drive me home

All these lockdowns have taken their toll on my sex-life, and of others, the air is sticky with frustration. We miss, I miss, the real thing, that tangible fulfilment, that spontaneity, anticipation, the unexpected, the good, the bad and the downright dirty. The real thing is rarely is ever glossy, tidy, flaw-free, never the beautifully-choreographed dance we imagine it to be, but however messy, clumsy, sometimes embarrassing, sometimes bizarre and sometimes never quite lasting long enough there’s something about it that’s vital, needed, essential which is irreplaceable.

What follows is something I might call a factition, a mix-mash of what did and didn’t happen; wishful-thoughts infecting the real. It’s long, but hopefully not too long.

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Out of the blue it happened one day, one night, leaving me with a tangle of mixed emotions, at first anyway and even now to some extent. Each and every detail is still so etched into my rememberings,  the adventure, the riskiness, the sheer magnitude of arousal felt, the roughness, the thrill, the claustrophobia, the ecstatic opening of both my mind and body; a total rollercoaster moment for certain and one which I still have inklings to get back on again.

I didn’t refuse a free lift home in their van, after all it would save me on a taxi, and it wasn’t as though they were all strangers, a few I knew really well while others I’d got to know on this night out with friends. Six in the back on an array of cushions and blankets which told me this wasn’t the first time the driver the van packed with bodies, including me and Julia, the only other girl in the back, two in the front passenger seat, a couple, Jane and Paul, and of course the driver whose name I didn’t know.

First to be dropped was a guy from the back giving us all a little more room to stretch out. Next out was the boyfriend in the front, though not his girlfriend who clearly lived elsewhere. Julia was the next drop-off leaving me and three remaining blokes, plus Jane, girlfriend of the driver in front. I was growing drowsy, mostly from the motion of the van with being in the back with no windows, was somewhat disorientating too. Despite a few drinks I was nowhere near drunk or even tipsy, the earlier meal had helped, which I was glad about as being rolled around in the back of a van could easily have made me travel sick otherwise.

I was only semi-aware of Jane getting out the front at her stop as I semi-dozed in the back held on a pile of cushions. Jane leapt out at her stop to drowsy goodbyes and the van once again set off rumbling in that way vans do, like they aren’t going to quite make it but obviously do. I was dozing and those left were just me, the three men in the back and the driver. I considering hopping into the front passenger seat but was so comfy in my nest of cushions I stayed put knowing that if I fully fell asleep they’d wake me when we got to my place.

I don’t know how much time had passed; I was curled up in the corner behind the driver’s seat nestled and I roused at something touching my leg through my black wool hold-ups. At first I thought someone had fallen asleep against me.  Brief and irregular moments of illumination partially lit the inside whenever we drove under a street lamp, then it was dark again, being as it was well after midnight. I soon came to realise that yes, someone was crashed against me, and what I felt was his hand and the regularity of the stroking told me it wasn’t accidental.

It was weirdly mesmerising.

I stirred, shifted, but the sensation of another body became more obvious as I now felt a whole hand exploring up and down my calves and over my knees. The engine hummed in the background, the tyres rolling along the road beneath. I might have dozed again, it seemed time had slipped, perhaps only a few second or minutes, I wasn’t sure, before I peered again in the vans gloom I felt then saw the man opposite leaning across and quite boldly running his hands over my red jumper. As far as I could tell two of them were now taking liberties and invading my personal space.

I heard one ask, is she awake? I didn’t hear the reply. The same voice again: try it and see what she does. Their words came disjointed, almost dream-like, go for it.

I started to gather myself slowly into something more alter than what I was: one way to find out. Where did that come from?

The driver, yes, the driver.

I tried to remember where I was, yes the van. It all felt a bit surreal as I felt my legs grabbed, straightened in front of me from my curled-up position and over one of their laps. At this I opened my eyes. I didn’t feel annoyed for some reason, more I felt curious, but also a bit nervous. Oddly enough of all things I could have said I asked if we were nearly at my place yet. I heard one reply from the twilight, sure it won’t be long.

At that very moment a pair of hands slipped right up under my black-cord, flared skirt and to the tops of my hold-up stockings above which of course my legs were bare. I seemed to stop breathing at this point and before my next breathe another hand was over my jumper again and squeezing my breasts. It started to feel like more pairs of hands than there were people. That is, until I recalled there were three of them in the back with me, unless someone has since got out while I was dozing: or got it.

It was happening very fast, so much happening and the dimmed light made it even more surreal. One stocking on one leg was being pulled down inch by inch while other hands kept my attention busy, distracted perhaps by pawing me all over. I tried to speak but didn’t feel inclined too and I don’t know why. Thoughts raced through my mind but nothing came out. I did hopelessly try to brush a hand here and hand there away but truly I realised how ineffectual I was being. It truly did not feel at all real.

Got one, a voice whispered. One what? I soon found out when my other stocking was pulled down until, it too was stripped away that they meant my stockings, as this was followed by, and the other. I was being fondled all over now as I lay where I was awkwardly half held on one of their laps, which one I hadn’t a clue, stretching me out helplessly. Pulling me further on him inadvertently hitched my skirt higher making it even easier now for him to slip a hand underneath again and cup my sex through my knickers. At this I jolted almost upright like I’d been given an electric shock. In my head I shouted, hey! But only after realised it hadn’t actually made it as far as my mouth. 

I started counting hands and kept losing count. Like stone circles where they say if you walk around them counting the stones to never get the same number twice.  It’s true!

All good back there?

That came from the driver, I was sure. The replies were affirmative mutterings I guessed were to mean, yes, all good. While stopping a hand slipping under my jumper I neglected the one scrabbling into my dark purple knickers, not that colour meant anything in this weird mobile gloom. It was too late, his fingers were already edging their way into my sex, forcing aside my knickers and feeling my bare folds and how wet I suddenly was aware they were. I felt small beads of sweat in my armpits, my thighs, my face.

My jumper was being tugged and then came away over my head and from my arms, twisting and contorting me to do so. Fortunately my white tee shirt stayed on albeit dishevelled. I tried to pull it down. ON it was printed the words, ‘comme ci comme ca’. One of them asked to no one in particular what it meant, to which another replied, like this, like that. This seemed to amuse him saying, perfect, because I like THIS and I like THAT, respectively placing one hand under my skirt between my thighs and another on one breast.

Again I jolted, more electricity coursed through me as my body seemed reluctant to put a stop to what was happening even though my mind had doubts, albeit vague and disorientated keenly aware of this inkling of surrender beckoning from within me.

They realised they now had my attention, even though in truth they’d had it all along; how could I not have noticed being stripped and fondled by three guys in the back of a van.

I thought to fight my own body’s instinctual response to comply but it seemed unwilling to cooperate.

One was caressing my thighs while the others seemed to just watch. I felt myself surrendering as my arousal seeped onto his hand.  Pheromones were flooding this van from all four of us, including the driver no doubt.

My ankle boots had been removed at some point and now I was aware of one woollen holdup legging being rolled down my leg.  My skirt was shifting upwards until a hand went between my thighs and another pulled at my tee shirt, out of the skirt’s waistband and underneath and grabbing my breasts through my black bra.

I found my voice again though I’m not sure what I said, but whatever it was it seemed to have little effect on progress. I tried to count the hands, four, five? But the signals my body gave me were confused. One was certainly still between my legs that I pathetically tried to keep tightly closed.

The final woolly stocking followed the fate of the first, being rolled away and duly removed leaving both my legs bare to their touches, their eyes and the war sticky air now filling the back of the van.  They pawed me, rubbed me, fondled and teased, I realised I was in danger of having an orgasm despite any residual misgivings I was harbouring. I knew I couldn’t, that would be such a give-away. My heart raced, pulse followed in hot pursuit, my shirt was being lifted completely over my bra and clear over my head. Thankfully I was still in my bra under which my nipples pressed having become secretly aroused. I was on the edge of screaming, not in panic but in the effort not to cum at the hand of the one still beneath my skirt inducing me too which had now worked aside the knickers and was now touching my bare, wet sex. I felt tight- there and all over, I caught a breath and was overcome by an overwhelming scent of sexual excitement. A finger slipped inside me, between my legs, taking me by surprise that made me raise my hips only serving to let it go in even further to what I thought were mumbles of approval. 

I bit my lip.

Never before have I found myself in a situation with so many hands touching me at once, certainly doing so sexually. I remembered how I had fantasised such a thing, different contexts, scenarios, but never the back of a moving van, even that was beyond my imagining. My body jerked as he inserted another finger, stretching me, making my juices flow even more freely. I could see silhouettes occasionally revealed as half-faces when passing under streetlights, their grins, their eyes, as the van gently rocked as though tempered by wind.

I was tilted to one side and my skirt was now being unzipped; I thought, no way, no way. But it was happening and despite my inner voice my skirt loosened enough for one pair of hands to tug it from my waist over my hips and down my legs to where it now joined I imagine an ever-growing pile of the rest of my clothes which were now no longer attached to me.

Skirt off! Came a triumphant tone, as though to my mind merely stating the obvious.

I was counting hands once again, not stopping them, not shooing them away, not protesting at their attention, but just counting them, three, four, five? Six? Their number kept changing like trying to count the stones in a prehistoric standing stone circle, where it’s said you never get the same number twice. I felt disjointed, periodically detached but then another touch would bring me back sharply. Was I struggling? I didn’t struggle, instead I just shifted in response to each hands as it move willy-nilly across my half-naked body now clothed in just my purple knickers and black bra.

More comments but I can’t for the life remember what they were. I hoped they were flattering at least. My body was reneging on me and seeming to say yes at every possible moment, or so they interpreted, and quite honestly it probably was.  Fingers looped into my knickers and pulled them away before I hardly noticed until too late once they were half way down my legs. Even in this dim light inside a moving van I knew they could see enough to make out my bare sex, now even more bare than before which has already been fingered and fondled and teased so much as to feel flushed and probably very deeply a glistening pink.

I was hauled onto a pile of cushions which I was glad about though hardly the most important thing I should’ve been considering. We were turning now what felt like a long slow gentle bend, the gravity seemed to shift for all of us as we braced ourselves.

I looked up and down along my body as my bare naked legs were pulled wide open. Now I felt even more exposed than I was before, if that was possible. I watched with disbelief as one climbed between my legs his trouser half down already and his cock in his hand as erect as I imagine it was possible for him to be, it seemed enormous in the half-light but probably was fairly normal. MY imagination was playing tricks. I felt myself try to pull them closed again but realised they were being held by other hands. Did I even want to close them?

What must they be thinking of me: a slut, a whore? I had no idea and wasn’t about to ask

Whatever was said next I wasn’t able to dwell on it as I felt not his fingers this time but his erection pushing me open, forcing itself into my sex, into my body, I tightened on reflex but this made no difference but to make it feel almost painful so I tried to relax: as I did so I knew he’d slipped all the way into me and I bucked in surprise. His kin now so close against mine, his body inside mine, naked and bare as he started to fuck me eventually and strangely enough in time with the motion of the van which still even now trundled to wherever it was going, or not. Perhaps we were just going around on one big circle.

How was I to know?

I was sweating as he started thrusting and he did so hard and fast as though he couldn’t wait any longer to sate his appetite for what he’d clearly been waiting for. More hands again, two, three? Fondling my breasts which were still safely held in my bra; that is for what it was worth by now. He didn’t last long inside me it seems as he expelled an almighty half-groan, half-grunt and I knew he’d cum inside me by now. This was confirmed as I felt a small trickling onto my soft inner thighs.

I felt myself accepting it all, every drop, and as though he read the signs he slipped out and moved away leaving room for a second guy to place himself the same. So slickly did this happen, as though they’d practised it many times before, he was inside me, slipping in now more easily on the previous one’s cum. I pressed my hands to his chest digging in my nails: what for I’m not sure. Then I was sure as my hips couldn’t hold back any more and the orgasm I’d been holding back came while he was inside and beginning to fuck. My whole body contracted and I let out a moan, which I hadn’t wanted to do but couldn’t avoid this time. This excited him if his actions were anything to go by as he pinched one nipple holding on and started moved equally hard and fast and uncontrolled shifting my body further into the cushions.

He perhaps lasted a tad longer but not much when I heard and felt his erection pulsing and spilling seed inside me, his entire length now buried there while he did. He could barely hold himself up; it seemed to take it out of him. It took it out of me, for certain.

I reached my hand down and felt a stream of cum from my thighs and inadvertently smeared it over my clit before realising a new face staring down at me and pushing his cock into my thighs which first touched my fingers leaving a trail of precum on them. I am not sure why but I found myself guiding him in, perhaps to save me from his obvious clumsiness in having him prod and prod everywhere but where he should. When he slipped in, even though I knew when he would being I held it there, it still took me by surprise. He was thicker than the others; he smelled different, hotter, chemical lust oozing from every pore.

I thought, god, what must I smell like now.

Despite his initial awkwardness he seemed to last for ages as I stared up at the ceiling of the van, became once again of its motion, the engine, their voices, my body quivered with every thrust which seemed to be enthusiastically encouraged by the others. I felt so small next to them. I was, I am, much smaller, and now at them whim and unrefined urges.

When he came there felt like a lot, he seemed to cum twice consecutively though am sure that was impossible. I was aware how much cum must now be inside me, even though some got away. One thing I knew for sure I was beyond stopping as it was clear they were too.

He pulled out wiping the remaining sticky substance over my mound. The smell was intense now.

I’d noticed the van had stopped, we weren’t moving. I wondered where we were.

Then I saw the driver kneeling over me, between my soaking and sweating still held open legs. He pulled down his zip as though making a show of it while saying something about not being left out. Down came his jeans and his pants revealing quite a monster. It was the first word that came into my mind on seeing it.  In reality it’s not possible for one to make one’s eyes bulge but if it was, mine were, bulging at his size. It wasn’t thick but it was long and unnaturally straight I thought. Men’s cocks can be so different from one another’s.

He rubbed it up and down as though showing it off, making a thing of it, clearly not shy, then reached down and pushed up my bra over my breasts without unfastening it and wrapped his lips and teeth around one nipple. That made me moan in a most unseemly fashion, I thought. It also distracted me from his hand guiding his cock between my sodden legs, still slightly shaking after the last.

He pushed and pushed, I felt myself giving in, letting him in; almost urging him in. What sort of person was I to let this happen?

He grabbed my hips and then thrust deep the remaining however many inches and we were well and truly fucking, me for the fourth time that night. No other hands were touching now, he was on his own while the others watched. It felt so slimy now down there, so filled and fulfilled. I was on the verge of another orgasm and then I did while we fucked. It felt easier than the last but still overpowering nearly making me black out.

he was very vocal, moans, groans, grunts, other words and sounds and whispers which probably included a few swear words. I was lost in it all and I no longer cared. I’d become committed and then did so, all the way in a way I’d never done so before then. My breasts shook, my bum pressed firmly into the cushions, I’m even sure the van now was rocking again although we weren’t moving. He was rough, he was excited and exciting, he wasn’t holding back, I was dizzy, sweat stuck my hair to my head, my eyes were watering with the effort. Another bare cock using me and I let it.

He came quite unexpectedly for me. It was loud. It was wild. He didn’t stop fucking even while he was emptying himself into me. It could have been anyone here I guessed, but it was me, just me, all me, and they took advantage of that, and in some ways so did I.

Once he was done I felt him slithering out of me, a faint sound of two sweat-laden skins peeling away from each other coming from between my thighs. More cum flowed from me as I was now finding it hard to keep what was there inside. I was too drained, didn’t care. I pulled my legs together as one of them kindly draped a blanket over me: a tartan one that reminded me of picnics. It’s been ages since I’d had a proper picnic, I must have one again soon. I deserve it after all.

I gave up counting and drifted to sleep.

© Emmaleela