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“You’re so horny,” I mutter.
Xenia steps back, aghast by my accusation. Then, before I can apologize, she shrugs. “The sex was great. Why should I be ashamed to want more?”
Smirking at her honesty, I can’t deny I’d feel better if I did something about my hard-on.
“I don’t like being inside a car,” I grumble like a pissy old man unwilling to try new things.
Xenia opens the back door and waves inside. “It’s surprisingly roomy. Besides, we’re not living in there. It’ll be quick. I’m really horny after all that under-the-shirt action you did during the movie.”
I glance down at her pale gray tank top doing little to hide her erect nipples. “Yeah, I did tweak the hell out of them. It’s only right that I give them some softer stuff with my tongue.”
Xenia gives me a pained expression. “I’m getting in the back and taking off my shorts and panties. If you make me chase after you with my pale freckled ass for everyone to see, I will never forgive you.”
I chuckle at Xenia’s warning, knowing she’s full of shit. Of course, she would forgive me, even for such a terrible indignity. The woman’s got no sense when it comes to her feelings for me.
That’s why she strips down naked before settling onto my lap. She isn’t a wild woman. If someone saw us, she’d be extremely embarrassed. Even if I tore the person’s eyes out so they couldn’t see anything else or ripped out their tongue so they couldn’t share what they saw, Xenia would still feel shame.
However, she can’t hide herself from me.
Her pussy needs no foreplay to prepare for my cock’s entry. I lean her back between the front seats, sucking at her nipples. Each one pokes my tongue, demanding more.
I never have time to notice the cramped space or consider eyes on her. Xenia’s on my dick almost immediately. Her hips roll wildly, taking me deeper, bringing us quickly toward relief. She rides me to her orgasm. Her pussy’s spasms make me come. Just like that, we’re catching our breath and clinging to each other.
Going silent in the dark SUV, we’re both thinking about how our date’s come to an end. Neither of us wants to say goodnight.
Xenia’s too skittish to handle sleeping in a tent overnight. Even if she was willing, I can’t put Xenia in the woods with me when those assholes might be in play.
The Pigsty feels wrong. A hotel would be another awkward box.
That leaves her tiny fucking place. I just can’t do it. Even thinking of the less-than-four-hundred-square-foot house sends panic through me. The other night, I dreamed Xenia got shrunk up and trapped in a boat in a bottle. I couldn’t find a way to get her out or for me to get inside. I knew she’d die if I shattered the bottle to free her. So, I sat in my dream, broken over how my prize was out of reach forever.
But she isn’t really. I just need to fit my large build in that tiny place.
Except I won’t. And I don’t.
Instead, I leave the SUV and get on my hog. After a short drive, I signal for Xenia to pull over a block from Velma’s place. Once she’s idling, I roll up to her window and tell her goodnight. She looks at me like I’m the cruelest son of a bitch in the world.
Xenia’s as delusional as I am. No way can I park my hog in front of Velma’s house and go strolling across her lawn so I can snuggle up with my woman. That shit would lead to drama. I’ve seen the local elderly chicks flip out before, and they can make a lot of damn noise.
“I’ll be over tomorrow,” I tell Xenia who nods as if I’ve stolen her energy.
As I watch her drive away, I sit on my hog. For another ten minutes, I consider Xenia in her little house. I bet she checks on the cat. Does she shower off the hot day? Is she hungry despite the barbecue and popcorn? Will she read before bed?
I’m thinking that last question when I walk through the meadow after ditching my hog at a nearby park. Each step I take toward Xenia offers both freedom and suffering. I don’t know what I intend to do. Maybe I’ll just sit outside while she sleeps inside. We can talk through the window.
My chuckle startles me. The meadow is quiet tonight. Not even raccoons skitter around. The moon is mostly hidden. The only lights are from the houses scattered over the nearby land. Velma’s awake based on how many lamps she’s got on inside.
I dodge to my right and out of view before she might glance outside and spot me. The little guesthouse blocks my arrival. I knock on the door, quiet-like so not to startle Xenia.
When she answers immediately, I nearly scold her over not being more careful. Except who the hell else would be bothering her?
“You’ve already showered,” I mutter like she’s done me wrong.
“I was overheated and sticky.”
I smile at the way she stresses the last word. Hitching up my pack, I don’t know what I’m doing here. No way do I want to enter. No way can she sleep outside. Is that “talking through the window” thing a real plan?
“I’m just going to be around here tonight,” I finally spit out.
