Transportation Challenge

"What about three and a half?" Shelly asked unzipping the front of her jacket.

Shelly shivered again as his hands moved between the zippers, but before he could make any contact she slid from beneath him and off the machine to bounce on her toes as she clapped her hands. "I know Daddy." She shrieked into his disappointment. "You can take me for a ride." Shelly gripped her left wrist in her right hand and with a sliding motion.

Eyes aglitter he kicked the engine into life watching Shelly pull open the front of her leathers. Shelly climbed onto the pillion, pulled up the guy's shirt and pressed herself into his back as her hands snaked forward to grip the inside of his thighs.

In a spray of gravel and cloud of exhaust they roared through the gates.

After no more than five minutes the bike wound crazily back onto the drive way and above the deep throbbing of the engine could be heard a male voice screaming "THREEEEEEEEEEEE"

C-10: SelenaKittyn
Love in an Elevator
"Thirty seconds." Trevor pushed the elevator button. "Less if I'm not doing myself."

Kelly snorted. "I don't know if you should be bragging about this, Trev…"

"Why not?"

"I'm just sayin'…" She shrugged, checking her purse for their press passes.

Trevor grinned. "Hey, I wonder if there's a world record…"

"You want to make Guinness as the world's fastest ejaculator?" Kelly arched one blonde, finely plucked eyebrow.

"Why not?" He winked. "Everyone has to have their fifteen minutes of fame."

"Thirty seconds?" she mused, pressing the elevator button again. "Really?"

"Less if I'm not doing myself."

She gave him a steady look. "It seems…fast."

"It is." He nodded. "But what's wrong with a quickie?"

"Nothing… if both of you get something out of it."

Trevor straightened his tie, checking his reflection in the elevator doors. "Hey, I don't neglect my duties in that department."

"Oh, come on!" Kelly exclaimed as the doors opened and several people got out. "There's no way these women are coming in 30 seconds!"

"Shh!" Trevor hustled her into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. "They are, too!"

"They are not," she scoffed. "They're faking it."

He rolled his eyes. "I know the difference."

"You do not."

"Yes, I do!"

"Okay." Kelly turned to face him, her eyes bright. "Let's see if you can tell the difference."

Trevor swallowed. "What?"

"Come on." She pressed the Emergency Stop button and the elevator came to a jerking halt, the alarm buzzing. "We've got two minutes."

"Are you serious?" His eyes widened.

"You know you've always wanted to..." She turned, hiking her navy skirt up, revealing black panties and thigh highs.

His eyes dipped between her legs. "Well… yeah… but…"

"Two minutes is more than enough time, right?" Her fingers nudged panties aside to reveal smooth, shaved lips.

Trevor groaned softly. "Damn, Kelly…"

"See if you can make me cum in thirty seconds." She winked over her shoulder at him as her slippery fingers moved in and out. Trevor unzipped his trousers.

"Can I—?" His cock nudged her fingers.

She reached back, guiding him in. "This what you want?"

"Oh fuck…" He pressed forward, grabbing her hips. "God, you feel good."

She arched, grasping the rail. "So do you." Her hips danced, round and round. His fingers searched out her clit, rubbing fast.

"Fifteen seconds…" Kelly murmured, glancing at her watch.

Trevor thrust slower, groaning. "I knew I should have jerked off this morning…"

"Close?" She squeezed his cock, teasing.

"You?" He gasped, fingers circling her clit.

"Getting there… rub faster."

"Are you really?" he panted. "Or are you just saying that?"

"Oh fuck… Trev… don't stop," she begged, biting her lip.

"Damnit, Kelly, don't fuck with me!"

"No, don't stop fucking me!" She rocked back.

He shoved in deep, shuddering. "Gonna cum!"

"Thirty seconds!" she moaned, her pussy fluttering. "Damn… you weren't kidding…"

"Did you cum?" he asked, tucking and zipping.

She grinned. "Couldn't you tell?"

"Um…"

"See, I told you." Kelly turned the Emergency Stop off.

"Okay, so tell me." He watched her pull panties up, skirt down. "The truth."

She winked at him, straightening one stocking. "You'll never know…"

C-11: FallingToFly
This is how it starts. A crowded subway car, and my stop coming up. I'm trying to squeeze past you to get to the doors as you're zipping up your jacket, and you catch my hair and necklace in the zipper. We're stuck, tangled together by happenstance and fate, and I can't help but laugh at the consternation on your face. We're jostling the passengers around us, trying to free my hair and your clothing, drawing grumbles of complaint and annoyed looks, as the doors clatter closed and we're still stuck, my stop sliding away as the train moves on. I hear you curse, your voice a lovely, soft depth in my ears, and you finally laugh too, pulling me into the shelter of your arm and holding onto a strap with the other hand.

"Let's just get off at the next one and fix this mess, shall we?" you say, and I have to agree, despite the fact that you're tugging at my scalp with every breath you take. I lean in closer to ease the strain, and sigh.

"I guess we'll have to," I say, and I can smell your cologne, something sweet and spicy and rich, mingled with the clean scent of soap. When the train slows for the next stop, you maneuver both of us to the doors and help me onto the platform and out of the bustle of other passengers heading home for the night. Under the fluorescent lights that buzz and flicker, we huddle against a wall until the chaos dies down, and then move apart as much as we can.

Our hands clash and fall away as we both reach for the snarl at the same time, and then you chuckle and reach for the long auburn curl caught in the dull gleam of my silver chain and the zipper. Slowly, you work the hair and jewelry loose and suddenly I'm free, rubbing the sore spot on my scalp and smiling up at you. Your eyes are blue-grey like Pennsylvania slate, so dark they must turn black with emotion, set in a face that reminds me of every Viking hero I ever read about in trashy romance novels. You're fingering the long curl you liberated, smoothing it between your fingers, and then you tuck it behind my ear with a sheepish, boyish smile.

"I'm Tomas," you say softly, and offer me your hand. I take it, your long, thin fingers wrapping around my gloved hand and squeezing gently. You have an accent, light and lilting, almost British but somehow gentler and more musical.

"Marian." My voice sounds higher, more girlish than normal, and I can feel heat rising in my cheeks as I look at you through lowered eyes, fascinated by more than just your accent. Your hair is pulled back in a long pale braid, and you're taller than me by six inches or more, even in the heels that bring my height up to a whopping five-eight. You huddle inside a battered brown leather jacket and faded jeans splotched with faded paint, heavy work boots on your feet, and I feel awkward and stilted in my carefully chosen wool skirt and trench coat, with the long black boots I bought because Jason said they made me look sophisticated.

I shove the thoughts of my ex-husband away and let go of your hand, blushing harder. "Thanks for, well, untangling me," I manage to blurt out. You smile, a slow, lazy curve of lips maybe a little too thin for conventional attractiveness, and tilt your head towards the stairs.

"It was nothing," you say graciously. "But, perhaps you would join me for a drink?" And I'm blushing and smiling as I manage to stammer out a polite acceptance. Out of the station, on the sidewalk, the wind whips our breath away and we quit trying to talk, until you touch my arm and guide me through a door into a hole in the wall that leads into a security-gated stairwell.

We almost make it to your front door. Almost. Instead we're in the stairwell, my legs wrapped around your lean waist. Your lips and warm tongue stroking mine until we're both breathless and gasping. The contrast of the cold rough brick and your warm, strong hands floods my panties with moisture-- I've never been this aroused, this fast- and brings a wanton moan from my throat.

C-12: Stella_Omega
It's like riding horses. Not a free and easy trot, but a wild careen cross — country, where you are standing in the stirrups, hauling on the reins, sweating as much as your mount.

It's like driving the old leaf-sprung truck with manual transmission and no power steering.

It's like driving the train that lunges below the city streets, rattling on rusted rails through labyrinthine tunnels.

It's like the boat on the river; not the easy canoe, but the balky punt with its laborious pole.

It's fucking hard work, and that's the truth of it. But it is so worth it, to transport her this way; to hear her panting and sobbing, feel her fingers frantic on my arms and shoulders, her heels kicking at the backs of my knees— it's worth the burn in my hips, the sweat on my back, the bellows-heave of my lungs. The hot scent of her, the silks of her hair flung across my pillow— makes it worth it, worth anything. I don't care that the cock I'm fucking her with doesn't actually feel anything. Ninety-five percent of me— is feeling everything.

Her breath is hitching, her face a snarling electric thing. All there is of her blue eyes is a glimmer of white between the lashes as she strains towards her goal. Whatever words she spun for me are spun away now. One hand of mine gets between us to feel for her clit, in the midst of the slip-and-slide— it's so swollen, and my finger presses across that heavy rope of nerves just above it, while she arches and curls and shudders and stifles her cries in my shoulder; Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck… and at last her touch is gentle and my legs can tremble with all the effort that they've put forth so recently.

It's like trucks, the great airbrakes shuddering all that bulk to a stop.

It's like conning the tall ship into port, like guiding a racecar into the pit, bringing the freight train into the station.

Her legs untwine and let me withdraw from her, and she reaches down, lazily, and flips the buckle of my harness. Her hands are soft on my skin— but they travel over places that sting, or ache, from the mauling she gave me minutes before. With my arms around her back, I roll over, bringing her above me. I want her heat, like the warmest of blankets, and she kindly pulls up the duvet from the crumpled heap at the foot of our bed, pulling it over herself and me. There's a deep, slow kiss. Her fingertip travels over my face, lifting the sweat-heavy strands of hair away from my skin, and the tip of her tongue lapping at the beads of sweat on my upper lip— and I feel my exhausted body responding, my hips pulling up against her, my head rolling back for her teeth on my neck, and I'm waiting for her hands to travel to my cunt. I'm so very ready..

C-13: The_Fool
Uncomfortable silence. That was what David was thinking. He had never really understood that phrase. Until now. There was an uncomfortable silence in the car that weighed heavy upon him, leaving him struggling to breathe; but absolutely terrified at the thought of breaking it.

"What was that you said?"

Cherie's words had a harsher edge, a tone that hinted at anger that she was suppressing

"I said that Diana and I were…"

"You fucking asshole. You wait until you get me in the car on a ride to her wedding to tell me that you were fucking that bitch. I was willing to go along because I though you were friends with them as a couple, but not with this staring me in the face. You fucking bastard."

"I can't help it if you waited till now to ask where I met Zack and Di. We were together. Zack and I were friends. We split. Then Zack took up where I left off. That makes it pretty awkward for me as well."

David got more uncomfortable as the silence got longer. He kept his eyes on the road; Cherie was just a reflection in the window.

"Why did you split?"

The question out of the cold silence took David's breath away. He hesitated to answer.

"Not sure what you want me to say."

"I'm curious."

"I'm not sure that you really want to know."

"Just tell me."

"Okay…Have you ever noticed how Zack seems controlling of Diana? She likes it that way. Diana likes to be bossed around…a lot. She has a taste for humiliation. I couldn't go far enough. She found what she wanted from someone else. Afterwards, we never were able to go back to where we were."

"You are leaving out an awful lot of details there."

"You don't want the details."

"Don't you fucking tell me what I want, you jackass!"

David flinched at her words.

"The most physical I could ever get was to spank her during sex. She wanted more. I didn't know how. I heard about a cruise where you learn more about this stuff. We went, and I found out that I could not make her submit the way she really wanted."

"And how did you determine this?"

"I…"

"David, you are going to tell me. Now."

"One of the instructors took us aside because we were doing so poorly in the exercises. She worked with Diana and determined that she was a complete submissive. Then she tested me…"

"You are a fucking sub as well aren't you?"

"Uh…"

"Fuck…That is why you are going to this wedding, for the humiliation."

"Of course not."

"Liar..."

David's hands trembled on the wheel. His eyes were filling while he bit his lip. Cherie turned to look at him with a strange expression. She let out a slow sigh.

"Okay David, turn around at the next exit."

"But…"

"Shut the fuck up. You have nothing to say at this point."

Cherie's voice left him shivering.

~ ~ ~

And the rest of the ingredients…um, authors:

amicus
i_love_u_in_me
inlovewithyourghost
drksideofthemoon
femininity (wildcard)
damppanties (wildcard)
TheeGoatPig (wildcard)

~ ~ ~