Sauvie Island Flesh Pretzel

He whipped out his cock. Eros on earth. Perfectly erect.

“If I had incense and candles, I’d sing hymns to your dick right now,” I said.

He tilted his seat back until it clanked into the last possible position.

His cock still stiffened against his stomach. The waist band of his pants held it in place.

He shielded the driver’s side window with his black hoodie. I had already covered the passenger’s side window with my blue hoodie because the setting sun beat down on my skull until my hair baked with a lambent heat.

I studied his high cheekbones to his crystalline blue eyes that pierced right through my struggle of reluctance and excitement.

I looked around to see if we were alone in the parking gravel on Sauvie Island.

The herd of cattle in front of us grazed the pasture in a slow gait. A white bull with horns that stretched for almost a yard on each side caught my eye. The father of Minotaur that Poseidon sent to Minos. The rampaging Cretan Bull that Hercules captured. The wandering Marathonian Bull that Theseus slayed. The mythic white bull of unbridled passion and spontaneity stood a few hundred feet from the car in the lush field. I was stoned and took it as an omen.

My gaze spun back to my boyfriend who now had a solar aura cast around him. A translucent gold nimbus engulfed his body. He grabbed his dick. I swallowed as much as I could fit in my mouth.

Earlier, we strolled along the shoreline of the river. The trees cast a shadow along the river’s edge, and an icy breeze chilled us enough to make us turn back to the car. The sky hadn’t yet blushed with Maxfield-Parrish hues, but it would. Just like my face and ass was about to.

I switched positions and tried kneeling on the floorboard, but it didn’t make it easier to give good head in a small car. After a few minutes of slurping and bobbing, a Honda pulled up next to us.

I climbed back into my seat.

“Don’t worry, he can’t see us,” Eros said.

We had heard a cow moo her way into the herd when we first arrived, while we smoked weed. She was off in the distance and mooed until she took her place between other cows convened near a brown bull, smaller than the giant snow-white bull.

“I dare you to moo when he gets out of the car,” I said.

The stout, gray-haired man stepped out of his car, to his trunk and opened it.

“Mooooooo,” Eros said, two or three times.

The man looked out into the cow pasture.

We laughed.

The man disappeared into the trees.

We kissed.

“Turn around, pull down your pants, and bring your ass over here,” Eros said and patted the leather seat.

I squished myself against the door in a fetal position, with my head twisted against the door and ass toward him. He smacked it and I could feel his hand print swell and redden.

“I haven’t had sex in a car since I was a kid,” I said.

He lowered his head and kissed me with the sexiest lips I’ve ever tasted.

He spat in his hand, rubbed it on his cock, then my pussy, and slid inside of me. I looked up as he scaled the seats for the best angle. He wiggled into different positions while he pumped the flesh pretzel I’d willingly become.

He doubled as a sex god and rock climber as I watched and moaned.

Just when he got into the perfect, most-pleasurable position, the stocky man returned to his car. By now, the hoodies fell half off the tinted windows. Anxiety showered me in a wave of worry. At the same time, a white truck that resembled a police vehicle revved down the gravel.

“We’re so busted,” I said.

“No one can tell what’s going on,” he said, still inside me, as he peered out the back window, holding himself up on the seats.

The truck rolled past without hesitation. The short, silver man sat in his car.

We laughed and continued having sex. We tucked the falling hoodies back into the slightly open windows, around each thrust.

We both glanced over at the guy in the car, assumed he’d drive off any second, so we could really go for it.

“Why won’t he just leave?” I said.

“I don’t know but he needs to,” my boyfriend said.

The creeper in the car just sat there. We noticed he wasn’t actually watching us, but we sensed he enjoyed knowing we were fucking next to him, so we stopped.

We pulled up our pants and shook our heads. We left the cattle in the dust with the peripheral voyeur.

This essay originally appeared in Exotic magazine, June 2017.