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do,” she said.
    He nodded, eyes growing darker as he squatted down and put a hand on either side of her hips. Grasping the waistband of her jeans, he tugged her sideways in the seat until she was facing him, her feet dangling out of the car and her bottom coming out of her jeans. With her exposed backside rubbing against the upholstery, she lifted her legs to let him pull her pants down to her ankles, then over her feet, taking her flip-flops with them. He threw the bundle into the backseat, but when she tried to pull her underwear off all the way, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her.
    “Leave them on.” He slid them back up over her knees and up her thighs. 
    She would have to lift her bottom off the seat to help him pull the elastic back up to her waist, but she paused, suddenly shy about her nakedness, by the thatch of her dark pubic hair lit by afternoon shaft of sunlight so close to his face.
    He didn’t comment, just forced the undies the rest of the way up by himself, roughly, stopping only when they were much higher than they needed to be. The sharp pain from the tight fabric slicing her apart made her gasp, and when he stood up to draw her completely out of the car, he maintained his grip on the fabric and increased the pressure.
    The driveway was crushed gravel, cold and sharp under her bare feet. The sun, slanting low, was bright in her eyes, but too weak to warm the January hilltop, and she shivered.
     “Once you take off the rest of your clothes I’ll let you come inside,” he said. “If you’re good.”
    “I’m not very.”
    “Then I’ll have to teach you.”
    She nodded, smiling through the thrill that overtook her senses, and took off her t-shirt. But he didn’t smile back, just stared with hooded eyes at her breasts. Feeling the power, she tossed her t-shirt back into the car, then turned back, took a moment to caress her nipples through the smooth cups of her bra while he watched. She pinched them, then looked down, tilted her head and continued to caress and touch herself as though he weren’t there.
    “You aren’t trying to be good,” he said, voice strained. “We’re really going to have to work on that.” He grabbed her arm, pulled her towards him, and slammed the door behind her with his foot. “Take off your bra.”
    “You wanted the panties,” she said with a mocking pout. “They’re a matched set.”
    “I’ll show you a matched set.” He took her shoulders in his large hands and turned her to face the short, slanted hood. Holding her hips against his, he pressed a firm, flat hand on her upper back bent her forward over the cold steel. “Take off your bra.”
    “But now I can’t reach,” she said, goading him.
    “You’re not trying.”
    She flexed her arms behind her in a weak effort. “It’s too hard .”
    He ground his hips into her raised ass. “It is, isn’t it?”
    She laughed. It was ridiculous for her to be so turned on. “Maybe you could help me.”
    “Maybe you need to try harder.” She felt a broad fingernail, possibly his thumb, sink between her thighs and slide upwards along the thong. Then he jerked it tight, like he’d been doing before, but this time the pressure was all in the front. But not nearly hard or deep enough.
    “What will you do if I really work at it?” she asked.
    He caressed her ass in a lazy, soft circle. “I’ll let you have my big, hard cock where you want it.”
    In spite of the ghosts of academic feminists weeping around her, she moaned in delight, reached back to unhook and wriggle free of her bra, and threw herself mostly-naked over the hood of his dorky car.
    He ran his hand up her spine and tunneled his fingers into her hair. She heard him chuckle. “Not here. But I appreciate the enthusiasm. Come on, let’s go in.” He helped her upright and gently turned her to face him. 
    She pressed up against him, a cold breeze making her feel more naked and vulnerable than before. Somehow, just wearing the