainted?” I said, softly kissing her hair.
Her finger stopped. She lifted her head off my chest, and though I couldn’t see her, I could feel her eyes on my face. I opened my mouth to say something more, but her finger pressed down on my lips, quieting me.

And when I woke up the next morning, she was gone. The note reading simply:     “No stopping.”