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there in
Scandinavia. If they sold men in Ikea, I would sign up for a
loyalty card. His body was firm and muscular, and he had plenty of
energy. The atmosphere inside the Rocket warmed up, and soon there
was steam on the windows.
    Being taken by Lars was great. But I needed to get
some exercise, too.
    ‘My turn on top,’ I said, and Lars was happy to
oblige.
    He lay down on the seat, his crazy curls flopping
around his face. His dick wasn’t flopping anywhere, though. It was
sitting bolt upright like a Viking sword, and I was very keen to
impale myself on it. I shuffled forward so that my pussy was right
over his cock. Lars took his manhood in his hands and slid it
inside me.
    Awesome!
    I spread my legs so that one knee was touching the
rear of the back seat, while the other pressed against the front
seat. Then I began to move my body up and down on his shaft,
allowing him to penetrate deep within me.
    ‘You are fantastic, Angel. I’m so glad I asked you
that question,’ Lars groaned. ‘This is the highlight of my trip so
far.’
    ‘I’m glad, too. You’re body really turns me on.’
    I slid up and down the length of his cock,
increasing the pace and pushing to get every piece of him inside
me. I was enjoying every second…
    And then the cramp struck.
    ‘Owww!!! Ouch…oh, fuck!!!’
    I hate it when that happens. I mostly get cramp
after doing a lot of driving, as I had that day. Having one foot
ramming down on the throttle seems to do weird things to the
muscles. I always get it in the same place – in the calf of my
throttle leg. When it strikes, the pain is agonizing, and the only
cure is to straighten the leg and hop around until it all
subsides.
    ‘Fuck…cramp!’ I shouted. ‘I’ve got to get
out…quick!’
    I leaned forward and opened the door behind Lars.
His head fell back and cracked the door frame, but I was in too
much pain to give a damn about that. I scrambled over him,
accidentally dumping my pussy in his face as I climbed out. Then I
was out on the grass, hopping around like a lunatic. It was cold
out there, of course, but I didn’t give a damn about that. And I
didn’t give a crap about who might be watching. I stumbled into the
fir trees, trying to stretch my leg. Gradually the pain subsided
from agony to mere discomfort. I felt the back of my calf. The
muscle was still distended. I continued limping through the trees
until everything worked back into place. Pine needles and stones
pricked at my feet, but I was too focused to care. Eventually, I
felt everything was back to normal. All of a sudden, I was aware of
the cold. I started to shiver.
    I looked around. Where the hell was Lars? I thought
he might have followed me with a coat – or at least with an
expression of concern. But there was no sign of him. I started
working my way back through the trees to the car. I had gone
farther than I had realized, and now I was more aware of sharp
things sticking into my feet. So it took me a while to get back to
the Rocket.
    When I got to the Pulsar, it was eerily silent.
Still no sign of Lars, either in the car or out. I opened the
passenger door and looked at the foot well by his seat. His
backpack was gone.
    The bastard had fucked off.
     
    ***
     
    I didn’t hang around
waiting for him. I knew better than that. I have plenty of
experience of guys getting their leg over and then making a run for
it. But usually not quite so literally. I guess he had decided a
woman with cramp was just too much trouble. Plenty of Canadian
girls around here who would melt at the sound of his accent.
    Bastard.
    Never mind. Worse things happen at sea, as my Dad
always says. He has never specified exactly what those things are,
and as he has lived in the Montana forest all his life, I have no
clue where he found out about them. But I’m sure he knows what he
is talking about.
    I got dressed, fired up the Rocket and got back on
the freeway. I was a bit pissed off now. All that fluffing around
with Lars had put me