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| Blogs > big_knob_rob69 > My Blog |
Lets go for a ride!
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Lets go for a ride! One day her lover takes O for a walk, but this time in a part of the city--the Parc Montsouris, the Parc Monceau--where they've never been before. After they've strolled awhile along the paths, after they've sat down together side by side on a bench near the grass, and then moved on toward the edge of the park, at an intersection where in the past there never used to be any taxi stand, they see a car, at that corner, that looks like a taxi, for it has a meter. "Get in," he says. She gets in. It's late in the afternoon, it's autumn, and she is wearing what she always wears: high heels, a suit with a pleated skirt, a silk blouse and no hat. But she has on long gloves reaching up to the sleeves of her jacket, and in her leather handbag she's got her papers, her compact and lipstick. The taxi drives away, very slowly; the man next to her has not said a word to the driver. But on the right, and the left, he pulls down the window shades, and the one on the back window, too. Thinking that he is about to kiss her, or that he wants her to caress him, she has slipped off her gloves. Instead, he says: "Let me take your bag, it's in your way." She gives it to him, he puts it beyond her reach, then adds: "You have too much clothing on. Unhook your stockings, roll them down to above your knees," and he gives her some garters to hold the stockings in place. It isn't easy in the car, which is going faster now, and she's afraid the driver might turn around. But she finally manages anyhow; it's a strange, uncomfortable feeling, the contact of the silk of her slip on her naked and free legs, and the loose garters sliding back and forth across her skin. "Undo your garterbelt," he says,"and take off your panties." There's nothing to that; all she has to do is reach the hook and raise a little in the back. He takes the garterbelt from her, takes the panties, opens her bag, puts them inside; then he says: "You're not to sit on your slip or your skirt. Pull them up and sit right on the seat. The seat is fake leather, slick and cold, it's a very strange feeling, the way it sticks and clings to her thighs. Then he says: "Now put your gloves back on." The taxi is moving right along, and she doesn't dare ask why Rene is so quiet, so still, or what all this means to him, having her there so motionless and silent, so naked and so vulnerable, though so thoroughly gloved, in a black car going God knows where. He hasn't told her to do anything, and yet, on the other hand, he hasn't forbidden her to do anything; but she doesn't dare cross her legs or sit with them pressed together. She rests her gloved hands on the seat, pushing down; bracing herself. "Here we are," he says all of a sudden. The taxi comes to a stop on a lovely avenue, under a tree--they are plain trees--in front of a small mansion, you could just see it, nestled between the courtyard and garden, the way Fauborg Saint-Germain mansions are. There's no streetlight nearby, it is dark inside the taxi. Outside rain is falling. "Don't move," Rene says. "Don't move." He extends his hand toward the neck of her blouse, unties the bow at the throat, then unbuttons the buttons. She leans forward ever so slightly, believing he is about to caress her breasts. But no. He's got a small penknife out, he's only groping for the shoulder straps of her brassiere, which he cuts. Then he removes the brassiere. He has closed her blouse again and now, underneath, her breasts are free and naked, like her belly and thighs are naked and free, like the rest of her, from waist to knee. "Listen," he says. "You're ready. Here is where I leave you. You're going to get out, go to the door and ring the bell. Someone will open the door; whoever it is, do as you're told. Do it right away and willingly, or else they'll make you. If you don't obey at once, they'll make you. No, you don't need your bag anymore. You don't need anything, you're just the girl I'm furnishing. Yes, certainly, I'll be there. Now go."  Group: 238123 |
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Very erotic... 
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