HitchHiking

I was hitting hard, ready to go, when Naomi screamed and climaxed, her passage clamping down on me. That was all I needed to set me off and I let her have the lot, spraying her most enthusiastically.

Naomi just leaned back against the car, breathing hard. I did likewise.

"OK," I gasped. "You win. I'll run you back to Baxter."

She didn't say anything, just nodding. But she was looking awfully smug.

I saw a car approaching, running down the far hill. I have good eyesight. I can recognise a police special road car at quite a distance. They're so brightly painted that a blind man could spot them.

"You might like to get dressed," I murmured to Naomi.

"What's the hurry?"

"Well, a police-car is on its way and like all good coppers, they will stop and see if we need assistance. Do you really want them to find you dressed like that?"

She squealed and dived for her clothes. I opened the glove-box and pulled out some tissues.

"You may want to wipe yourself down a little," I murmured and she grabbed them.

I leant against the car, listening to the rustle of clothing and some very polite swearing. First time I ever heard anyone swear without using curse-words.

"Actually, the cops may be a stroke of luck for you. If we tell them you overshot your target they may give you a lift to Baxter."

"What, tell them I'm the sort of idiot who hitch-hikes in the wrong direction? In your dreams. You owe me and you're taking me."

"Look at the down side of me taking you. It's a half hour drive. That will give my libido time to recover. I might fall on you and ravish you before you actually get to Baxter."

"I'll risk it," she said. "You're the nominated driver. If you don't like it, tough."

I grinned, watching the cop car as it pulled up. I just waved to them.

"We're fine. Just taking a break and stretching our legs, officer," I called.

The driver glanced at his mate and then waved and took off again. His mate would have been checking my number plate. No hits on my plates and no distress so they went on about their business. Fine chaps, those.

Naomi was already sitting demurely in the front seat, waiting for her driver. There was something subtly different about her, and it wasn't the knowledge that she wasn't a virgin. Then I got it. Her nipples were still peaked and pressing against her top. The little wretch wasn't wearing her bra. Oh, she was asking for trouble, hitch-hiking like that. I might have to explain that to her, giving her a demonstration on the hazards of hitch-hiking.