“Never happens.” She flipped on the radio with a delicate flick of her small wrist.

I smiled, slipping a hand behind her neck, massaging. “You’re so smug.” She slid all the way across the Malibu’s bench seat-even with the air on, her long legs stuck to the vinyl-and snuggled up beside me. “Mmm. I think I found something better than chicken.”

“Susie…” Her fingers did the walking up my leg, dancing across my crotch. “I’m driving.”

“So drive.”

There was no stopping a determined Susie, and she was determined now, unzipping my fly, her small hand finding my already-hardening cock through the gap in my boxers.

“Oh Christ.” Her mouth was warm and wet, licking me into a swelling state of hardness as I leaned back in the seat, giving her more room to work. The soft, hungry noises she made from my lap were maddening, and the road seemed to melt, a fading mirage in the orange glow of the setting sun, as my eyes half-closed in pleasure.

“Mmmmm,” she murmured around the length, her lips coming up red on the tip.

“Now this is what I call a tasty meal.”

I tried to control myself-my breathing, the pressure of my foot on the gas pedal, the play of the steering wheel in my hand-but my hips moved all by themselves, thrusting my cock into her willing mouth. She made a fist around the shaft and stroked me fast as her tongue circled the head. I knew she could taste my precum, just mere pennies compared to the payoff her hard work was going to give her in, I gauged, probably less than a minute.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” I whispered, grabbing onto her ponytail-the perfect handle-

using it to pump myself into her mouth, feeling it building, a deep well, a fountain ready to burst. The speedometer read a steady fifty-five, and that was good. Don McLean was crooning a goodbye to Miss American Pie, and that was good, too. The road was straight and even, the yellow lines stretching upward as we began to crest the top of a hill, and I was riding high toward my own summit, Susie’s mouth working its magic between my legs.