Hood Ornament

He's waiting in the parking lot, leaning against the car, watching me. When I get there he kisses me, long and slow. He pulls up my shirt, sucks on my nipples, gropes my ass--and then pulls away.

"Thought I told you to lose those," he says, disappointed.

"What?" I half-laugh. "I thought you were kidding. You always say it's such a cliche."

He frowns. "Wrong answer."

He turns me around, pushes me down over the hood. My breath rushes out in a startled yelp. He lifts my skirt and yanks the offending panties down to my knees. When the cool air skitters over my exposed flesh I realize how wet I am.

"Shame I've only got the one," he mutters. There's the telltale clink of the buckle. "Bind your wrists? Or whip your ass?"

My heartbeat thumps hollowly against the car. He's never used anything on me but his hand.

He strokes my clit with the leather tip, once, like a tongue. I shudder, hear myself moan.

Then a burst of noise as a rowdy bunch of college boys spill into the lot. I move to stand and pull my skirt down, but he stills me with a look. I gulp. Blush. Close my eyes.

I can tell when they notice us. There's an abrupt silence, then a disbelieving snicker or two. I can feel their eyes on me. I want to disappear. But, also, my pussy throbs.

"Say," he says mildly. "Any of you fellas wearing a belt?"

[written for Alison Tyler's leather contest]