lets talk about sex…

Some people have it all wrong.
They think they can just stick the key in, turn it,
And vavroom, start racing around.
She’s more fragile than that.
Needs to be warmed up. I turn her on.
Then I sit there, tense, teasing her in that way that only I know,
Lightly pressing the gas without putting her into gear.
She urges me on by letting out soft moans of eagerness.
The harder I press the louder she purrs.
The radio starts playing a soft song as she beings to return the favor.
The heat at me helps me relax. I start squirming,
I tingle for the oncoming ride.

Finally she is ready.
I grab the stick and ease it in towards first
As I press the clutch.
The gears catch and we start to move, ever so slowly.
The tires begin to creak as the cold rubber grinds
Against the equally cold pavement.
The exhaust is thick but smells sweet. The windows start to fog up,
Passionate smears of the past become visible across the glass.
I readjust in my seat. More relaxed now,
I recline and twiddle with her mirrors.
We move in slow motion towards the edge of the driveway.
I check both ways, and turn on to the road
Leading away from the dullness of my neighborhood
And towards the vibrant foliage of the countryside.

She gives a sharp quick moan of excitement
As she gets more gas and as soon as possible
I bump the clutch and switch to second.
This is perhaps the most important transition.
Such a delicate balance, it’s so easy to stall out,
Never too many RPMs, never too few.
After the sharp gasp, she lets down
And returns to the low pitch groans of love for the streets.
We stay in second for a while,
Cruising comfortably towards the freedom of open road.
It’s important to make it last.
With no stop signs or lights it’s easy to get carried away
But I stay calm and composed, easing in and out of the turns,
Hardly pressing her at all.
The radio is playing something smooth.
It’s new, soothing, and accompanies the pace.
As the road widens so do my eyes.
I tense up again, but in a wave.
First my eyes press shut, then my neck arcs back,
Then my shoulders tighten, my back arches, my ass squeezes,
Then my thighs, my calves,
All the way down to my toes
Which instinctively understand the origin of my chill
And press slowly but firmly against the gas.
I let the RPMs soar. Even now I tease her.
She gets louder and louder, at a higher and higher pitch, until, finally,
A squeal of satisfaction.
At that I let off the gas, tap the clutch and we are in third.
The gears catch easily now. I’m into her,
And she responds promptly to my every action.

Now we are cruising in third.
A new radio station is playing,
Something with a little more energy,
Some rock, maybe the Stones.
I grip the wheel with my left,
The stick with my right, and she’s Under My Thumb.
I am focused, completely in tune with every way she moves,
Every sound she lets out.
I work her with such a familiarity
That I can respond correctly to every indicator.
She’s gripping the turns,
Loving how hard she is being pressed against the road.
There is not another car in sight.
The scenery is a colorful blur as it flies by.
As the sun begins to set, parents are asleep,
Cell phones are silent, and the highways are clear.

The on-ramp is tricky. Hard to speed up to change the mood,
But harder still to slow down. I manage to pick up the pace.
She screeches in pleasure as her tires slip towards the edge,
But never off, the road. Her excitement is muffled
By a pillow of whistling wind.

We are on.
Without hesitation we go third to fourth.
She wants it and I know it, no need to mess around.
Palms sweaty from driving but I don’t notice.
It’s time to bring her home, the fast way.
Fourth is really just a prep gear,
Some intermediary step between smooth rocking
And the rock-rap of fifth.
It’s that brief accumulation of passion before again;
The gas is let off, the clutch popped, and the stick shifted.
Once in fifth, there are no inhibitions,
Only open highway.
No turns, no obstacles, no need to slow down,
Only an overwhelming need for speed and power.
The engine uses physics to its advantage,
Cutting the RPMs for harder, longer,
More powerful strokes, maximum efficiency.
She is screaming and so am I.
My forearms shake as I grasp the wheel
With a grip I can’t control.
I keep pressing the gas deeper
And deeper to the floor until the pedal can go no further.
I have done all I can.
I just keep it to the floor
As she slowly builds up her last reserves,
And then lets them out.

Finally, we can go no faster.
We are pushed to the max.
It is an unbelievable connection.
There are more noises now than ever and yet it seems silent.
We just stay there, pushed to the limit
For as long as I can hold on. Finally,
Right as I give up, she’s silent,
Just for a moment as she tries to scream
But nothing comes out.
At last she releases the tight grip she once had on me.

Downshift.
Fifth, to fourth, to third, second,
And finally back to the tranquil first that started it all.
I am gasping for breath as we pull onto my street,
Still shaken from the experience.