Chapter 1

 He saw the legs first, long and lean and smooth, and drew closer for a better view, hissing through his teeth in surprise as his eyes picked out the sharp white V nestled snugly between the very top of her thighs. Her skirt was up around her waist and he drew in his breath sharply once more as he realised he was looking at her underwear. He inched closer still, leaning forward in his seat as he peered downwards, his mouth beginning to sag open as he stared at her knickers, tight between her thighs. Her widespread thighs: she’d shifted in her seat, opening her legs invitingly, exposing the tight curve of white panties as they dipped downwards, cupping her perfect mound in a skin-tight casing.

Maybe it was the warm spring sunshine, the uneventful routine of driving, or just the persistent rumble of every westward mile that helped the horror of the last weeks and the New Believers recede into the background of the English countryside. But whatever the cause, the effect was undeniable and now, after an hour or so driving, the whole thing had faded to little more than a vague memory, perhaps no more real to her than to anyone else who read about it in the Sunday newspaper.

Now it was just as if she and Sophie had never taken part, and all the things that had happened had happened to someone else. The Susie she was today, heading west along the motorway, was untouched, a different person altogether. Fresh and innocent as she’d been before, she was just a pretty, cheerful blonde girl with something alive and restless shining in her eyes, revealing a deep, glowing hunger, a yearning that was matched by the warm glow in her knickers.

High up in the cab of his lorry he had a perfect view down into the little car as it droned steadily along in the nearside lane. Being French, he’d looked down into the car by force of habit, hoping as always for a glimpse of thigh. He was often lucky in this, and sometimes even luckier, catching a rare glimpse of stocking top and suspender. Once before he’d seen that Holy Grail of the truck driving voyeur, a pair of knickers, but that had been back at home in France, where driving positions were reversed and he could look into the passenger side of the cars passing below him, where such sights were more likely to be found. Here in England he saw mostly hard shoulder and grass verge, since he so seldom overtook a car, and when he did it was usually because the driver was old enough to be his grandmother and moved just as slowly.

But this was different. This was a lithe young woman in her twenties, with shapely, parted legs, sexy little knickers and a hand that was gently stroking the inside of her thigh, reaching higher and higher with each caress!

Yes, incredibly, the warm wet welcome was still there, fresh and demanding and as undeniable as it had been every day of her life since - well, since her schooldays and Miss Piggy’s cane. Susie let herself linger on the memory of those few minutes bent across the school desk, when she’d been forced to slide her fingers in and out of her tender young body while the vast form of the gym mistress laboured away behind her, caning and masturbating with a deadly rhythm that spoke of years of practice. The memory was the first of many along the path that brought her from girl to woman, and the real miracle of that blooming was that somehow she had developed the sexual appetite of a full-grown and voracious woman but had lost none of the innocence of her youth.

He couldn’t get any closer, and he didn’t need to. He could see everything. He just held the vehicle steady and hoped she’d remain unaware of his presence, staring avidly from above as the delicate fingers stroked the front of the white panties, pressing into the softness within. He could almost feel the warmth rising from between her legs, almost feel the heat inside her gusset, the moist, wet gusset, the material getting wetter as the flesh inside gradually parted in arousal, opening the way into her body.

If she’d thought about it, and she seldom bothered to, Susie would have been almost as surprised by the demands of her own body as she had been when still a teenager experimenting for the first time. And maybe she would have realised that it was the survival of her youthfully innocent sexual greed that made her such an irresistible magnet for men - and women. But she didn’t notice, or even care that much, but regarded the phenomenon of her almost permanently aroused body with frank acceptance.

Even now, after she had been so horribly abused by the New Believers, Susie regarded what was taking place between her legs as a brand new and highly interesting occurrence, which deserved to be treated as unique.

Because there was definitely something happening in her underwear, and it had never been possible for Susie to ignore such things, or leave them unattended to for very long. So, after glancing sideways at her sleeping sister, Susie moved the hand that had been pressing into her lap, plucked the hem of her skirt between finger and thumb, and raised it higher up her thighs, exposing the lean limbs and the taut muscles that drew the eyes down into the valley between them.

The lorry that had been alongside for some moments swayed and jerked slightly, and Susie realised it was foreign, and that from his seat on the left hand side of the cab, the driver could probably look right down into the car; could probably see her thighs, slender and tanned, and the idea of an unknown man - an exotically French unknown man - watching while she pleasured herself, caused a fresh flood of warm wetness to seep from her body.

Keeping her foot on the accelerator, Susie spread her knees wider and let her knowing fingers dip swiftly and easily between her thighs, stroking and caressing, until they’d encountered the stretched smoothness of her knickers, and the warm softness that swelled within them.

Her finger pressed downwards, pushing the material deeper, making the shape of her firm mound and soft valley in white cotton; he could see it with total clarity as he grasped himself, one hand clutching at the thick pole that stood up inside his greasy overalls.

The fabric was already moist and at the first touch of sensitive fingers she felt it become wet, as her body flowered and warm juices seeped between the opening folds of flesh, soaking her knickers and making it easy for her fingertips to trace the outline of the widening cleft in the clammy warmth. Playing for her audience, she let the motion continue beyond the point at which her body cried out for more, until she couldn’t hold back any longer without moaning aloud.

Her hand continued its lazy stroking movement, and so did his as he stared, mesmerised, and his patience was more than rewarded as the finger pushed ever inwards and the white material slowly disappeared, until it was just a narrow band of white that cut her in half. He was literally dribbling now, strands of saliva hanging from his lower lip as he stared in disbelief. Incredibly he could see the pinkness of the neatly shaved mound and the darker, rosy wetness inside her as the wrist arched and the finger straightened, before it sank slowly past the band of white and disappeared all the way inside.

Susie plucked at the elastic of her knickers with two elegant fingers and pulled the material aside, stroking the warm slickness of her own body, teasing herself with her fingertips and her fingernails until she could control herself no longer, and with a soft moan she raised her bottom so she could slide a finger into the welcoming heat and wetness.

Sighing happily, she let her weight sink down again, forcing the finger deeper, flexing it slowly and luxuriously as her thumb began a swift, delicate flirtation with the tiny bud of her clitoris, stroking, rubbing and flicking, spreading the syrupy wetness around it, making the sensations deeper and smoother.

He could almost hear the sigh of satisfaction that accompanied the arching of her body to meet the intruding digit, and he could almost hear the soft wet sucking noises as that finger began to slide in and out, glistening with moisture each time it reappeared. Fumbling frantically he undid the buttons of his overalls, dragged the grubby underpants aside and pulled himself into the open so he could match her, stroke for stroke. Especially now that she had two fingers at work, one either side of the tight line of white, pulling it tighter as the fingers sank, releasing it as they surfaced, glistening wetly in the sunshine that illuminated the interior of the car, little diamonds of moisture that sparkled in the light. Holding the wheel steady and holding his breath, he stared transfixed as the languid movements of her arm and wrist grew more staccato, and the muscles of her thighs pulled tightly as she flexed her hips upward to meet the thrusts. His hand moved faster and faster inside the cab and he began to gasp, feeling stupid for his fear that the sound of his breath might alert her to his presence and spoil the show she was unwittingly providing.

Susie opened her legs as wide as she could, and slid down in her seat as much as she dared while still being able to see enough to keep the car pointing in the right direction. She arched her body and spread herself apart with two fingers so he could see how wet and ready she was, and then she slid one finger inside, slowly and luxuriously, wriggling it around as it sank deeper and deeper into the heat and wetness.

She smiled, a pout that revealed a glimpse of even white teeth, and added a second finger, revelling in the sensations as it spread her wider and filled her, wriggling alongside its companion. She didn’t know if she had a G-spot, and quite frankly she didn’t care. But she knew what felt good, and this certainly did. Sometimes she needed to tease and tickle her little button, and that would provoke rapid orgasms of brief delight. Other times, and this was one of them, she liked to make herself come with her fingers inside. It took longer, but it was infinitely more fun along the way and the climax, when it came, was far better, longer lasting and of frightening intensity.

Knowing that was what lay just a few minutes ahead, she revelled in the early signs of that powerful rush of pleasure, the glorious sensations that were building steadily between her thighs, a warm tightness that gripped her groin and spread up into her body in long slow pulses that were getting ever stronger and faster. She delighted in pleasuring herself for her own sake, of doing what pleased her for the pure fun of being pleased. Right now it pleased her to know she was being watched, pleased her to know the lecherous driver high above could look, could dream, but could never touch. Knowing she was going to excite him enough to make him come in his pants - that was her pleasure, her power, and her restoration.

Her back arched, her hips bucked and her breath rasped in her throat, and she knew the driver would see and know she had climaxed, and that heightened her pleasure still further. As the climax reached tidal wave intensity the shuddering spasms that gripped her released more than the usual tensions. They washed her clean of the past few weeks and set her free, to be herself once more, and the knowledge that she was once again in charge of her life added a special force to her climax.

Her delight was so extreme that she allowed her display to go on longer than necessary, holding her thighs apart and spreading the soaking fringes of her body apart so the foreign lecher could see as much as possible for as long as possible.

‘Yes,’ she murmured drowsily to herself as she still teased the soft wetness, ‘I’m back.’

Eight feet above the lorry driver’s pumping wrist did its work, and with a Gallic grunt he ejaculated over his overalls, just as Susie gathered her composure and pointed the nose of the little Peugeot westward, towards Kingscombe.