Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Author: JojoMojo Title: Driving Miss Daisy Part: 1 Universe: Vignette Summary: Learning to drive the big farm truck gets more exciting as the summer progresses. Keywords: Mg, ped, cons Driving Miss Daisy - a fantasy vignette by JojoMojo (Mg, ped, cons) The following is completely and without a doubt a fictional account, 100 percent fantasy. That said, as I write, I reflect on the things that I experienced as a child, what felt good and what did not. Those experiences had a profound effect, and for the most part, I look back on them fondly. Caring, fun, ecstasy is what I'm interested in, for all involved, or it's not worth doing or writing about. Copyright (C)2011 by the author She guided the old pickup truck down the winding gravel road with the practiced ease of an expert. He was pleased as he watched, her hands at precisly 10 & 2 o'clock on the wheel as he had taught her, confident as they made their way back towards the farm, 20 miles away. Daisy had come to stay for the summer to give her mother some time to straighten out her life, again. On their first trek into town, she had announced she was old enough this summer to drive and pestered him to let her try. At ten years old, she was still too short to reach the pedals and see over the large steering wheel at the same time. The truck was built in an era before four way adjustable seats, tilt steering and power everything. However, he couldn't bring himself to tell her "no," so offered the next best solution. She could drive as soon as they were well out of town, sitting on his lap so he could work the pedals and keep his hands close by in case she needed help. She grudgingly accepted the compromise, still sure in the way kids often are in spite of the facts, that she could in fact do it all herself. They started slowly, him nervous as she negotiated the curves learning to manage the play in the loose steering. His hands stood at ready almost touching the wheel as she steered. He had to admit that she was a quick study and with a couple more inches in height would actually be ready to try working the pedals. Maybe when she came to visit next summer. They fell into a summer habit, Daisy accompanying him on every trip into town for feed, parts, whatever was needed at the farm. With twenty miles between the farm and any store, he tried to minimize the trips. His wife rarely joined them, watching instead as they grew close. She told him she didn't want to intrude on their time together, noting that living with a single mother, Daisy didn't get the male perspective at home. Consequently, they often had the truck to themselves. He was a man of few words, and wanted her to concentrate on driving and she seemed to understand the need to focus on the road. So, much of the trip was spent in silence as the rural farm land rolled by. They reached a compromise between his desire to keep his hands close to the wheel and her insistance that she could do it herself and didn't need his hands hovering nervously above hers. With few other options, he rested them palms up on her thighs, right under the big wheel where it passed over her legs as they straddled his. As her skill grew, he relaxed a little more. However, sitting with his hands on the seat or resting on the open window didn't feel quite right. So he ended up holding a skinny thigh in each hand. He marveled at how large his hands felt and at an unconcious level enjoyed the feeling of her soft skin. Maybe it was the bumpy gravel road that started things in earnest; or maybe he had begun to notice how pretty she was as they worked together, a girl on the cusp of womanhood. She seemed to crave time with him, opting to work beside him rather than inside with her Aunt, whether he was feeding animals, mucking the barn or working on the old equipment that seemed to always be in need of attention. The resto of the year, his was a solitary job. Daisy's presence was at the same time an odd intrusion and a welcome change. He enjoyed her sunny disposition, giggles and sparkling eyes. A quiet and thoughtful man, he joked that she talked enough for both of them, bubbling over with questions and observations throughout the day. Whatever it was, he had begun to move his hands up her thighs as they drove. It didn't really reach his conciousness until he felt the fabric of her shorts against his fingers one day. The realization brought by the brush of fabric sent a jolt through him that gave him pause and he pulled his fingers away as if they had been burned. They fluttered in the air for a moment as he wondered where to put them, eventually landing on her knees as far away from the shorts as possible. She drove on, seemingly oblivious to his delima. As they continued down the road, he became aware of a stirring deep inside, something he hadn't felt since his early teens, the buzz that comes with being at the edge of new sexual territory. After arriving at home he had pondered the feelings that had risen unbidden and considered putting a stop to her "driving." However, he knew how much she looked forward to the drives, and that the driving gave her a sense of being an adult. Again he couldn't find it in himself to tell her "no." So, in typical male fashion, he ignored the warning bells and they continued with her negotiating the roads to and from the edge of town with her on his lap. He tried hard to keep things proper, but his hands seemed to have a mind of their own. By mid-summer things had progressed to a pont where his fingertips had slipped past the open legs of her shorts and were brushing the edge of her panties, tracing along that elastic barrier. She never said anything, so he relaxed his guard, assuming that either she didn't notice or didn't mind. He found himself looking forward to their trips, finding reasons to make an extra trip into town now and then, just so he could enjoy the feeling of those silky legs and the thrill of touching that forbidden boundary. This was one of those trips, a stop at the feed store to pick up things that could have waited until there was a more pressing need. In a way he was testing her on this trip, trying to confirm that what he was doing was accepted. On the last trip she had worn jeans and he wondered if that was her way of telling him to stop; or was it just that she'd been wearing jeans while helping him and didn't take the time to change? He wasn't sure. So he had devised a need for the trip, wondering what she would do. When he announced the need for a drive into town, she had disappeared into the house to "wash up". When she reappeared, he was pleasantly surprised to see that while inside she had changed from her overalls into a pair of loose cotton shorts. He could feel his heart quicken as she hopped into his lap and they started down the driveway. On the way into town, he'd made his way to the elastic border more quickly than usual. The remainder of the trip he had traced along that border wanting to move beyond it, but knowing there would be no turning back, no way to deny his intentions. The potential consequences caused him to hesitate until it was too late and it was time for her to slide off his lap and across the bench seat to let him drive. On the way out of town, he was still conflicted, wanting to try more, but still afraid of the consequences if he was misreading her cues. As she took over steering, he was still undecided, leaving his hands on the seat as he tried to make up his mind. Her voice interrupted his internal debate, startling him. "I like it better when you hold my legs, it feels safer," she said matter of factly. She had not been thrilled the first time they drove to town when she realized that the old truck didn't have seat belts. So, her request did little to clarify her desires. Was this an invitation or just a statement of fact? He placed his hands on her legs as she had requested as he pondered. It wasn't long before his hands began their journey. This time he traced back and forth on the inside of each thigh, moving higher with each pass, trying to take his time, still conflicted. Before long he was at the border again. His heart pounding in his throat, he watched as she guided the old pickup truck down the winding gravel road with the practiced ease of an expert. But his mind wasn't on the road, it was on his fingertips as they tentatively crossed over the elastic leg bands of her panties. He gingerly traced the fabric, this time his fingertips on top of rather than beside the elastic. He held his breath and listened for any murmer of concern. He heard only her breathing. Was it a little more labored? He couldn't be sure as it was hard to hear above the crunch of the gravel under the tires and the thumping of his heart. After a few minutes, he grew braver and his fingers moved towards each other a fraction of an inch, still tracing along the elastic as they moved inward. His mouth was suddenly dry and his face felt flushed as the farmland rolled by. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat and slowly slid the fingers of his right hand to the center of the fabric. He stopped there, afraid to move, waiting for her to cry out or push his hands away. Instead, she continued to steer, carefully guiding the truck towards home. Seemingly oblivious to what he was doing. He began to explore, slowly tracing his fingers over the fabric covered features, surprised at how small the fleshy lips and folds within her cleft felt beneath his fingers. As he traced between the lips, he heard her sigh and he froze. After a pause to see if she would protest, he continued his exploration, finding the panties warm and damp towards the bottom of the cleft. The realization that she might be aroused fueled his desire to experience more. Time was suspended as he ran his fingers across and around the fabric, trying to memorize the sensations of soft and firm. He occassionally slipped a hand out of the shorts to caress the inside of a thigh before returning to his exploration. His mind was busy creating a mental map of the contours, trying to match them to what he knew of the female anatomy. Her sex was so small and compact it seemed completely different from his wife's. So he drew from experiences as a teen. Even then, he had never touched a girl much younger than himself, so he had no good point of reference. He found himself taking his eyes off the road, trying to see over her shoulders to where his hands were busy. He was oblivious to the fact that his fingers were hidden inside the legs of her shorts, out of view even if he'd been able to see past her hair. Her voice jarred him from his thoughts a second time. This time it was softer, not so sure as before. "Can we stop at the pond and see if there are any ducks or turtles?" she asked, her uncertanty making her sound younger than her ten years. He realized that they were within a mile of the house. The last landmark in his memory had passed ten miles ago. In response, he slowed the pickup, unable to find his voice, wondering if she was going to confront him once her hands were off the wheel. He slipped his hands back to the top of her thighs almost down to the safety of her knees as she guided the pickup off the road and across the cattle guard. He slowed a little more as they bumped down the rutted farm track. When they finally brought the truck to a stop, they were in a grove of willows, hidden from the road, the house and the surrounding pasture. Looking forward through the windshield and between the trees, the water of the pond could be seen shimmering in the sunlight. Heart hammering in his throat, he tried to act natural, left the truck idling and reached for the door handle, assuming they were going to walk to the pond. She grabbed his hand as it hesitated on the door handle and placed it back on her thigh. Then reached with her other hand and turned off the ignition. They sat in silence, listening together as the sounds of the outside world filtered in through the open windows. He thought his heart would hammer through his chest as he nervously waited for her to confront him. After a few minutes she pushed his hands towards her shorts, then released them, lowering both hands to rest on her knees. His heart still thundering, he slid his hands tentatively up her legs, stopping for a moment when he reached her panties. When she didn't protest, he slid them onto the fabric and began exploring again. She leaned back against him and sunk down in his lap a little, spreading her legs even wider. He could feel her tense a little as he rubbed, especially when he reached the top or bottom of the cleft with a finger tip. He could just see her face and thought that she had her eyes closed, her head turned so one cheek rested against his shoulder. After a little while, she half whispered, "It feels better on the bare skin." With trembling fingers he pulled the fabric to one side, sliding the fingers of one hand from top to bottom of the leg hole to stretch the elastic as far as possible. He held the fabric with his left hand while he explored with the finger tips of his right. Again he was surprised at how small she felt, having only experienced his wife for many years. His fingers ran slowly over the firm smooth skin of her labia, tracing the puffy lips before daring to explore further. Finally he traced his fingers up and over the top of her mons, for some reason surprised to find it hairless as well, then slid them down to the beginning of her cleft, enjoying the different textures under his touch. She flexed her hips up to meet him as he traced down the firm ridge between her lips eventually circling her tiny clit. It felt small and hard beneath the fleshiness of the hood. He circled it twice, then again, listening as she sighed each time he completed a circuit. He explored further, past the bump of her clit, slipping slowly into the silky, warm dampness below. He stopped when he felt the slight indentation at the bottom of the cleft, lingering for a moment before tracing back up her outer lips to the top of the cleft. This elicited a sharp intake of breath and a whispered concern, "Don't stretch my panties. I'll have to throw them away." He released the fabric and withdrew his hands, dumbfounded, not sure what she wanted. He thought she was enjoying what he had been doing, but maybe this was her way of telling him to stop. She shifted in his lap and brought her legs together. Pushing her feet against the floorboard, she raised her hips and hooked her thumbs under the elastic at the sides of the plaid shorts. He heard the rustle of fabric slipping against skin as she pushed the shorts and panties down past her knees. As she bent forward to push the shorts towards the floor, he subconciously brought his right hand towards his face. The tips of his fingers were glistening with her moisture. He sniffed and a complex scent reminiscent of sweat with hint of musk enveloped him, increasing his awakened arousal. She straighetend, then leaned back aganst him, laying her cheek back against his shoulder and sliding her legs across his, spreading her knees as far as the fabric around her ankles would allow, bringing her feet up and together just below his knees. She took his hand in hers, and without any pretense of modesty, placed it firmly between her wide spread legs. He let his hand rest where she had placed it, a single finger completely covring the cleft. He squeezed gently, enjoying the warmth of her skin against his hand, the pubic mound firm against his palm, her sex, soft and moist on his fingers. He slowly brought his other hand up, tracing her outer leg then placed both hands on her stomach, just below her t-shirt. He ran them in unison down her stomach, enjoying the change from soft to firm as they crested the slight mound of her pubis. His index fingers slipped together along the lips on either side of the cleft until he had her entirely in his grasp, his large hands wrapped around her thighs, caressing her buns. He paused before running his hands outward along the sensative skin of her inner thighs, enjoying the new freedom afforded by the absence of shorts and panties. At her knees, he reversed course, his hands slowly returning to cup her sex, fingers again wrapped almost underneath her, fingertips pressing into the firmness of her buns. He squeeezed gently before following the path to her knees a second time. When his hands began their return trip, goosebumps raised in their wake. On his third pass, the contrast between the soft skin of her inner thighs and the bumps he had caused on tops of her legs was evident. As he brought his hands together and squeezed, he felt her shiver against him. He moved one hand to rest on her pubis, holding her lips gently open between his thumb and index finger. He began working the fingers of his other hand inside the open cleft, circling the clit and tracing the small thin inner lips below it down to the firmness of her perenium. He was surprised to find her wet to his touch. Not just the warm and damp that he had felt before. As he continued to rub, his mind slipped back to his high school years when he had first experienced the wonder of the female anatomy. He had started reading the Penthouse Forum religiously, no small feet for a kid who lived outside of town and had to steal each issue when he had the chance. His "homework" on how to best manipulate the female anatomy had paid off during his sophmore year, when his girlfriend at the time started refering to him as "Mr. magic fingers". Now it seemed he was reliving some of those early exploits, the feelings were similar: the newness of the sensations, the sense of the unknown and the heady arousal brought with it. He concentrated on her clit, rubbing in circles around it with his thumb, trying to keep his touch light, remembering that some women were particularly sensative and too much pressure ruined the sensations. As he rubbed her clit with his thumb he pressed gently against the opening below it with his finger. It felt small compared to his wife but not tiny. The sounds of his fingers slipping in her wetness were like an erotic melody. He could feel himself hardening as he focused on giving her pleasure. Suddenly, she flexed her hips up and his finger slipped inside her. He was wrapped in a warm wetness, the walls of her vagina pressing tightly against his finger tip. He was careful not to press in too deep, worried about hurting her. He held his finger still, even though his desire was to drive it as deep as it would go. He stopped rubbing her clit, instead pressing against it with the fingers that had been holding her open, circling his buried index finger has he held her in his cupped hand. They stayed locked together for several seconds before she groaned and flexed her hips down, releasing his finger, then rapidly pressed back up against his finger tip, the opening beckening. He moved his hand back to its original position, holding her open with his fingers while he allowed her to control the contact by placing his middle finger between her lips, her clit pressed against the pad between his knuckles, the tip hovering at her opening, slippery with excitement. The motion of her hips quickly grew frantic, sliding her sex against his finger, the tip pushing in and out of her opening with the flexing of her hips. The rapid movement was accompanied by the erotic sound of her wetness, slippery flesh against his fingers. The motion and sounds quickly climbed to a crescendo and she shuddered, pressing up against him, driving his finger past the first knuckle before falling back into his lap, releasing his finger while letting out a low moan. He recognized the signs of her orgasm and pressed his hand against her, cupping her sex as she lay panting against his neck. He felt her stir and was suddenly embarrased to be holding her so intimately. He slid his hands off her and let them fall to his side. Without a word, she bent forward and slid her shorts and panties up as she straightened her legs, lifting her hips to pull them back into place. He hugged her waist as she reached for the key, started the truck and slipped it into reverse. The transmission responded with a distinctive clunk and she guided the truck backwards out of the trees, using the mirrors as he had taught her. They were both quiet, wrapped in their own thoughts as they drove the last mile to the house. As she put the truck in park, she reached for his hands and wrapped his arms around her. He squeezed her tightly and kissed the top of her head. "Do you think we could go fishing at the pond on some days after we finish our chores?" she asked softly, twisting in his lap to look into his eyes. He felt a smile spread across his face as he nodded, "Sure honey, that would be fun." comments? Use the completely anonymous comment page want similar stories?