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Why I Love my Cadillac
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Coupe de Cooze -- publ. in Adult Erotica, Sept., '90
I had always wanted to be a Cadillac owner, but since I'm not what you
might call a financial wizard, I'd given up on ever getting behind the whell of
that fine American luxury car. But when my buddy Sal, faced with a need for
immediate cash, offered to sell me his '68 Coupe de Ville for a mere $300, I
bought the car and hit the road in search of -- what else? -- kicks.
Sure, it was pretty much two tons of rolling, rusting junk. The
speedometer and gas guage were kaput. The tires were going bald. But did I
care? As long as the wheels stayed on the car and as long as the engine turned
over when I put in the key, I couldn't care less. Here I was, down to my last
200 bucks, barreling down the highway, shades on, windows down, ready to groove
and swing my de Ville. I decide to start my program of stylin' and chillin' by
picking up this foxy hitchhiker, in a microskirt, who waved at me from the side
of the road.
I rolled up to the express off-ramp, and rolled down the power windows.
"Hi, I'm Polly. Are you going to San Francisco?"
"Sure. Hop in."
"Wow, nice car, dude," she said as her ample and interesting butt
plopped onto the posh and electrically adjustable Caddie seat.
I put the powerful Coupe De Ville motor back into drive, and as we
picked up speed, I managed to shoot glances from the road over at Polly. It
wasn't easy to get my eyes back on the road. She was young, blonde, tall and
had a nice set of big, braless knockersthat you could peek at between the
buttons of her man-tailored shirt. She had pleasant vacant, blue eyes, and a
very agreeable mouth which looked like it was just made for cock sucking. She
looked like the kind of girl who was fairly smart, but didn't exactly pride
herself on her morals -- in short, my kind of woman.
Best of all, when I truned my head to make small talk, Polly flashed me
a big smile and a provocative flash of her crystal blue eyes. And when she
mentioned she was studying art at Berkeley, that was enough to tell me
everything I wanted to know -- those art sluts will do anything!
"Wow, this is a really far out car," said Polly as we pulled intoa rest
stop. I had to take a leak.
When I got back to the car I was still struggling with my fucking rusty
fly. Polly looked pretty amused.
"Guess they don't make flys like they used to," she giggled
mischeviously. Then she put her hand on my crotch. "Why bother?", she said
as her face descended to the rapidly hardening head of my fat dick.
I was right about her -- she was a slut! And I was right about her
mouth too -- it was genetically engineered for cock sucking! Either that, or
this girl was weaned on a cucumber. Her tongue settled on a hot, slippery
groove, lapping and licking at my swollen noodle before going all the way and
enveloping my stiff schlon entirely in her velvety throat. She'd hold it there
like she was clamped on, the short hairs of my nuts making little indentations
on her lipstick. Then she'd pull her mouth slowly away from my dick, and suck
hard some more when she got to the top of the dickhead, before beginning the
excrutiatingly pleasurable process all over again.
While she sucked on my weeny, Polly had somehow managed to remove her
shirt. Her big, brown nippled tits flopped into my hands and I rubbed and
gently squeezed her nips as her mouth kept working on my dick. My nuts were
churning and I knew I had a monumental load to drop. Seeing as Polly seemed
amenable to virutually anything I decided to ask her if I could indulge in my
favourite fetish, and cream all over her luscious tits.
"Oh sure baby," she muttered between gulps of stiff, hot meat.
Having gotten the go ahead, I abandoned any thought of self-control
as Polly sucked and stroked even harder and lifted her beautiful tits to my
sausage. Just rubbing it against the smooth flesh between her breasts was
enough to get me going. I shots wads of hot, thick, sticky jizz all over her
magnificent mammaries until they were shiny with spunk. When I thought my
balls were drained and I couldn't shoot anymore, Polly bent over and licked my
balls, sucked my dick and I was hard all over again. We decided to finish up
our 'road' trip in the backseat, which was fortunately large enough to
accomodate all the tatsy, pretzel-like positions we got into for the next two
hours.
I guess that's why I'll never give up my Cadillac -- it's got all that
room to move and groove and screw!
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