Ivy

North

I looked back at the store as we idled at a traffic light, wondering if I could spot Mark as he raged out into the parking lot. If I’d just walked off without the radio call, he might not have even noticed I was gone. He might have paged me for hours, might have asked other employees if they’d seen me, maybe even worried if I’d gotten hurt or something.

It was very much ‘or something.’ He wouldn’t give a shit if I was hurt, just that I wasn’t doing his bidding. Anyway, she technically wasn't kidnapping me, since I got in the Jeep of my own volition, lured in not by candy but the flash of a lacy red bra. Ironic that it was red.

A cabin meant isolation, and that meant that there wouldn’t be much for us to do except hang out and fuck. That was the hope, at least. Surely she didn’t mean for us to compete in tests of strength; I doubted I’d stand much of a chance.

Was I being lured into forced labor? She had the cement in the back of the Jeep. Maybe she was building a patio or a really strong mailbox and she wanted someone to do it for her. She didn’t seem the type to idly stand by when someone else was working, though, especially on her own property.

What did I really know about minotaurs, anyway? Besides that they were strong and she was sexy as hell. I’d just quit my job—not that I cared about that, I could find another one easy enough—and I was being driven to heaven knew where without so much as a change of clothing.

I didn’t have much time for thought. The light changed and she made a left turn, then immediately started signaling for the highway entrance. I was committed, there was no turning back now. “Where are we going?”

“North, into the woods. You’ll find out.” She braked and turned onto the on-ramp, then started accelerating. Her Jeep wasn’t exactly a sprinter. It felt fast with the wind rushing by but as we got into the merge area, cars on the highway were passing a good ten or twenty miles an hour faster than we were going.

She checked her mirrors and then merged into the slow lane, and I resisted the urge to look back and see if we were about to be crushed under an eighteen-wheeler. It was better to not know; it was better for that to be a surprise.

I felt like we’d barely gotten up to speed before she had to brake for the next exchange, this one a cloverleaf. She didn’t have the advantage of a straight ramp to build up speed, and we were going even slower as we joined northbound traffic on 131.

Like anyone, I had seen plenty of television and YouTube ads about off-roading in a Jeep, and the appeal of being that much in nature surely sold plenty of Jeeps. They didn’t advertise them driving on the road, and now I knew why. It was dangerous, vulnerable, and exposed. I could see the pavement rushing past, the fog line as it blurred by my door. Every semi truck that passed us looked bigger and closer, ready to crush us at a moment’s notice. Even with the seat belt restraining me, I still felt like I might fall out.

It was almost like riding a motorcycle, but with four wheels instead of two, and more steel around us. But no safety gear, no helmets and riding leathers . . . if she’d had a motorcycle, I would have been riding pillion, my hands gripping around her waist or—

•••

As we got a dozen or so exits out of the city, traffic thinned. There was still plenty of it, but it wasn’t a chaos of cars and trucks all jockeying for position. I’d started to get used to the openness of the Jeep and was able to nearly quell the voice in my mind that insisted I was about to die in a fiery car crash.

I’d almost gotten used to the wind noise, too. We were driving about 60—I’d glanced over at the speedometer once, and that was what it said. It felt right; the cars that passed us weren’t going significantly faster than we were. I suspected the Jeep could go faster but it was extremely unpleasant if it did.

There was a radio, a basic AM/FM with an analog dial in the dashboard. It wasn’t turned on, and there was no reason for it to be. We wouldn’t have been able to hear it. I had an idea that the only way we’d be able to communicate was shouting, or sign language.

Just then, the Jeep weaved in its lane, and the fatalistic voice in my mind reminded me that while I’d imagined semis running us over, I hadn’t considered a mechanical failure on the Jeep. It was old, things broke, and at highway speeds only a very skilled driver could avoid a terrible accident.

Nothing in front of us could have been the cause, and I turned in Ivy’s direction—if she’d been white-knuckling the steering wheel, I might have taken my chances at jumping out. Instead, she was using her knee to hold the steering wheel as she pulled her bra out of her tank top.

“Here, put this in the glove box,” she shouted. Before I could object, she pressed it into my hands and turned her focus back on the road.

I looked down at the bra in my hands and decided I could go bold. “You might as well go topless.”

“You first.” She snickered. “Cart boy.”

I pushed the button for the glove box and opened it cautiously, lest important paperwork get sucked into the slipstream.

Everything stayed in place, so I tucked her bra in and snapped the door back shut, then I tugged at the hem of my shirt, considering. I didn’t think she’d really just take her shirt off if I removed mine; we were still on the highway, and I’d already seen plenty of drivers and passengers studying us as they drove by, either interested in the old Jeep or more likely the minotauress driving it.

Half of them probably hadn’t even noticed I was there. If they had, they wouldn’t have taken note of my less-than-impressive physique. The shirt wouldn’t provide any benefit in a crash, and there was a minute chance that if I took off my shirt, Ivy would take off hers. It was a no-brainer. I pulled the hem out of my waistband and peeled it off, working around the seat belt and keeping a good grip on it. I didn’t want to lose it in the slipstream.

The shirt went into the glove box, crammed in on top of her bra.

Ivy nodded in satisfaction, either at the sight of my bare chest or in approval at me following her instructions. “Isn’t that better? Casting off another corporate shackle, embracing the freedom of the open air.”

“That why you have a Jeep? To embrace the freedom of the open air?”

“Of course it is. That, and the roads leading up to the cabin can get dicey when it’s raining or snowy. The four-wheel-drive’s a real boon, and this truck’s an animal. You’ll see. I don’t like it as much on the highway, it’s not really meant for that. Just wait until we get off the main roads, that’s when things will get interesting.”

•••

Things were plenty interesting. I’d gotten used to the feel of the Jeep, the noises it made, and it wasn’t as weird seeing the pavement rushing by, unless I looked down at it. Then I got vertigo.

For a while, we’d been flanked by what I considered typical Michigan scenery—housing developments, fields, and occasional woodlots. As we’d gone further north, all that had started to give way to just trees, and not all the exits had anything at them, either. Sometimes around towns, there’d be fields and houses, but those spots were less and less frequent.

The southbound lanes didn’t always follow the northbound lanes closely; sometimes they were also separated by a curtain of trees, giving us the illusion of being alone on the road, almost like the entire world existed only for us in the Jeep.

And then a car would come flying up in the passing lane, slow down enough to get a good look at Ivy, and then speed off again, and I’d watch it slowly fade from view and then look back in the rearview mirror to see if there was another car or truck coming up behind us.

There were things to watch besides nature and traffic. I tilted back my seat and focused on Ivy’s jiggling boobs. Every expansion joint, every movement of her hands on the steering wheel was its own reward. Her nipples poked against the thin fabric of her tank top, yearning for freedom, begging to be stroked, squeezed, and suckled.

Maybe she wouldn’t mind if I just reached out and touched them. She had taken off her bra, after all. That was an invitation. Or maybe she would mind, and maybe I’d learn what it felt like to be Leonidas-kicked out of a moving Jeep. She’d have to unsnap my seatbelt, and I thought she’d have to twist further than humanly possible to accomplish it, but then she wasn’t human.

I’d already burned one bridge, best to keep my hands to myself, not in my lap where they might be tempted, but instead on the ‘oh shit’ handle on the dashboard.

Besides the cement, the back of the Jeep held a Yeti cooler, fewer supplies than I would have expected for a weekend up north. Where was a bag of clothes, or at least of toiletries?

Then again, she had said ‘cabin,’ and she might well have supplies there. Extra clothes, maybe even a washing machine . . . I didn’t have any extra clothes, and was going to be grungy by the time we came back. Especially since the stink of drudgery had permanently suffused my clothes, an unfortunate side-effect of working in retail. The wind was going to have a hard time blowing that off.

Every now and then, Ivy took her attention off the road long enough to look at me, and then she turned back to surveying the road.

How old was she? How long had she been on Earth? I didn’t know the answer to either of those questions. Old enough to get a driver’s license, long enough to save up and buy a Jeep; long enough to become comfortable driving it.

Did she specifically want a stick, or did she get one and have to figure it out?

I hadn’t been on a proper road trip in a long time. Too long. Around the city, the highways were crowded with cars and billboards and driving wasn’t fun, driving was a task; out here it was a sky that went on nearly forever, fields slowly giving way to more and more trees, and most importantly, practically no billboards. What would they advertise?

And whenever the passing scenery started to look the same, I looked back to my left, drew my attention to the other thing that mattered: Ivy’s chest.

She turned in my direction as I was leering, and rolled her eyes. “You waiting for an engraved invitation?” Ivy pulled down the neck of her tank top, briefly revealing her boob. “Get busy, our exit’s coming up and if you do a good job, you’re going to get a reward.”

•••

She was lying about how close her exit was. She might also have been lying about me getting a reward, but then I already had a reward. Two of them, in fact. It was awkward to twist my arm to grope her tits, especially since I wasn’t left-handed.

It was totally worth it.

She was no Ava Addams; I would have been lost if she was. Her boobs were the perfect size for her frame, maybe B cup or maybe C—I honestly had no idea how bra sizes worked. Something about letters equalling volume, as confounding as nail sizes. My job required me to know them, but what 8d meant compared to a 10d, and why they were also referred to in pennies was entirely incomprehensible.

I could have gotten out of my seat and moved into the backseat. Sat right behind her, and lived out my fantasy of being a human bra of sorts, almost like if we had been riding a motorcycle together. It would have been easier, and I wouldn’t have given myself tennis elbow in the pursuit of pleasure. I wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, and it was far too long before I realized that I could at least turn in my seat to face her instead of performing weird calisthenics. If that reduced the effectiveness of my seat belt, so be it; if I was going to go in a car crash, let it be while fondling a hot girl.

Even better, turning gave me a view, not only of her boobs but of all of her, from her short hair whipping around in the slipstream over the windshield to the muscles in her arms, to the flapping hem of her tank top, giving me a glimpse of flesh just above her shorts, a promise of what was to come.

I didn’t think she’d object too much if I just pulled her shirt up and maybe even off, but I wasn’t ballsy enough to try it. I could almost see everything with it on anyway; the thin cotton fabric hinted at what was obscured beneath, a dark ring of flesh surrounding her hard nipples.

If her shirt was wet was immediately followed by the realization that I was already turned in my seat. The first kiss was tentative, just on the top curve of her breast, before I moved down, leaning awkwardly across. Why should my elbow be alone in its suffering? My back could join the party, too.

It was totally worth it.

I could cross ‘never felt up a girl while she was driving’ and ‘never licked a nipple through a shirt’ off my list. The fabric dried out my tongue, but I kept on, licking and gently biting at her nipple, not caring at all that we were in an open-top Jeep racing along the highway and anybody who looked would see exactly what was going on. Was it illegal to suckle a girl on the highway? I had no idea, and I didn’t care.

“Mmm.” She bit her lip and tensed, clenching the steering wheel tightly. “I—oh Goddess, I needed that.” She blew out a breath and reached her hand down to my crotch, pressing against my stiff cock. “Whip it out.”

“Here?” We were still on the highway, far enough north that there wasn’t a lot of traffic, but there was still some.

“Suit yourself.” Ivy shrugged and took her hand back, stroking the gearshift lever, clenching her hand around the shifter ball and rubbing her thumb across the worn-down shift pattern. “I’ve got other things to play with.”

I was already reaching for my zipper when she put her hand between her thighs, slipping her fingers between the fabric of her jeans and her flesh.

“Don’t know why I even brought you along.”

Getting my rock-hard dick out of my pants and underwear while sitting was enough of a chore, not helped by the wind that was more than willing to turn my clothes into litter alongside the highway. And there was the mental hurdle making it all the more difficult—I was also watching her finger herself.

“I’m working on it.”

“Mmh, it had better be worth it.” She pulled her soaked fingers free and pushed them against my lips.

I tasted her like I might have tasted a fine wine, if I’d known a goddamn thing about wine. Coppery, earthy, the tiniest hint of concrete—the bags always leaked—and something I couldn’t place, the essence of her. Cloying, heady, demanding, urgent; I hadn’t thought I could get harder but I could, and if she did it again, I might well jizz in my pants.

“For the love of Apis, unbutton your waistband.” She reached her hands down into my open fly and fished around for my cock. “Ought to have lost your underwear, you had plenty of time when we were driving. Surprised you can take a piss without wetting yourself.” She finally got her hand through the fly on my boxers and gripped my cock, aggressively yanking it free, painfully dragging it through the flap and for a second I thought she might break it or rip it off, and then it was out in the air, undamaged and standing proud, her hand clenched mid-shaft.

“You might be dumb, but at least you’re well-hung. How long you think you’re going to last?”

“After spending the last hour with a raging hard-on and my hands and mouth on your boobs? Not long.” It could have been worse; I could have came in my pants already.

“At least you’re honest.” She shrugged. “Lotta guys make claims and then can’t back them up. Whatever, this is just a prelude.” Ivy started stroking up and down my shaft, teasing my head at the end of each stroke.

I couldn’t decide if I should close my eyes and get lost in pleasure, watch her jerk me off, or keep an eye out for cops.

She didn’t go for nail polish, not even gloss. There were a few faint scars on the back of her hand—I didn’t even know what she did for a living, but it was a fair bet that it involved physical labor. I couldn’t imagine her sitting in an office all day. What would she wear? A pantsuit didn’t seem right, and I didn’t figure her for a conservative skirt and blouse, either. Would a skirt have a cutout for her tail, like her shorts did, or would there be a hole it went through beneath the waistband? Why was I even thinking of that when there was a hot girl—minotauress—jerking me off?

“Two miles to the exit. Which is going to cum first, I wonder.”

Odds were it was going to be me. I was already insanely close, and if she touched my head—

She brought her hand up, teasing at my glans again, and then rubbed her thumb across my urethra, spreading pre-cum across my head.

“I’m oh God.”

Ivy squeezed and languidly stroked her way down my shaft, pressing against my boxers at the bottom. “Wind’s gonna make this interesting.”

“Huh?” I was so close, I didn’t have time to think of anything but the impending release, which came a second later.

There was only one way the cumshot was going to go, and that was right against my bare chest. Ivy made sure of that, made sure that I didn’t get any on her Jeep, holding my cock until the last spurt trailed off to a drizzle.

Some of it had gone down her hand. She looked at it, raised her hand to her mouth, licked it off and then went back for seconds, tracing a finger across the rapidly-drying splatter of jizz on my chest.

This time, Ivy popped her finger into her mouth and sucked it clean, then wiped her hand dry on her shorts.

“That’s it?”

“For now.” Ivy put her hand back on the steering wheel. “Rest’s up to you, cart boy. Might want to tuck yourself back into your pants, too; might be some busybody up at the four-way.” She flicked on the turn signal and clutched in, coasting onto the exit ramp and working her way down through the gears.

I could clean myself off with my shirt, but it was my only shirt.

“You got any napkins?”

She shrugged. “Check the glove box, might be some in there.”

There weren’t. There were our clothes, the insurance and registration for the Jeep, and an intimidating weird-shaped dildo. I had it halfway out of the glove box before I realized what I was holding.

“Minotaur cock.” Ivy grinned. “You play your cards right, you might get to stick that in me. Or I might stick it in you.”

“Woah, there, I’m not into that.”

“Ever tried it? Keep an open mind, you never know what you might be into. Or if you’re not feeling adventurous, I can drop you off here. You can hitch your way back to town, and I can go to my cabin alone with just my toys.” She glanced up and down the road for traffic, then pulled her shirt over her head.

The first thing I noticed—once I’d dragged my eyes down from her perfect breasts—was that her leg-fur continued all the way up to her love handles, V-ing down to the waistband of her shorts. Decidedly inhuman, and I could have hopped out of the Jeep, stuck my thumb out, and hoped for the best. Could have decided that we’d had our fun, and that I’d gone far enough; I’d had my interspecies exploration, and it wouldn’t be wimping out, it would be a rational decision.

Rationality was the last thing on my mind because she’d cheated, she’d taken her shirt off and it was everything I’d imagined and more.

I made my choice, touching her fur as she made a left turn, running my fingers through it and onto her smooth chest as she accelerated, feeling the muscles coiled underneath. Ivy had a way better six-pack than I did.

“Smart choice.” We crossed onto the highway bridge, and she gave the finger to highway traffic as we passed overhead.

As we returned to the asphalt and the downgrade on the west side of the highway, I rested my hand on her thigh, just below the hem of her shorts. It was strange to be in somewhat familiar territory, and yet to be feeling fur instead of flesh under my hand.

One look at her bare chest reassured me that I was doing the right thing. I teased around the denim and then slipped my hand down between her legs, feeling the heat there, just out of reach.

We were still out in public and I didn’t want to go too far, although most people would focus on her bare tits and not on what my hand was doing. Just the same, it still felt deliciously wrong, and I could feel my cock stirring in anticipation.

There were a few houses along the road, and then we were back in farmland proper, and then we were beyond even that, with nothing but swampy lowland and stands of trees on either side of the road.

I pressed the flat of my hand against her crotch and she shifted in her seat, spreading her legs to give me better access. All I could feel was the seam of her shorts, but I knew what it was covering. Could I get her off through her Daisy Dukes? Maybe. But it wouldn’t be fun for me—I needed to get inside her, to touch actual flesh.

Two oncoming cars went past us before I moved my hand up to the waistband of her shorts. I got the top button unfastened more quickly than I’d managed on my own jeans, only to discover that it was buttons all the way down. That wasn’t fair at all.

Ivy saw my hesitation and grinned. “It’s not worth it unless you’ve got to work for it.”

“You’re hardly putting any effort in.”

“I’m driving. I’ve got to focus on that.”

“Sure you do.” I crossed my arms. “I bet you could—“

“Listen, you’d better have your hand down my pants before we pass the lake,” she warned. “Or else I’m going to replace you with the dildo on the ride to the cabin.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” She would dare, I was sure of it. Ivy didn’t seem to be one who would issue idle threats. I reached the second button and twisted until it yielded.

I couldn’t tell exactly through the sheer fabric of her panties, but I was beginning to suspect that she had reverse pubes going on; a bare triangle of flesh surrounded by fur.

As I got my hand further down her shorts, I discovered that was not the case. There was unmistakably hair down there. And dampness and heat; I might have enough buttons undone already. Her shorts were tight, but with the fly partially open, there might be just enough room to get my hand down there. Fabric and flesh both would yield, I hoped. Alas, it was not to be.

The third button came loose and I worked my hand down further, grasping at the last. Practice paid off; that one went easily. It was still tight but encouraging; one of my fingers could reach the promised land if I pushed hard enough.

She held my hand steady and scootched her butt on the seat, tugging her shorts down. Not far enough for me to see much beyond the waistband of her panties, which was more than enough inspiration.

My dick was already rising to attention again as I slid my hand down between her legs, resting lightly against the furry flesh, feeling the subtle shift of her thigh as she modulated the accelerator pedal.

I wasn’t the most experienced guy, but feeling her through her panties, she felt like a normal girl, albeit one with a luscious bush.

Up ahead, I saw a glimmer of light off the wavelets on the lake and it was time. I could pull my hand up and go in through the waistband, but I was already here, and I stroked against the silky sheer fabric, back and forth, until we started to round the curve.

Her panties didn’t resist as I pushed them aside, my finger sliding against a slick vulva up to her pubic mound and then back down, exploring the terrain.

Everything felt normal.

“Mmmh.” She clutched in and shifted her foot—hoof—onto the brake pedal, taking the curve on the road. “Deeper.”

I disobeyed, sliding my fingers out and working up her labia, mapping her out. Her clit was an eager, throbbing nub, right where it ought to be.

The road made a sharp turn as it passed the lake. She downshifted and slowed, dropping another gear as we passed a pair of houses on the right. The second one had a guy on a lawnmower out front, wearing noise-canceling headphones with built-in radio and his head snapped around just as we passed. He might not have seen where my hand was, but he’d surely noticed she was topless, just like her Jeep.

I slid my fingers back into her as we rounded the corner onto a side road, trading pavement for gravel.

My confidence built as we bounced down the hardpack and across the washboards, even though half her pleasure was from the roughness of the road and not anything I was doing. She anticipated the bumps better than I did—in terms of her pleasure, she could have replaced me with her dildo. Maybe that was her usual plan, when she had to go up to the cabin on her own.

For an instant my mind went there, imagining her with her shirt off and her shorts unbuttoned, holding the rubber dick in her hand and letting the bumps and ruts in the road pleasure her, and then I remembered that my hand was between her legs, and every time the Jeep bottomed out, she bounced on the seat and her shorts went fractionally further down.

Which was just as well: there was no way I could get her shorts and panties off myself. I pushed eagerly at one side just the same, hoping she might lift her butt off the seat and let me slide them down.

She anticipated what I was thinking and grinned at me. “You first.”

Two hours ago, I never would have been so bold as to get undressed in a moving vehicle out in public where anybody could see. That was a long time ago.

Regrettably, I couldn’t do it one-handed, which meant I was going to have to make a brief sacrifice. Or, I could keep going, get her off, and it might be longer before I got to see her in the altogether.

Unless she lost interest once she was sated. I didn’t think she would.

I’d never bothered to re-button my waistband, which made getting my pants and underwear down easy. Although, in hindsight, I should have taken off my shoes first; I must have looked like a complete fool with a stiffy bumping against my belly and my pants and boxers around my ankles while I did my best to undo the double knot in my shoelaces.

There was no way the rest of my clothes were going to fit in the glove box.

“Just toss them in the back,” she suggested. “They won’t blow away. It only gets slower from here.”

We were coming up on a T-intersection that wasn’t marked with a stop sign—evidence of how remote this road was: there wasn’t enough traffic to justify a sign. Understandable; there was nothing around us but wilderness. Just after I’d gotten my right shoe off, we’d passed a crappy mobile home that looked abandoned, and then there was nothing but forest.

Ivy shifted into neutral as she stopped and unbuckled her seat belt. “Gonna lock the hubs. Don’t get lonely.” She set the parking brake, leaned over and kissed my dick, then grabbed the rollbar and pulled herself out of the Jeep.

By the time she got back around the front of the Jeep, she’d lost the rest of her clothes. Of course, she had the advantage of already being barefoot—barehooved, her shorts already unbuttoned, all she had to do was let them drop and step out of them.

I only had a moment to appreciate her form; she was a girl in motion with no time to pose. One very tiny part of my brain reminded me that she wasn’t human, and the rest of it jumped on that traitor and shoved him out the airlock.

That Ivy had managed to fit in the perfect intersection between strong and sexy was an understatement. She was well-muscled, but with soft edges. She wasn’t fake; in fact she was entirely unornamented. No tattoos, no edgy piercings, nothing. Just her, complete.

She tossed her clothes in the back of the Jeep, opened the glove box and gave her bra and my shirt the same treatment, then slammed it back shut.

“This is freedom. Out in the open, nothing between you and the sun. Why I bought a Jeep.”

“Yeah.”

“About the closest thing you’ve got to being one with nature, here on Earth.”

I hadn’t noticed that there wasn’t a road sign at the upcoming intersection, but I did notice we were rapidly approaching a house, with a vehicle in the driveway, and if anyone was paying any attention at all. . .

Before we got there, she cut off the gravel road and onto a two-track dirt path. “Technically, it’s a road. Out here, there’s two kinds like this, the fire roads and the logging roads.”

“Which one is this?”

“Fire road. Just a clear path through the woods that trucks can get through if it isn’t too wet. Couple of houses a ways off to the side—people who live here value their privacy—and then we’re going to be in the heart of BFE and I’m going to fuck your brains out.”