(Warning: Unsuitable for under 18s. Explicit language and Sex. Don't read if it offends. If you have missed Part 1 of this story, it is on the same page as this post, just beneath it.)
When they arrived at the ferry terminal, and had to show their passports, Jezebel deliberately avoided looking at Hermes’ document, and refused to show him hers.
“I don’t care what your real name is Hermes, and you shouldn’t care about mine. It’s only a label hung around our necks by our parents when we are born. We can call ourselves what the hell we like. In fact, when we part in Paris, I will change my name for my next lift.”
Hermes felt a pang of sadness to hear that he would just have tonight with Jez, and then they would be going in opposite directions. He had no claim on this flighty, independent woman, and all he would have would be the memory of their twenty-four hours together.
He parked the rig in the designated spot and the rumble in his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since his early breakfast, and it was already three pm.
“Come. I promised you a meal, and I am so hungry I could eat a horse.”
“Oh, that’s a little disappointing. I thought you were going to say that you were so hungry you could eat me.”
“Don’t worry. That pussy of yours will soon get lots of attention, believe me.”
“Oh yummy, can’t wait. Okay, food first it is then.”
They went to the restaurant and Hermes bought them both fish and chips, plus some cola. He didn’t want to risk beer when he still had the drive to Paris. When he returned to the table, Jez was missing, but turned up a couple of minutes later.
“Glad to see you didn’t throw yourself overboard,” he said drily.
“You will be pleased when you see what I found.”
But she would not elaborate as they both wolfed down the much-needed food. Once they had both finished, Jez stood up and grabbed his hand. Hermes expected her to drag him towards the stairs leading down to where the truck was parked, but instead she turned towards the door, leading out on to the deck. There was a brisk sea breeze and the water was a little choppy, so none of the passengers had ventured outside, being content to drink their beer and play the one-arm bandit machines, or bury themselves in their smart phones.
“Do you really want to be out here, on a day like today?”
It wasn’t raining, but the sky was grey, but despite that, it wasn’t too cold, and it did feel kind of bracing, breathing in the salty air. She laughed.
“Well you have already found out what an exhibitionist I am.”
Jez knew what was coming next. She wanted him to fuck her on the deck. She seemed excited.
“I’ve always wanted to do a ‘Titanic’, you know, like in the film – except I want to go all the way, not just copping a feel like those pussies.”
“I don’t think I want to think of the Titanic while I am on board a ship, thank you very much. And have you prepared your defence for when we are arrested for offending public decency?”
“Wait. I have found the perfect spot where no one will see us.”
She dragged him along until they came level with a lifeboat, and went to the bow of the boat where there was sufficient space for them both to stand, while still being hidden from view.
“See. Look around. Do you see anybody?”
“No, I guess not. Okay Miss Jezebel, you are living up to your name again.”
“Just so long as I don’t have a similar fate to her. When I bend over the railing, you must promise to hang on to me, and not push me overboard to be eaten by the fishes.”
“Do you think I am stupid enough to push you overboard before I have had the chance to fuck your brains out in Paris, Jez?
“No, I guess not. Come here and kiss me, and get me in the mood. I need a little foreplay if you would oblige.”
Hermes moved close to her and drew her towards him tightly. He wanted his cock inside this little temptress as soon as possible, but he owed her a bit of wooing after her award-winning blowjob of earlier that day. He pressed the palms of both hands against her shapely bottom and ground his cock against her. No need for any revival techniques for that little monster. He was raring to go.
“Drop your jeans and your panties and turn towards the railing.”
She did as requested and he slipped his fingers between her legs and began massaging, gently at first, and then a little harder. Jez responded by pushing her bottom towards him and against his fingers. He slipped one of them inside her, and she was soaking wet already. Not much need for foreplay here. He slipped another one inside and pushed them hard into her, as far as he could reach. His other hand, meanwhile, had moved around the outside and came in from the front, to seek out her clit, which he began to massage. She groaned.
“Fuck me, Hermes. I’ve been waiting all day for this. Fuck me hard.”
“Not so fast Miss Jezebel. I’m not going in until you start screaming for me to fuck you as though the world is coming to an end and you have time for just one last poke.”
He added a third finger, making a snug fit inside her tight little pussy. She was panting now, and from time to time, groaning. He knew that the sound of the waves would drown out the noise, even if there were any people in the vicinity. He leaned over her and gently bit her ear lobe.
“Please fuck me Hermes. You’re killing me here.”
He looked down at that perfect peachy arse and wanted to hear the sound of his hand connecting with it. Jez hadn’t given any indication that she was into a little bdsm, but nothing she had done or said suggested that she wouldn’t have experimented with some spanking before. He drew his fingers from her, brought back his arm and slapped her hard on her right cheek. She groaned, but made no move away from him. So he repeated the action on the other cheek. Jez turned her head towards him.
“Yes. Fucking yes. Do it.”
He began slapping her on alternate cheeks and Jez groaned even louder. He knew she would soon be begging to come, and he didn’t think that he could hold out for much longer either. He stopped after half a dozen hard slaps and unfastened his fly, then spread her legs and bent her further over the railing so that she was at the right height for him, before plunging himself into that tight, wet pussy at last.
“Yes, Hermes. Fucking yes.”
She was screaming it out, without a care of being heard. He didn’t think he had ever met a woman quite so uninhibited as Jez. He pounded into her again and again, and, despite his size, he found that she could take everything he had to offer. She was yelling now.
“Fuck the Titanic. I’ll take the ferry across the English Channel any day, Hermes.
Then she started singing at the top of her voice. The woman’s bat-shit crazy, he thought. She’s singing the fucking theme tune to the movie, in a voice that could best be described as the sound of a cat screaming as it was being dragged through a hedge. She stopped singing mid song and yelled to him.
“I’m coming, Hermes. I’m fucking coming. Hold me tight.”
He clung on around her waist, just in case she really flipped and dived overboard, and he felt her clamping on to his cock with her pussy as she rode the wave, quite literally in this case, which was the signal from his brain to let go and come for the second glorious time today with this crazy woman.
There was no time for any post sex wind down, however, because the coast of France was coming into view, and the claxon sounded, telling the drivers that they needed to return to their vehicles, ready for disembarkation. They rounded the lifeboat to see an old sea salt, a cigarette in his hand, leaning against the panelling, with a big grin on his face. He said nothing to them, but gave them a wink as they shuffled past him. So someone did hear them after all.
A short time later they were off the ship and back on the road, headed for Paris. Hermes looked sideways at Jez, who was leaning back in the seat with a contented, just-been-fucked expression on her face, and shook his head, but he couldn’t help grinning at the same time. This was turning into one hell of a day.
They made it into Paris before dark and he headed for the depot where he was to drop off his trailer, to be unloaded and reloaded by the morning, in time for his return journey.
“So, Hermes, now that that’s done, what are your plans for the evening, and do they include me?”
“Well no, I was thinking of dropping you off at the next junction…of course they include you. You don’t think I am letting you go without another fuck, do you? I have decided that instead of us both squeezing into the bed in the cab, I will splash out on a hotel room for the night, and you, Miss Jezebel, will be my guest.”
“Sounds good to me. For that, Hermes, you can have the gold-plated, extra special fuck. Where are you going to park this thing?”
“There’s a fish market not far from here, where I often stay overnight. So we will park there, and get a taxi to a small hotel I know. Then a shower and dinner sounds a good plan, followed by lots of hot sex. I’ve never had the gold-plated sex before, so I will look forward to it.”
“Believe me, Hermes, I will make your eyeballs spin.”
Over dinner, Hermes again brought up the subject of Jez’s father. This time, lubricated by a few glasses of wine, and perhaps because she knew that they would part in the morning, she began to share.
“He was a bastard, Hermes. He used to beat up my mother, and then he ran out on us when I was ten.”
“So why go and see him then? Especially all the way to Portugal.”
“That’s where he went after he married wife number three. And she contacted me a few weeks ago and asked me, practically begged me actually, to go and see him because he is dying, and he told her he needed to see me again.”
“I see; and the reason you are meandering all over Europe and taking your time to get there, is because…?”
“I don’t know. I told her that I wouldn’t go at first. But she pestered me a lot and I weakened. But I really don’t want to see him again, and I suppose I sort of hoped that, by the time I eventually reached Portugal it would be too late, and I wouldn’t have to see him after all.”
“But you will have satisfied your conscience by making the effort?”
“Exactly. It’s stupid, isn’t it?”
“Not at all. He caused you and your mother a lot of pain, and just because he is now dying, it doesn’t mean he has earned the right to expect your forgiveness. Is your mother still alive?”
“Sort of…she has dementia and is in a home. She doesn’t even know me now. I sometimes wonder if all the blows to the head from him contributed to her condition. I go and see her every week or two, but I could be Joan of Arc as far as she is concerned, she’s totally out of it now.”
Hermes reached out his hand and rested it gently on hers, in a simple act of human compassion. Immediately he did that, Jez’s mood changed, and she was back to her usual breezy self.
“Enough of my miserable life, Hermes. Tonight we eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Or so someone once said.”
Her face was transformed by a beautiful and mischievous smile, and the sad feelings were once again locked away.
“I loved it when you spanked me, Hermes. Will you do it again tonight?”
“It will be my pleasure, Jez. I had a feeling that you would like it. Have you done it before?”
“A few times. I have met the odd guy who was into spanking and bondage, that sort of thing. But I don’t tend to stay in relationships very long. I don’t like being tied down, so to speak, no pun intended, Hermes. I suppose I am a bit of a rolling stone, gathering no moss. It’s a bit rich me criticising my Dad for not sticking around when I do the same.”
“Well he wasn’t exactly a good role model for you, was he? Anyway, speaking about spanking, little Hermes is getting a bit restive. How about we go back to our room and see how good the sound proofing is?”
"Hermes, when I said I didn’t mind being tied up and flogged, I didn’t give you carte blanche to truss me up like a chicken for the oven, you know.”
Jez was lying naked, face down on the bed, her arms and legs fully stretched, tied as they were by four pieces of rope to the bed. Hermes had laid her on top of two pillows, so her bottom was raised, and she had a scarf wrapped around her face, so she could see nothing.
Hermes stood back and surveyed her. It was a good job he carried a few supplies in his bag for just such occasions. They didn’t happen very often, being on the move so much, so mostly he made do with occasional visits to local bdsm clubs. Not that he was a regular player. He just liked to play around like this from time to time, but he was happy with vanilla most of the time. Jez, however, had brought out the dominant side of his nature, but he wanted her to enjoy it too. In fact he wanted her shrieks of pleasure to be heard on the other side of Paris, even if it meant he could never come back to this place again on future trips. He would take it slowly and take his lead from Jez. He bent over and kissed her shoulder.
“Any time you want me to stop, just shout stop and I will stop straight away. Do you trust me Jez?”
“Yes, I trust you Hermes. It’s just me I don’t trust. Better not release me from these ropes because I will ravish you until you lose the ability to breathe.”
“Enthusiasm. That’s what I like to hear, baby. Believe me, you won’t be sorry by the time I have done.”
He unfastened his belt and pulled it from the loops of his jeans. He had no intention of doing any harm to Jez, or marking her beautiful skin too much, but he knew that they both wanted to go a little further than they had already. He dropped the end of the belt on to her back and ran it up and down her body.
“You okay with this. I promise I won’t get carried away. I won’t hurt you more than you can take.”
Jez was already breathing heavily and Hermes knew she was already in the zone.
“Do it, Hermes. Just fucking do it.”
He doubled over the belt and brought it down crisply on to her bottom, where it resonated with a satisfying crack. Jez gave a slight groan of pleasure, so he repeated the move several times until the colour of her bottom became a rosy pink. He leaned over and touched her skin, which was just a little warm. He thought she could take a few more, and with each stroke Jez moaned and began to grind her pelvis against the pillows.
He stopped at ten and reached his fingers down between her thighs, where her juices were already flowing, and massaged her skin, while Jez continued to moan. He got on his knees between her legs and bent his body so that he could reach her with his tongue. He did not intend to stop until she was begging him to fuck her.
It wasn’t long before that happened.
“Fuck me, Hermes. For fuck’s sake, fuck me.”
He continued to lick and suck, pushing his tongue inside her and massaging her clit so that she was becoming almost unable to construct coherent sentences. She began to moan again, louder this time. He felt it was time to put her out of her misery and, quickly stripping off his clothes, he got on top of her and entered her from behind with one swift motion.
“Yes, Hermes, yes, yes, yes.”
He gave her everything he had, and then some more, until they both went spiralling and crashing into the most intense climax that Hermes could ever remember. He collapsed down on her, his sweaty skin rubbing against hers. He was beat, sucked dry, exhausted; could he even contemplate leaving this amazing woman behind tomorrow and driving back to England alone? He did not like the idea one little bit. But Jez had warned him that she was a rolling stone, and that this was just a pleasant interlude for her. A wave of sadness flowed over him as he looked at the exhausted woman lying beneath him.
The next morning, Jez and Hermes took a taxi back to the fish market, where Hermes had left his cab. Jez was unusually quiet, and Hermes, too, did not attempt much conversation. The truth was, that after just one day with Jez he was in awe of this crazy young woman, and reluctant to say goodbye. No one had ever made such an instant impression on him. It helped that she had epic tits and an ass made for spanking, but it was also her uncompromising ‘fuck the world, I’ll live as I want’ attitude that appealed to him.
Following his spanking of the night before, they had sex every which way, until they had fallen into an exhausted sleep somewhere around three am, so they were both tired as they left the hotel around eight am.
“I’ll take you to the road from Paris to Orleans, and then I will go and pick up the trailer to take back to England. Will you be okay from there?”
“Yes, Hermes, I’m sure I’ll get a lift. Anywhere south will suit me.”
“So no destination in mind yet? You’re still reluctant to go to Lisbon to see your Dad?”
“Oh, I’ll get there. Just not sure when.”
They lapsed into silence once again, as Hermes followed the traffic south from the city. There was a lay-by that he thought would be a good place for her to catch a lift, and he pulled in and stopped. He turned to look at Jez.
“Well, it’s been fun, Jez. In fact, I would go so far as to say it has been an epic experience, and I am glad I stopped to pick you up.”
“Of course you are, Hermes. You’ve had the fuck of your life, and you know it.”
He smiled at Jez’s self-confident assertion, but he wouldn’t challenge her in any way. She was right. Suddenly, on impulse, he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and scribbled down his mobile phone number and shoved it into her hand.
“We will probably not bump into each other again, but just in case you get into a scrape between here and Lisbon, call me and I will try and help.”
She gave a rather wistful smile and leaned over to give him a light kiss on the lips.
“Thanks, Hermes. You are very sweet. You take care…and don’t go picking up too many hitchhikers. You might find you have bitten off more than you can chew.”
With that, she opened the door and swung down onto the ground, and walked away, just giving a brief wave of the hand without turning. The cab seemed surprisingly empty all of a sudden. Fuck it. Forget her. As she said, it was just a great twenty-four hours. But she was not so easy to forget and on the drive back to England he constantly relived the events of the day before and he knew that whenever he was on this route in the future he would never forget that day.
Are Jez and Hermes parting company forever, leaving Jez to freewheel her way across Europe? I’m not sure there will be a part 3 unless I can get a little more response. (Thanks to the few people who have acknowledged my blogs, though. It makes all the difference to me as a writer.)
I’d love some feedback please. What do you think of my posts? Do you love them or hate them? Does the bad language offend you? Is there too much sex/not enough sex? Please leave a comment at the bottom of the page. I don’t bite, and I promise not to stalk you. Constructive criticism is OK too. If you don't want to leave a reply, just click the Like button at the top of the page. Many thanks. :)
(Picture by Shutterstock)