Safety first

“Seatbelt,” he says.

Oh, right. Safety first. You have to know that putting on a seatbelt is a different experience when you’re naked. The fabric of the belt feels tight against my breast. My small, pink nipples are rock hard, and I blush. Am I turned on? No, no, it must be cold. I’ll turn on the heat.

I take it easy going out of the neighborhood and before I know it, a few turns here and there, we’re on the highway. Everything is happening so quickly, I can hardly remember what happened on my way here. Time flies when you’re driving a Lambo. I’m so hyped about it that my nudity feels like a secondary concern.

The car accelerates so easily. With just a light push from my foot, the car moves to 40, 50, 60. It feels so different from my car. It’s so much smoother, lighter, quicker. I glance at the clock on the dash. It’s 11:00 p.m. It’s not super crowded right now, but there are other cars. Other cars for me to pass in the dust. I grin and push the pedal down. 70, 80, 90. The other cars on the road look like they’re standing still. This is awesome.

“Careful there, speedy,” Josh warns me. “You’re going way over the limit.”

I ignore him. I’m having too much fun. I push it to 100 miles an hour. Nothing can stop me. I pass the other cars on the road like they’re bicycles. I’m the queen of the universe. Nothing can stop me.