The recipe for memorable road trips calls for certain ingredients – good company, great music, majestic views and plenty of belly laughs. Then there are the road trips that go down in history. The only difference between the two is the additional naughty dose of sexual mischief in the car, sprinkled on to taste. Shake or pour, it doesn’t even matter, because if done right, it usually ends up in spontaneous marriage proposals on the side of the road.
Put two hypersexual bipolar people, tipping on the edge of mania, who are insanely attracted to eachother together in a car for 5 hours and see what happens. Mix in the fact that we had been building sexual chemistry for months before we met for the first time that day, and things get interesting. Add in a full moon and suddenly things just get down right dangerous.
We were headed for a weekend in the wilderness. I took the wheel and he rode shotgun. My job was to keep my eyes on the road while he navigated. He even took it upon himself to play backseat driver as he warned me to ‘stay 4 car-lengths behind’ and that he was going to be ‘really hard on me.’ I didn’t know what he meant at first, but it soon became quite clear.
We didn’t even reach the interstate before he somehow navigated the pants right off of me and charmed his majestic snake right out of its cage. I mean, he was navigating so hard, I’d be hard-pressed to deny that his penis was the needle in our aimless compass.
Our emotional and intellectual connection were what fueled our sexual chemistry online and on the phone for months. The real test was meeting in person to see for ourselves if the chemistry was real.
He handed me a bouquet of dried flowers that were later set a’flame in a shamanic ritual. He took off my sunglasses so he could see my eyes, grabbed me and threw caution to the wind. He kissed me like any woman dreams of being kissed. Tender, but strong. Sensual, but hard. Short and sweet. Powerfully and confidently.
His touch was electrifying. He began by stroking my neck and ears while tousling my hair playfully, all the while grinning like a little school boy and looking at me in amazement, as if he’d won first prize. I don’t know how I kept my cool and kept my eyes on the road, but I was determined. This was it. All my years of multi-tasking led to this moment – a sexually fueled and spontaneous rendezvous in a car that had been graciously lent to me for the weekend by none other than my former boss.
I’m not proud of that fact, but we couldn’t resist secretly misbehaving like teenagers in the throes of passion. I was putty in his hands as the car became saturated with intoxicating oxytocin and the windows began to steam. He’d scream my name as we simultaneously fondled eachother, traveling full speed ahead.
Never in my life have I had someone yell out my name with such unbridled and guttural passion. It’s a huge turn on, I came to find out. That, coupled with electricity running through our veins and sparks flying, was enough to force an impromptu pull-off to a parking lot at a popular rest stop.
We didn’t care who was around. We just grabbed eachother’s faces so hard that my earnings ripped off and hair came undone, kissed intensively long and hard, while simultaneously partaking in the longest unzipping of our lives.
Sex in a car, with a console in between furiously raging hormones and all the while trying to stay hidden, is an art. And I was determined to nail it. I twisted my torso and bent down as he leaned back in anticipation. I was going for gold. Under, over, around, twisting, thrusting, caressing, sucking, licking and finally devouring.
His body shifted and thrusted back and forth so drastically, the car shook. He tried to gasp for words but it trailed off in throes of ecstacy. As his eyes rolled back in his head, he managed to finally yell out, “Oh my fucking God, that’s the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life!!!”
In between shifts and twists, he’d grab my face and kiss me so intensely that my soul melted into his. When he finally saw the light and released the demons within, he pulled my face to his as I grinned, “WHO ARE YOU?!” Looks like someone else rode shotgun that night.
I’m not one to sleep around, despite the ever-present hypersexuality. It’s unnatural for me to share an experience with someone unless I feel I am also on the receiving end of an emotional and intellectual connection or attraction. It has to be mutual or you’ll get the half-assed version of the vixen within or nothing at all. I consider it an art and a very pleasurable one at that. This was no exception. He was able to touch my mind, therefore he already had my body.
There is something to be said for those of us that have learned to express our sexuality and have become comfortable in our own skin, thanks to age and experience. It allows for a stronger connection, deeper emotional experience and a more passionate exchange of the fire within.
No marriage proposal, but close…he did end up offering to father my future children after he ran out in the parking lot and howled at the full moon. 😉
I think maybe that is what did it for the both of us. That entire weekend was insanely beautiful and exciting. Full of magic. I think it was the tipping point that led into both of our manic episodes.
When I got home, I delivered the car to my generous friend. I briefly recounted the weekend and explained how he was a gentleman and made a bed for me in the car because of the cold. He cleaned it out, organized it and put the seats down so I could lay down in comfort.
My friend says, “Well, that’s the first time that car saw some action!”