Tom’s Drive
After his announcement to his family, Tom goes for a drive to clear his head.
He stepped outside through the door, pulling it closed behind him. He walked as far as his car in the drive, unlocked it and opened the passenger door. He dropped his overnight bag on to the seat and pushed the door shut. Walking round the bonnet to the driver’s side, he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. His vision became a blur as he reached for the door handle, opened it and dropped himself into it. He placed his hands on the steering wheel and felt himself shaking. His tears flowed freely down his cheeks and he felt his shoulders rising and his back straightening. He started the engine and drove. He wasn’t sure where he was driving to, or why, but he drove. He took turns and corners, weaving his way away from home and out into the countryside. The roads narrowed and he found himself parking up, in the rain, in the gravel car park of a remote picnic place. He cast his eyes out in to the gloom and caught the reflections of wet benches and wet tables in the beam of his headlights. He turned the lights off, and then the engine, and he sat, listening to the sound of the rain on the shell of his car.
His mind drifted, and he felt like he might fall asleep. He remembered the last time he’d been in this place, this remote picnic spot. He’d brought Sarah here. One of their first dates. It was late spring and had been a wet day, so there were very few people around. He’d picked up a picnic blanket from home and they’d stopped to get something simple for lunch. They’d eaten it in the car, but then Sarah had grabbed the blanket and a punnet of cherries and had jumped out and skipped off through one of the gaps in the hedges, out of view in to the fields beyond.
Tom had followed her, jogging slowly along the path through the hedge and looking out for his sweet young girlfriend. He’d come across her through a gateway, with the picnic blanket laid out over a patch of long grass, virtually hidden from all angles by a wide tree and the high hedge. She was giggling, sitting cross legged on the blanket, with a cherry held between the tips of her finger and thumb. She looked divine, sitting there; divine, and yet devilish. She had a look of mischief in her eyes, and her words soon confirmed it.
“Do you want a cherry, Daddy?” She’d asked. When Tom had replied that he did, she’s sought further clarification, “do you want MY cherry, Daddy?”
Tom had almost choked. They had talked a lot about sex, but hadn’t had it yet, but more to the point, Sarah had not told Tom she hadn’t had it at all. “Yes”, Tom had managed to say, sitting himself down next to the beautiful teenager he was falling in love with. “You’d better kiss me, then, Daddy, if you want my cherry.” She had held the cherry to her lips, then took it away.
Tom had leaned forward and kissed her lips, and Sarah had handed him the cherry she was holding. He popped it in his mouth, chewed slowly and carefully and savoured the sweet succulent flesh of the ripe fruit.
Sarah had picked up another, and held it to her cheek. Tom had pressed his lips to her cheek and she rewarded him. Each time she picked up a cherry, she’d held it against a part of her, Tom had kissed her, and then she’d given him the cherry.
Her lips and cheek, then her neck, then her shoulder. She’d opened the front of her blouse and invited him to kiss her on her chest, and on her breast. She’s pressed a cherry to her arms, and her hand, and then right down at her ankle. Tom had been dutiful in his ministrations, and enjoyed the taste of the cherries. She had continued to lead him on her tour of her body, before lifting her skirt and tugging her panties to one side, inviting Tom to kiss her pretty pink pussy.
Tom remembered that moment like it was yesterday, despite it being almost a year ago. The way she’d gasped when she’d been touched for the first time by someone else. The way she’d laid back and opened her thighs wide for him to lavish kisses and licks all over her delicate folds, and in between, spreading his saliva and her moisture over her sensitive skin. He remembered the way she’d moaned, and begged him to fuck her. The sound of her voice was so clear in his head. She had wanted him, in that moment, and had invited him to be her first. He remembered how tentative she looked while she watched him undress. How calm as she laid back further, and how her face had winced as he pressed his cockhead along her soft plump labia, rubbing it forward and back to coat it with her sweet wetness.
He remembered how he’d had to put his hand over her mouth to stop her screaming when he pressed himself inside her, how tight she was as he drove deeper, and how wet she became as he began to roll his pelvis over her, taking her cherry and savouring it far more than he’d enjoyed any of the ones he’d eaten.
They’d fucked for what seemed like hours in that cool spring sunshine, with the smell of wildflowers and wet grass all around them. It had been such an intense few moments, and ones he would hold dear in his memories forever.
His phone buzzed. Suddenly he was aware of the rain again, and the miserable wet grayness outside. He lifted his hand from where it was rested in his lap, cradling the erection inside his trousers, and he picked up his phone, looking at the screen. It was past lunchtime, and he had messages from Suzanne, and from Sarah, and from work. He pressed his thumb to the screen and flicked through the notifications, ignoring them all.
He opened his contacts and scrolled through them, passing family members and business acquaintances, until his thumb alighted on one name.
He tapped it, holding his phone to his ear as he waited for the connection.
“Nick, mate, are you free? I could do with having a chat.”