Love Eggs & Girlfriendship

“I’m not going to have enough time to go home and shower and change before our date,” Jock said. “I can come and bring food if you don’t mind an evening picnic?”

“Sure, I’d love that,” I replied. “Shall I wear pants or no pants with my dress today? Love eggs in or out?”

I was feeling brave, plus I wanted to introduce him to my playful side. Yes, we’re compatible (mostly) in a tent in the middle of a field somewhere, but were we compatible in other ways? I figured, it was a good time to find out. I barely dared to breathe as I waited for his reply. What if he wasn’t playful? What if it was too soon? What if I scared him away?

“Keep the pants on. Love eggs in,” he answered.

Thank fuck for that. It was the perfect answer. Perhaps he was playful, too. I sure hoped so!

At 6:30pm, when he arrived, I skipped out to the car as best I could, clenching like you would not believe, slightly concerned that the love eggs might slide right out… given how wet I was already. The thought of playing with him, really playing with him, had gotten me hotter and more bothered than even I thought was possible.

He joked about the eggs as we ate our sandwiches and occasionally fought off geese. “How do I know they’re really in there?”

“If you’d opted for no pants, I could show you.”

“Oh, bugger,” he said, tilting his head to the side.

He was figuring me out just like I was figuring him out – seeing how far we could go, what the other person liked, which kinks ticked the boxes. It gave me hope. I have nothing against “vanilla” sex… but I really do love playful sex. Fun sex. Adventurous, exploring, let’s-try-this sex.

I could quite easily have pulled my underwear down and made myself come right there, right then. Or fucked him. It was deserted enough for me do it; although, those pesky geese were still too close for comfort. I didn’t want to go too far, too soon, though. What if Jock wasn’t an outdoor sex kinda person? What if it was too public for him? What if, what if, what if?

We both brought up sex and those love eggs countless times throughout the picnic, but nothing really happened until we’d headed back to the car and were looking for a place to watch the sunset. Those deserted country roads had given me an idea… albeit a dangerous one. The usual warnings apply here: don’t try this at home, it’s dangerous, we could’ve crashed and died, etc. 

Jock rested one hand on my knee after changing gear, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I lifted my cowboy boot-clad feet and slipped my French pants off, bundling them up and dropping them into his lap. It took him a few seconds, but he eventually picked them up and raised them to his nose… just like I somehow knew he would.

“Keep your eyes on the road, darling,” I purred, taking his gear-changing hand and placing it on my thigh. “But you can find out for yourself if I really have those love eggs in.”

He half-laughed, half-snorted, and I couldn’t help but giggle. He was playful… and now there was no stopping me. I wanted to play with him. Oh, did I want to play.

“Will you change my gears?” he asked.

“Sure,” I laughed. I’m the world’s worst driver, but he’d soon learn that.

I guided his hand with my own as we reached the straight, clear parts of the road, sliding it higher and higher up my thigh until it reached the heat emanating from my cunt. I’d been ready and raring to go since before I’d even left the house, and the love eggs had done absolutely nothing to help that… nor had the bumps along that country road.

“Someone’s excited,” he said, a tinge of surprise in his voice.

“Well, yes,” I laughed. “That’s because I’m very sexually attracted to you.”

“And the love eggs!”

“Yes, and the love eggs.” I saw the grin spread across his face at my words, so I repeated them, just to make doubly sure he knew: “I’m very, very sexually attracted to you.”

Our sticky fingers, intertwined, rolled and tiptoed around my cunt. Every now and then, he tugged on the rope of the love eggs, and I braced, anticipating him pulling them out. He never did, though. He was just testing the waters, playing around. There was no way that I was going to stop him.

I guided him to my clit, showing him just how I like to be touched. Together we worked, lapping and circling and nudging until my breathing was jagged and I squirmed on the seat. He took his hand away to change gear once or twice, licking his fingers and muttering to himself before returning back to me. I will remember those moments forever.

It didn’t take long for the first waves of my orgasm to roll in, something I made very clear to him. At the exact moment that I tipped over the edge, he grabbed the rope and pulled the love eggs out. It was incredible. I can’t explain it, but it just felt great. Like a really good orgasm… with extras. I was and am a very big fan and yes, I’ll be doing that again.

Somehow, he managed to keep his eyes on the road and his other hand on the steering wheel, but he pulled into that little layby-esque spot as soon as he saw that there were no other cars there – and he had quite the grin on his face.

“I think I’ve made your seat a little damp,” I giggled, a little nervous about getting out and revealing the mess.

“I’ll suck it up,” he said. Just like that. It rolled right off of his tongue. Easy-peasy. Had I found myself a little pervert? Oh, I sure hoped so. (The good kind of pervert, obviously.)

Once parked up he fiddled around with his seat and slid it back as far as it would go. “Come on,” he said, tapping his leg.

Without question or hesitation, I straddled and rode him as best I could in the driver’s seat of a Chrysler PT Cruiser. And as the sun set behind me, I came once more, a minute or so before he did.

“So, am I your girlfriend now?” I asked, kissing his forehead.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded. “You’re my girlfriend.”

Folks, I’ve bagged myself a fun, possibly perverted boyfriend.

The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: (Not) A Problematic Thing.