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What the Chauffeuse Saw

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I wasn’t in the chauffeuring gig for long. It was a stop-gap between design jobs, a favour to an old friend, easy money – call it what you like, it suited me. Especially the tight uniform they had me wear, which included high leather boots and smart peaked cap. I have to admit it wasn’t the most comfortable of outfits, especially on a hot afternoon, but it complimented perfectly the fleet of vintage limos that the firm ran, and I have to admit that wearing it filled me with a tingle of old-school Hollywood glamour – and something else besides... Look, I can’t help it if I’m a sucker for a starched collar and cuffs, tight breeks and the creak of polished leather, can I?

 

Yeah, I know, you’re thinking that this sounds a lot like the start of one of those mucky ‘true life’ confessions that they print in some of those women’s magazines, and I suppose that up to a point, you’d be right. But let me tell you something right now, what happened to me That night was on par with something you’d find in top notch erotica. And listen, it’s OK if you don’t believe me – hell, I wouldn’t either if it was anybody else’s story but mine – all I’m asking is that you hear me out.

 

So, I pick up these clients around seven. They’ve booked me for the whole evening and it looks to be an easy run; drop them off at the opera, pick them up afterwards and take them to a restaurant, and then home again. I’m not expecting anything special as I draw up outside the handsome old house and assume my position by the rear door ready to open it, but I nearly lose my shit as they emerge from the broad front door and stroll towards me along the garden path.

 

I instantly envy the older woman the beautifully cut tuxedo that she’s wearing – the lines of the midnight blue cashmere flatter her imposing figure so perfectly that I know it has to be bespoke – but even more, I envy the silver fox her partner. Her companion is a true vison of beauty. Exceedingly tall, and slender but with a delicious curve at her hip and the hint of full tits behind a sapphire blue pashmina, pale as a ghost but with eyes and hair as black as her dress. And painted in deep, dusty red, a sensuously wide mouth that I instantly yearn to kiss. Just imagine Morticia Addams – only hotter! She advances like a queen on the arm of her consort, regal and untouchable by all but one, and suddenly I feel weak with longing.

 

“Good evening, Ms F-,” I say in greeting, and instead of touching my cap in deference like normal, I find myself bowing. I’ve always had a thing for older women and I feel a sudden blush rise up my neck and into my cheeks as I try not to stare at them. So obviously a couple, they exude easy style and confidence, and my legs almost tremble as they tower over me in their perfumed finery. The silver fox nods in acknowledgement and then ignores me as she hands her willowy brunette girlfriend into the deep seat of crimson leather, so mesmerised is she by the vision in floor-length magpie-black silk; but Morticia rakes me from top to toe with her dark, glittering eyes and offers me a slow smile of approval that sends a pulse of arousal chasing around between my thighs. Eagerly scooting around to the other side of the car, I open the door for Ms F- and give another small bow (I can’t help myself – I mean, she’s tall, well rounded at the hip and thigh, and sternly handsome – I really am that weak) and she nods her thanks as she settles beside her lover and takes her hand into her lap.

 

We’re driving now, and whenever possible, I steal glances at the two of them in the rear-view mirror as they sit in comfortable silence. It’s not as if I haven’t had my share of compelling female flesh (I have), but they are on a whole new level and within minutes I’m hopelessly obsessed with them both. I can barely concentrate on the road, what with all the inappropriate thoughts I’m having, but somehow I managed to restrain myself and get through the night without incident (despite more blushes each time Morticia smiles at me), and by the time they leave the restaurant, I’m really looking forward to going home and giving free rein to a couple of the more outrageous scenarios I’ve created – know what  mean?

 

So, I settle them in the back, and in the time it takes for me to slip behind the wheel they’re cuddled up together in the centre of the sofa-like seat, and I’m thinking that I should give them their privacy so I raise the panel behind my head, but before I even turned the ignition a sharp rap makes me wind it down again.

“Change of plan, Driver,” says Ms F-. “I want you to take us to the beach. Can you do that? Somewhere quiet.” Understandably, I’m torn between annoyance at being denied my bed and my fantasies, and the excitement of being in their company for a few hours more. Excitement wins. I meet her eyes in the mirror and nod. For the first time that evening she smiles at me and it feels wonderful. “Good. Thank you. And leave the partition down please,” she adds as I began to raise it again.

 “Very well, ma’am,” I say and we set off out of town.

 

Under the flicker of street lights, a series of increasingly risqué scenes unfold in the rear seat, and to say that I’m getting flustered is most definitely an understatement! They start out with a bit of slow, gentle necking, which is more than enough to set my clit twitching, but soon enough Ms F-'s hand begin to wander and a sheen of sweat breaks out across my face and neck as I steal longer and longer glances in the mirror. The burning in my cheeks sinks down my neck and across my chest and belly, creeping down my back, along my limbs until my skin is positively crawling inside my uniform. It takes me a few moments to remember the air conditioning and then I’m shivering as the icy blast chills my damp skin, and I’m so grateful for the sudden distraction…

 

But I can’t help myself, and with another longing glance at the pair I see Ms F-'s hand caressing a black-stockinged knee before her long, large knuckled fingers slip up the most alluring thigh you could ever wish for. Skirt hiked way up her stupidly long leg, Morticia shifts in her seat, opening her thighs a little to reveal a splash of creamy whiteness above deep stocking tops. She lets out a soft moan as her lover’s hand slides higher still, and it’s all I can do not to veer off the road as a mighty burst of lust explodes between my legs. I’m squirming in my seat, pushing my throbbing cunt into the padded leather as I try to regain enough composure to get us to the beach in safety.

 

When I look again, the wrap’s off her shoulders and her lover’s hand is playing with the modest neckline of her dress. Morticia shoots me a coy look in the rear-view mirror and I know that she knows I’m watching. And knowing that she’s caught me peeking gives me a naughty thrill and I pray for a busy junction or a red light – anything that would allow me to spy just little more without killing us all!

 

It comes in the form of a level crossing. I keep the heavy old Siddeley at bite point, making the engine’s growl vibrate through the chassis as first I watch Morticia slip the line of hooks that run down her bodice, and then Ms F- peel the iridescent silk from pale breasts and lower her face to their fullness. Diamonds sparkle delicately at Morticia’s throat and wrist as she strokes her silver mane, then glittering ebony eyes find mine in the mirror and she holds my gaze with a teasing smile. I could die right here and now and not have a single complaint!

All too soon though, the lights change and we’re on our way again. The rumble as we cross the tracks make my thighs clench so hard that I swerve wildly towards the central reservation before yanking the limo’s wheels back on track (no mean feat considering the heavy steering on this thing!). Sweating, I make up some lame story about a stray cat and puff out my cheeks, pouring every ounce of concentration I have into driving.

 

So, at long last we pull up in this deserted beach-front carpark that I know, and letting the engine die, I sit there awaiting further orders. I’m so turned on it hurts, I’m desperately hoping that they’ll shut the partition and give me enough privacy to slip my hand down my trousers and relieve myself of this torment between my legs. You know that feeling when the pulse in your cunt is so strong and thick and heavy that you feel drunk, that feeling when your whole body is an erogenous zone and the mere thought of strong fingers against your wet and swollen parts is enough to make your hips buck…? Yeah, well that’s what I’ve got now – and I’ve got it bad!

 

Disentangling herself, Ms F- leans forward and lets me know that we might be here for a while and to feel free to relax and stretch my legs if I want. The tone of her gravelly voice lets me know that it wasn’t an order, and she flicks on the interior light as she returns to Morticia, giving me a clear view of their antics. I take it as an obvious invitation to watch them, and with a quick adjustment of the rear-view mirror, watch I do!

With a few gentle tugs, the fastenings on Morticia’s skirt fall open, and Ms F- slides the iridescent silk from her lover’s hips revealing the curving ebony triangle below the equally entrancing curve of her belly. Her tanned hand roams every available inch of Morticia’s moonlight curves as the alabaster goddess rolls against her, draping a thigh over her lap as her hand disappears beneath the lapel of that lovely jacket.

 

I sit there, squirming, debating whether or not I can get away with a few swift stokes to end my agony. Fuuck, I’m so ridiculously turned on and my juices are flooding out of me like lava! Instinctively, I touch my nipple inside my jacket, it’s so painfully hard and sensitive that I moan and hurriedly fumble with the buttons on my fly. I’m saturated! So slick and hot and swollen that with just a little light rubbing I’m coming; dissolving in a shuddering rush that has me bracing my feet against the footwell as I strain, panting and choking, against my fingers.

 

Still shaking, I open my eyes and they find the small rectangle of mirror.  Morticia is a vision in her stockings and diamonds, and her pale skin gleams as she lounges back against the bloody red of the creased leather upholstery. I catch her eye again and she drops a wink, and I knew that she’d been watching me; and as Ms F- sits up and removes her jacket, Morticia parts her thighs and grants me a flash of her inner pinkness. Jesus, I’m just about gone!

She murmurs something to Ms F-, and the lucky butch turns to me and grins wickedly before sliding to her knees and burying her face in that delicious looking cunt. Morticia’s eyes flutter shut and her long fingers pluck at her pretty pink nipples as she sighs in sheer pleasure.

 

Have you ever watched a woman being made love to? I don’t mean skin flicks (even the best dyke porn is still shot with an audience in mind), no, I mean real, honest, raw love making. The way that expressions flow across her face, how she arches from the bed – her mouth twisted with a cry – as if in pain. The primal urgency of her need, the soft noises she makes, the tormented cries? I’ll never forget the magical sight before me, not for as long as I live.

 

My clit beats against my sticky fingers but, with superhuman effort, I resist the urge to let fly and instead, I tease myself with soft caresses as I watch Morticia writhing, imagining that my fingers are Ms F-'s tongue as they skate over my sensitive, silky inner lips on their way to my rock-hard clit. But the thought of that silver butch working me over is just too much, and way too quickly I’m coming again, banging my head against the window as it hits me with breath-taking force. Even though I can’t move the rest of me, my hips won’t stop twitching as I slump against the door, and I can’t risk looking at them again but I can still hear them, and that’s almost as bad!

 

My arm feels like someone else’s as I open my door and I stagger out for a much needed ciggie. Standing on jelly legs, I slip out of my jacket and, loosening my tie, try to cool down after all that excitement. It’s not the first time I’ve watched people fuck, and I doubt it’s the first time any of my fares have got frisky in the back seat either, but it’s the first time I’ve been invited to witness something so daring and exciting as these two tonight. This is, quite simply, the stuff dreams are made of, and I dare you to say otherwise.

 

So, here I am, leaning against the front grille rolling my cigarette when Morticia calls out, “Oh, Driver…?” Her voice is rich and husky, drawing me like a siren’s song to her widow. The heavily tinted pane slides all the way down and a pale hand emerges, long fingers beckoning me closer. By now my heart’s pounding nineteen to the dozen as she pulls me towards her like a puppy on a lead.

A quick glance in the back and I can see tangled limbs and two smiling faces. I see how Ms F-’s shirt sleeves are rolled up over well-muscled forearms and my heart skips a beat. It stalls completely as I realised that her shirt front is undone to the waist and I get a glimpse of rounded tit as it gapes open. Morticia smiles at me and it’s the embodiment of temptation – lazy and red, and sinfully enticing, and when she licks her lips – ohhhh fuck!! “I’m Joan, and this is Maggie,” she purrs in introduction, stroking her lover’s cleavage. “You are…?” She stares hard into my eyes and a fresh arrow of desire hit its mark right between my thighs.

“Phil,” I croak breathlessly. “Philippa,” I manage, trying to recover my composure a little.  I fiddle with my cigarette awkwardly, wishing that it was lit so that at least then I’d have something to do with my hands.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you properly, Phil.” She tilts her head and gasps softly as Maggie's lips trail up her neck. “It’s OK, you can smoke that if you want,” she says generously, nodding towards my roll-up. “You look like you need it,” she adds with a low chuckle and her eyes gleam with a naughty twinkle, making me grin.

 

That first lungful of smoke feels so good; calming my nerves, sharpening my senses, restoring my composure a little as I stand there in the warm night air, trying not to gawk at them like a rank amateur. The dark sea is barely a taste as I look out over the car roof listening to the rush of the midnight tide out there in the inky void. The smell of my own come lingers on my fingers as I draw hard on my cigarette and I can’t help but wish that it was theirs instead of mine.

Joan watches me smoke for a few moments then says, “I can’t really ask you to join in but I’d quite like to see what you’ve got under that shirt. Would you be amenable to that?” she asks. “Would you mind if I look at you whilst Maggie fucks me?” Jesus H Christ! She’s just given me explicit invitation to be a part of their scene and she’s asking me if I mind?

 

I looked down at my shirtfront and then back at that smiling mouth of hers, my lips twitching at the thought of kissing her even though it’ll never happen. “Sort of return the favour, you mean?”

Joan laughs at this and braces a hand against the roof lining as Maggie moves behind her. “If you like. Is that a yes?”

I’ve already pulled my tie off. “Yes, Joan, it is.” Fixing my cigarette between my lips, I squint against the smoke (James Dean eat your heart out!) and ease my braces from my shoulders, slowly unbuttoning my shirt and opening it enough to show her that I’m not wearing a bra (not that I can fill one anyway with my bee stings).   

“Awww, c’mon, Phil, show me more!” she demands with a pout and cups her own breast, thumbing her tight nipple as she maps my chest with her gleaming gaze.

 

Teasingly, I drag the edges of my shirt across my nipples, revealing their dark, crinkled edges then the long, hard peaks until it slips off my shoulders and I toss it onto the dusty car roof. So much for cooling down – a fresh sweat breaks out on the back of my neck and I’m prickling all over with a breathless excitement that makes me feel lightheaded. A delighted smile lights up her face and her eyes flicker over me, making me shiver as I unstick my cigarette from my lip. “Could you do me a favour and put your cap back on?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. The naughtiness in her grin infects my own and I comply all too willingly.

 

When I get back to the window Joan’s on all fours, her long fingers gripping the windowsill as Maggie pushes into her. From my position, I can only see Maggie's hands on Joan's hips and a whisper of her dark trousers brushing the curve of her arse, Joan on the other hand, well…

I want to kiss her and never stop. Her dark hair falls in graceful disarray and it frames her beauty so fucking perfectly, but I can’t keep my eyes from her breasts. They’re so fucking lovely! They gleam like old ivory in the yellow glow of the little door light, swaying juicily like forbidden fruit, and I hear myself sigh, feeling my clit beat erratically at their perfection. When I finally manage to drag my eyes away, I see that she’s staring at my tits too.

“Touch them for me?” she asks, raising her glittering gaze to mine. I take a final drag of my cigarette and ditch it, blowing out the smoke in a long, cool stream as I bring my fingertips to my left nipple.

 

It’s like an invisible tongue has just licked my throbbing split, and my knees are close to buckling as I circle my nipple, catching it between my fingers and tugging whilst my thighs shiver in response. Maggie’s hand snakes around Joan’s belly and covers her other luscious tit. “Do it harder,” Maggie demands thickly and I’m a slave to her command as I bring my other hand into play, slowly plucking, twisting my nipples as Joan's eyes bore into me. All of me tightens as this exquisite sensation floods through my chest and down into my knickers, and I watch them rock and grind together with such passion that I ache to be in there with them.

I keep on with the rubbing and pinching until I can barely stand it. My clit’s throbbing sharply and I vainly clench my thighs together in an effort not to stagger under the relentless, pounding need that’s gripping me in its steely fist. My cunt’s so hot and tight and I’m almost on the verge of falling to my knees when the door pops open and Maggie orders me to get in. So, of course, I do – I mean, what kind of idiot would say no?

 

Now, I know that the back of those old cars are roomy, but they’re hardly the palatial, and even half-kneeling on the seat and shuffling right back into the corner, Joan is within touching distance and it’s all I can do not to reach out and stroke her. One forearm rests on the padded headrests but her other hand is gripping my thigh, then it slips down to my booted calf, and I can feel her breath on my tits, smell her sweat and perfume, and I can see myself reflected in the bitter chocolate of her eyes. She’s so close but she’s untouchable, and it’s driving me mad!

Joan stares down at my crumpled crotch, then at my tits, and finally she brings her eyes to mine.  She’s so fucking beautiful. “Do you want to touch yourself?” she asks, and oh my god, I almost stop breathing! “Go on,” she encourages and trails her fingers along the inside of my thigh, over my belly and then she hesitates and widens her eyes as she silently asks for permission. She closes her large hand around my tit before I’ve even finished nodding.

My hips jerk helplessly – it’s like I’ve got a hard, insistent fist inside me, twisting and pushing – and I can’t get my breeches undone fast enough! Ohh, jesus, it’s almost too much! Hot juices squelch around my fingers, filling my palm with wetness as I administer some much-needed relief. Lost in Joan's eyes, it’s so easy to believe that she’s the one touching me, that she’s the one whose fingers are crammed inside me, especially when she starts talking dirty to me. See – I said it was like something out of a dirty book, didn’t I? Only this was better ‘cause it was real life.

 

So, she’s telling me how hot I am, what a dirty slut I am, what she’d do to me if she had the chance – all of that stuff – and I look at Maggie and she’s just as into it as Joan is, and fuck is she looking hot!  Her smooth, swept back hair is all roughed up, a heavy, silvery lock tumbling across her forehead as she slams into Joan, and her shirt’s wide open and her tanned tits jiggle with a hypnotic rhythm, and she’s giving me this look that made me squirm knowing just how lucky I was to have been chosen. And then she’s leaning forward, biting Joan's shoulders, grabbing Joan's tits and digging her fingers deep into their fullness as Joan starts to moan and gasp, her fingernails scratching my chest as her caress of filthy words dries up and her dark eyes flutter shut.  

The need for a kiss is overwhelming and I push my head forward, offering my open mouth to her just as my cunt pulses strongly around my fingers – and that’s it – I’m coming again, riding my hand as I disintegrate into the crashing breakers of exquisite pleasure. It lasts forever; Joan's heavy breath on my sweating skin, the leather sticking to my back, the infinitesimal change in pressure on my swollen labia, on my hard, tight clit – each sensation prolongs the sweet agony until I’m a trembling wreck, broken and drained but blissfully, blissfully happy.

 

The car rocks and Maggie pulls Joan backwards into her lap. They’re pretty much filling the foot well now, so I draw my feet up onto the seat and marvel as Joan stretches out a slender leg, and I can see everything as she spreads her thighs and swivels her hips with deep, animal groans. I see the way Maggie’s fat cock emerges from her fly and slips in and out of Joan's gleaming cunt like a greased piston, the way its bulge curves away between Maggie's meaty thighs as she balances on the hassock like foot rest and rocks her hips, the way Joan’s inner lips suck at the thick black shaft. She leans her long body into Maggie and they kiss, and when I look up from their mouths, Maggie's giving me that look again, making my belly clench and my nipples ache.       

 

They’re really going for it now, making the old car sway as they fuck with hammering force. Maggie’s clawing at Joan's breasts, leaving livid red trails that criss-crossed them like lash marks, making Joan push against the roof lining as she grinds into Maggie's lap and swears. She makes the filthiest words sound like sweet nothings.

And now there’s a look of urgency on Joan's face and I can see that she’s winding up to orgasm. “Touch me,” she mutters roughly and Maggie's hand slides down her beautifully long body, and her fingers graze her clit making Joan hiss and writhe and then hold perfectly still as Maggie fucks her hard and fast, her fingertips moving in rough, rapid circles. Between her own moans, Maggie starts talking dirty, calling Joan all sorts of names for being such a whore, dragging her for wanting an audience, for being so wet, for wanting her cock. And Joan’s almost shouting now, her beautiful face all screwed up as she rocks and writhes. I can feel their energy, it’s like there’s some kind of electric charge flowing out from them, tingling against my skin, crawling over my lips, curling my toes inside my hot boots

 

Joan sucks in a ragged, rattling breath then lets out what sounds like a cry of pain as her whole body strains then slackens, and then tenses again as she comes. Her hand shoots out and she grabs my shin and the intensity is shocking – I’m burning all over, holding my breath as I cup my hot and swollen sex, riding alongside her on the waves of her orgasm as her cries speak to something deep inside me. She’s so fucking astounding as she rides Maggie’s cock until, at last, she melts into her lover, skin gleaming damply as she pushes her dishevelled mane from her glowing face.

Maggie's not done though. She grabs hold of Joan's hips and her moans increase as she rocks into the root of her cock, and although I can’t see her face, I can tell that she’s almost there too. I wish I could see her eyes but she’s got her forehead pushed into Joan's shoulder, and Joan’s almost sobbing as Maggie keeps on fucking her, then Maggie gives three slow, shuddering thrusts, her knuckles whitening as she lets out a ragged shout of her own and shakes with the force of her climax.

Joan's hand slides from my leg and all of a sudden, the electricity is gone and we’re surrounded by a feeling of rich contentment. The sound of the sea is loud again, harmonising with our heartbeats, and with practiced tenderness Maggie gathers Joan in her arms and she cradles her as they lean back into the corner, cuddling and nuzzling each other. “Do you mind..?” she asks softly and looks down at Joan and then nods towards the open door, a flicker of her eyes telling me to use it.

 

So, once more, I’m leaning against the radiator grille in my shirtsleeves, this time feeling a little sad because I dearly wanted to still be in the car with them instead of here on my jack, but happy too knowing that I’d had one of the best nights of my life and that it wasn’t done yet – after all, I still had to get them home…

The car rocks and they emerge fully dressed and walk slowly, hand in hand, towards the shoreline. I hop behind the wheel and turn it around to give them a little light, and the yellow cones of the headlights pick out the gleam of dark sand freshly washed by the retreating surf, and as I climb out Maggie turns and beckons me over to them.

 

We’re standing on the firm packed sand as fingers of thin surf stretch up the beach as if seeking to claim us for the ocean and Maggie cups the side of my face, thumb stroking my jaw before sliding her hand to the back of my neck and giving it a companionable, almost avuncular squeeze. It’s almost as if she’s congratulating me on passing some test, and with a happy smile I begin to roll a cigarette. 

“May I?” asks Joan. I hand her my tobacco pouch and she rolls that cigarette so easily I’m a little in awe. “Full of surprises, aren’t I,” she smiles impishly and turns to Maggie for a light. I start to blush as my helpless, girlish infatuation deepens. You’d think that after what we’d just been doing that it might have calmed down a bit but no, here it was making me feel all breathless and awkward again.

I light my own roll-up as a distraction and Maggie reaches out and grips my shoulder, giving it another friendly squeeze. I turn and grin and she winks at me through the veil of smoke rising from the cigarette dangling from her lips. “Are you available on request?” she asks.

Thankfully, I manage not to stammer as I confirm that I’m at their disposal whenever, and wherever they like.

“Good,” she replies and I can hear the promise of things to come in her voice. “Keep the 19th free.”

 

Did I keep that appointment? You bet your boots I did, but if you want to hear what happened then you’re gonna have to buy me a beer. Hell, buy me a beer anyway – after all, whether you believe me or not, you’ve still had your story, and from the way you’re breathing, I’d say you liked it.