High Speed Fellatio. -The Husband.

It is kind of a cliche getting blown while driving. The reason something becomes cliche is because a lot of people do it. The reason they do it is it is pretty darn entertaining. If I can find it I'll have to embed the excellent version of this Heather from iDeepthroat.com did.

We have done this a few times. The first time I recall, we were either on our way to or from the grassy knoll. We had hopes to retrieve a Polaroid there, and were amazed to have found it in the dark.

We actually originally met in the rat's maze of Corporate America in a place featuring a million dollar view that included the Wrigley Mansion but an environment too cheap to even give us individual cubicles. It was two to a slot, with a 45 degree angle so you could pretend you had privacy.

Eventually, she transferred to the building across the street with no windows at all, but a nicer division culture. Our building had the better cafeteria, or at least Orlando was a better cook. She used walk across the grassy knoll then dash across a major thoroughfare, often in heels, to meet up for lunch. On one such trip she noticed a Polaroid, possibly tossed from a passing car. In a tight skirt and heels, she wasn't going to bend down and get it especially in case the perv who left it was watching to see who picked it up.

She mentioned it later that night when we were inflagrante of some degree. I thought it sounded hot. I can't remember why we took her car, as it had a bad alternator and there were concerns it might not make it there and back. Probably I had my engine pulled at the time. So off we went om a fool's errand, late at night in a light drizzle. We pulled up, she retraced her usual route in the dark and there it was. In my paranoia (cute to her at the time) I wondered if someone hadn't seen her daily trek and had planted it for her to find. Later, we spent a lot of time looking at the cock-stuffed visage, wondering if we knew the girl. Hard to say. We looked around carefully the next Popsicle Thursday, but no joy.

So, armed with some home made porn and some giddy ideas, we went to the nearest Walgreen's where I stayed in the car idling to nurse the battery along, as she dashed in and bought a Polaroid Camera. We had a vague idea of replacing the 'planted' or more likely tossed one with one of our own. I don't recall whether that plan came to fruition, but I do recall my first on-the-fly BJ.

She leaned over, I adjusted the seat back and my fly and she went after it like the young fellatio artist that she was. At some point she looked up and asked if anyone could see. I said no, but had the splendid idea of her removing her panties off, raising her skirt and getting her moon above the window ledge. This position did nothing to make her task easier but the angle and the dome light I switched on made my cries of "Don't stop! Some guy in a truck is looking down in..." a tad more believable. (I was lying.)

The next time I recall we weren't too far from home so waiting was certainly an option, but we were young, kinky and horny and web-cams weren't invented yet. I think the cop we passed had a good Idea what she was doing because he pulled us over. By the time I had "found a safe place to pull over" (read got my pants up from my ankles and sort of zipped.) she was belted in the upright position. Dizzy with kink, and the adrenaline of nearly getting cop, I have no idea what he said about why he pulled us over. A lane change or some such. He sent us on our way with a warning and a smirk.

My current ride cost the price of a minivan plus about $6,500. What I mean to say is I had to buy the minivan so I could justify the $6.5K on what my wife terms my midlife crisis. After said minivan purchase she did tell me that as long as the mid-life crisis didn't involve bleached blond and boobs, I probably could have had it anyway. SO of course I dumped another $3,500 in the car for a smooth-shifting trans and a limited slip differential. I can hit 110 by the end of the on ramp of the freeway by our house. So far we haven't christened it, and I've had it for 2 years.
The car is no virgin though I've embarrassed the odd penis-mobile costing 20 times as much, as well as two cops foolish enough to think pursuit in an their SUV's was a reasonable undertaking. The most sexual thing I've done is driving it in my underwear at 132 mph just to say I did.

It is a goal of mine to get blown either well above twice the speed limit, or perhaps during a 1/4 mile run. I don't think I can cum in less than 1/4 mile though despite the high level of excitement that might bring.

HONEY DO LIST - The Husband

Well obviously any number of places on her body are in a state of flux in their ranking, but they all rank highly on my Franklin Planner. I should restock it since these 2001 pages are a bit out of sync with the calender on the wall.

I wanted a place to list sexual ideas that either we haven't gotten around to yet or that we want to be sure and revisit. One such item was decidedly not really on this not yet existent list and was crossed off a couple of nights ago. Some things seem really out there in the cold light of day. This one felt that way at the time and immediately after. It was however disturbingly hot. We are both still processing the experience and aren't so sure that this one is gonna make it to the blog.

I plan to use this post and modify it in the future with a sort of wish list/ and a place to check off things when and if we get something (someone?) done. If the sheer volume of fairly clever, but totally unfinished vanilla projects around the house are any indication, then this will remain a work of fantasy fiction.

Make her a custom fitted custom corset from scratch. If I ever finish that I'll start one for me.

Engineer a support strut in the vaulted ceiling of our master bedroom to support up to a couple of us. Hang a lovely plant from the hook.

Re-purpose my sawzall.

Turn the industrial strength massage machine acquired from her aunt into a ride-on sybian.

Weld up a cage, or failing that, maybe some hand-forged shackles, or at minimum some hand tooled leather restaints.

I have a vague sketch in my head of a rotisserie that I can place an intrusive member perhaps at each end.

Improve upon my home made nipple clamps.

Do some painstaking (what's the name Japanese robe bondage?)

Set up a photographic studio corner somewhere.

Install a whirlpool bath.

Raise the bed frame to a more ergonomic height for on / off the bed play.

Sound proof the walk-in closet.

Re purpose the hammer drill. Meet a an attractively kinky dental hygienist with access to oodles of that quick-set molding putty.

Attend a local swing band annual 1940's dance in period costume.

String up a hammock.

Put some swing in the swingset.

Put in some very cool against the backside granite counter tops with soft bull-nose edges.

Re-engineer the support bracing for the kitchen table for more industrial applications.

Scout new public locations that afford a modicum of privacy.

Take a nap.

More tired than horny..but only just..

Tired and going to sleep in a costume that out of context of us would be silly, but feels kinda cozy in a way. I am disjointed in my thinking, preparing to doze, checking blogs I like.