M5

We joined the motorway just outside Gloucester, easing our little Kia between two enormous lorries rumbling along the inside lane. After flicking on the right-hand indicator and navigating a path out into clearer waters, I moved my hand onto Liv’s thigh and up under the hem of her dress.

“What’s this??” I glanced over and tugged accusingly at the lacy material under my fingers. Liv assumed a look of beatific innocence, but didn’t reply. “You know the rules…”

And the rules on this were clear: no underwear on long journeys. Especially not journeys that involved long stretches of quiet motorway driving, when my left hand was free to wander wherever it pleased. I’m a careful driver, and I’d never put either of us at risk for the sake of an orgasm, but when the road ahead is empty and we’re cruising along at a steady speed with no hazards in sight, there’s nothing I’d rather do to pass the time than find Liv’s cunt with my fingers and just…play.

Knickers didn’t make that impossible, of course, but they increased the degree of difficulty just enough to be annoying – at 80mph, ease of access was a pretty important consideration.

Liv didn’t need any further encouragement to wriggle out of hers, and after stuffing them into the pocket halfway up the passenger door, she settled back into her seat, legs spread wide.

I love those first few moments of exploration, when I get to find out just how wet she is already. On this occasion, her labia felt smooth and soft, the skin warm to the touch. She was relaxed rather than squirmingly horny though, so I slid one finger into my mouth and coated it with saliva, before moving it back between her legs.

This time, I pushed the tip carefully down along her cunt and stroked back up towards her clit. It’s always tempting to make Liv come really quickly – when the sun’s on her skin and she can grind against my fingers, I’m lucky enough that I never have to work for it – but with the luxury of time and an open road in front of us, I tried to keep my touch light, avoiding her clit as she first dipped her chin forward then straightened and settled against the headrest.

“That van we’re about to overtake,” I said, with a nod over towards the middle lane.

“Mm-hmm?”

“Whoever’s in the driver’s seat is definitely going to see you getting fingered as we drive past. You know that, right?”

Liv said nothing, but turned lazily to look out of the closed passenger window. I lifted my left hand away from her cunt and increased the volume on the stereo, then used it to keep the steering wheel steady while I hit the button next to me with my right. Immediately the wind rushed in, blowing her hair across her face as I licked my fingers again and returned them to her clit.

We cruised past the van just before a fresh convoy of cars and lorries entered the motorway from the slip road at Junction 13. Gunning the accelerator, I nudged us beyond the traffic once more, keeping my eyes firmly on the road as my middle and ring fingers hooked inside Liv’s cunt for the first time.

I flexed my fingertips against her slick inner walls and felt her pubic bone press down onto the first joint. The urge to push them all the way inside made me dig my thumb and little finger into her thighs – there’s rarely any resistance, and filling Liv up is always so satisfying, but it’s also best saved for occasions when I can stretch her out and finger-fuck her properly.

On the stereo, our summer holiday playlist skipped from Amy Winehouse to Bruce Springsteen, and I ground the heel of my hand into the wispy hair above Liv’s cunt as the harmonica began to play.

‘The screen door slams / Mary’s dress waves / Like a vision she dances across the porch…’ – I mouthed the words, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter with my right hand. Liv shifted position, so I let my fingers drop out of her, and moved them up to spread her open again. The anticipation we both feel when her clit is exposed and ready like that is so hot; her hands invariably ball into tight little fists, and I get a little giddy with the power it suddenly gives me.

I barely registered the turning for Thornbury, the last junction before the Almondsbury interchange with the M4 on the outskirts of Bristol. As the traffic increased though, so did the speed and volume of Liv’s breathing, and I knew she no longer cared whether anyone could see her as we swept past in the outside lane.

Her face was bathed in sunlight, and her mouth opened slightly when I circled two fingers around her clit. “All those bored passengers on long journeys,” I said, nodding towards the road next to us. “I bet they’d love to watch you come. Bet you’d love that too.”

Liv nodded jerkily, and I slid a finger down to feel the seat getting wet under her. ‘Every demon wants his pound of flesh,’ sang Florence Welch, the volume high enough to make the car thump in time to her beat. I pressed harder and felt Liv respond, her body tensing with every rotation of my fingertips on her skin.

‘Shake it out, shake it out’ – I joined in with the chorus and smiled at the sight of brake lights starting to flash in turn ahead of us.

“We might not get lucky with the traffic after all,” I said, half-turning to face Liv as I took my right foot off the accelerator. “And I’m going to need this hand to change gear. Looks like you’ll just have to wait…”

Her eyes opened wide behind her sunglasses, and I felt her thighs clamp tight around my fingers. I measured the distance to the car in front of us and watched the approaching queue draw closer together. Liv pushed her tits out towards the windscreen as her whole body began to stiffen. We slowed to a crawl and I gently lifted my hand away from her crotch, then changed down from fifth to second.

“…it’s ok though – won’t take us more than an hour to get through Bristol.”