“It’s not a road trip unless you dangle your feet out the window driving down the highway!” she yells over the music and the wind rushing through the car. Her hair is pulled into one braid this time, but the wind keeps pushing the stray strands all around her face.

“You’re right,” I say, pressing on the gas, “and on a true road trip you also have to f**k with a truck driver.”

Her hair slaps her across the face again when she turns her head.

“Huh?”

I grin. “Yep.” I tap my fingers on the steering wheel to the music. “It’s mandatory. Didn’t you know—you have to do one of three things: one—.” I hold up one finger. “You have to moon one.”

Her blue eyes grow big in her head.

“Two: we have to drive next to one while you pretend to be touching yourself.”

Her eyes get even bigger and her mouth falls open.

“Or three: simply pump your arm—,” I raise my arm up and down with my fist in the air, “to get him to blow his horn.”

Relief washes over her.

“Alright,” she says and a mysterious smile curves the corners of her lips, “the next one we see, I’ll consummate this road trip by f**king with a truck driver.” She says it indisputably.

Ten minutes later, our victim—well, ‘lucky bastard’ is more like it; it is Camryn, after all—comes into view out ahead. We’re on a long stretch of straight highway tearing through a flat, treeless landscape on each side. We gain on the semi and keep a steady sixty-five-mile per hour pace behind him. Camryn, wearing those skimpy-as-hell white cotton shorts that I love so much, unfolds her legs from the seat and drops her feet onto the floorboard. She’s grinning wickedly and it’s kind of turning me on.

“Are you ready?” I ask, turning the music down a little.

Camryn nods and I look out my rearview and side mirrors first and then out ahead at the oncoming lane to make sure no vehicles are coming in either direction.

As I pull out from behind the semi and move over into the oncoming lane, Camryn slides her right hand down inside the front of her shorts.

I have an instant hard-on.

I thought she’d do the safe horn-pulling thing for sure!

I grin darkly over at her with all kinds of perverted thoughts swimming around in my head and she grins right back at me. I press the gas a little harder and gradually speed up until we’re level with the truck driver’s window.

Oh my f**king God….

Camryn’s hand moves gently, but visibly underneath the thin fabric of her shorts; the index finger and thumb of her left hand is wedged behind the elastic, pulling it down enough to see her bare stomach. She leans her head back against the seat and slides down a little further. I’m almost too distracted to keep my eyes on the road. She bites her bottom lip and moves her fingers more furiously underneath her shorts. I’m starting to think she’s not pretending at all. I’m so hard right now my dick can cut diamonds.

The semi is keeping pace, too. Distracted by Camryn, I didn’t notice when my foot was slowly releasing on the gas and when the speedometer started to drop a couple of notches, so did the semi’s speed.

A howling, gruff voice shouts from the semi’s window: “Holy hot-damn! Gonna’ give me a fuckin’ heart attack, baby! Whoo-hoo!” He pulls on his loud horn excitedly.

Feeling a pang of possession, I drop from sixty-five to forty-five and fall back behind the truck. Just in time, too, as a van is coming up in the opposite lane.

I look over at Camryn knowing I must have crazy eyes. She pulls her hand from her shorts and just smiles at me.

“I didn’t expect that!”

“That’s exactly why I did it,” she says, propping her feet back on the car door and blocking the side mirror with her toes.

“Were you really…actually touching yourself?”

Forty-five miles per hour has dropped to forty now. My heart is humming against my ribcage.

“Yeah, I did,” she says, “but I wasn’t doing it for the truck driver.”

Her grin deepens as she pulls away a few strands of hair that have blown between her lips. I can’t help but watch her lips, studying them, wanting to bite and kiss them.

“Well, not that I’m complaining,” I say, trying to pay attention to the road and not get us killed, “but now I have a…bit of a problem.”

Camryn’s gaze falls on my lap and then she looks up at me again, cocking her head to one side with a look of mischief and seduction. Then she moves across the seat toward me and grabs a handful between my legs. Now my heart is banging against my ribcage. I’m white-knuckling the steering wheel with both hands. She kisses my neck and then my jawline and moves her lips to the shell of my ear. Goosebumps rape me.

She starts to unzip my shorts.

“You’ve helped me with my ‘problems’,” she whispers into my ear and then bites my neck again. “It’s only fair that I return the favor.”

She looks up at me.

I just nod stupidly because I can’t think with the head on my shoulders long enough to form a sentence right now.

I press my back further against the seat as she takes the length of me into her hand and lowers her head between my stomach and the steering wheel. My body lurches a little when I feel her tongue snake out to lick it. Oh my f**king God…Oh my f**king God…I don’t know how I’m going to drive….

When she slides me into the back of her throat I shudder, my head falls back some, still trying to keep my eyes on the road, and my mouth falls open. I’m only white-knuckling the wheel now with my left hand; as she sucks me harder and faster, my right hand has slid away from the wheel and is gripping the back of her head, her blonde hair wedged within my clinging fingers.

Forty miles per hour has become fifty.

By sixty, my legs are shaking and I can’t see straight. I grip the wheel with both hands again, trying to maintain some kind of control over something, especially the damn car, and I let out a gasp and moan as I come.

~~~

I managed not to kill us on the highway after Camryn’s toe-curling head-job. We’re in Galveston by morning and she’s still passed out across the seat with her legs hanging partially on the floorboard. I don’t bother to wake her yet. I drive slowly past my mom’s house first, noting that her car isn’t in the driveway so that means she’s working at the bank today. To kill time, I drive the long way to my apartment, passing down 53rd. Camryn didn’t get much sleep last night, but I guess the car moving slower than usual is enough to wake her anyway. She starts stirring before I pull into my complex at Park at Cedar Lawn.

She raises her beautiful blonde head from the seat and when I see her face, a ripple of laughter bursts lightly through my lips.

She cocks her already crazy-just-woke-up head to one side and grumbles, “What’s so funny?”

I smile. “Yeah, her name’s Georgia.”

Her brow rises a little higher.

I laugh lightly and kiss her softly on the lips.

While Camryn is in the shower I work my way through every visible inch of my apartment in search of anything incriminating: disgusting, crusty socks (found one at the foot of my bed), unopened condom wrappers (have a box full on my nightstand—I stuff them in the very bottom of the trash), opened condom wrappers (two in the wastebasket in my room), more dirty clothes and one p*rn magazine (Shit! That’s on the back of the toilet—undoubtedly she’s already seen it).

Then I wash the few dirty dishes that I left in the sink before I left out and sit down in the living room to give my mom a call.