drive-in movie

Sarah’s car was already in the driveway when I got home. I picked up my purse, stepped out into the warm late summer air, and took a deep breath. The smell of green filled the air, and I smiled. I took the steps to the porch two at a time, enjoying the feeling of my long, silk skirt sliding over my stockings.

“Hey, baby,” I called, breezing through the front door. As I dropped my keys and purse on the escritoire in the foyer, she came out of the kitchen, smiling. I watched her walk toward me. Her hair was twisted up in a chignon, and she was still wearing her work clothes: wool slacks, with a sheer linen blouse over a camisole of the same color. She wrapped her arms around me, and I around her, laying my head against her shoulder and breathing deeply the scent of her… the lavender soap she used, the traces of perfume applied hours ago, the scent of a woman who has worked all day on her feet.

“How are you?” she asked.

I smiled, not looking up, just enjoying the sensation of holding her. “Better now,” I answered, as I often did. She kissed the top of my head, and then I did look up, relaxing my hold on her. I looked into her eyes, marveling at their pale blue color. I liked to think of them as being the color of ice long-frozen. I raised my hand, and ran my fingertips over her cheekbone, delighting in the contrast between my golden skin and her pale complexion. I reached up and undid her bun, letting her wavy hair tumble free. The fifty shades of blonde delighted me, and I ran my fingers through the long, silky length. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “Not this week,” she answered. She slid her hands down from my waist to my butt and squeezed, pulling me more tightly against her. I answered by cupping her left breast in my hand, and squeezing gently.

“We should go out,” I suggested, “Before we get so involved in what we’re doing that the time gets away from us.”

“I don’t want to get dressed up,” she protested. She started gathering my skirt in her hand, bringing the hem up.

“So get dressed down,” I suggested. “We’ll go someplace low-brow. I’ll dress slutty for you.”

Her eyes lit up, and she smiled. “Okay,” she said. “You go get dressed, I’ll go take a shower.”

I kissed her. “What if I want to shower with you?” I asked.

“I thought you wanted to go out,” she said, and returned the kiss.

“Fair point,” I said, and laughed. “All right, deal.”

In the bedroom I stripped efficiently, dropping my clothes in the hamper. When I was naked I paused, looking at myself in the full-length mirror. Sometimes, I felt self-conscious about being with her. I was a decade older, and I was starting to see strands of silver in my once uniformly raven-black hair. My heavy breasts, once high and firm, were starting to ride lower on my chest. And where she wore a size four dress, despite being the taller of us, I wore a fourteen.

“She loves you,” I reminded my reflection, and then I smiled, thinking of the wonder of that simple fact. I turned to my wardrobe, thinking. “Slutty outfit,” I reminded myself. I pulled out my purple micromesh t-shirt, slid it over my head without a bra. I turned to consider myself in the mirror. I liked the effect, but it wasn’t quite complete… I went to the vanity, opened my makeup box, and pulled out the rouge. I rubbed a little into each areola and nipple, and considered the effect. It made my nipples more prominent under the mesh, and I smiled. I hesitated a moment. At some point tonight, she’d have me on my back. I applied a touch of rouge to my nether lips, enhancing the invitation they offered her.

I pulled my overall shorts out of the wardrobe, and stepped into them. I was just fastening the straps as she came in from the shower, wrapped in a towel. “Very nice,” she said, looking me over. “And suitably slutty.” I blushed slightly, and she grinned, pointing at the bed. “Sit,” she suggested, “Unless you’ve changed your mind about going out?”

She let the towel fall, and I thought seriously about giving up on leaving the house. But I bit my lip, and sat on the edge of the bed. There is something special about watching your lover dress, I thought, not for the first time. She went to her wardrobe, and pulled out the lingerie I’d bought her for my birthday, the blue lacy boyshort panties and demi-cup bra. She stepped into the panties, watching me in the mirror.

I squirmed a little. My first sexual feelings as an adolescent had been awakened by the lingerie models in the Sears catalog, and she knew this; knew about my fondness for lingerie, knew about my fondness for seeing her in lingerie. She fastened the bra, lifted her breasts individually, settling them in the bra’s cups, I felt heat between my thighs. Her breasts were not as large as mine, but they were beautifully shaped, and her nipples were huge… and sensitive, as I knew well.

She pulled a plain white tee out of her wardrobe, and slipped it on. She’d had it since she was an adolescent, and it was slightly tight, and slightly ratty. The thin fabric let the blue lacy bra show through. She posed in front of the mirror, hands on hips, and then turned slowly to face me. “Are you sure you want to go out?”

“Yes,” I squeaked, then cleared my throat. “Yes,” I said again.

“Losing my touch,” she pretended to lament, and shook her head. She pulled my favorite of her skirts out of her wardrobe, a leather box-pleated mini that fell barely halfway between her crotch and knees. She pulled it over her head, settled it, zipped the zipper. I started to get up, and she glanced at me. “Not done, yet,” she said, and I settled again. She bent over, exaggerating the motion, let me see a flash of her panties under the skirt as she rummaged in her sock drawer. She pulled out her white, over-the-knee socks, and made a show of putting them on, slowly rolling them up over her calves, over her knees.

“Okay,” I said, “I give up. Let’s stay in.”

She shook her head, and smiled mischievously. “Oh, no,” she said, “You wanted to go out.”

I laughed, and shook my head. “You’re evil.”

She sauntered over to the bed, and leaned over to kiss me. “Just the way you like it,” she said, resting her forehead against mine.

I reached up, caressed her breast. “Yes,” I agreed. “Just the way I love it.”

She straightened, took my hand in hers. “So where are we going?”

“It’s a secret,” I answered, turning her hand over and kissing the palm before standing. “Put your shoes on, and meet me out front.” She raised an eyebrow, but nodded. I put on my sandals, and went out to pull the truck out of the barn.

The truck is a 1960 International Harvester flatbed I restored. At the time, I’d justified it by saying we’d use it around the farm, but the truth is, we hardly did any work on the farm, and didn’t need a truck for what we did. We had a rule about not interfering with the driver, no matter how horny we felt, and it was a good rule that we both obeyed… always. So we rode out State Road 60 sitting on opposite ends of the bench seat.

When I pulled in at the Sunset Drive-In, the previews had already started. I paid for the movie I least wanted to watch, and shut my headlights off before pulling the truck into a spot. As I tuned the radio to the station the theater used, she said, “I want popcorn. And a soda.”

I laughed. “You want me to walk to the concession stand dressed like this?”

She turned to look at me, considering. “Yes,” she said. “And I want to come with you.”

I laughed and shook my head, but got out of the truck. She came around the back, and took my hand. We walked to the brick building which held the projectors and concession stand, and walked through the open door. There were a handful of patrons, and two teenagers working behind the counter. It took a moment for people to notice us, but when they did, they didn’t look away.

“Can I help you?” asked one of the boys behind the counter. His voice broke a little.

“We’d like a large popcorn,” she answered, as if there was nothing wrong with us jumping to the front of the line. I admired her sangfroid. “And a Coke,” she went on, and then glanced at me, “and a Doctor Pepper, no ice.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, and she made a tiny moue of distaste. She hated being called ma’am, thought it made her seem older than she was. I squeezed her hand, and she glanced at me, smiled. “Nice tits,” she said, quietly enough that only I heard.

“Cute ass,” I answered, squeezing her hand again. “The cutest ass in the world.”

“You better remember it,” she said, and then the boy had brought our concessions, and I let go of her hand to dig my wallet out of my shorts. When I’d paid, we walked back to the truck, the eyes of the other patrons following us out.

We settled in the cab, sitting together in the center of the bench seat. The popcorn rested on her lap, and I leaned against her, slowly eating popcorn as we watched the first fifteen minutes of the movie.

“Are you watching this?” she asked, eventually.

“Not really,” I admitted.

“You wanna make out?”

“Oh, god, I was starting to think you wouldn’t ask!” I set the popcorn on the dashboard, and turned to her, raising my lips to hers. She brushed across them with hers, then met them more firmly. I parted my lips in invitation, and her tongue brushed them, lightly, exploring.

Her hand slid up my side, found the buttons for the overall straps, released the clasps. She lifted her lips from mine, and looked into my amber eyes. “I am going to fuck your brains out,” she announced.

“You better!” I answered, sliding my hand up the outside of her thigh, under her skirt. Then her mouth was on mine again, and she was pushing me back, laying me down on the bench seat, covering me with her body. She slid her hand up, under my shirt, flicked my nipple several times.

I made a soft sound of pleasure, and slid my hands up, under her skirt. I squeezed her ass, kneading it with my strong fingers through the blue lace, before sliding my hand into the leg and caressing her bare skin.

She caught my nipple between her thumb and index finger, and squeezed hard, and I gasped. “I know,” she said, “that you’re thinking about putting your tongue where your hand is.” I nodded, grinning, and she shook her head, a mock-stern expression on her face. “I am fucking you,” she instructed, and squeezed harder. “Got that?”

“Yes, miss,” I said, meekly.

“Good girl,” she said, and pulled my shirt up, sucking my pinched nipple into her mouth. She held it with her teeth as her hand found my other nipple. Her tongue battered at the sensitive organ, and I squirmed, grinding against her, pulling her against me, needing her. She pinched my other nipple, then moved her mouth to it, pinching the one she’d been licking.

“Sarah,” I begged her, and she laughed in her chest. She raised her head from my breasts, and kissed me hard, bruisingly hard. Her hands slid down, taking the sides of my overalls, and I lifted us both as she pulled them down over my ass. She dropped her mouth to my throat and bit, not quite hard enough to break the skin.

I cried out in mingled pain and pleasure, and she squirmed down my body, biting and then kissing the place she had bitten, visiting my collarbone, working her way around the curve of my breasts twice, down my ribs to my stomach, across my mons.

Kneeling on the floor of the truck, she paused then, and pulled my hips around to more squarely face her. In the flickering light of the movie outside, she looked at my sex. “How red you are,” she murmured, her fingertips tracing the desire-swollen outer lips. “And how wet!”

“All the better to fuck you with,” I said, laughing. My hips were moving of their own volition, rubbing my sex against her hand. She laughed with me, and lowered her face between my thighs.

She caught my clit in her lips, lashed it with her tongue, as her finger slipped inside me. She curled it, and stroked the inside of my flower, added a second, then a third, stretching me pleasurably as her tongue stroked my clit in synchrony with the motion of her fingers. Heat built inside me, and I could feel the hardness of my nipples, the warmth of the air in the cab, and then… the pleasure climbed my spine and burst in my mind. My thighs locked around her head, and I pulled her mouth harder against me as my moment came, and stretched, and crested.

She crept back up onto the seat, and lay on top of me, kissing me. “I love you,” she whispered, and I grinned.

“I know,” I answered. “Oh, baby, I know it.”

September 2018
« Feb