My seventy-five Camaro is speeding along at eighty-five on the one o’ one.
I keep my eyes on the freeway, occasionally looking toward the passenger seat.
My left hand on the steering wheel,
My right hand rubbing the pussy of a bald headed, beautifully tattooed, big breasted vixen.
I look to my right,
The lights of Los Angeles loom.

I hear her purr as I’m working her up,
She begins to thrash a bit, causing me to slip out my lane by a foot.
Her purr becomes a moan.
She pulls my hand, sticks my fingers in her mouth, tasting herself.
I look to my right,
The lights of Los Angeles loom.

It’s as if I am a dashing hero in a movie,
This would be where I would narrate my thoughts,
Music from an elite orchestra filling the air,
A warm California breeze tossing my glorious hair about.
Maybe an epiphany of some sorts will hit me,
As I feel her warm, wet femininity with my fingers.
Maybe this is just another night in my life,
With no revelations or grand lessons,
Just enjoying the touch of a gorgeous woman,
As the lights of Los Angeles loom.

~Raul Felix

Read: She Was Travelling Through My Country
Read: Keep Moving, Young Man

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