Not so lonely night in august
Part 2
The humid August air clung to us as I guided her through the gravel parking lot, her body pressed close to mine, swaying
with every step. Her warmth, her scent—a mix of wine and something sweet, like alfalfa—stirred something primal in
me. The dim glow of the bar’s neon sign flickered behind us, casting long shadows that danced across the ground. My
truck loomed ahead, a hulking silhouette under the faint moonlight, and I could feel my pulse quicken as we approached.
She stumbled slightly, her grip tightening on my arm, and I steadied her, my hand brushing against the curve of her waist.
Her short denim skirt rode up just enough to tease, revealing a glimpse of smooth, pale thigh that sent a jolt straight to
my core. My cock twitched, already half-hard from the way her body moved against mine, her curves soft yet deliberate,
like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
“Easy now,” I murmured, my voice low, rougher than I intended. She giggled, a soft, throaty sound that made my blood
run hotter. Her head tilted back, and those bloodshot eyes locked onto mine, hazy but burning with something wild,
something that promised trouble in the best way.
“Ya gonna help me up, cowboy?” she slurred, her lips curling into a mischievous smile as we reached the passenger side
of my truck. The door creaked as I opened it, and she turned to face me, leaning back against the frame, her chest
heaving slightly under that unbuttoned pink top. Her breasts, full and barely contained, strained against the thin fabric,
the moonlight catching the soft swell of her skin. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, my jeans suddenly too tight.
“C’mere,” I said, stepping closer, my hands finding her hips as I lifted her onto the high seat. She let out a little gasp,
her legs parting just enough for the denim skirt to hike up further, revealing a flash of black lace underneath. My breath
caught, and my cock surged, rock-hard now, straining against the zipper. The sight of that delicate lace, barely covering
her, burned into my mind, and I had to grip the doorframe to steady myself.
“Like what ya see?” she teased, her voice a sultry purr despite the slur, her fingers trailing lazily down her thigh,
brushing the edge of her skirt. She shifted in the seat, one leg dangling out, and I caught another glimpse of that lace,
the way it hugged her curves, hinting at the heat beneath. My mouth watered, and I felt a primal urge to drop to my
knees right there in the dirt and bury myself in her.
“Fuck, darlin’,” I growled, stepping between her legs, my hands sliding up her thighs, rough calluses catching on her
soft skin. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” Her laughter was soft, wicked, and she leaned forward, her lips brushing
my ear.
“Then take me to heaven first,” she whispered, her breath hot against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. Her
fingers grazed my chest, then lower, teasing the waistband of my jeans, and I groaned, my cock throbbing with need.
The world narrowed to her—her scent, her heat, the promise of what lay under that skirt.
I climbed into the driver’s seat, my hands shaking as I gripped the wheel, trying to focus on anything but the way her
thighs pressed together beside me, the way her skirt rode up just enough to keep me on edge. She leaned over, her hand
resting on my thigh, dangerously close to where I was aching for her touch.
“Where we goin’?” she asked, her voice low, her fingers tracing slow circles that made it hard to think straight.
“Somewhere we can be alone,” I said, my voice thick with want, as I started the engine and pulled out of the lot, the
night stretching out before us, full of possibilities I couldn’t wait to explore.
The truck rumbled down the dark country road, the hum of the engine blending with the thick August air seeping
through the cracked window. Her scent filled the cab—alfalfa blooms, sweet and earthy, like a field after rain, wrapping
around me and making my head swim. She shifted closer in the passenger seat, her short denim skirt riding up higher,
that black lace peeking out again, taunting me. My cock was already rock-hard, straining against my jeans from the sight
of her, the feel of her thigh brushing mine.
She didn’t say a word, but her eyes, still hazy from the wine, gleamed with intent as she leaned over the center console.
Her fingers, bold and impatient, found my zipper, tugging it down with a slow, deliberate rasp that sent a jolt through
me. “Fuck, darlin’,” I muttered, my grip tightening on the steering wheel as I tried to keep the truck steady.
“Shh,” she purred, her voice low and slurred, her breath warm against my ear. Her hand slipped inside my jeans, freeing
my cock, and I groaned as the cool air hit my skin, followed by the heat of her fingers wrapping around me. My hips
bucked involuntarily, the truck swerving slightly as her touch sent fire through my veins.
“You’re gonna kill us both,” I rasped, but she just chuckled, that throaty, wicked sound that made my blood pound. She
shifted lower, her hair brushing my thigh, and before I could process it, her lips closed around the tip of my cock, soft
and wet and impossibly warm. My head fell back against the seat, a low growl escaping my throat as she took me deeper,
her tongue swirling in ways that made my vision blur.
“Jesus,” I hissed, one hand white-knuckling the wheel, the other tangling in her hair as she worked me with slow,
deliberate strokes. Her mouth was relentless, teasing and sucking, her lips gliding over me with a rhythm that had me
fighting to keep my eyes on the road. The scent of alfalfa blooms clung to her, mixing with the raw, primal heat of the
moment, and it was all I could do to keep the truck from veering into the ditch.
Her hand slid lower, cupping me, her fingers teasing as she bobbed her head, taking me deeper until I felt the back of her
throat. My cock throbbed, every nerve on fire, and I groaned her name—or what I thought was her name, slurred and
half-forgotten in the haze of pleasure. The road stretched on, empty and endless, but all I could focus on was her—the
wet heat of her mouth, the way her tongue flicked just right, the soft hum she let out that vibrated through me.
“Fuck, you’re too good at this,” I growled, my hips shifting, chasing the sensation as she sucked harder, her pace
quickening. The truck’s engine roared as my foot pressed the gas a little too hard, the world outside blurring into
nothing. All that mattered was her, the way she was unraveling me, one slick, perfect stroke at a time.
The truck rumbled down the dark country road, the hum of the engine blending with the thick August air seeping
through the cracked window. Her scent filled the cab—alfalfa blooms, sweet and earthy, like a field after rain, wrapping
around me and making my head swim. She shifted closer in the passenger seat, her short denim skirt riding up higher,
that black lace peeking out again, taunting me. My cock was already rock-hard, straining against my jeans from the sight
of her, the feel of her thigh brushing mine.
She didn’t say a word, but her eyes, still hazy from the wine, gleamed with intent as she leaned over the center console.
Her fingers, bold and impatient, found my zipper, tugging it down with a slow, deliberate rasp that sent a jolt through
me. “Fuck, darlin’,” I muttered, my grip tightening on the steering wheel as I tried to keep the truck steady.
“Shh,” she purred, her voice low and slurred, her breath warm against my ear. Her hand slipped inside my jeans, freeing
my cock, and I groaned as the cool air hit my skin, followed by the heat of her fingers wrapping around me. My hips
bucked involuntarily, the truck swerving slightly as her touch sent fire through my veins.
“You’re gonna kill us both,” I rasped, but she just chuckled, that throaty, wicked sound that made my blood pound. She
shifted lower, her hair brushing my thigh, and before I could process it, her lips closed around the tip of my cock, soft
and wet and impossibly warm. My head fell back against the seat, a low growl escaping my throat as she took me deeper,
her tongue swirling in ways that made my vision blur.
“Jesus,” I hissed, one hand white-knuckling the wheel, the other tangling in her hair as she worked me with slow,
deliberate strokes. Her mouth was relentless, teasing and sucking, her lips gliding over me with a rhythm that had me
fighting to keep my eyes on the road. The scent of alfalfa blooms clung to her, mixing with the raw, primal heat of the
moment, and it was all I could do to keep the truck from veering into the ditch.
Her hand slid lower, cupping me, her fingers teasing as she bobbed her head, taking me deeper until I felt the back of
her throat. My cock throbbed, every nerve on fire, and I groaned her name—or what I thought was her name, slurred
and half-forgotten in the haze of pleasure. The road stretched on, empty and endless, but all I could focus on was her—
the wet heat of her mouth, the way her tongue flicked just right, the soft hum she let out that vibrated through me.
“Fuck, you’re too good at this,” I growled, my hips shifting, chasing the sensation as she sucked harder, her pace
quickening. The truck’s engine roared as my foot pressed the gas a little too hard, the world outside blurring into
nothing. All that mattered was her, the way she was unraveling me, one slick, perfect stroke at a time.
The truck rumbled down the winding road toward the lake, the darkness swallowing the world outside the headlights.
She didn’t wait, her impatience as intoxicating as the scent of alfalfa blooms clinging to her skin. With a mischievous
giggle, she twisted the cap off the Jack Daniel’s, the sharp crack of the seal breaking the quiet. The amber liquid glinted
as she took a long swig, her throat working, a droplet escaping to trail down her chin. She wiped it with the back of her
hand, her eyes locking onto mine, daring and wild.
“Want some, cowboy?” she slurred, holding the bottle out, her lips wet and glistening. Her denim skirt had ridden up
again, that black lace teasing me, and my cock stirred, already hard again from the sight of her.
“Nah, darlin’,” I said, my voice low, eyes flicking between her and the road. “I’m drivin’. You enjoy it.” She smirked,
taking another pull, her body swaying slightly with the motion of the truck, her pink top barely holding her together.
By the time we reached the lake, the moon hung low, casting a silver sheen over the water. I parked near the shore, the
truck bed facing the gentle lapping waves. The air was thick, warm, and quiet except for her soft hum as she climbed
out, bottle in hand, stumbling a little. I followed, grabbing a blanket from the cab and tossing it into the bed of the truck.
She was already there, perched on the tailgate, her legs dangling, the whiskey bottle resting between her thighs.
“C’mere,” she whispered, her voice husky, her fingers tugging at my belt. I didn’t need convincing. I stepped between
her legs, my hands finding her hips, pulling her close until her heat pressed against me. Her lips crashed into mine,
tasting of whiskey and want, her tongue bold and hungry.
I lifted her into the truck bed, spreading the blanket beneath her as she tugged at my shirt, her nails raking my skin. My
hands slid under her skirt, fingers brushing the damp lace, and she moaned, arching into me. “Fuck me,” she breathed,
her words raw, urgent. I groaned, my cock throbbing as I pushed the lace aside, feeling her slick and ready.
Her top was gone in a heartbeat, her breasts spilling free, and I took one in my mouth, sucking hard as she gasped, her
hands tangling in my hair. I shoved my jeans down, freeing myself, and she wrapped her legs around me, pulling me
closer. With one thrust, I was inside her, her heat gripping me tight, and we both groaned, the sound swallowed by the
night.
The truck rocked with our rhythm, her moans mixing with the creak of the suspension, the lake a silent witness to our
frenzy. She clawed at my back, her hips meeting mine, desperate and wild, the whiskey bottle forgotten beside us. Every
thrust drove us deeper into each other, her body trembling as she came undone, her cries echoing across the water. I
followed, spilling into her with a growl, my vision blurring as the world narrowed to her—her heat, her scent, her
everything.
We collapsed together, breathless, tangled in the blanket, the moon above us and the lake whispering softly. She reached
for the bottle, took a sip, and grinned, her eyes still hazy but alive. “Told ya I’d take ya to heaven,” she murmured, and
I couldn’t help but laugh, pulling her close, ready for whatever came next.
The truck rumbled down the winding road toward the lake, the darkness swallowing the world outside the headlights.
She didn’t wait, her impatience as intoxicating as the scent of alfalfa blooms clinging to her skin. With a mischievous
giggle, she twisted the cap off the Jack Daniel’s, the sharp crack of the seal breaking the quiet. The amber liquid glinted
as she took a long swig, her throat working, a droplet escaping to trail down her chin. She wiped it with the back of her
hand, her eyes locking onto mine, daring and wild.
“Want some, cowboy?” she slurred, holding the bottle out, her lips wet and glistening. Her denim skirt had ridden up
again, that black lace teasing me, and my cock stirred, already hard again from the sight of her.
“Nah, darlin’,” I said, my voice low, eyes flicking between her and the road. “I’m drivin’. You enjoy it.” She smirked,
taking another pull, her body swaying slightly with the motion of the truck, her pink top barely holding her together.
By the time we reached the lake, the moon hung low, casting a silver sheen over the water. I parked near the shore, the
truck bed facing the gentle lapping waves. The air was thick, warm, and quiet except for her soft hum as she climbed
out, bottle in hand, stumbling a little. I followed, grabbing a blanket from the cab and tossing it into the bed of the truck.
She was already there, perched on the tailgate, her legs dangling, the whiskey bottle resting between her thighs.
“C’mere,” she whispered, her voice husky, her fingers tugging at my belt. I didn’t need convincing. I stepped between
her legs, my ρ hands finding her hips, pulling her close until her heat pressed against me. Her lips crashed into mine,
tasting of whiskey and want, her tongue bold and hungry.
I lifted her into the truck bed, spreading the blanket beneath her as she tugged at my shirt, her nails raking my skin. My
hands slid under her skirt, fingers brushing the damp lace, and she moaned, arching into me. “Fuck me,” she breathed,
her words raw, urgent. I groaned, my cock throbbing as I pushed the lace aside, feeling her slick and ready.
Her top was gone in a heartbeat, her breasts spilling free, and I took one in my mouth, sucking hard as she gasped, her
hands tangling in my hair. I shoved my jeans down, freeing myself, and she wrapped her legs around me, pulling me
closer. With one thrust, I was inside her, her heat gripping me tight, and we both groaned, the sound swallowed by the
night.
The truck rocked with our rhythm, her moans mixing with the creak of the suspension, the lake a silent witness to our
frenzy. She clawed at my back, her hips meeting mine, desperate and wild, the whiskey bottle forgotten beside us. Every
thrust drove us deeper into each other, her body trembling as she came undone, her cries echoing across the water. I
followed, spilling into her with a growl, my vision blurring as the world narrowed to her—her heat, her scent, her
everything.
We collapsed together, breathless, tangled in the blanket, the moon above us and the lake whispering softly. She reached
for the bottle, took a sip, and grinned, her eyes still hazy but alive. “Told ya I’d take ya to heaven,” she murmured, and
I couldn’t help but laugh, pulling her close, ready for whatever came next.
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