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I place my phone into the holder mounted on the dash when a new message lights up my screen.
“Driving?”Butterflies dance in my belly with his follow up message.“Go Live.”
I don’t right away. The cars are moving around me, and I focus on driving for several blocks until I’m at another light.
The request shuts off my GPS, but I practically have the route memorized just in case and switch to the live option in our chat. His screen is black, but I can see the thumbnail sized video of me behind the wheel from the neck down. Not an intentional angle. Unlike him, he’s seen my face, but the holder must have jostled down when I set my phone into it.
I leave it. Let him enjoy the swell of my breasts pushing against the lace cups of my camisole.
“Pull your straps down,”his message instructs.“Show me your tits.”
I bite my lip at the demand. I’m surrounded by other drivers. The flow is heavy, and my car is small enough to see into, especially since I don’t have tinted windows.
But I know that’s the point. It’s on my fantasy list.
Fumbling, I work the thin straps down each arm slowly until they catch on my elbows and spill my breasts free for the viewing pleasure of anyone who happens to glance over.
I steal a glance at the car next to me but the woman in the passenger side seat has her head down, focused on her phone.
Still, my nipples tighten as if with anticipation. The tingle ripples down my spine to pool between my legs
“Play with them,”I’m instructed.
“I’m ... I’m driving,” I try to reason.
“You have two hands.”
Every labored breath strains my chest, erecting the mounds proudly to the man watching me play with myself in the middle of traffic.
But I do it. I pull my right hand off the wheel and brush my thumb over the crest. I roll the peak and pinch the way I like tobe teased. The sensation has my head swimming and my core pulsing. I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning even as my head falls back against the headrest.
I’m grinding against the leather seat. My thighs are rubbing together to ease the pressure building in my clit, but I need more.
“Lift your skirt, but don’t touch her.”
I can taste blood from the gash I’m cutting into my bottom lip with the effort to restrain myself, but I flip my skirt up over my stomach, exposing the pink laced panties covering my mound.
“Push it aside. Show me your pussy.”
My hands are shaking as I drag the wet fabric to one side and part my thighs to show him my sex.
“Spread your lips.”
God, I’m on fire. My skin is scorching despite the AC on high. My pussy is throbbing, begging to be filled, but I obey and use two fingers to spread my lips, baring my swollen clit to him.
“Stay like that.”
“Like this?” I choke out, horrified and thrilled by the idea of driving through the city with my slit leaking across the seat and my clit just out for the world to see.
I want to touch it. I want to stroke my finger over the bump and down to where I need him. I want to fill the void and pump until I cum. But he’s watching and more than my own release I want to please him.
“Pull over when you can. Take your panties off.”
I don’t for several miles. Miles where I drive with my tits out and my pussy open. When I finally get the chance, the fabric is soaked. The stain has turned the pink transparent and I hold it up for him to see.
“Fuck, you’re such a messy girl. Put your finger deep in your cunt and show me how ready you are for my cock.”
Still pulled onto the shoulder, I kick off my flip flops and lift my knees to my chest. It’s tricky, but I press two fingers in and groan as they slide through the mess with ease.
