Who Names The Colors

Leda

So——my friend on Tumblr, where my url is the same as my screen name here, wrote me a great little extra scene that spawned this one!! If you care to, you are welcome to read that over there. She is not comfortable with her stuff on Wattpad. It's called Stirring The Pot! It's on my blog!

https://aggresivelyfriendly.tumblr.com/post/175349015713/the-well-rested-one-my-friends-wonderfully

I think this may be okay with out it, or if you want quick smutty smutty smut smut...but it's good- you should read it! ENJOY!!

Jo found herself scanning the horizon for an exit- because if she thought she was going to make it home, the sight of Harry with his hands shoved into his pants disabused her of that notion. She wondered if he knew this had become a unignorable catalyst for her, like adding gold to any chemical reaction.

Or the sight of gold paint now too.

Her mind wandered off the road to the stroke of his large hand over his considerable bulge.

Jo sighs in relief when she realizes the exit is full of fields.

She catches Harry's relieved smirk when he sees her trajectory and she wants to fuck it off his face. Jo's not even sure what time it is, she had assured Audrey she would be home at a reasonable hour. This may have to be quick, but he is probably half way there and the rutted dirt road she's turned down is softening her juicy fruit as well.

She's pulled like taffy, her eyes to his motion, her heart to his song, her brush to his stroke. The lack of reason he brings out in her is so much like her college trips to the Tate when she decided to determine her own reality that she recognizes this may be another time in her life where she makes her own revolution. She wants them to revolve around him, them? Is that possible, no matter how unwise, it's all she wants, like she wants him now, within her.
Recklessly.

There's a tree, she pulls around the back and kills the engine and starts to pull him to the bare floor behind the seats.

"No, baby, there's no where to lay, there's a bed, give me a minute."

"I don't care, I need you, I'm empty."

"I'll fill you up, promise, but neither of us need to be on that cold metal."

So he folds out a miracle of a bed and lays her out to pull off her tights like peeling a banana. "I love that you never wear underwear."

"It's unnecessary." She exclaims. And she had worn tights, but her habit remained from her college days when her mother hated when the housekeeper mentioned the lack of pants in her laundry. She doesn't like them.

Harry laughed while he saddled up. "I'm not complaining!"

There is no foreplay, it's been on and marinating since the scone.

He's pushing in and it's a little tighter than comfortable for the lack of lube, but pleasant in the stretch and pull of the fullness they both feel. Her in her cunt.

Harry exclaims, "I can always feel you everywhere Jo. In the middle of me!"

She decides not to think about what that might mean. Especially because she feels him the same way, and she might define her middle as her heart.  "Yeah!" Is her only response and their rhythm gets more fluid as she goes more liquid and he is talking again. She's never had a lover so chatty. It gets her off more that she could expect.

"When I bought this van," He groans, "The guy winked at me about the bed. I've always wanted to fuck in it. You especially. I have an entire fantasy about the hood too!" He's out of breath by the end and sits back to pull her up to his pelvis. The way her knees fit in his elbows gets her over the lankness of the mattress and that she can't properly work back on him. It's great, the way he is hitting her spots, and she knows they need to hurry, but god, she wants to be his fantasy.

"Do you want me on the hood?' She gasps the last word when the ridge of his fluted head hits her g spot.

Harry stops and stares for a minute, misses several strokes and Jo is miffed about it, especially because the mattress is to soft from age to give her leverage on him. Her whine gets him moving again. " I can't tell you how many times I've wanked over that. Fuck! Yes! I want you everywhere."

"Have me then!" She tries to lean up to kiss him, and he has to help her. After they share a kiss full of heavy breaths and sliding tongues he pulls out of her and she swears she can feel the veins on him when he goes. He is gentle and she is glad she still has her dress on in the brisk air. She's wide awake.

Harry kisses her neck  from behind her and finds her mouth and pops her tits out of her dress to tweak her nipples before he presses her down to the hood. And he chuckles about the lack of underwear again. "Never?"

"Not really." Why are they talking about her weird pants less habit right now? She feels him stroke over himself against her ass and begs, "please!"

"You can't resist when I wank, can you?"

She gets out a no, before he's putting three of his fingers into her mouth, "wet them, babe."

She is sloppy with her licks and she can feel him apply it to his tip before he presses the dripping head, with saliva and precum to her slit, it glances off, over her clit and she moans loud enough to disturb a bird that flies away from their sounds.

Jo calls his name when he fucks into the hilt. Rougher and more desperate than their short lived fling in the van!

"Do you know when?" Harry asks once he can catch a breath over the pace he has set, he says it into her ear where he has leaned into her.

"What?" What was that non sequitur.

"When I started wanking to you?"

"That night in the bathroom?" She guesses and squeezes down when he hits her spot and lifts a leg to the bumper to get more leverage.

After that she can't talk, because he is touching her where only he ever has and talking into her hair and it's the sexiest thing she's ever heard.

"No, it was ages before that, right before, ughh, you feel so good around me, I knew you would. That day you fed me chili?" She vaguely recalls it as a day she felt better, like a human, a few months after Zoe's birth. She probably got to shower or something.  "I watched you feed Zoe on the monitor, and then you got yourself off. I couldn't stop myself from wanking. Remember I ran off? You, with your thick ass and life giving body and tits, made me cum in my pants."

He groans over the orgasm he's trying to stave off to get her there.

He reaches into the crevasse between her hips and the van and arches her back to get ahold of her clit. Pinches it in the webbing of his fingers until Jo is whining and he knows that tone- it's right there.

"It's been you since, when I need a cum, it's your face, and your body and your essence. Nothing and no one else will do, my love. Jo- only you!" He cries the last bit, and the roar is louder than her moans.

The birds around them take flight and the change in the air is palpable. There is no going back.