Reflections on the Meaning of Life
Harold Palmer drove along a meandering country road past fertile fields, rich orchards and sprawling farms. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon in July and he wound his way slowly through the many curves, thoroughly enjoying the weekend outing he had planned for himself. It was one of his regular routines and he was always very content just driving through the countryside and letting his eyes sweep across the quiet land. It gave him a chance to relax and unwind after his week at work, gave him time to think quietly to himself and reflect.
Death Valley National Park, California (photo by Flickr user Ken Lund)
A young woman was sitting in the passenger seat beside him, looking out the window. He had picked her up a while back, standing by the side of the road. He wasn’t sure whether she was looking for a ride or not, but when he pulled up beside her, she opened the car door and climbed in. She simply said she was going to visit a friend. For a while, he tried to make conversation with her, but all he could get out of her were a few monosyllabic responses that didn’t really tell him anything about her, or about anything else. He finally gave up and they drove on in silence, only he couldn’t get himself back into his reflective mode, his mind totally preoccupied with her presence. He didn’t even know her name.
They were driving past a stretch of forest when the woman suddenly pointed to something ahead and said in an uncharacteristically urgent voice, “Pull in there!”
He slowed his car just in time to see a narrow lane leading across a strip of grass into the forest, just wide enough for his car. He turned into the lane, drove in among the trees, and came to an abrupt halt when the lane came to a sudden end.
“Now what?” he asked.
The woman didn’t say anything. She simply unhooked her seatbelt, unhooked his, and, to his considerable surprise, reached over and undid his belt and pulled down his zipper. He couldn’t quite believe what was happening, but he certainly didn’t protest. He just sat there behind the wheel and let her proceed with her unexpected yet totally arousing action. She reached for his penis, pulled it out of its confines, bent over him, and took him into her mouth. He moaned delightedly, pushing himself further into her. She was very skilled, very sure of herself. It only took her a few short minutes of stroking and rubbing and sucking to bring him to a very pleasant and enjoyable orgasm. He groaned deeply to himself as he gushed into her and let his seed spill into her receptive mouth.
“Your turn,” she said after she licked the last few droplets from his shaft. “In the back seat.”
They climbed out of the car and rejoined each other in the back. She immediately pulled off her jeans and slipped her top over her head. She wasn’t wearing anything else. Then she reclined into the upholstery, spread her legs, and braced her feet against the tops of the seats. He feasted his eyes on her breasts without touching them, then dove straight into her proffered pussy. Licking her swollen lips, he lapped up her abundantly fragrant juices, inhaled her musky scent, saturated his mind with her titillating emanations. She didn’t move the whole time, didn’t say a word or make a sound.
He moved his tongue to her clit and started licking and rubbing it, delighting in her sensuous offering. Then he took it between his lips and sucked at it until her silent body shivered and her braced legs relaxed.
“Oh, yes,” she said, more to herself than to him. After a few minutes, she pulled herself up and put her clothes back on. Still without saying a word, she climbed out of the car and went back into the front seat. He stepped out of the car himself, arranged his shirt and trousers, and climbed behind the wheel to back out of the forest and get back on the meandering road.
They were driving in silence through the landscape again when the young woman pointed to a farmhouse off to the right. “You can drop me off right here,” she said, not a touch of emotion in her voice.
He pulled up to the driveway and she climbed out of the car without saying anything else. He waved to her from behind the steering wheel, but she didn’t respond, so he pulled away and continued his journey along the winding road. She stood by the curb for as long as he could see her in his rearview mirror, watching him drive away.
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Peter Baltensperger is a Canadian writer of Swiss origin and the author of ten books of poetry, fiction and non-fiction. His stories, poems, essays and articles have also appeared in several hundred publications around the world. His erotic writing has been published in The International Journal of Erotica, In the Buff, Erotic Tales, My Wife and Her Lovers, and Kairos, is forthcoming in The Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions, and appears online in Lucrezia Magazine, Oysters & Chocolate, Eros Monthly, Bare Back Magazine, and Samarel Artcore Fantasies. He makes his home in London (Canada) with his wife Viki and their two cats and a tortoise.
