Highland Garage

Imagine a warm summer evening in Tucson.  Schools out, campus is quiet.  We have a fabulous meal out and I am driving you back to your place.  We are passing by campus and I turn off Speedway.  You are lost in thought and not really paying attention, but then you notice we are entering the Highland Garage.  You ask what’s up; I just say I want to show you something.

I drive us to the very top.  No one is parked up there, the garage is mostly empty.  We have the roof all to ourselves.  We look up to an exceptional blanket of stars, and get out of my truck to view the landscape of city lights.

We move over to the railing at the edge for the best view.  I embrace you from behind. The view is beautiful, the city is serene this night.  You are especially radiant wearing that dress I love so much. I ask you to hold onto the railing with both hands.

I hungrily kiss your neck and my fingers explore up from your waist to the side of your breasts.  Then I cup them in my hands.  We can see all the city, but they can only see the top half of us, and it would be hard for them to see me softly caressing your breasts – only if they looked really carefully – and no one is looking.

My hands caress back slowly downward.  To that place where the edge of your dress meets your soft heavenly thighs.  You want to let go of the railing and turn around, but I tell you firmly no, and you comply.  My hands caress your outer thighs, and then move between dress and skin, inching your dress up…