Need For Speed: Anchor (Not Safe For Work)

Need For Speed: Anchor (NSFW)

On, and on, and on the conspiracies went.

I wonder who they could be talking about, 'cause it sure ain't me.

All the same, I know some more racin' and fuckin' with the cops happened after everyone cleared out.

Our crew stayed behind to clean up, obviously. Spike had a sugar crash around 02:16; flat on his face and unmoveable. Manu had to leave around 04:50 to go home and do whatever it is that Manu do. Robyn has a job, so she left right around sunrise. Amy practically sleeps in the garage (It's one of the reasons why she needs it so clean!). And, I ain't got nowhere to be for the next three days, sooo...

So, Amy and I both stuck around, cleaned the place up, carried Spike to the foldout couch, and tucked him in.

"Alright, demon!" Amy said to me, after we'd put Spike to bed. "Now it's your turn to tuck me in." And, she climbed the hidden ladder that led to her hidden loft right above her personal work area.

This wasn't our first time. I'd spent a lot of time in the garage not just cleaning, but also tuning Betsy (the BRZ I've been running on these streets...), running parts for the whole crew, and... Well... And, spending time with Amy. So, I knew the "Demon" call...

I follow her up to her hidey-hole, and, though I'm only moments behind her, she's already out of her overalls and down to a sports bra (no panties... She doesn't believe in them...). I go to her, slowly, as to not knock my head on the wrought-iron trusses (A mistake I've made before in haste...). She lies back on her mattress. CARS plushies scattered all about. All of them with smears of cunny-juice where she likes to grind one out. And, it's a sight that makes me rock hard every time I see those plushies!

She rolls over onto her stomach, pantiless, and says, "I need a rubdown tonight. Been a tense week."

Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am. I tell her in my head.

"And, don't mess up my hair this time!"

"You already know that's impossible with the way you be grabbin' at me mid-coitus, my dear," I say to her.

She chuckles a little. "Don't say coitus, nerd. Alright. Hair be damned, just give me my rubdown."

"You want your marula? Or, just the baby oil?" I asked her.

"Save the baby oil," she replied. "I'm not in the mood for butt-stuff tonight, day... Whatever time it is. Just rub me down, and fuck me hard."

Yes, ma'am! Right away, ma'am!

As the sounds of the city waking up began to enter the loft in the hidden garage, I unbuckled my party-jeans, and doffed my party-shirt, and grabbed the bottle of marula oil from her nightstand. I also don't wear underwear much, so...

As I straddled her, my balls tucked neatly between her spread thighs while my cock (already excited) sat perfectly in the crack of her perfect ass cheeks as I applied a layer of oil upon her perfectly sculpted back—lats to put a surfer to shame. As I begin to rub the oil in, she just melts into her own bed with deep moans of relief.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Yeah!" She responds.

"I ain't even started massaging yet!"

Amy rips her sports bra off (still belly-down), then tries to turn around while I'm atop her. But, I held her down with a handful of her hair at the nape of her neck. I don't jerk it. She ain't into that. (Like I said. This ain't our first time, and Cloud learns quick.)

No ma'am! The hold says to her. No words needed when you've danced her dance long enough.

I use my fistful of hair to turn her mouth toward mine and kiss her.