She is spread across the hood. Her skin glistens like the waxed paint. She flicks out her tongue and caresses her full lips, lingering at the corners where the skin pinches together, promising a crease of another sort.
I secure the ropes at her wrists and give those at her ankles a tug against the stakes in the ground. They hold. She purses her lips and pushes out her chest. The bikini barely hides her puckered nipples. I reach beneath her and untie the string.
The bikini tumbles away down the slick side of the car and her breasts fall free. I treat her to three quick laps to each nipple with my tongue; she squirms and her crotch, hidden by the bikini bottom, rubs against the hood ornament. I imagine the taste: metal, flesh, arousal. I’m getting hard.
I slide down her silky side and nuzzle the place where her torso meets her legs. She giggles, the first sound without an intention of sensuality, and I get rock hard. I catch her eye. Even though she tries, she can’t completely hide her smile.
Catching the string in my teeth, I tug the bikini bottom’s knot free, then the other side. I flip it over my shoulder so it lands out in the field. I hope she can’t find it. Some evidence of what we’ve done here should remain.
Now she starts to wriggle in earnest, testing the knots. I have done my job well and she gets no leeway. Leaving one last kiss right above her pussy, I step back to admire my work.
Her brown hair falls in curls around her head, pillowing her neck. Her face is red from exertion and arousal. She has a soft birthmark just inside her thigh. She is completely trapped against the hood of my Mercedes.
I step towards her and gather saliva in my mouth. I bend over her, centered over the hood ornament, and I begin to taste her. Slowly. With deliberation. With every stroke of my tongue, I think of a reason I love her.
For her part, she gives in. Trusts me. Her thighs blush with the blood rushing to accommodate her desire. I kiss them too, savoring each flavor of her skin, her sweat.
Finally I need her more than I can stand. I slide her gently to one side and, for the first time, stand on my toes so I can kiss her. She succumbs with a soft moan.
I am ready. She is more than welcoming, gaped open by the ropes but still tight with youth and care. I gather myself in one hand and slither to either side of her opening, the tip of my cock twitching with pleasure.
Inside, she is a shelter, a sanctuary. I find my way into her depths, pressing my body down on hers, listening for the telltale changes in her breathing. She pants; she wants it all. I give in, my cock relenting where my nature would tease her longer.
She comes first, flailing against the ropes, her face contorting into the beautiful, terrible intimacy of an orgasm. I follow her into bliss. For a moment, the universe exists for our pleasure. Not alone, but entangled.