On the Road to Nowhere?
Lesson 1: IgnitionI'd never been that bothered about learning to drive. My legs worked just fine, thank you very much, and walking helped keep me in shape. It was just something I figured I should do once I was legally able. It seemed my family wanted me to as well, so I agreed to take some lessons, but there was no way that shit was eating into my Birthday or Christmas present allowance. To scrimp on proper lessons, my mam suggested a way around it and I went along with it. Like I said, I wasn't that bothered about driving.
And then I met Edward….
Edward was the older son of a close friend of my mam's. I'd met him a few times over the course of my short life, but never really got to know him. I immediately regretted that when I walked down my front stairs to find something out of my Emo girl wet dreams: a pale demigod with hot mess, longish hair. He wore a V-necked T-shirt— not one of those ridiculously deep V-necks that all the lads seem to be wearing, though— and a shirt on top of that, rolled up nonchalantly to the elbows. He even had some sort of leather—leather!— accessory on his wrist, and I couldn't help noticing a prominent bulge in his well-fitting pants.
Was that his gear stick, or was he just pleased to see me? Cue comedy drum roll!
I barely registered the sporty car behind him. I probably should have; I suppose it was pretty, if you like that sort of thing, all shiny and silver….the realisation hit me like a ten car pile-up: I fancied my pseudo Driving Instructor.
Lesson 2: Into first gear, kicking it up a notch
We were sat in Edward's car mid-lesson at a deserted trading estate, chatting about music. We both agreed that the modern music industry was in trouble. It seemed it was one of a growing number of things we were discovering we had in common, and this was just the second session.
"You wanna see what's on the radio anyway, just for shits and giggles?" he asked.
We both reached out for the control knob at the same time, hands meeting. That's when I felt it: a warm, fuzzy tingle in my hand that I didn't remember having since the last time I went to a house party and drank illegally.
I was in the middle of pondering whether things like that actually happened outside of silly romance films and novels, when I realised we were surrounded by the dulcet tones of the new big thing in music, Lana Del Ray. "Now, her, I actually like," I said.
"Nah, not my cup of tea." Edward begged to differ. "I still would, though," he added cheekily. "I mean, those blow job lips? Lethal!" He then seemed to click onto what he'd said and in whose company. He coughed and then apologised.
Apart from being momentarily taken aback, I thought it was… refreshing… that he would compliment something like that, rather than Katy Perry's double D's, or Beyonce's killer bum, which is what most boys at school were into. I was suddenly very aware of my own lips, biting down on the fullest, bottom one. He stared at them. I noticed, so he looked away.
Down to my breasts.
I noticed that too, so he turned his head to look out of his window. When he looked forward again, he said, "Let's get you home."
I made a mental note to apply lip gloss more liberally and more often in his presence.
When he dropped me off, he lingered outside my house much longer than last time, watching me enter, his eyes everywhere on me. I didn't think it was just my safety he was concerned with. I mean, what was going to happen to me on my own front step? Could it be…did my pseudo Driving Instructor fancy me?
Lesson 3: Accelerating: getting the right "bite"
"Okay, so you know the drill." Edward began going through the stages of starting a car. "Start her up…"
Just then, my mobile rang in my bag. He looked frustrated, annoyed at the interruption. I looked at him sheepishly then took out my phone to see whose timing was so spot on. It was Jessie, also known as Drama Queen of the year. And the year before and well…you get the idea.
"I should probably get this," I told him. "It's a friend most likely freaking out."
I could say he waited patiently while I took the call, but that would be a lie. He rummaged through the glove box like a demented man, as if the Holy Grail was in there somewhere.
"Sorry about that," I said when I was done. "My friend, Jessie, she wants to borrow something to wear from me this weekend: she's so stressed out about this trip away she's going on…" He cut me off there.
"Oh the trials and tribulations of being a teenager…" Edward's words reeked of sarcasm and his tone had changed. I was stunned.
"Wait, what?" I asked.
"Well, it must be nice if that's all you lot have to worry about," he expanded.
"Excuse me?" I snapped. Yes, I was OTR-on the rag- but even so, he did not have the right to make assumptions about me and my friends willy-nilly.
"I'm sorry our woes seem so trivial to you. Tell me, what is it exactly that you have to worry about so much at your twenty-one years, cruising around in your fancy car that your perfect family got you?"
"I contributed to this car" he said defensively.
"So what?" I replied childishly. He exhaled loudly, but the rest of our time together was silent.
When I got out that night, I slammed the door. Hard. He looked furious. I ignored him, turning to stride away. What the hell was all that? In my momentary anger, it came to me: my pseudo Driving Instructor was, in fact, a bit of a dick.
Lesson 4: Reverse
The next lesson was horrible. It was like we were starting all over again ,but not on as amiable a footing. Edward picked me up at twelve noon on the dot. He was civil and professional as he went through the motions, doing what he was supposed to do, nothing more, nothing less.
I followed instructions, ever the diligent student. He didn't even acknowledge my fire engine red lipstick. I'd read in some magazine that red lips instilled confidence. Yeah, right. I was feeling anything but confident. The super-tight clothing was a waste of time as well. His eyes were on the road for the most part unless absolutely required to be elsewhere.
He deposited me just as punctually as he had collected me, merely nodding once the car was completely immobile. I don't even know why I was so upset: it had been such a short time, and I didn't really know him. Even less so than I thought, it appeared. But it still hurt, a mild feeling of sickness, crossed with butterflies, mixed with a little stab to the chest, all whacked into a cocktail shaker and served neat.
I tried to think of some genius parting words, ones that would magically fix the situation as soon as they were uttered, but I just couldn't find them. What did they say in those films and books at this point? I reached for the handle and let myself out. What had I done? Had I driven my pseudo Driving instructor away... ?
Lesson 5:Check for oncoming traffic
There was definite improvement, and I'm not talking about my mad driving skills. Me and Edward, we were talking again, laughing again. It was time. I had to ask him. Before my head exploded all over the dashboard.
"You know, this is a really cool car… " I began, hoping it didn't bring back any raw memories of our recent disagreement.
He smiled. "Yeah, it's alright."
"Bet the ladies love it." I tried to sound casual, as if not that much rested on the answer.
"Yeah," he said, "But you know, I kind of like that you're not so fussed. Maybe you've got the right idea, and I'm sorry if anything I said made you think otherwise. A lot of girls are shallow. It's not appealing. You're a good girl." Those last words from him had an effect on me that I couldn't explain, and that I'm sure wasn't intended.
I recovered myself and got right to the heart of the matter.
"So, you're not seeing anyone then? I mean, you're not about to walk down the aisle without inviting your favourite student?" I tried to make it sound light, but I couldn't remember the last time I had to know an answer so much. Maybe my mock A-level Philosophy exam? No, not even then.
"No, there's nobody," he informed me. Relief hit me like water in a car wash tunnel. I tried to hold in my cheesy grin, but then he tacked on more than I could have hoped for. "I never came across girls with real potential, until recently." I prayed to a God I didn't even believe in that he was referring to me between the lines.
When we arrived back at mine, the make-up bubble was popped. There, outside my door, was a boy from school, Aaron, who was one stalker act away from a restraining order.
"Oh no," I muttered.
"Who the fu… I mean, who's that?" Edward corrected himself.
"Oh, it's just this boy from school. I've told him I'm not interested, but he doesn't seem to get the message," I explained.
"Well, do you need me to help with the delivery?"
"No,I can handle it," I assured him. Aaron was harmless really. "But thank you."
I got out to go and deal with my unwelcome admirer once and for all. The menacing look Edward gave said admirer, along with the roar of the engine as he pulled away, did not escape me. I subscribed to weekly editions of More!: Iknew the signs. My pseudo Driving Instructor was jealous.
Lesson 6: Stalling
I used the wand that came with my lip gloss to pack it on for good measure. I batted my lashes, which had a few sneaky individual falsies stuck among them. It was warm for British weather, so I had planned on wearing a sundress but then decided against it, thinking though it was cute, it wouldn't be appropriate for driving and would look too try-hard. Not attractive. I'd settled on a strapless top with my rolled-up chinos. Pulling away from the curb, I guess you could say I was pulling out all the stops…
On a break, we discussed the weather. Really.
"Mad heat wave we're having," I commented.
"Yeah," Edward agreed. "Have you been sitting out in it?"
"Er, yeah, a bit," I answered. "Why?"
He smiled.
"You can tell. You have little freckles from the sun on your shoulders." At this, he reached out and brushed the sun-kissed skin there. The fuzzy tingles returned. He traced a finger from my shoulder, up my neck, to the corner of my mouth ,and the tingles followed.
"This stuff," he said, referring to the coating on my lips. "It makes your lips look ever so tasty, but I bet it's very…sticky." He grimaced.
I gulped. Was he going to find out? He was if I had anything to do with it! I closed what was left of the distance between us, but my lips had barely connected with his when he stopped me.
He shot back in his seat, no longer leaning into me. "Bella, I can't. You're amazing, you are, but I just can't."
I was gutted: My pseudo Driving Instructor didn't want me?
Lesson 7: Jump-start
"Why can't you?" I said out of nowhere, in the middle of our next outing.
"What?" Edward was confused.
"The kiss —you said you can't. Why is that?" I pushed. I wanted reasons almost as much as I wanted the man himself.
He sighed and took a deep breath as if preparing himself to reel off a long list.
Peachy...
"I dunno. Age, for a start…"
I stopped him right there. "Just a number."
"The family friend thing…" he tried again.
"They'd get used to it," I countered.
"The Driving Instructor gig. They say you shouldn't mix business with pleasure."
"Bollocks!" I exclaimed.
"Wow. That's quite a mouth you have on you, Missy!" he chuckled.
He looked so good in pleasure: I just couldn't take it anymore.
"That's just it," I said firmly, bravely. "I want my mouth... on you." The words hung around us like mist.
I waited.
Nothing.
And then my pseudo Driving Instructor kissed me.
Lesson 8: Full throttle
Kissing with tongues had become a large part of mine and Edward's schedule. And it wasn't just on the mouth: he caressed those freckles he loved so much on my shoulders with his lips; he nuzzled my neck, his breath on it giving me goose bumps. He had a fascination with my cheeks being so round and apple-like when I smiled. He said it was adorable, and he liked to bite them gently.
Touching was a preoccupation too: over the clothes, just a bit under them,my boobs, my legs, in the car, outside the car… We would park up somewhere remote and go at each other like we were the last two Cokes in the desert.
On this occasion, we were out in the country.
"You look so good on the bonnet of my car," Edward whispered in my ear, making me shiver in the balmy evening air.
I recovered enough from his attentions to stroke the paint work. "Hmm," I hummed. "It's a little grubby. Maybe I should wash it for you…"
"In a bikini, all soaped-up, Jessica Simpson style?" he asked amusedly and, from what I detected, a tad hopeful.
I surprised myself by how much I wanted cliches like that, if they were with him. "I thought you didn't like any contemporary music or music videos?" I joked.
"I thought you weren't really into cars?" he retorted, not missing a beat. He urged me backwards so I was laid out on the bonnet. "But here you are, looking pretty comfortable on this one." He ran his hands up my freshly- shaved legs. "God, your skin is so soft, so smooth. And these legs…"
He reached my denim shorts and kept going, over another of my strapless tops. When he reached the edge, he pulled it down. I had no bra on. I didn't need one: my boobs were relatively small and perky. "Perfect little tits," he said, as if reading my thoughts.
He brought me back to a sitting position and latched onto a nipple with his mouth, making me cry out. When he'd seen to the other one, he pulled me into him, and I felt his erection pressing into the fabric over my crotch.
"You're so hard." I could win an award for stating the obvious.
"Mmmhmm," he said into my neck. "Do you know why?" he questioned, and I didn't think he was about to give me a biology lesson on top of the driving ones he was supposed to be dishing out. "Do you know what you do to me? Do you know what I want to do to you?"
Before I could reply, he was at my ear, breath heavy and moist, poised to tell me. I felt myself get exponentially wetter down below when I heard the words. Right after, a car raced by us, beeping its horn. Baritone male voices yelled out unintelligible and, I'm sure, lewd words as Edward held me to his chest on instinct, waiting for them to speed past.
"It's okay: they didn't see anything," he assured me without me even having to ask. "Come on, let's move before they come back."
Those idiots didn't take the shine off his confession though: my pseudo Driving Instructor wanted to make me purr like the engine of his precious car.
Lesson 9: License to thrill
We were in a deserted car park, fooling around as was standard these days, reaching across as close as we could to each other from our seats in the front.
"Stupid seat separator thingy!" I exclaimed, frustrated. I just wanted to grab Edward, to rub right up against him, all over him, like a bitch in heat.
Edward laughed. "Console, baby. That's the console you're cursing. You should really learn the bits and pieces if you're gonna drive a car. That holds the gear stick."
"Well, I wanna hold your gear stick!"
Edward started to laugh again until I reached over and rubbed said gear stick through his blue jeans. "Fuck!" he gasped. "You have to warn me when you're gonna do something like that!"
"Okay," I said, still caressing him. "Consider this a warning that I'm going to pull down your zip and take out your cock."
"Bloody hell, Bella!"
I yanked down the zip, revealing black boxers. Edward was looking down, watching me work. I was up on my knees now, pulling at his parted waistband. He got the hint, and raised his hips to help me get his jeans down over his knees enough for me to have access to his thick erection. I wrapped one hand around it the best I could while I used the other to remove the beads around my neck. Edward's head was back, his eyes closed. When he heard the jangle of my beads, he opened them again. I wrapped the beads around the base of him a couple of times and sat back to admire my work.
"Bella, what the fuck?"
"Now your cock is even prettier." It should have been a ridiculous gesture: he wasn't the Ken doll I had when I was younger, to dress up as I pleased. Only, somehow it wasn't. It was erotic, like me staking a claim on him or something… It was even hotter, in light of what I was about to do. I hunched over him again, bringing my face down to his tip.
"You don't have to do that, Bella," he tried to say calmly, but he was beginning to pant in anticipation.
"I've already told you I want to," I reminded him. Short memory much?
"Wait."
What the hell now?
He brought the end of his cock to my lips and smoothed on the glistening pre-cum that had leaked out of him. "Now that looks even better than that goop you put on," he proclaimed proudly with a wicked grin.
Urged on by the realisation that, beyond the sweet surface, I'd found someone who was just as filthy as me, I took the plunge and placed my mouth over him.
I tried to remember all the rules you were supposed to follow like a Highway code of head: don't drag your teeth, try not to choke yourself… But in the end, it turned out it was true that it really does come down to what comes naturally when you're besotted with the guy. I swear it even tastes better.
I was just finding my rhythm, building up to fitting in as much of him as I could, when he was dragging me back up by the hair. I saw lights not far away. Headlights! Another car had pulled into one of the free spaces a few down from us despite having the choice of every other spot in the car park. What's more, it looked like whoever was in the front was trying to get a good look at us.
"I think…" Edward said. "I think this may be a…a dogging site."
The words sank in, and I was disgusted and panicked.
He got us out of there as fast as possible, all bat out of hell, checking the rearview mirror as he went.My Hero! He looked in the same state as me, hands gripped tight to the steering wheel, wide eyes looking straight out ahead. Even if we hadn't been so shell-shocked, I still don't know if I could have or should have brought the road head to conclusion while we were in motion. As it was, being crept up on while literally "on the job" was quite the mood killer. I felt bad. My pseudo Driving Instructor was going to be finishing himself off again tonight…
Lesson 10: Going out with a bang(-er)
"So, I've been thinking," I announced. We were sat in Edward's Volvo in a more reputable but still empty car park next to the crossroads between my village and his. We were in the backseat probably— not the best place to try to initiate this talk.
"Mmmm. Me too. Thinking really... hard..." Edward's voice disappeared into my neck as it so regularly did. He raised his head and wiggled his full eyebrows suggestively. That almost got me. I think I have some sort of weird fetish. I loved those bushy fuckers. Was it wrong that I wanted to lick them?
"No, seriously thinking." I tried to maintain composure and keep on track as he moved to that spot behind my ear. "And I talked with my mam." There: the mention of her name would surely act like the proverbial cold shower? No: it only seemed to spur him on. Perv!
"Mmmm, if only she knew what I was doing to you, whisking you away in my car to have my…wicked way with you." He smirked, before trailing his hands up my legs, another of his favourite activities, till he met cloth under my sundress. Yes, that sundress. Strangely, practicality had gone out the window and no one was around when I left the house, so it didn't raise questioning.
"What…what are you doing?" I stuttered. I had moved on from stating the obvious to questioning it.
"I'm taking off your panties," Edward said in a "duh" voice.
"Here? Now!"
He looked out the car windows, scanning the area. "Yeeees," he spoke slowly, as if I were an idiot. "There don't appear to be any rogue boy racers around, any unsuspecting parents, or couples out dogging…no meteorites headed straight for the vehicle… I think we're safe," he said sarcastically. I put my hand over his, halting him.
"But, I'm trying to tell you something."
He huffed.
"I think I should get a new driving instructor. A proper one," I blurted out before he could progress any further with operation bare Bella back-seat style.
"Fine." With that, he whipped my cherry-print tanga briefs off like some kind of kinky magician. "But I'm taking the panties."I watched him store them in his pocket.
"Panties? Are you American now?"
"Well, what do you want me to say? 'I'm getting your knickers off, missus'?"
I cracked up at his exaggerated English accent.
"I had hoped to finally taste you, but it seems you have your serious head on, and I have something you should probably see while you do, so back in the front we get!"
We exited and got back into the front seats: him at the wheel, me beside him, newly knicker-less.
"I'm gonna have to settle for the smell of you, mixed with the leather…for now."
I may have swooned.
"Where we going?" I inquired, not recognising the route.
"I'm taking you to my place," he informed me.
"I've never seen your place," I said dumbly.
"No one's ever seen my place."
After a while, we turned onto a driveway, off a main road in Edward's village. The driveway led us down to a house. A house: not an apartment, not a meagre studio, or some shithole digs you share with your mates. It was a small house, but a house nevertheless.
"Wow," I spoke my thoughts aloud.
"What were you expecting?" Edward asked, "A sleazy bachelor pad, a mansion, perhaps a cardboard box?"
My next observation was a second car outside the house, altogether different from Edward's sleek machine, a slightly clapped- out, old-looking— but cute model with character— one of those Herbiecars from that horrible Lindsay Lohan movie.
"Whose is that?" I asked.
'It's yours."
I leapt out, snubbing the fancier car in favour of its neighbour. I hotfooted it over to Herbie. Yes, I'd already named it in my head. "Are you…?" I couldn't get my words out. "This is awesome!" I managed a whole sentence all be it short and succinct.
Edward accompanied me over to the red VW, beaming with pride, enthusiasm and relief.
"Edward, you can't. I mean you shouldn't…" Speech problems occurred again.
"Oh shush!" Edward said, as if we were talking about the bill for a couple of Starbucks. "You know at least some of my background, Bella. I can afford this. And if you're not going to be using mine anymore…" he trailed off. "I thought we could add a sound system. Wanna get in, get a feel for it?"
I did, but I also wanted to get a feel for him. Decisions, decisions…
I climbed into the driver's seat, the seat of power.
One thing at a time, right?
"It's amazeballs!" I concluded about my recently-acquired asset.
"What balls? Whose balls!" He did a quick check of the boys, glancing South.
"You know, amazeballs? You haven't heard that term? God, you're so old!" I ribbed him. "In other words, I love it," I clarified.
"You wanna show me how much you love it?" Edward moved in for a kiss to seal the exchange of ownership. I had other ideas. I pushed him back.
"Yeah, I do." I followed the path of flowers on my dress with my hands, down to the hem, landing on my exposed pussy. I'd been wet from our earlier exploits, and I was gradually getting there again. I was pretty much a one woman tsunami around Edward. I started to play with myself, putting on a show for him.
Edward's pupils had overtaken most of his iris. His jaw was unhinged. "Shit, babe! Do you... do that a lot?"
"Not usually in the front seat of a car, but yes. When I'm thinking about something that fits the occasion." I continued my ministrations.
"And what are you thinking about right now?" There was a hunger in his voice.
"I'm thinking how perfect it would be if on the same day I got my first car, I got my first time too….with you…"
"Get out of the car," Edward ordered in a much more dominant tone than he had ever used when giving me guidance with a three-point turn. He got out himself. This wasn't a reaction to another unwelcome interruption. It wasn't him blowing a gasket either. It was raw need. Plain and simple. The scales had tipped. I followed him to his house door, where he fumbled to find his key in his jacket.
He eventually got us indoors, through the porch, losing our shoes before he pointed to a wooden staircase. "Up there, first room you come to."
One foot in front of the other, I ascended the stairs with him up my ass, metaphorically speaking.Didn't he know that was a big cause of rage on the roads? Maybe he wanted me all riled up, so I could unleash on him…
"Well, look at that," Edward said. "You look good on my bed as well as on my bonnet."
I was sprawled out on his sheets, naked as the day I was born. It was luxurious, liberating, to be able to spread out on a big bed after being used to my measly single. It was even better, being surrounded by him: his voice, his smell…There was something so sexy about being in his room, among his possessions, even with the nerves. I was reminded of that song by The Bangles, the lyrics:
"I love it in your room tonight, you're the only one who gets through to me. In the warm glow of the candlelight, oh, I know what you're gonna do to me…."
"What is it?" he asked, bringing me out of my daydream.
"Oh, nothing," I responded. "Just happy."
"Happy? I'm fucking ecstatic!" He pulled off his grey T-shirt and climbed onto his double mattress. He opened a drawer in his bedside table and pulled out a foil square packed with rubber and with meaning. He placed it on the bed with us. "Safety first," he said, dazzling me with that look, like he did.
"Come here." Bossy Edward was still very much in the building. He helped me up and turned me so I was against his chest. He spoke into my ear, completing the final stage of a fail-safe seduction. "You know, I'm sad I won't be teaching you to drive anymore. You're my favourite student…"
I'm his only student,the charmer! I played along in the name of role-play which was actually working well for me.
"Maybe I can just help you out further with the lingo instead; for example, in the linguistic field of car speak, what we have right here," he ran his huge hands, all long fingers, over my torso, "is a great, streamlined body. Plenty of junk in the trunk though." He inched back slightly to deliver a light spank to my ass.
I squeaked like an un-oiled hinge.
He took my hand from behind me and placed it on his throbbing cock. "Superb handling…"
Okay, enough of that! I spun round to plant my lips on him heatedly.
Covering my body with his as we aligned horizontally, he reflected my happiness right back at me, along with my lust. We were green lit the whole way! Finally, my pseudo Driving Instructor was about to be just that: mine.
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