The car came to a halt by the old covered bridge and Janice felt a thrill riding up her spine. Trembling hands pushed open the door and she slipped out. Closing the door quietly as not to disturb the forest, she crept along the road and reached out for the dark red paint.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered.
Bare feet skipped on the sun-warmed rocks as she followed the hill underneath the bridge. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as she found a crook between two rough beams. She lifted her skirt and pressed her bare ass to the hot wood, shivering at the sensation of old wood and history.
Fingers rose up, tracing the line of her thighs until she found the seams of her underwear. Matching the same color as the bridge, she shoved the fabric aside and slipped two fingers into the wet confines of her pussy.
She held it there, waiting.
A car drove across and she felt the bridge shaking beneath her. Her mouth opened with pleasure and her fingers came to life, rubbing her clit as the world shook from the passing vehicle.
She stopped as it passed her.
A truck raced by and she fingered herself, frantically pounding her pussy but couldn’t reach a crest before the rumbling faded. She leaned on the wood, waiting, hoping, dripping.
A car drove up and she pressed both hands to her pussy. She held her breath, waiting for that red covered bridge to shake.