During a typically boring day during The Elvis Invasion, Elvisseith decided he wanted to see Salem. I had the day off from work, and due to an incredibly well-attended show the night before, I was in good spirits. So we hopped in my Civic for the two hour drive to the city of witches and overpriced beer.
Five minutes after our arrival, Elvisseith decided he wanted to go home. He was tired. His feet hurt. It was too cold. I told him where he could stick his feet.
On the drive home, I started to nod off. I was working on three hours of sleep, and even caffeine wasn't strong enough to keep me functional. I pulled over to the side of the rode and asked Elvisseith to take over.
"Like I'd be caught dead driving a Civic." He said.
"You will be caught dead if you don't switch places with me, I'm about to fall asleep at the wheel."
There was fifteen miles to the next exit. I bit my tongue, sang to the music, dug my fingernails into my knee to keep myself awake. When the exit came, I got off and tried to think of the nearest place I could park and sleep. Sweet sleep. Dreams of a boyfriend with an ass and no..BANG
"The fuck was that?" Elvis asked.
I'd knocked a driver's side mirror off a parked car. I quickly put on my flashers, wrote my name and phone number on a piece of paper, and slipped it through the slightly open driver's side window. A mile down the road I found a parking lot where I pulled over and fell asleep.
I woke up to the familiar sensation of Elvis giving me head. "Cut the shit. I'm tired."
"You've been asleep for three hours. I'm bored." Three hours? I blinked and looked around. Dusk was beginning to settle. The parking lot, nearly full when I'd pulled in was now empty. "Want to fuck?"
Why yes I did. But have you ever tried to have sex in a Civic? Sure, if you want to be intimate, The Black Bee is ok, but I didn't want intimate, I wanted to cause pain. Short of standing outside the car and pushing his ass down over the gear shift, I didn't see how I was going to get my violent fuck on without getting violent cramps.
We ended up leaning the passenger side seat back. He moved back so far his head was touching the back windshield. I kneeled down on the seat behind him. I pushed into him. Thrusted once. His head hit the windshield. "Ow." Thrusted twice. His head hit the windsheild. "Ow." Thrusted three times. His cum splattered on the seat.
This was unusual in many ways. First off, one of Elvis's few positive attributes was his endurance. Secondly, since when is a bottom a three-pump-chump? I debated continuing fucking him/smashing his head against the windshield (the two ideas were not mutually exclusive) but that wasn't the kind of pain I was willing to dole out.
"What are you stopping for? You can't be done already."
"No, but I'm awake now and I want to go home." I pulled my pants up, waited for him to get situated, and turned the key in the ignition.