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"Stop that! It's rude."
We were at the last remaining drive in movie theater, when
my wife had caught onto the fact that I was spending more time
watching the couple in the car next to us than the so-so movie on
the big screen in front of us.
"How would you like it if someone peeked at us the way
you're doing?" she glowered at me.
I looked away, feeling slightly embarrassed, and tried to
concentrate on the show once more, but it seemed to be losing
battle.
We'd gone to a drive in movie just for old times sake, not
caring which movie was playing, but once we were there, and the
novelty wore off, I became bored. I gazed around, killing time
and hoping that the next feature would be better than the
tearjerking turkey presently on the screen, when I noticed some
fascinating activity in the car to our right.
I'd barely glanced at the car next to us when we first
pulled in, seeing only that a young looking couple were snuggled
up against the near door. But when my bored and wandering gaze
lit on them again, the windows were beginning to fog over and I
could just make out that the girl was down on the front seat and
that the boy was leaning over her. As I watched, her left foot,
bare, came up to rest on the back of the seat and the boy raised
up enough to unbutton his shirt and work at his belt. He turned
sideways for a moment and I saw his back arch as he apparently
pulled down his pants, then he was back over the girl. He
lowered out of sight and a moment later I saw the girl's foot
begin to move with the rhythm of his thrusts as the car began to
rock slightly. Then I could faintly hear the squeak of seat
springs and soft groans coming from the car next door.
At first I was merely amused, remembering some good old
times and the movies my wife and I had missed because we had been
doing the same thing. After a minute of listening to the faint
sounds and watching the female foot bobbing in that old, happy
cadence, I got a hardon. I reached over to place my arm around
Barbara's shoulders and pulled her closer. She made a little
contented sound and snuggled up, her attention still on the
movie. I slid my hand down her arm, around and under it until my
fingers were just touching the swell of her right breast. She
didn't seem to notice my hand until my fingers began rubbing her
nipple under the material of her dress and brassiere.
"Huh!" she muttered, turning her attention away from the
show for a moment. "What are you doing?"
"Feeling you up," I chuckled.
With me at thirty-four, and her at thirty-two, and after
six years of marriage, we didn't do a lot of old fashioned
necking. Why should we? If either of us was in the mood, it was
only a matter of either asking or kissing in a particular way
and, boom, we were in bed if at all possible. Almost always
though, we waited until our two kids were asleep, or the company
had left, or it was properly bedtime and the house was quiet
before we got together. It was still good, but in the last three
years - since our youngest was born - it seemed to happen with
much less frequency.
Oh, not that it wasn't still good; it was simply that our
sex life had become somewhat routine. Sometimes I was slow to
arouse and my climax wasn't as intense. I never said as much,
but I suspected that most of the time lately, Barbara's moans and
sighs were put on too. I guessed that was the way it went after
a few years of wedded bliss, but now and then I missed the old
challenge, and the hard, heart-pounding thrill of sticking it to
the pretty, green-eyed, brunette girl I'd married.
I was sneaking quick peeks at the activity to my left as my
fingers kept idly playing with Barbara's nipple under the
thickness of cloth and it caught me by surprise when she
whispered into my neck.
"If you want to pinch my booby," she said, "then wait until
we get home." After a slight pause, she added, "Either that or
pay more attention to what you're doing."
I gave a guilty start and turned toward her, bringing my
other hand over to cup her full breast. I expected her to react
positively, but instead she pushed my hand away.
"Did watching them get you all worked up?"
Her remark irritated me. "Yeah," I snapped, "as a matter
of fact, it did. Sorry if I distracted you from the lousy old
movie."
She surprised me again by slipping a hand down to my leg and
then up until her fingertips encountered the definite bulge of my
growing erection.
"Huh!" she exclaimed softly. "You are turned on." She gave
a slight snort of derision. "I'll be damned. You're a peeping
Tom. Well, just stay cool until we get home."
I was still annoyed. "Why? Hell, it wasn't that long ago
we used to get it on in a drive in."
"About five years," she said in a slightly snippy tone.
"It's a shame you have to watch a couple of silly kids to get
that excited now."
"Kids? Silly? Oh sure, but by damn they're sure making
that car rock like crazy."
To my surprise, Barb leaned across me to look through the
drivers side window. The car next to us had stopped rocking and
the couple were sitting up. But obviously they weren't done.
The boy's shirt was completely off now, and as we both watched,
he pushed the girl's blouse up and began kneading her tits
through her bra. After a bit, she reached behind her and undid
the clasp and a second later he was busily sucking on her nipples
as she held his head.
"Oh my God," Barb whispered, "they don't care where they
are, do they?"
The two of them squirmed around in the seat and the girl lay
back. Her legs came up a moment later, one foot on the seat
back, the other on the dashboard, his head dipped down, and it
was easy to tell that he was at her crotch.
"I guess they don't have any place else to do it," Barb
commented, still watching them.
I'd become even hotter, and as she leaned across me, I began
to stroke her back, then her behind. She moved around until she
was kneeling on the seat, resting her arm on my shoulder, all at
once absorbed in the doings next door instead of the movie. I
slid one hand along her leg, pushing her dress up. She wasn't
wearing any hose that evening, so as my exploring paw inched up,
it encountered the smooth material of her underpants.
"Hey," Barb said, "watch it. Quit that." But she didn't
move my hand and so in short order it found the soft swell of her
sex and my finger was gently pressing the cloth deeper into her
vaginal cleft.
Next door, they were sitting up again. The boy scooted
over, and the girl swung her leg over so that she was straddling
his lap. I saw her lift up for a moment, reaching down between
them, then lower onto him once more. The car began to rock
slightly again as she rode his cock, hugging his neck and
bouncing on him eagerly.
My left hand was gently rubbing my wife's vulva through her
panties and it wasn't long before I felt a slick dampness
beginning there. I decided to push my luck a bit and worked one
finger under the elastic to touch the soft curl of her pubic
hair, trying to reach her vagina. Barbara jerked back.
"Wait a minute," she hissed. I thought the fun was over,
but not so. She sat, then lifted her rear just long enough to
slide her dampening underpants off and then she was back kneeling
next to me, looking through the window.
My hand quickly went back to her crotch under the dress and
in short I was slipping two fingers into her now thoroughly
slippery cunny-burrow. She shifted to a wider stance to make
that pleasant job easier for me and as my fingers plumbed her
heated female tunnel, my thumb rubbed the firm little rise of her
clitoral hood.

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The couple next door had finally finished, their muted moans
of completion nevertheless easy to hear. They moved apart and
sat side by side, satisfied, but we were just getting started.
Barbara's entire crotch was soaking, her breath coming in thick
gasps as she nuzzled my neck.
"No, don't stop," she whispered. "Keep doing that. Yeah,
like that." A moment later, her hips jerked and she shuddered.
"Uh!"
I eased my slimy fingers out of her, aware that she hadn't
been that juicy since our honeymoon. The inside of her thighs
were slicked with her lubrication and my hand was damp to the
wrist. She sat next to me for a minute, her head back, resting
on the top of the seat.
"I came," she said wonderingly. "I actually came on your
hand."
"Boy did you," I grinned. "But, Honey, I haven't."
She moved back on the seat and bent over my waist. I
almost ripped the cloth of my second best pair of trousers,
unzipping the fly and pulling them down. Barbara hesitated just
long enough to take a quick glance around and then she was onto
my very ready cock. As her soft, moist mouth enclosed my tumid
peckerhead and then the shaft, I realized that it had been a
long, long time since I'd enjoyed oral sex from her.
She wasn't just teasing. She began sucking on me with
gusto, using her tongue and then one hand until I began to groan
and lift my hips. She suddenly stopped and I was about to tell
her to keep on when she told me,
"No, don't finish yet." She lifted her head, then looking
at me steadily, she unbuttoned her dress top, pulled the bottom
up to her waist and slid down on the seat.
"Oh, God," she muttered, "this is crazy! We're about to do
it right in a public place."
She didn't move to stop me however as I worked my pants the
rest of the way down and, keeping low, crawled up on top of her.
My arms were braced on the arm rest behind her so she grasped my
achingly taut manroot and brought it to where she wanted it. I
plunged into her quickly and smoothly and her legs instantly
locked over mine. I went into motion, raising slightly and
shoving forward, noticing just how easily I slid in and out of
her. In seconds she was breathing in short, hard little pants
and cocking up to me.
I'd forgotten just how awkward it is to have sex in a car.
My butt kept hitting the steering wheel and I couldn't seem to
get my legs into a comfortable position. It was damned
inconvenient, but it was still great. I was so ready and so
eager however that after just a few strokes to her warm wetness,
I felt my orgasm starting. As I usually did, I slowed then
stopped, trying to calm myself.
"Huh-uh!" Barbara grunted, pressing the flat of one hand on
my butt.
I gave a mental shrug and began pumping to her again,
feeling the hot pulse of climax instantly taking me over. I was
shocked seconds later by the bite of her fingernails in my ass
and the harsh rasp of breathing against my neck as she locked
tighter onto me, urging me to the peak with hot, lubricous pumps
of her hips.
"Ahhh-gahh!" she expelled, her vagina going more snug around
me, her nails now raking my lower back. Barbara had never been a
scratcher or a moaner but here she was doing both and definitely
not faking her orgasm.
When I was done jerking and gasping, pouring all I had to
give into her, she held me tight for a minute before she relaxed.

I didn't have to ask if she enjoyed it. I squirmed off of her
and sat up, glancing to my right to see two faces pressed against
the hazed glass of the car window next door. They were both
grinning and the boy - a long haired kid with granny glasses -
gave me the 'okay' sign with his thumb and finger as the girl
made a clapping gesture. I gave them a 'thumbs up' sign, feeling
suddenly embarrassed.
"Oh, oh," I muttered as Barbara sat up next to me. "Sorry
'bout that, Baby," I told her, expecting some exclamation of
anger of shock from her.
"It's all right," she shrugged. "I saw them staring at us
before but . . . we couldn't stop."
"Hey, I guess it was a matter of 'turn about' right?"
Barbara nodded, looking away as she struggled into her
panties again. I put myself together again, looking up once more
to see that the car next to us was pulling out. Suddenly I
wished I knew who they were. After all, we had watched each
other screw, and enjoyed the show, but now they were leaving,
still strangers, but with a vivid memory of my wife and me
having some terrific sex.
We didn't stay for the second feature, and on the way home,
we stopped for coffee, just as we used to when we were dating.
I didn't know what to say, or even if I wanted to say
anything about it at all and break the pleasant mood I was in,
when my wife finally spoke.
"I guess I got carried away," she began, almost
apologetically.
"It was fantastic," I said firmly. "Get carried away
anytime you want."
"They were looking right at us," she said, "but I just . .
."
"Didn't care?" I finished for her.
Barbara nodded, her face coloring.
"It made it better," I said thoughtfully. I took her hand.
"Tell me if you disagree, but that was the best sex we've had in
a long time, wasn't it?."
She nodded again, finally looking me in the eye.
"You know," I said slowly, watching her expression, "I'd
like to do that again sometime."
Barbara looked aghast for an instant, then she tried to
repress a giggle. "We're sober, grownup, adult people but there
we were, acting like Peeping Toms and then just up and doing it
in a public place like a pair of . . . of stupid kids."
"But it was damned good, wasn't it?" I kept smiling at her
until she gave up and let the laugh out.
"Darnit, Richard, it isn't funny. We could have been
arrested or something."
"That's what made it so darned much fun, wasn't it?"
After a moment, she nodded in affirmation. "We wouldn't
dare do that again though. Would we?" she added.
"Wouldn't we? We're over twenty-one, and married. What
could they do, give us a ticket?"
It was three months later before we got up our nerve enough
to try public fucking again. We left the kids home one Sunday
afternoon, went to a large, public park, and after finding just
the right spot, spread our blanket and pretended to be having a
picnic among a thick stand of trees. The food was forgotten
however once we began necking and in short order, Barb was spread
on the old horse blanket with her tennis shorts off and I was
humping it to her with my jeans pulled down.
It was a big enough thrill just like that. She was hot and
juicy, breathing hard, sweating and heaving up to me, but when I
lifted my head to see an older couple gaping at us in shock, it
got even better. Barb rolled her head back to look at them,
sucked in a breath and whispered,
"Finish me now, quickly."
I did and when I glanced up again, the woman was turning
away, her chin high, but the older man was grinning, giving us
the now famous Nixon victory sign. By the time the park security
arrived, we were sitting, sipping lemonade and properly dressed.
We laughed about it, denying all of it and they left, giving us a
friendly wave.
Barbara's face was flushed to a pink glow as she said,
"That was wonderful! My pants are all soppy and I'm still
having belly quivers."
So guess what we do for a hobby now? Right. And we aren't
the only ones. In fact we discovered that there's a whole
underground of nice, middle class, married couples who get in on
in public places, just for fun. Care to join us?
Trekat@theriver.com
Ol' Tomcat up a tree, and out on a limb!
Meeowrooowwwr!