Outside the car it was eight below zero. Inside it was jungle steamy. I kept my eyes mostly on the road ahead, while I let my right hand ease beneath Cindy’s short skirt to rest upon her ice blue panties. I moved my middle finger down the scratchy silk to the shy dent of Cindy’s slot. Sure enough, Cindy’s little clitoris was hard as a diamond in the juicy softness of her excitement. “Mmm-mmh,” she moaned, and shifted herself up and back a little, so that I could get at her better. But I wasn’t going to rush things. I was going to keep her on the edge for as long as possible.

We were driving west on the Interstate towards the wedding of Cindy’s cousin, Amy. It was early afternoon, and the sky was bright blue, and the road was almost empty. I’d never met this cousin Amy, and Cindy hadn’t seen her in years—not since Cindy was a girl visiting her dad’s sister’s farm out in the western part of the state. Those visits stopped when Cindy’s parents divorced and Cindy went to live with her mom. Cindy’s dad died in a tractor accident only a year or two later. According to Cindy, Amy hooked up with a grad student her first semester at college, but Amy was very naïve. Within a month she was pregnant, the grad student had dumped her, and Amy went home to the farm to have the baby. The child, Eva, was now three years old.

Cindy’s panties were getting wet. I pressed the pebble of her clit towards the hole of her cunt. Even with the road noise and the hum of the heater, I could hear the sticky sounds of Cindy’s sex. “Aren’t you glad I made you wear the skirt?” I said.

“Oh. Don’t stop,” Cindy said. “Please don’t stop.”

“We have to,” I said, removing my hand so I could steer the car into the tollway oasis. “We need gas.”

“As long as we’re here, I might as well pee,” Cindy said.

“I’ll grab us a sandwich while you’re doing that,” I said. “And no cheating when you’re in there!”

“Spoilsport.” Cindy’s skirt flounced as she turned to the restrooms.

“Do I have to come in there with you to make sure?”

“I’ll be good,” Cindy said over her shoulder. “I promise. You just pick us out something good for lunch. And maybe a couple of decaf coffees.”

This tollway oasis, a long glass-enclosed bridge spanning the Interstate, was nearly deserted. I found the Subway restaurant in one corner, and there I bought us a turkey sub on honey wheat, including cheese and pretty much every topping: lettuce, tomatoes, yellow peppers, onions, and even a few of the jalapeno peppers; then I strolled back to the Starbucks booth where I purchased a couple of small decafs. Just beyond the Starbucks, I found a table overlooking the eastbound lanes of the highway. Only a few cars and trucks rushed below. Now what was keeping Cindy?

A minute later she appeared, wearing a smile I couldn’t quite read. “What?” I said. “You’d better not have gotten yourself off in there.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Should I?”

“I was good,” Cindy said. “I was bad.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means my panties were so soaked.”

“So?

“So I had to take them off.” She handed me the tiny, ice blue bundle.

“Oh,” I said, glancing around to make sure we were the only ones in the area. I brought the wadded up silkiness to my nose. “Oh!” As always, the meadowy scent of Cindy’s arousal almost made me swoon.

Cindy eyed the wrapped sub sandwich on the table. “What did you get us?” Hastily, I stuffed Cindy’s panties into my coat pocket and divided up the sandwich. We ate in quiet contemplation, smiling at each other, sipping hot Starbucks coffee.

“Mmm,” Cindy sighed. “This is good. I love that you got jalapenos. So spicy.”

Finished with her sandwich, she stretched. The lift of her little breasts beneath her blouse made me giddy. Cindy smiled naughtily. “I could use a nap. Should we be shoving off?” But when she stood up, she noticed the mural on the outside of the Starbucks kiosk and wandered over to it. “What a strange thing,” she said. “Do you have any idea what it means?”

I shook my head. “Probably a map to an old gold mine.”

“Weird,” Cindy said, and then she looked out at the road stretching beneath us. The floor to ceiling expanse of glass gave us a panoramic view. A lunch counter ran the length of the window, with stools for those who wanted to eat and look out at the highway. Cindy strolled slowly to the window and sat upon one of the stools. She sat there as if in a trance, while the cars and semi-trailer trucks streaked beneath her. Gradually, Cindy spread her legs. Slowly but surely she spread them wider and wider.

“Cindy?” I called softly.

“What?” she answered, and she swung around on the stool. From where I stood, I could see most of the way up her legs. A trucker passing beneath, in theory, could see all the way.

“What?” Cindy repeated.

“Oh, nothing,” I said. “Except there’s a five hundred car pile up just the other side of the oasis.”

“Really?” Cindy said, obviously pleased.

“Luckily we’re not going that way. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Cindy had reserved a room in a recently refurbished hotel in the old downtown section of the little city. We checked in a good two hours before we’d have to set off for the church and the wedding, which was to take place in a tiny farming town ten miles further up the road. Cindy opened the hotel room door with the key card, and I lugged in the bags and set them on the floor. “This is nice,” Cindy said, looking around the room. She turned to me, and I ravished her. I managed to get her clothes off while still kissing her, and a few seconds later she was lying across the king-sized bed, her bottom at the edge, my head between her legs, my tongue deep in her juicy hole. She twisted away and urged my own clothing off, and we tumbled together among the white mounds of pillows, sheets, and coverlet. “I need to taste you so bad,” Cindy said, and a moment later my cock was in her mouth. Now she was curled mostly on her back, lying crosswise near the top of the bed, and I was bridged above her, mesmerized by the visual and tactile thrills. The art of her ardor had me enthralled. Clearly she loved sucking me. I stayed carefully suspended as she mouthed me, keeping thoughts of thrusting, of fucking her face, at bay in the back of my mind. Her lips looked so lovely sliding my cockskin. Her cheeks hollowed and quivered. Her eyes twinkled with obvious delight at the juicy sucking slurp, the lewd music of loving fellatio.

And then the phone rang.

Cindy’s eyes met mine, but she didn’t stop sucking me. I was close enough to the phone on the night table that answering was no problem.

“Hello?”

It was the front desk checking to see that everything was all right.

“Everything is wonderful,” I said, and I hung up.

My cock still in her mouth, Cindy asked me with her eyes if everything was okay.

“Wonderful,” I repeated. “It was just the front desk checking up on us.”

Cindy opened her mouth to say “Oh,” and my cock lurched out.

I think she would have returned to the blowjob, would have finished me off in her mouth, and I was aching for it, but there was a spot of drool on her lower lip, and suddenly I had to kiss her. I swiveled quickly, our lips met, and we kissed deeply. I could taste something of myself on her tongue, which she was thrusting in my mouth. The kiss went on for a while, and then she quivered in a way that made me think she was on the verge of orgasm. I moved between her legs, wanting nothing more than to bury myself in her. “Let’s wait,” she said. “We’ve waited this long. Besides, I have to iron your pants.”

“Fuck my pants,” I said.

Cindy laughed and rolled away, bounding out of bed like a cat. She opened the closet and said, “Aha, just as promised, an iron and ironing board. Could you set it up? I’ll fill the iron.”

I horsed the ironing board open and set it at the foot of the bed, while Cindy was in the bathroom with the iron. A moment later she called to me, “Can you help me with something?”

It turned out the cord to the iron was stuck inside and wouldn’t come out, no matter how hard we yanked. “I’ll go down to the desk and trade it in,” Cindy said. She slipped into some clothes and was out the door. I lay back on the bed still naked. My penis had softened, and some drool stretched down to my thigh. I remembered the view of a few minutes ago—Cindy’s mouth doing its work—and my penis lurched again. The drool slipped away. My eyes went to the windows and walls. It was a nice room. The paint and paintings were skin-toned. Off-white drapes swayed slowly with the heater’s updraft, rubbing the sills and windows and walls. With the sun going down, the room glowed.

“I’m back,” Cindy announced, brandishing a new iron in one hand, an orange in the other. She set the orange on the ironing board and went to the bathroom to fill the iron with tap water. “They have fresh fruit down there,” she called out. “Could you peel it for us? There’s a free continental breakfast, too. The girl at the counter said the chocolate cranberry muffins are to die for. How come you don’t have your slacks out? How come you haven’t peeled the orange?” Cindy went to the carry-bag and took out my dress slacks and spread them on the ironing board. I got off the bed and picked up the orange.

“I bet it’s a really juicy one,” Cindy said.

I touched the medium sized orange to Cindy’s nose. “Mm, smells good. All orangy,” Cindy said, as she worked the iron along the leg of my pants.

“Press the button for the steam,” I said. “I wanna see the steam come out.”

Cindy pressed the button. Then she continued smoothing the iron up and back, working with grace and gentle force. I could detect the slight sway of her smallish, pear-shaped breasts beneath her blouse. I touched the orange to one of them. Cindy smiled and shook her head.

“Come on, open your shirt,” I begged. “I want to compare. I want to compare apples and oranges, only in this case oranges and pears.”

“You’re hopeless,” Cindy said, but she unbuttoned her blouse. While Cindy ironed my pants, I played the orange around and between and over her breasts. Gently I nuzzled her pale pink nipples. I went one to the other, and soon both were fat and full, with that firm softness that makes me want to bite. But there was no way to get my mouth on Cindy’s beautiful breasts—the ironing was in the way. I peeled the orange. I fed a segment to Cindy.

“Is it good?” I asked her, while it was still in her mouth. She nodded. “Want another?” Before she had finished the first slice, I brought a second orange segment to her lips. “Come on, open up. Let me in.”

Cindy giggled, and bubbles of juice appeared on her lips. “Stop,” she said. “Do you want me to dribble on your pants? What will people think?”

“I don’t care,” I said. “You know what I wish I could do?”

“What?”

“I wish I could plunge one of these orange segments into your cunt. And then fish it out with my tongue and swallow it.”

“You’re so naughty,” Cindy said.

“Close your lips,” I said. “Not too tight. Pretend I’m fucking you with this orange.”

Cindy closed her lips. I slid the orange back and forth. I pushed it in, but just a little, and then I pulled it out again. I rubbed it gently beneath her nose. I put the tip of the orange segment against her nostril, and then her other nostril, and then back to her mouth. I fucked the orange segment slowly into her mouth. “I think the orange is going to come in your mouth,” I said. “I think he’s going to squirt.”

Abruptly Cindy snapped the whole segment into her mouth, nearly nipping my fingers. She chewed quickly and swallowed. “Mmm, yummy,” she said, “but not as yummy as your juice. Now leave me alone before I burn a hole in your pants. Why don’t you take a shower? We need to get going or we’ll miss the wedding.”

The church parking lot was full. I went up and down the aisles, but nary a space was to be had. Across the street was a fire station. “You can’t park here,” Cindy said. “What if there’s an emergency and the fire trucks have to get out?”

“I’ll just let you off in front and find a spot somewhere else,” I said. “How can it be so hard to find parking in such a small town?”

“It’s the snow,” Cindy said. She was right. The storms of earlier this week were still very much in evidence. The streets in this tiny farming town had been cleared only one-lane wide. I pulled up the church driveway. Cars were parked all along this lane, too, but I noticed that the last space was empty. “I’ll try that one,” I said, and I stepped on the gas a little, in case any one else was going to try beating me to the spot. But there would be no one else, because this spot had a serious disadvantage. The snow on the passenger side was piled up almost as high as the car. No way could Cindy open her door. Not only that, it was on a relatively steep downgrade. Now that I was in the space, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to back out. The driveway pavement wasn’t completely cleared, and the packed down snow was slippery. What’s more, I was so close to the car on my left, I couldn’t get my car door open, either. “I guess we can always slither out the window,” I told Cindy.

“But then how will we get the window closed from the outside?” she asked.

“Good point,” I said. “We’ll leave it open.”

I hoisted myself out the window and up onto the car parked next to us. Cindy crawled across to the driver’s side, and I helped her up and out onto the roof. We sat there for a while, dangling our legs. “This is so stupid,” Cindy said.

“I know,” I said. “But we’re here. Something we can tell our grandchildren, if we ever have grandchildren.” Cindy looked at me, and the next thing you know, we were kissing. Eventually the kiss ended, and we crawled across the car’s roof and down onto the trunk and off. Our coats were a mess with chalky white road grime. We tried to dust each other off, but to little avail. “We’ll take them to the cleaners when we get home,” I said. “And when it’s time to leave here, I’ll back out first so you can get in.”

“How come you didn’t let me out first before you parked?” Cindy asked.

“Because I always wanted to kiss you on the roof of a car,” I said. “And if it weren’t so cold, I’d want to do more than that.” Cindy looked at me as if I were crazy. Then she took my hand, and we walked into the church.

We shoved our soiled coats atop some Sunday School cubbies and managed to find a place to sit in the last pew just a few seconds before the bridesmaids began their slow procession toward the altar. Up front an old lady was struggling through Clair de Lune, not missing any notes, but playing so hesitantly that it seemed like an eternity between one chord and the next. I couldn’t really see anything of the bridesmaids as they strolled down the aisle. That didn’t bother me, but I felt sorry for Cindy, and for a brief instant I entertained the notion of boosting her up onto my shoulders so she could enjoy the parade of gowns and glitter. The thought of Cindy’s thighs about my neck gave me the beginnings of an erection. I chuckled, and Cindy squeezed my hand. A moment later a collective “ooh” rose up from the congregation. “Isn’t she darling?” I heard someone murmur, and Cindy said, “It must be Amy’s daughter, Eva. I bet she’s the flower child.” Cindy squeezed my hand again, and this time swung her hand against the front of my slacks, brushing my erection. “After all my work getting rid of the wrinkles,” she whispered in my ear.” Her hand stayed pressed against my front, and another “ooh” rose up. “Must be the bride,” Cindy said to me. I nodded. When we were seated again, Cindy let her hand rest on my lap. It was a very exciting wedding, and not just because the groom couldn’t manage to make his mouth work to voice the vows. At first I wasn’t sure if he’d had second thoughts or if his mind went blank or if he was simply too choked up to talk.

After the ceremony, everyone walked over to the meeting hall at the other end of the church for the reception. The line of people moved sluggishly, and it took a long time for the church to empty out, with us being the last ones released, which was just as well: my erection needed every last second to subside.

“Maybe we should just go home,” I suggested.

“Aren’t you hungry for cake?” Cindy asked me.

“I’m hungry for you,” I replied.

Cindy said hello to a number of relatives, and I stood at her side and smiled. Not too long later, it was time for the bride and groom to cut the cake. I noticed that it didn’t have those little figurines of bride and groom on top. With the crowd gathered around, Amy and Adam gripped the silver cake carving knife. From where I stood, Amy appeared to be rising up out of the cake. This was my first good look at her. She was beautiful in her sparkly white gown. Adam was a slim guy, clean cut and stiff as a soldier. They both seemed really happy. “You know what?” Cindy whispered in my ear. “I think he’s got a boner.” We watched them feed each other cake, and kiss, and kiss some more, and I think Cindy was right about Adam’s erection.

Plates of cake were set on a long table at the front of the hall, and we all lined up again to get a piece and a glass of amber punch. I waited at the end of the line, while Cindy talked some more to various relatives. I was nearing the table when I heard two elderly ladies talking.