Motorway Masturbation.

I must confess that, as masturbation goes, I tend to measure it in terms of time rather than miles. You know what I mean- the family have popped out to the shops, let's see if I can slip a quick flick in. Not so last night, oh no- last night was a much more relaxed affair. My lovely husband and I had spent a delightful evening watching a burlesque show and those ladies (and gentlemen) were absolutely sizzling; consequently we were both feeling horny on the drive home. Now, this wonderful man of mine is by nature a Dom. I don't do the whole Master and Slave thing as a rule, but I'm not averse to a little play and good grief I would've walked on burning coals- heck, I would have stripped naked and lain down on them, for him last night if he'd demanded it of me. He didn't of course, as burning coals aren't commonly found in South London at midnight; what he did do as soon as we got back to the car was have me bend over into it so he could lift my skirt and tidy up my stockings which were threatening to descend, and remove my knickers because he wanted access to me as as when he decreed it. Every time we stopped at traffic lights he stuffed his hand up my skirt. He then ordered me to keep my stocking tops on display at all times as he found the glimpse of skin just above the lace to be most appealing. As we headed south he told me that I needed to masturbate, to get my horny little hole nice and wet and ready for his use when we got home. Well, it would've been rude to refuse, wouldn't it? I licked my finger and began to touch my clit, gentle circular motions, which sent a tingle through me. I inserted two fingers into my pussy and pushed them up me as far as I could, worked them back and forth, feeling my juices collecting on my probing digits. I withdrew them and sucked them. "Don't stop. Keep working that pussy!" came my husband's voice from my right. I reapplied my finger to my clit and stretched out my legs, frantically flicking and rubbing, images of the sensuous ladies of burlesque running through my mind all the while. Oh, the things I could do with them.... I vaguely remember the lights and bridges passing overhead. The voice of my beloved, instructing me to keep on going, not to cum, stick three fingers up my pussy, don't dare cum, flick that clit, spread those cunt lips wide, keep going, don't stop, don't cum.... 30 miles later my body was exhausted with the effort of not cumming. Then, just outside a small village near home, he said, "Cum NOW!" and my finger seemed to spark off my engorged clit and fired wave upon wave of orgasmic bliss through me which left me almost paralysed for several minutes once it subsided. How I love that man of mine. And yes, he reaped the rewards when we got in...