Bruce Trail - part 2

I hesitated and, looking back on it, I still don’t know why. A brief moment...from the time the second hand passed by the thirty mark and before the thirty five mark. I hesitated perhaps because I caught her reflection in the rear view mirror looking back me.

What she saw was face covered by a black mask, a black strip cloth stretched out, arms covered by a dark sweatshirt, and....me, her lover.

What I saw was her expression....changing rapidly. At first, recognition. Then, decision. And, finally...fear.

It was then-at fear- that I struck.

My hands knew exactly what to do. No more than a few seconds past before the black strip was wrapped around her neck and tied to the back of the head rest.

She yelped.

I leaned into her right ear, whispering instructions to drive. She moaned, softly, put the car i gear and steered the car out of the parking lot.

Yes, people could have seen all this. Yes, someone....a good samaritan could have called the police. Yes, there could have been a lot of explaining to do.

But, none of that happened.

A few turns to the left and a turn to the right, the El Dorado sat half way down a long alley between two older brick buildings-- the motor still running and the parking lights on.

My left eye had, by now, was swollen a little from being hit by her elbow. Deep red scratch marks ran the length of right forearm. My thighs would show the bruises, from her kicking me with her stiletto heels, for weeks to come.

And, I felt the taste of blood in my mouth.

She hadn’t made it easy for me. Not by a long shot. She told me she was going to put a fight. That...she did.

She was face down on the black leather, back seat. The sleeves of her business suit coat were bunched up from the white rope wrapped tightly around her elbows -which touched from the constriction.

I had just finished pulling her tied ankles up to finish off a hogtie, when the trash truck rumbled by. Instinctively, I covered her body with mine. The truck stopped a few yards ahead, a sound of hydraulics drowned out all other noise, other than the heavy thudding of metal on metal and the metal on pavement.

Following that last routine, gears shifted and off went the truck.

Up on my knees, again, I pulled her head up from the backseat. I could see a pool of her saliva left where her mouth, stuffed and silenced by a ball gag, had been.

“That could have been bad for both us.” I hissed in a low tone. She stared up at me. My focus shifted from her beautiful, pleading eyes to her mouth. Full lips wrapped around the ball gag. Her teeth biting down upon the rubber. The leather strap pressed tight against her flushed cheek.

Her eyes darted back towards her hips. I followed her gaze down my left arm. I expected to see my hand at the end, but did not.

My whole hand was buried between her ass cheeks. From the wetness on my index finger and middle finger, I came to the conclusion that I had, un-consciously buried my fingers and was masturbating her.

Without stopping, I whipped out a silk hood and pulled it over her head. This caused her to buck and fight...once again. I heard her muffled cries which only my fingers to stroke deeper and faster.

With care, I placed both of my legs in either side of her hogtied body. In this position -above her- I leaned over her hands and ground my crotch into her fingers.

All the while, my two fingers continued,until....Until I heard from behind me her un-mistakable cry and gasp. She had cum.

“Beautiful.” , I said as I watched her heels kick, and her legs shiver.

In the driver seat, I adjusted the rear view mirror in order to watch her struggle. I wanted -no-I needed to see her struggle. Huge turn on for me.

And, she did the entire time we where on the move...once again.

to be continued...