Eric and Aly Ch. 04 - Ride

Hey all, sorry about the delay on this chapter, my life has been kind of flipped over lately. Getting back to a regular publishing schedule soon. Thank you for your patience.

- - -

"Alison!" I heard from behind my sunglasses. I looked over at the sliding glass door in our backyard and saw my Mother waving me inside. I groaned and let my legs off of the inflatable raft, standing up in the pool and letting the cool water embrace my body. It swallowed nearly all of me, this bikini was not very modest (read: incredible that it even held itself together at all with how little structural support it possessed,) since I'd bought it not for swimming but for tanning in the backyard.

"Coming." I yelled back, pulling myself up the A-Frame ladder and out of the pool. I bent down for the folded towel resting on our grass and wrapped myself in it as I walked towards the back door, drying my shoulders off as I went. It was Saturday, maybe eleven am, and I'd been tanning my front for maybe twenty minutes. The water droplets on my skin didn't reflect the tanned body I'd been working for with this outfit. Damn it to Hell.

Inside, my Mother was watching me with a disapproving glare. "Alison May Dent, I thought we had a discussion about you telling me before you had friends over?" She asked, quietly. I must've looked confused.

"Huh? Who's here?" I asked, since I hadn't invited anyone to be over for at least another hour. And even then, Eric was just going to pick me up in his car, not come inside. So he wasn't coming over, per se.

"Eric. He said he was running early. He honked, didn't you hear him?" She asked, while my worst fears were confirmed. I shook my head no. God, I hadn't wanted my parents to meet him for a few more weeks at least, possibly not ever. If you haven't worked out yet, my parents and I aren't exactly close.

"No, I didn't hear. And he wasn't coming over, he was just going to pick me up so we could grab lunch. Where is he now?" I asked, saying a silent prayer to whichever God or Saint or whatever could hear those. My mother waved a hand carelessly.

"He's in the den with you Father, they're discussing his car. Out of morbid curiousity, do you know how many airbags it has?" She asked me, as I jogged to my room, still holding my towel around my dripping body. I changed as fast as I could, a process made easier by the fact that I'd already laid out my outfit this morning for our date. Just a simple V-neck, some nice jeans that showed off the curve of my waist and a pair of black Sully Wong's. I had considered a leather jacket so I looked cool but it was too damn hot.

I sprinted out of my room to the basement, our family "den" with a home cinema and a desk that only my Dad used when he needed a place to set his sewing machine without annoying mom with the noise. Eric and my Dad were standing a few feet apart, and maybe it was my imagination, maybe they were sizing each other up. My Dad was wearing his usual "around the house sweats" and a Green Day concert tour T-shirt. Eric was more... formally dressed in a custom T that said "So I look down at the phone and it's my Mother, which is very, very weird because she never calls me," some nice dark jeans, and a pair of red Chuck Taylor's.

"Hey Eric. Hey Dad. Has he threatened you with neutering?" I said, faux-chipper to highlight instead of avoid the awkwardness of the social convention, the father meeting his daughter's boyfriend. Eric smiled at me, which made me smile like the idiot I was and butterflies or maybe a dozen bags of industrial-strength Pop Rocks filled my tummy, making me deliciously nervous.

"Hi Honeycake. Eric here was just telling me about his car. If he gets you home before Seven in one piece, I'll even believe he can drive it." He said, but in a playful tone that showed his hostility was mostly a ruse. Not to say my father wouldn't kick the crap out of Eric or anyone who hurt me.

"Challenge accepted." Eric said with a smile, going along with the abuse. He smiled at me again, but nothing more. I stood on my tiptoe to kiss Dad on the cheek.

"Bye Daddy! I'll be safe." I assured him. He smiled warmly at me and squeezed me in his arms. Yeah, yeah, I'm a total Daddy's Girl, proud of it. He and I were a lot more similar than me and my mom.

"You do that. Eric, always a pleasure." He said, holding out his hand to him. Eric quickly took it.

"Same to you, Sir." He replied. But the way he said it didn't feel like he was pandering, made him seem like a real Southern Gentleman. He and my Father broke apart and we were heading up the stairs. I called out a goodbye to my Mom and we exited quickly, me mostly pushing him to the car. He seemed amused more than anything about how quickly I seemed to want to get out of there. But I didn't want to waste any of our time together at my house when we could be doing so much else.

He carefully put his seatbelt on and slowly drove away from my house, going at the precise speed limit of twenty MPH on our typical suburban street. I wanted him to burn rubber out of there. I was grinding my teeth together in the passenger seat. When I opened my eyes, Eric was glancing over at me, still paying attention to the road.

"So, you seemed anxious to get out of there." He said pointedly, cruising towards the highway.

"Well, yeah. Guess I was. I didn't want anyone to start chatting your ear off." I said, cool as a cucumber.

"Is... that the only reason?" He asked, not buying the lie. I knew he wouldn't, I'd just hoped he wouldn't question it too much.

"I guess I... I just want them to like you, but I also want to know you better first. Just us." I said, like it wasn't a big deal. He didn't say anything, and the silence hung.

"I don't want you to think I was picking you up under false pretenses, but I'm not actually taking you to Olive Garden. Their shrimp isn't even good. I really wanted to take you into Chicago, there's this little Cafe in Wrigleyville I like and then there's a few bookstores not too far away from that. I think that might be more fun. I was going to surprise you but since you would probably notice I was following signs for Chicago I'm not sure how long I could've surprised you for." He said after a minute, a bit neurotic. but sweet all the same. I hadn't been to any bookstores in Chicago, since I didn't spend that much time there, despite living within an hour of it.

"That's awesome! I wouldn't have noticed the signs, but I might've noticed the Loop." I told him, smirking. "You go to the bookstores often?" I asked him, innocently playing with my hair, a trick I'd picked up from my girlfriend Kelly, who'd had more boyfriends than most of my class combined.

"As much as I can. I like to give them the business and they always have interesting things you've never seen before. I'll show you what I mean." He said, one hand absently fumbling with the radio, which was the old kind with a few dials and a needle in the middle. He hadn't tricked out his restored muscle car with a pimp-y sound system. Watching his fingers work, I was reminded of how he'd touched my clit on our fourth date.

The one thing his car did have was an old cassette player. He pulled out a tape with a wire coming out of it, and I realized it was an AUX adapter. I hadn't even realized they made such badass things. He stuck the tape in and then fumbled with plugging it into his phone, eyes still firmly on the road. When it was in, he calmly told Siri to play Will Smith.

Then we were listening to "Miami" from the Big Willie Style album. It was at a comfortable volume so we could shout to each other, but I wasn't very interested in listening. I kept looking over at him, his arms impressively bulging inside his sleeves, his hands holding the wheel with ease but control. I licked my lips while he told me about some new book he was reading, I wasn't listening. I kept thinking about that powerful dick I knew he had in those pants, which I'd sucked. Sucked it in a classroom, in fact, where people I didn't even know could've found me under his desk.

But he'd been so powerful, so commanding, that I could only think how much I wanted to do that again. I was quickly discovering something about myself; I was a pretty generous lover. This time, I wanted to do him right in the car, while he drove us towards Chicago and a fifth date. And I didn't want to be gentle, I wanted him to fuck me, to fuck my face as he drove the interstate. Road-head, I'd heard it called in a movie once. Then I wanted him to pull over and give it to my greedy cunt hard and deep, right up to my throat.

My hands were in his crotch, unzipping his fly. I didn't remember putting them there. But I didn't stop. He was looking from my hungry face to the highway, he looked shocked that I was taking the initiative to suck him off. Then his hand went down to the side of his seat and he pushed it back, a smile tugging at his lips. They were so cute, I just had to get a taste. I leaned forward to kiss him, but his hand stopped me by landing gently on my throat.

"Can't. I'm driving, you maniac." He said playfully, a full grin now adorning that handsome mug. "You'll have to kiss me somewhere else."

Taking his meaning, I dropped onto my knees in my chair, face against his abs, fingers working religiously at his pants. I got them undone and down by his lower thighs, then pulled his cock through the front of his boxer-briefs (For any of you who were wondering). It was hardening, and I watched with an open mouth as it slowly rose, towering over the bottom of the steering wheel and nearly honking the horn. I could see his heart beating in the small jump of it as it swelled with hot blood and power and most especially cum. Most importantly.

My hand wrapped around the base, which was so thick my fingers couldn't meet each other. I kissed the crown, just squeezing it in my palm, inhaling his Musk, his Elon.

Before you ask, Yes, I hate myself more than you ever can.

Next I peppered his shaft with little kisses, or as I preferred to call them, promises. Promises that I'd be sucking soon, to just relax and enjoy the foreplay. If you could really call this foreplay. Seemed like it was more... play. I gave him a nice, wet kiss at his base, where the shaft met his scrotum and I heard an appreciative gasp from above me. That was my cue to take it up a notch.

Next, I brought myself up to the top, finding his slit with my tongue since my eyes were closed. My mouth felt about the size of a grape, and I had no idea how I was going to fit him. But maybe Love is trying anyway? God, listen to me. I suck his dick and I'm thinking about capitol L Love. Someone should shoot me. I'm getting off track. I opened my lips a little more and started to nudge myself downwards, and it felt like one long kiss. I quickly realized that only one of my hands was on his shaft, and it seemed very important that both be on it. And it was certainly big enough for both hands and my mouth.

It was almost unbelievably large. Just the right size for a successful male pornstar or to double as a... Baseball Bat. He was definitely the palest black guy I'd ever dated, I'll leave it at that. I let my mouth over-salivate like I was a starving woman staring at Thanksgiving dinner, which gave me enough lube to get a fair ways down, for a first attempt. I had three inches of him in my mouth, which was very, very little of him, but pretty gratifying all the same. It was only when I pulled my head up to breathe a little more freely that I realized his hand had found my hair. Which was cool, whatever floats his boat. Or, maybe tickled his pickle?

I came back down after a second, dedicated to get more of him in me, maybe in my throat. I hadn't seen this, since I didn't watch porn, but I felt fairly confident the urban myth was factual. Some girls could deepthroat. Some girls could cum twice. I wanted to be both. I had other goals, maybe to be the first female President of the United States, but that seemed like a good start. Not to say that you have to suck dick to get into politics- Oh, you know what I mean!

My face found the same level it had sunk to before, but it would go no farther. I tried swallowing, which his breathing told me he enjoyed, but it had no effect on the distance between my nose and his groin. Frustrating. This would, apparently, require practice.

- - -

Forty miles away, Lucille Archer received a ping from her phone. Being the weekend, she was busy washing her down comforter and silk pillowcase, and did not check her phone for a few minutes. When she finally opened her screen and tapped the message from her brother, it was a picture of him, which confused her. He wasn't the type to take selfies without being forced into it.

He had a good face for the picture, symmetrical enough to look normal but asymmetrical enough to be interesting. His eyes showed mischief, he had good dimples in his cheeks that made her want to kiss him when she saw. She could see the seat rest on his car seats and a blurry road in the background. Eric had never so much as touched his cellphone to check his GPS while driving, he always pulled over. So why was he taking selfies?

She opened the image, and the bottom part, which had been cropped out by the limitations of her screen size, revealed a woman's mane in his lap. It was silver.

Lucy dropped her clean blankets on the floor, a gasp escaping her.

- - -

I had been at it for ten minutes, stroking him with my fists while screwing my mouth down onto the top of his prick. I was surprised it was taking so long for him to cum, but pleased he had such stamina so I could practice on him for more than a few minutes at a time. His fingers had rooted progressively deeper in my hair, now holding my skull in his palm, but not applying pressure, just holding onto a part of me, keeping his other hand firmly on the wheel. He was a very careful, and the Indiana potholes were pretty minimal on our drive. That was good, I was afraid he might stab me in the brain if there was a big jolt.

Amazingly, I felt undefendably excited for his impending release. Would it taste as good as last time? Would there be more? The same? I knew it was going to be fresh, hot, and oh-so tasty, salty and sweet. God, what a drug.

When I felt him grip a little harder on the back of my head, I knew it was almost time and did two things. I backed my head up his shaft so only his clementine sized cockhead was in my mouth, and also started jerking my hands faster. I heard him groan and warn me "Fuck, I'm almost there, almost there..! I'm there!" and I started gulping.

His spunk came fast, voluminously, and hot. It filled my mouth quickly as he shot rope after rope on to my tongue, and I tasted the tang of it, the zing of electricity, the actual taste of an orgasm, incarnate. I swallowed a lot, drinking his cum as my hands milked him, caused him to make that absolutely perfect noise I heard from his mouth. Then he was finished, but not diminished, and still stinging in their hardness. I kept the last bit of his cum in my mouth for a moment, rolled the rope around my tongue, before finally sending it to join its many, many friends in my stomach. A side note: I was no longer regretting that small breakfast I'd eaten this morning.

I sat back on my haunches, and watched him press his foot gently down on the brake, turn his hazard lights on, pull over onto the shoulder. Then his hand reached between our seats and found a towel in the back, which he hung over the window on his door, blocking a view of the cabin to the speeding cars just a few feet away. And then he was on me, his hand pulling my seat back down so it was like a bed, flat. I worked my jeans down my legs and kicked them off my feet, my shoes I'd removed earlier before the oral fiasco. His hands impulsively tugged at my shirt, pulling it up, over my head and nearly tearing the thing down the middle.

Then I was mostly naked except for my underwear and all he had to do was snap the back of my bra open, his mouth found mine as his hands just... abused me. I loved it, and kissed him back with more excitement than I'd ever had about anything. More excitement than anyone had ever had about anything, I was sure. I felt one of his hands leave my tit and I nearly, okay, I did whine. But he was just checking his wallet for a condom. He found one, but I stopped him from putting it on.

"I'm on birth control. Medical reasons." I said, not very romantic or sexy but valuable information.

"'Safe sex should be practiced between two consenting partners, both of legal age, and both using a method of birth control. The male may use a condom, while the female may use whatever form of birth control is correct for her.'" He rattled off, quoting a textbook maybe or the course guide for Sex-Ed.

"'Contraceptives such as female birth control may be as effective as 99% of the time, while female condoms may be only eighty percent effective and male condoms 97%.' My birth control is bigger than yours." I told him. Then he fucked his cock into me.

Only a few inches at first, but soon more followed, and I felt myself being stretched out, used. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, all I could do was wrap my legs around his back and urge him faster, faster. His hands were keeping his weight off of me so it was up to me to provide any mammary stimulation, and I won't lie and say I didn't. I felt his incredible length just barrel into my cunt and nearly died, I was truly having an Out-Of-Body experience.

His mouth was all over my mouth, my cheeks, breathing against my ear in a way that might've made me cum even if he hadn't been so deep in me he was rearranging my guts. Not that I was complaining. The forgotten condom was in his hand, and he seemed to realize, throwing it down by the pedals. I was moaning candidly, calling him all sorts of names, half of which I couldn't have said even if I was a character in a Deadpool movie. He seemed spurred on by it though, and he was doing most of the work, so I felt I should provide at least motivation.

He was in and out like the tide, nearly breaking me apart, shaking my frame like I was a wooden shack in a hurricane. But I begged him for more, and he was the type of Gentleman to give his date whatever she wanted. I couldn't remember where we were going, where we were now, my own name. All I could focus on was pawing at my breasts and the member that was so fucking deep inside me that it might as well have been mine.

How many times I came I can't even tell you, but at the second orgasm I realized it was my first double-whammy ever. This obstacle I'd spent hours, days even, trying to overcome with a few weak vibrators was hurdled in a few minutes with Eric. My god, what a man. By the time I had wrapped my head around cumming twice, I was cumming thrice. And he? Why he was just chugging along like a motherfucking train, but not the steam engine of yesterday, no, the bullet trains of Tokyo was a more fitting metaphor.

I realized at some point it might've been taking him so long to cum because he had about three inches of dick still dry. God, I wanted him all in me, but I wasn't sure I could even take that last bit. I cursed my shallow vagina and tried to ignore the fourth orgasm blasting through my body in a way akin to that scene from Titanic with the seawater and the doors flying off their hinges. My back arched up and into his body, my tits almost flat against his pecs and my legs straightening out from the curl they'd held around his hips. Then his hands were on my thighs and he pulled me all the way up his cock.

The last few inches of him slammed into me with the subtlety of a firetruck. I screamed, this time in pain, but I can't blame him, the difference was probably hard to make out. My fourth orgasm was marred by excruciating pain, but the two danced and tangled, until I could barely tell which was which, which I was begging for. I blacked out after that, and I awoke to him pulling out, shooting his sperm all over my stomach, my pubic hair, my underboob. Some got on the insides of my thighs. His erection had a few veins sticking out of it, but they were aesthetically pleasing, not ugly. He was groaning and even growling, like a dog. His orgasm looked spectacularly strong, like all of mine had been.