Drive In

driveinminiDesignPart one of a two-part post. Part Two posted on #WickedWednesday can be found here.
!588 words


Russell pinned me with an electrifying wolfish gaze.

“It feels like weeks since I’ve seen you.”

I stared back, startled, responding clumsily to his declaration.

“Mmn, me too. It’s been torture waiting to see you.”

He grinned suddenly at my obvious discomfort.

“Torture, was it?”

He leaned in.


like this?”

Lips and tongue grazed hotly down the side of my neck, retracing pathways reminiscent of our earlier encounter shuddering through my belly. Suddenly his mouth bore down hard on a sensitive spot on my neck; the sudden pressure, the graze of teeth, firing sensations that arced to my nipples, my belly and my cunt. I dug my fingers into his back, giving him the answer he sought through my heaving body. Flashes of memory seared through my brain – being pinned against the car, his mouth hot on my erect nipples, me on my knees. His dick, impossibly huge and rampant. The stretch of my mouth sliding slowly over the purple head.

The car windows were rapidly fogging up, which, if I was still capable of conscious thought would have allayed my earlier fears that someone might see us. We were not the only couples who had chosen this highly public venue as a place to make out in relative discretion. The drive-in was a popular place on a Friday night, but as far as we were concerned the picture would be background noise. We’d joined the rapidly dwindling entry queue just on dusk and moments before the previews started.

The chemistry between us was intense. All week I’d been bound by thoughts of his lean wolf like face and the flash of lust which darkened those intensely blue eyes. I’d also worried about the size of his dick. We hadn’t done anything more than make out as yet and every time I considered it my mind balked at the thought of being impaled on a member of that size, while my treacherous cunt clenched and fluttered in anticipation.

His hands slipped under my jumper.

“I love your tits.” This too held echoes of a previous refrain, but I gloried in the worship, reveling in his direct response to my firm perky body. He massaged the supple flesh with his fingertips, apparently savoring the youthful springiness and differing textures of my nipples and areola. The brush and pinch of his fingers made me gasp, my cunt pulsing hard in response. He grinned at the sound, and nodded toward the rear seat; “let’s get in the back” Somehow, we scrambled awkwardly across gears to the same destination, folding the seat forward as we went.

The movie previews ended, setting off a flurry of nearby activity as people returned to their cars from the kiosk. I could smell hot dogs and chips through the speaker window, hear the crunch of gravel, the soft thud of car doors slamming and voices dying away to silent rapt attention as the opening scenes of The Great Gatsby began to roll. We began kissing again, tongues meshing and tangling, lips bruising lips in passionate animation.

Russell roughly pushed my  jumper up again and began suckling on my breasts, the movements carrying us backwards into the angle of  door and seat. He sprawled across me, pressing my  body lopsidedly down on the seat as the heat of his mouth and the suction of his lips and tongue make me twitch and pant. I was lost. Desire consumed me and I no longer had concerns that anyone would see what we were doing, far less concerns about the advisability of doing it at all. One leg slid nervelessly off the seat, as he surged against me.

“Oh God, that feels so good!”  Moaning I held his head against me, urging him to suck harder, pushing my mound against his belt buckle, feeling the ripple and give of his compact muscular belly as he worked my body over. I tugged Russell’s t-shirt free at the back running my hands over his narrow waist and firm back muscles, pulling him to me.

Bracing himself above me, Russell slid his hands up under my skirt and under my bum, hooking his fingers over the waist of my knickers and tights. As he jerked them down below my knees the pungency of my arousal spilled into the cabin. He inhaled deeply and groaned; his fingers sought, then found wetness within the damp thicket of my pubic hair. Urgently I hiked my skirt up further out of the way, encouraging his access and preserving my clothing at the cost of his car seat.

By the time the ill-fated Daisy Buchanan was declaring that Gatsby wanted “too much!” Russell’s mouth had descended to my vulva, his tongue lancing between the fleshy folds, circling around the pulsing clitoris, accessed now by the spreading motion of one hand. The fingers of his other hand sought my interior. Knuckles slid easily past my entrance as he carefully threaded his fingers inside, one after the other, gauging my eagerness, and then my capacity as he opened me. I arched up, moaning and hissing.

“Oh Russell! That feels so good! Oh. Ohhh! Ohh god do it to me!”

My own fingers plunged through the thick waves of his dark hair, holding Russell’s face to my squirming cunt as he repeatedly rubbed his face across my wetness, seeking out sensitive places with his nose, lips and tongue. The scrape of his beard became exquisitely raw as the area sensitized under his assault. A sucking sound of wetness, of arousal, sounded loudly in the cabin. Punctuated by our own incoherent mouthings the sounds were interspersed bizarrely with the scripted conversation coming from the speakers, as he began to thrust more vigorously. I angled my inflamed cunt up toward him, pressing hard against his knuckles, wanting more.

Lips buzzing against my folds, I heard him murmuring obscene incentives to come. All sound faded from my hearing as my thighs clamped together. Sensations rolled through me, and my cunt clenched down hard on his fingers buried deep within…

Russell’s face was wet in the changing light of the movie screen as he leaned forward to kiss me, his lips and beard tasty with the strange savour of my own fluid. I felt the scrape of his denim jeans along my bare thigh, his hard dick rubbing against me. Involuntarily my hand reached for his zip. His hand stayed mine.

“Wait”. His teeth gleamed in that wolfish grin as I sat up cautiously. “It’s almost interval.”

Wondering at his awareness of our surroundings (that military training had to be good for something), I reached beneath me.

“God, have you got a towel? The bloody seat’s saturated!”

He reached down into the door panel and fished out a towel, rubbing it quickly across his face, before handing it to me. I roughly dried the wetness between my thighs, pulled up my underwear, then scrubbed at the seat as efficiently as I could. Glancing up at the screen I saw that interval had indeed just been announced, and instantly bright lights were turned on above and around us. People began to alight from cars, walking toward the kiosk, intent on ice-cream and chocolate before the second half of the feature.

I know you want the second half of the feature – the one that Kayla’s prompt suggested, but you’ll have to wait till Wednesday for it now. I have alluded briefly to fellatio and to chemistry in this story, but I regard this as half a complete story spread across two prompts. I thought I was nearly done at 1.30 last night, but when I returned to the story today, I wrote more then, had the need to retire for an hour. So I’ve done none of the domestic tasks I set myself yet, its nearly 4pm and I’m just having brunch!…

I’m not sure how much of a consolation prize this will be but here’s an amusing (and disturbingly familiar) ad I found from way back when. And there’s a little bit of history beneath that.

Drive-in theatres were a very popular venue in Australia when I was a young woman. The local drive-in was not far from my parents house, and we went there fairly regularly when I was a child. Once I had boyfriends, it became an acceptable place for dates (god knows why – there were lots of opportunities for heavy petting – with bushland nearby if we wanted to finish what we started after the film). But generally it was a place for relatively innocent fun – I can remember hiding my face in my hands in mild terror so I wouldn’t see Christopher Lee’s Dracula sink in the fangs…

The choice of The Great Gatsby for this story is a slightly random one – I can’t – for fairly obvious reasons, remember exactly what was showing the only time Russell and I went, but I do remember “seeing” this particular film. Other films I remember – apart from Count Dracula, were Barbarella, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Romeo and Juliet by Franco Zeffirelli, 2001: a Space Odyssey, Rosemary’s Baby, Candy, A Clockwork Orange, Alvin Purple, Life of Brian, Picnic at Hanging Rock, The Exorcist, The Poseidon Adventure, The Devils, The Towering Inferno, Barry Lyndon and Last Tango in Paris. Researching movies for this story I was reminded yet again what amazing films were available then, many of which have stood the test of time. Quite a few of these would scandalise the conservatives of today, and well repay the viewer having an erotic evening in…



16 thoughts on “Drive In

  1. I love the personal touches and added info you share after your fiction. As usual, your story is amazing. The details, the word choices, and the characters blend to create the perfect picture. I’ll be tuning in Wednesday for the rest…BTW, writing this was worth trading in your domestic tasks. It almost always is.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks Brigit, i greatly appreciate the feedback. Catching up on some now, but I have to get a move on with Wednesdays post too as I’ll be at the Oasis (my studio space) tomorrow night and theres no internet there (by choice)


  2. Very intense and catching remembrance, Indie. A joy to read ! In my past experience, cars were awfully uncomfortable for love (and you were in a Mini!), but I still have to resource to mine -or some other’s- sometimes, even at my age 🙂 The advantage now is that I have a big van (I don’t know if this is the right word for it in Australia, but anyway you’ll get the idea of actual comfy space to almost fully spread and/or lift my legs :))

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    • Hi Li thanks for lovely feedback I imagine that with your long legs it would be an issue! I’m just below 5′ and Russell was about 5’7. But that damn mini was squishy! Does your van have side, rear or standard doors?

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  3. I don’t know if “van” is the word… Maybe it’s a truck; it has 4 standard doors and a big rear one, but the luggage space is connected with the rest. Putting down the rear sits, it’s like a bed; very spacy. I’m 5’9 and a bit more (176 cm.) and I feel relatively comfy. I have a mat, some thick blankets and several pillows there, because I sleep there when I’m on the road. *Hugs, dear* (and heartily thanks for being kind to me !!!)

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    • We call it a station wagon unless it’s a four wheel drive then it’s s crv. Why should I not be nice to you? I’m sure you are a good and loving person and you are always nice to me too. *hugs*

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      • Oh… then it’s a crv (American, and therefore, big :))
        As for the rest, you could be despiteful and even hostile to me in spite I try to be sweet, dear… I have some experience of this. When someone treats me fondly, I am always grateful and never ashamed to state it many many times !!!

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        • I have a crv too, I bought it so I could put a mattress in the back and take my grandson “car camping”, plus I’d like to do some travelling when I am able and can’t be bothered with the fuss of a caravan. Hang in there love you are a worthwhile person.

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  4. I didn’t mean “despiteful”, but “derogatory”… My English fails often :/ The reasons of my prevention are clear: I’ve been a fag, and then a sissy and now a half-woman for many. even my own daughter is ashamed to have a feminized father. My mother freaked out with me and once cursed me (as well as she cursed my sister for similar reasons).
    No problem… I think I’m going to participate with personal pics in some of your monthly contest here 🙂 I’m tired of hypocrisy and hatred around me.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Excellent idea, the group are very welcoming. I can appreciate your situation, its very hard when ones family are judgemental, I walk a fine line with this blog sometimes around my daughter. And I don’t have any of the other challenges you have. I respect you for your courage and desire to be who you need to be.

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