I can't believe I'm doing this!, a tiny voice inside Joey's head sang out, over and over, as he guided his Corvette onto the Turnpike.  At one o'clock on a Saturday morning, traffic in both directions was unbelievably heavy.  And it seemed to grow even heavier, as they neared Philly and crossed over the bridge into Newark, which at that hour, appeared dark, deserted, and eerie, like a bombed-out war zone, with its boarded windows and shattered street lamps.

     Joey's Corvette hurtled irresistibly onward like a bullet shot from a gun, through alternating stretches of light and darkness.  Radio stations momentarily grew loud and strong, and then suddenly and unexpectedly faded away in deafening outbursts of cloudly static, only to be replaced by strange, new stations, which neither Joey or Bobbie had ever heard of, before.

     Joey sat hunched forward, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.  His heard hammered wildly inside his chest, and his mind and spirit seemed to speed on ahead of his car, toward their unseen and unknown destination.  Bobbie's hand rested comfortably on his thigh, as if it had found a permanent home there, binding them together in this time and place.  In the darkness, her stout silhouette sat next to him like a statue.  Her eyes gleamed like dull, blue glass and in the fast, flashing spurts of intermittent light and shadow, he noticed that her lips were curved upward in a rigid smile, like something carved in wood or stone.  After awhile, it almost seemed to Joey that their hearts were beating together as one heart, their lungs breathed deeply together as one pair of lungs, and their bodies had somehow melded together into one body.

     He drove on, under Bobbie's patient direction.  "Turn here...Make a right, here..."

     Soon, through his partially opened window, his delicate nostrils detected a faint yet pervasive tang of salt in the thin, night air.

     "Here!  Turn here!" Bobbie commanded, suddenly excited.

     He left the highway and drove down a steep embankment.  "Stop!" Bobbie cried, when they reached the bottom.

     Hand in hand, they half-ran, half-strolled down the short stretch of beach.  A light breeze playfully rifled Joey's short, spiky, blond hair and tugged insistently at the seams of his tuxedo jacket.  He saw a listless wave shatter against the shore, instantly dissolving into a long, thin thread of foamy, grey lace and slowly slither back out again, into the booming surf.

     Bobbie stopped.  Joey stopped, too.

     Bobbie's hands disappeared behind her back.  Her gown fluttered to her feet.

     She stepped boldly out of that discarded circle of crumbled cloth like a butterfly emerging triumphantly from its cocoon.  Bobbie reached for his hand, yanking him toward her.  Her eyes gleamed like two dark marbles in the wan moonlight.  Bobbie's luscious lips stretched wide in a ravenous smile and her naked breasts thumped softly against Joey's chest, as she once again hoisted herself upward on her toes and lifted her face toward his.  Their arms eagerly encircled each other like clinging vines.

     Joey sank slowly to his knees and Bobbie sank with him, her lips never leaving his lips.  Bobbie pressed her fat fingertips against his chest, gently but firmly pushing backward onto a soft bed of warm, gritty sand.  He barely heard the tiny, jingling sound his heavy, brass buckle made, as she undid his belt, and the ragged, sipping sound of his zipper being pulled all the way down.

     She tugged frantically at his pants.  Joey reached out a hand to assist her, lifting his buttocks out of the sand.

     A small groan of despair and frustration escaped Bobbie's lips at the sight of his black, silk boxers.  Joey obligingly yanked them all the way down to his ankles.

     Joey's manhood was already as stiff and rigid as an iron post.  It swung back and forth, from side to side, like a crazy, broken metronome.  And then, it seemed to leap straight out toward Bobbie, offering itself to her, like some sort of ultimate prize.

     Bobbie clamped her knees snugly around Joey's hips.  She bent forward and wrapped the stubby thumb and four fingers of her right hand like tight, steel bands around his organ, which was as hot as fire poker, by then.

     Bobbie heaved herself upward.  Joey caught a fleeting flash of that golden thatch between her thighs, and then he turned his head.  For just a second, his body tensed and he shuddered, shivering slightly, panting rapidly like a dog through his open mouth.  And for just that one short second, Joey had a terrible feeling that something was wrong; this shouldn't be happening; he shouldn't be feeling this unbearable discomfort, as she guided him upward into that unseen and unknown darkness, somewhere deep inside her.

     He heard Bobbie moan.  "So big!...So big!..."

     After another moment, everything was all right again, and he relaxed.  She started to ride hi then, sliding up and down, up and down, up and down, rocking back and forth, back and forth, again and again, and again.

     He couldn't believe how incredibly wonderful it felt.  He started to rock back and forh with Bobbie, matching her slow, steady, seemingly effortless rythym with his own.  Each time, though, he rammed himself just a little bit harder and a little more firmly into that deep, dark, secret, mysterious place between her heavy thighs.  Each time, Bobbie grunted and grimaced, moaning and groaning softly.  And each time, her giant, pillow-shaped breasts flung themselves upward and outward, and then fell back down again, slapping softly against her chest.

     When he finally came, it, too, was like nothing he had ever imagined before in this world.  In the whirling darkness behind his tightly shut eyes, he could picture it clearly.  White-hot and burning as the Sahara sun at mid-day, like molten lava or iron, streaming endlessly upward in that sluice, in the tight, narrow tunnel, inside of him, pouring out of him, and he was powerless to do anything about it---not that he wanted to!---except just lie there and feel it flow out of him and straight into Bobbie.  The fingers of both his hands dug like talons into the sand.

     Then it was Bobbie who suddenly turned hard and heavy as a huge block of cement.  Her head titled all the way back on her neck.  Bobbie's eyes were closer and her lips were fixed in a grim, straight line.  A shudder jolted Bobbie's entire body like a lightning bolt from the crown of her luxurious, blonde-haired head, all the way down to the blunt, red tips of her plump, little toes.  She shuddered a second time, and even a third time.  Her round shoulders shook as if from a chill, although there wasn't even the barest breath of a breeze anywhere near them at Joey could discern.

     Bobbie's head fell forward, the knob of her chin lolling brokenly against her upper chest.  Bobbie's shoulders slumped and her pear-shaped toro sagged, melting, dripping like candlewax around her hips.  Her mouth curled upward at the corners, in what, Joey automatically assumed, was a sad, mournful expression.  He thought she looked disoriented and vaguely disappointed, as if what they'd just done together had not been everything she'd secretly hoped it would be.

     He started to get a tight, sick feeling deep in the dark, empty pit of his stomach.

     Her eyes fluttered apart like a pair of window shades.  A tiny, white light snapped on in her eyes.  She smiled a most radiant smile and looked down at him, beaming her approval.

     "Oh, wow," Joey gasped in a ragged, rusty whisper.  "That was fantastic."  There was just no other way to describe it.

     "You, too, sweetie."  Grinning slyly, she said, "That was your first time, wasn't it?"

     He wanted to look away, but he forced himself to straight into those bright, glittering eyes.  "Yeah," he admitted sheepishly.  He instantly felt his cheeks redden.

     "Well, you have nothing to worry about," she told him.  "You get an A+ in that department, just like you get an A+ in every other department.  You're one strong, sexy, good-looking stud.  And from now on, you're all mine.  I'm never going to let anyone take you away from me."

     Once again, she immersed him in her shadow, as she bent forward and fastened her lips to his.  She anointed the blunt knob of his chin with a tender kiss, and the under-shelf of his jaw, and his nubby Adam's apple, and so on down his chest and belly, all the while disengaging herself from him as gently and unobtrustively as possible.  She plopped her bulky body down hard, next to him, on the sand.  As she did so, her long, heavy, left arm inadvertantly crashed like a broken tree limb aainst the bridge of Joey's nose.

     Joey yelped involuntarily.  "Ow...hey!"

     "Oops."  Bobbie couldn't help but giggle.  "Sorry."

     He joined in her laughter.  "That's okay."

     "So, you wanna go for a swim?" Bobbie asked.  She sounded eager.

     "Nah.   I think I'd rather just lie here for awhile."

     "Me, too."

     He tried to snake his hand underneath her neck and she lifted her neck from the sand to accomodate him.  She rolled toward him, laying her head on his shoulder.  Her right breast snuggled warm and comfortable against his hairy, sweaty chest.  Joey coiled his right around Bobbie's shoulder.  Bobbie langoriously stretched her right arm across his muscular abdomen.  Her splayed fingers rested less than an inch from his flaccid organ.  But for the moment, at least, it was too tired to respond to her tantalizing nearness.

     That was when a picture of the condom that his father had given him in its bright, red and black wrapped, languishing peacefully in the pocket of his tuxedo jacket, popped into his mind, as clear and shaprt as any photograph.  "CRAP!!!"

     Bobbie started.  "Sweetie, what is it?  What's wrong?"

     "Nothing," he assured her and kissed her forehead.  "Never mind."  He thought to himself, yeah, well, stuff happens.  There was nothing he could do about it now, so why worry?  He glanced at his digital Timex watch and saw that it was almost three o'clock in the morning.

     Reluctantly, he said, "I guess I'd better get you home.  Your parents will be worried."

     "Oh, I've been out a lot later than this," she replied in a casual tone.  "My parents won't mind.  Besides, they know I'm with you.  They trust you."

     "Well, this is the first time I've ever been out this late in my life.  My old man is going to rip me a new one."

     Bobbie stirred sluggishly to her feet.  She stepped back inside that discarded circle of stiff, white cloth.  As she bent over, he buttocks gleamed dully, like two huge half-moons.

     Joey buttoned his shirt, taking his time.  He yanked his shorts and his trousers back up to his waist, zipped his fly, and buckled his belt.  He found his rumpled jacket where Bobbie had been lying it, using it for a blanket.  Joey shook it several times, hoping to get all the wrinkles and sand out it, and slipped it back on.

     He realized with a start that his tie was missing.  For the life of him, he couldn't remember taking it off.  Or his cummerbund, for that matter.  After a minute or two of fumbling about, he discovered his tie lying like a crumpled, black snake, in the sand.  he scooped up his tie in his right hand and stuffed it in his pocket.

     Bobbie was busy stuffing her breasts back inside the amazingly still-stiff sheath of her gown.  She happened to look up and caught Joey watching her with unabashed enthusiasm.

     She smiled.  "You really like these little puppies, don't you?" she asked him.

     "Oh, yeah," Joey readily responded, his tongue protruding half-way over his lower lip.

     Her smile grew wider, sly and salacious.  "They like you, too."

     He walked over to Bobbie and kissed her on her lips.  "Thank you," he said.

     "Don't say that," she said, looking down at her naked feet.  "It makes me feel like a whore."

     Hand in hand, they trudged back up the short, sloping stretch of beach.  They got in Joey's car and headed for home.


The End

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