No time for morning sex—my lovely sexpot is late for work. I do a good turn and warm up her car. “What if I ride with you today?” I ask when she comes out. “I can pick you up after.”

Not much traffic today. The cold gray of winter. We’re a few miles down the highway when I decide to masturbate. The idea isn’t to tease myself so much as to tease my love, not so much to excite myself as to excite my sweetie. The pajamas are a lucky break; my hand slips easily under the waistband to hold my jamoke. I start out slow, my right hand ringing the column, thumb tucked below forefinger, but it’s hard not to increase the pace. My honey’s interest makes me instantly stiff. Impossible not to take it out, to let the car air kiss the crown while my hand goes up and down. I don’t know if I can time this right; to keep from coming until the horseshoe curve. Surely she won’t be so distracted that we’ll sail off over the edge.