The heat from the now set sun lingered in the night air and the hollow sounds of the AM radio played old time country songs as we traveled down the two-lane road. I think about how it had been the perfect day. She wore a new sundress that fit her curvy body perfectly. She knew I loved her in those sundresses and wore this one just for me. Like I said, it was the perfect day, we danced, and talked, and flirted. It was a perfect date. I think that she thought so too.

Now the dim lights of the dash board add a nice accent to the pale moonlight shining in through the window. God she is beautiful. That curly mass of hair bounces freely with every movement of her head and every bump in the road, adding accent to every expression she makes. I think to myself, ‘She is a really great flirt.’ This perfect day doesn’t seem to end. Please don’t end.

As we talk and flirt, she slips off her sandals and turns towards me in her seat, leaning back against the door of the truck. She grabs a pillow from behind the seat and places it between her and the door to get a little more comfortable. Her left foot moves toward me on the bench seat that we share. My heart stirs as I see the form of her spread, silken legs. Trying to keep from running off the road, and doing a poor job of it, I follow the outline of her legs to the vanishing point hidden just behind the hem of that hiked up dress.

I go to touch her and she grabs my hand. She guides my hand to the moist silk hidden just underneath her dress. Then much to my dismay, she pushes my hand away and begins to slowly off her panties. I catch glimpses of her bottom and of slippery places that I want to be. She then reaches over and places her panties in my hand and leans back again.

“Whatever I do now, you need to keep your hands on the wheel and keep driving…” as her hand pulls her dress up a little more over those creamy thighs.