The smell of oil and lubricants used in cars never quite washes out of fabric, does it? The scent penetrated my nostrils as Maximus led me blindfolded into what I assumed was HDC Motors the morning I left Memphis and my family of lost souls, searching for home, behind me. He held my hand tightly, murmuring gently for me to tread carefully and turned me this way and that to direct me among the vehicles and machinery. Without benefit of my eyes, the metallic scents of motorcycles and cars as well as parts and tools assaulted my sense of smell. And mixed in were the odor of fresh concrete and paint.

"Careful," he whispered, tightening his hand about my waist to pull me over a bit. "Front of car in your way." I trailed my hand over it as I passed, feeling cool metal under paint and sleek, barely curved lines under my fingertips, caressing me with the promise of power under its hood. I tried to peek under the bandana Max had borrowed from Hando at the machine under my touch, but he steered me away past the right headlight and around to the passenger door. "Quit trying to see."

"I'm trying to look at the car, not your motorcycle. It's not like I don't know what the bike looks like, anyway," I smiled lasciviously and turned my face to him. He had ordered a Harley Davidson hog from Hando, black with wolves painted along the sides of the gas tank. So naturally, when he woke me that morning after the grand opening of the shop and the wild party after was over and done, we properly broke in his new 'horse'. Once a cavalry man, always one, I had teased when he told me what he wanted. And he wanted to ride. Take that however you wish. We did both on that mighty machine. I thrill at the thought of perching behind him on the thing, the feel of man between my thighs and machine under my bottom. The joy of loving him under the stars and miles from nowhere...

Hando took me out on a motorcycle once, the first time we met, showing me the freedom of the open road such as I had never known, even from the back of a horse. It was if I was carried along by a hundred of them, and let the wind take my hair and reveled in the drone of the engine. He pulled to a stop under a gnarled pinon tree and motioned me to sit in front of him, scooting back to the place I had just occupied.

For a few minutes we sat like that, straddling the bike facing each other and saying nothing. The chill breeze of early autumn evening wafted over us, raising goose bumps on my arm and promising frost in the morning. His hands covered me, rubbing warmth into my cold skin, then slipped down to hold my hips prisoner. He gazed out over the farms below and the stars that began to dot the darkening sky.

"I don't know what to say," he started, furrowing his brow and gazing at a point over my shoulder. "Uh...I'm glad I came."

"As am I. As shaky as it was," I teased. He nodded his agreement, a chagrined smile playing about his mouth. My fingers found his hands and brought them to my lips on impulse.

"You're not going to be a teary-eyed, clingy bint, are ya?"

"No. I wouldn't give you the satisfaction. I just felt like doing it, is all."

Exchanging grins, we let our hands dance over the other's body in tiny strokes, meaning to say good-bye. But it went deeper than that and became the sensuous petting of not being able to quite let go.

Giving him the full measure of my gaze, I caressed the stubble of his beard with my fingertips, wondering at its softness, even though I knew it would be. Toying with the buttons of his shirt, I felt the muscles of his chest tighten under my touch and his hand trap mine there, while I opened it. I traced the soft lines of his throat, licking at his thick neck, and kissed the tattoo there. He let me have my way, closing his eyes and rejoicing in my administration. My tongue moved over his mouth, parting his lips, catching his in a game of tag. He returned it hard; my neck aching with the force of it.

"Lay back," he instructed hoarsely. I did as I was told, feeling the heat of the tank under my back and the hard edge of gauges under my neck. He loomed over me, locking my stare with his. There was tenderness in them that seemed foreign and completely natural, and a frightening desire. I trembled beneath the hands that roamed over me, feather light, leaving me helpless in their wake. Pushing my sweater dress up, he bared me to his sight inch by inch, brushing at the exposed areas with his palms, inviting me to let him feast on my flesh.

He watched as my nipples became tight knots from the air playing over them and the arousal of this new method of pleasure he was teaching me, and lowered his mouth to taste each one. Moaning as he nipped and sucked at them, I rubbed the back of his head, letting the short hairs tickle my palms. My hands wandered over his back, hugging him to me and then to his chest to outline the tattoo over his nipple, the Eye of Horus that fascinates me so and which discussion of began our bond. Down, down my fingers went, until they found the waistband of his pants and the treasure they hid. He gasped when I rubbed it gently, pressing the hot flesh against my palm. I smiled wickedly when he frowned his displeasure at my refusal to let him lead completely.

Sitting up, he cradled my bottom in his large hands and lifted me, pulling the dress up and over my head, leaving me without cover in the cold save his body and my underwear. "Bou..." I love the way he says my name, seeking to command me with it, a hint of pleading for me to acquiesce to him.  I always do, not because I fear, but because the reward is his own giving in. He slid two fingers into the elastic of my panties, not quite looking at me.

"Are these your favorites?"

"What?"

"Your knickers. Are they special?"

"No." The sound of thread and fabric being rent apart caused me to leak wet desire.

"Now they are." The slow smile he graced me with hinted of the devil behind the angelic face above me.

A finger circled my nub and worked its way inside, making me cry a plea to fill me and drain me at the same time. The fly of his jeans was undone quickly and before I even had a chance to guide him, he pushed the head of his cock inside my walls. It hurt, but I did not really care. Arching my pelvis into his, I forced him deeper inside. Whimpering when he buried himself in me as far as he could go, I still moved on him. Or did he stroke in and out? It seemed to go on forever, fast then slow, alternating, taking us to the point of release, robbing ourselves of it and repeating the process again and again. The friction was agonizing as he pulled me hard back and forward, gripping my hips and squeezing them convulsively. He sputtered out snatches of rough dirty talk as he fucked, eyes closed, jaw clenched against the pseudo-pain of delirious lust.

When he reached a place where he could no longer stave off the tide, he pulled out and entered me several times; the anticipation of his reentry sent me screaming into the abyss with him, his roar echoing through the clear sky. He slumped over me, panting and spent. His body was warm against mine as we began the descent from the pinnacle together.

When he could find strength again he sat upright, pulling me with him, setting me astride his thighs. He nuzzled my breasts and crushed me to him. Tears made tracks down my cheeks and I still quivered with aftershocks of orgasm. He brushed the drops away and kissed me softly. "You alive?"

"Yes. Just overwhelmed."

"This is the last time, you know." I just nodded, setting my breathing in time to his hand in my hair as it stroked and petted. "Otherwise, I might want to keep you around."

"I'll always be somewhere inside you. In your dreams. In my own." We drove back in silence, kin to the elements, speeding toward an unknown future...

"That's why I don't want you peeking," Maximus voice in my ear brought me back to it.  "It's not the motorcycle I brought you out here for. Your chariot waits, my lady." He opened the door and I slid (all right, tumbled is a better choice of word) into the thing, letting the morning cool still trapped in the leather of the bucket seats soothe my back and buttocks. I inhaled the remnants of carpet shampoo and Armorall and let my fingers traverse the interior- the dash and the door, the seats and the gearshift then wander to the chrome-finished steering wheel with its leather sheath. The grating screech of the shop door being lifted sounded from just beyond, then Maximus dropped into the driver's seat.

"Sports car?" I observed, after my initial examination. He brought my fingers to his teasing lips, sucking at the tips then set my hand in my lap.

"Sort of. Collin calls it a 'muscle car.' Now keep your hands to yourself."

"This blindfold is making me crazy." I worried the itch above my eyes.

"It's only a while longer." Keys jingled as he shoved one into the starter and cranked it over. The mighty beast growled to life then purred contentedly as it stretched forward and crawled out of the garage into the early morning light.

"If this is my chariot, why don't I get to drive it first?" I asked, ignoring his directive and again touching everything within reach as we drove along, the whistle of air buffered by buildings and fixtures. A car or two passed us, whizzing by on the near-deserted highway.

"Think of me as your charioteer, for now."

"You couldn't just show me in the shop?" My fingers made their way to his knee and tickled up his thigh. His free hand closed over them, squeezing and gently nudging them closer to the bulge growing under the seatbelt.

"I have plans for you elsewhere," he murmured, shifting in his seat when I passed a loving palm over his anatomy.

"I could get used to all these romantic gestures," I smiled. "Someday, I am going to have to come up with something to top them."

"Enjoy trying," his amused challenge caressed my ears.

"I will. So will you."

"I'm counting on it." Grinning, I settled back against my seat, content to let him play out his latest fantasy while I listened to the sounds of the morning, the first trill of birdsong and the whisper of asphalt under rubber, as the wheels churned their way to whatever place Max was taking us. The steady bump of seams connecting the bridge as we drove over the river was the only sound that broke the monotone of the engine's hum, until we turned and drove over a cobblestone path. Maximus backed the car into a stand of trees, the branches brushing the sides of the car gently as we rolled to a stop.

Killing the engine, he turned to me, the creak of leather and the nearness of his man-scent alerting me to his attention. He took my chin in his hand and lifted my face to his. Capturing my lips, he nibbled at them, covering my hand where it rested against his erect cock.

"Wait here," he said gruffly and got out. I heard nothing for moments, except the lonesome horn of a barge making its way down river and the chattering of birds swooping over the water, looking for fish foolish enough to surface. Cars droned by over the highway and the heat of day ascended the gauge. Another long, hot day in Memphis. Then my car door swung open and Maximus took my hand, guiding me out and up against the side of it, pinning me there with his big body. I felt the ridge of metal trim dig into my behind while he ground himself into me, nuzzling along my jaw to the hollow of my neck.

"Can I take this off, now?" I ran my hands over him from the curve of his buttocks, pinching and holding them closer to me, to the breadth of his shoulders. He stepped away and I knew he was studying me, thinking it over.

"No." His voice dripped sensuality over my shaking body. "You'll see the car soon enough. I want you to feel it, first. And me." My hands explored the parts of the car I could reach, the rise of the wheel wells and the smooth finish of the paint. I smiled as I leaned back hard against it, pressing the newness of it and the memories to come into my brain.

"I'm sure I'll love it. Just because you picked it out for me."

"I know you will. Only the best for my queen." His mouth came down over mine again, urgent with want and I answered with every fiber of my heart in gratitude and excitement. My hands left the car to explore the man, traversing over all the points that are familiar to me, yet new, every time I touch them. He lifted and carried me around to the front of the vehicle, setting me on the hood. It pulsed with living heat, reaching with warm fingers to fondle my skin through my dress and spread fire into my privates, while I waited for Maximus to lead this expedition into delicious love-making.

As the softest of kisses anointed my forehead, the rush of movement of came over me, though he did not touch me other than the buss he trailed over my nose and cheeks, his breath blowing across my skin as he brushed his lips on mine and continued the path to my throat. Searching for his hands, I brought them to my heart and the exquisite sensation of being stroked through fabric by large paws made me sigh in happiness. He found the lacings of the bodice, pulled them open and let it fall down to my waist as he massaged each nipple in turn, rolling them in his fingers, hefting and bouncing them.

Hair brushed my skin, soft and short when he lowered his head to suck at them, pulling each deep inside, his tongue flicking over the puckering areolas. I threaded my fingers through it, furrowing tracks in the thick locks as they swept over my breasts. As he released each one, he nipped gently, letting them sway into place while he licked his way over my stomach and ribs, stopping only to rub my belly where it disappeared under the bunched material of the dress I wore with a newly bearded cheek. Languidly I lay back against the raised portion of the hood, letting it hold me at a crazy angle, and wrapped my ankles around his shoulders.

He lifted them to his mouth, giving them the same treatment he had just visited on my upper body and pulled me forward, catching me in the fabric of the skirt and sliding it higher up my thighs to join the bodice. The heated metal under my bare skin slowly burned its impression into my bottom. But it was a small matter when silky whiskers petted down the insides of my thighs like butterfly wings and lit upon my sex, mingling with the curls there.

"Please," I whispered, feeling for him but he stayed out of reach, though his hands remained on my knees, spreading them further apart. My feet he settled into looped wires of some kind, reminding me quietly not to push against them if I could help it. "What are they?" I tested them a little, wiggling my toes against the silicone-covered coils.

"They attach the pegs that keep the hood from flying open," he breathed, toying with my very exposed cunt, blowing on it, sliding his palms up and down my calves and thighs and planted loving busses up and down the swollen ravine.

"I want to..."

"Hush. I know what you want. Just relax and let me." I tried, resting back on my hands, my body quivering from the position he had put me in and from anticipation. It was certainly a test of my physical conditioning, perched precariously in the make-shift stirrups, unable to move without assistance or anything more than let him do as he wished, dependent on my arms for balance as I was. But it was also incredibly erotic, as the breeze wrapped itself around us, teasing the hair of my genitalia and kissing my nipples as it blew through the trees about and over the river that babbled encouragement of our sex. My clitoris throbbed in time to the staccato rhythm of my heart, as it beat Max' name through my veins, begging him to relieve the wait.

"I think you like this," His grin grew against my curls and I gasped as he tenderly probed at my entrance, spreading the wetness he found around my nub. "Do you?"

"Yes," I nodded, breathlessly quivering and responding to his callused fingers as they played. It was freeing to be powerless, helpless against my own passion and his whims, to not be able to see what was coming next and just let the sounds and smells and mental images take me over. Even as it slipped through my folds, I could see the length of his tongue in my mind's eye, traversing the valley to seek purchase on my center. It coiled about it, then his teeth took over, grazing and left behind his kiss as he passed over and over, lingering longer each time, and driving it into a frenzy of desperate pulsation. His fingers drilled inside the recesses of my cunt in time with the motions of his mouth. A vision, sweet and sexy, of his beard covered in my essence thrilled me and I strove to push closer, to help him send me flying up into the rays of the sun like Icarus on flimsy wings, only to be burned and sent crashing back to earth when I came.

Max chuckled, his voice lost in my sex. "Convince me." He kissed my labia. I could barely answer him; my lip was between my teeth as I struggled to hold on to my climax, chewing and slashing at the tender flesh.

"Maximus..." It was a strangled mewl that came from the depths of my soul, begging mercy.

"Tell me what you need." All I could do was shake my head in wordless agony, perched at the edge of the hood, the only thing that separated me from heaven and earth and kept me from falling into the limbo between. Already the elements about me had become a dizzying swirl of sensory hysteria, and only the coming down would distinguish them all as separate entities again. Tears began to form on my lashes and drip over my cheeks. He moved up to catch them with his fingers and kissed me, leaving the taste of my readiness behind. Laying me back, he let me free and I ran my hands over him, tracing the lines of muscle and the texture of belly hair inside his T-shirt. It was already untucked. I slipped my fingers underneath, traveling through the fur and down to his open fly and found his cock waiting to be stroked and loved.

"I didn't get to watch," I pouted, coating the head with the drops of moisture forming at the tip.

"Take your hand away." His replaced mine and the other closed my fingers around it while he smoothed the foreskin over and away, changing rhythms as the thick vein beat his life's blood through his shaft. In his wrist, the same pulse rapped against my palm as he showed me his self-pleasure. My tongue snaked out, as if to catch the drops that spattered my skin and the hood under me. I wanted to drink them from him. His other hand was back on my nipples, convulsively pinching and squeezing them, and the whispered hiss of growing ardor reached me ears. A millisecond dream of him flipping me to bend me over the hood and take me that way sent electric signals to my spasming walls. They reached for him, already knowing the girth of him and pleading for it to enter and fill them with his fire. The wish became more fervent when he laid the head of his phallus against the hub of my lust, caressing it in a dance of tingling skin and throbbing sensuality, teasing me with promise he would not quite deliver. I reached inside the denim to cradle his balls, testing the wrinkled flesh covering and playing along the line of skin separating them. Tight, heavy. Begging to loose their burden of warm semen. His breath was coming in short gasps as I fondled and took over masturbating him, skimming my hand over the hardness of it under the thin layer of skin, my mouth watering from images of pleasuring him with my tongue and teeth.

"I'm going to fuck you." His words, the low honey-and-gravel reverberating over my skin, caressed and kissed my cunt with urgency. His cock was already angled at my opening, nibbling at the flesh there, driving the very tip of himself in and pulling it away to make another pass. One strong hand on my hip dragged me into a somewhat comfortable place, fingers still damp from our juices. I wriggled against him, trying not to damage the wires that still held my heels to give him easier entry. My own wetness flowed unchecked, soaking me in need as his cock pushed further with every thrust. "Touch yourself," he commanded, "I want to watch you come when I do."

"I want to see, too."

"Take it off, then." The bandana was thrown away and I watched his eyes close in ecstasy as he sank deep, deep in me, bucking against the limits of his gratification hard and fast, jaw clenched as he drove us close to shared fulfillment. His gaze followed my fingers as I made tiny whorls around my clitoris, lengthening the edges of the circle then drawing in close, not quite bringing myself to orgasm but already feeling the haze of satiation steal over my body. He battered me from without, the friction of his balls against my bottom speeding me closer to the apex. They knotted with the rush of seed that he could not longer hold back, releasing the dam and spilling his lust and love inside my reservoir. I let go at the same time, sailing on the crest of the waves of spent desire with him as he leaned over me, kissing and nuzzling.

When we were able to move about normally, he tenderly removed my feet from the wires and rubbed feeling back into my legs. We righted our clothing and snuggled close as the sun penetrated through the leaves above, shining on our embrace. And the world came to intrude on us. I was leaving. He was going to take care of my loved ones in Memphis. And who knew where I was going to go?  I would be borne on the breezes of unsettled spirit to whatever destination I reached first. 

"Well my beloved, let's look at your properly celebrated chariot." He smiled and led me off the hood and around his gift to me.   

Chariots were a symbol of military might and power. They were also not easily made, and very expensive to keep or own. Only nobles and the wealthiest of warriors had and used them. It was a special privilege to be the charioteer for the one who possessed the vehicle, and such men trained all their lives to drive one well. They practiced daily for long hours, as did the warriors who rode with them. Horses were specially bred to pull the carts (for our chariots looked like little more than that) swiftly and in all manner of terrain and maneuvers. Even the word 'cart' is derived from our root 'car', which means horse. As is the very word 'car'. In my lifetime I also owned a chariot, though the area I lived was far easier to traverse by foot and our methods of warfare evolved into more defined guerilla tactics and infantry, so it was more a showpiece than a functional vehicle. By the time Dio Cassius and Tacitus wrote of my namesake's battle with Suetonius Paulinus fought from a speeding chariot, the horse-drawn war cart was almost a novelty in Britannia.

But this beauty was a ride fit for a queen, indeed. 355 horse power. 428 block V-8 engine. Silver. My dream car. A Shelby Mustang GT500. I had shown him one once in a magazine Hando left behind. Told him that I would love to own a car like that someday. He had simply nodded and thought it rather beautiful. It was simply an off-handed wish that I shared with him at the time. I never expected him to remember or for it to be made reality. 

Damn him.  "You win," I whispered into his neck.

"We both win."

Boudicca, 10 July, 2003