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She squeezed his thighs, reaching back as far as she could, her fingers sensing the heat from his groin. His fingers pulled her bra off her breast, and stroked her bare skin, circling her raised nipple like a puppy worrying a rubber ball. The fire inside Mony brightened and leaped; a smile spread her face. The hay ride was turning into an erotic thrill.

The wagon bumped out of the pumpkin patch and into the woods. A canopy of limbs and leaves hit the stars; darkness seemed to have a texture she could feel. Tom twisted her nipple, and she buried her fingers in his thigh. His other hand snaked across her waist, unsnapped her jeans, and crawled inside.

Mony spread her legs and discreetly pulled her blousy sweatshirt down over Tom's hand. She felt his fingers slid down her hip, over her bikini briefs. A finger fan the length of her and grooved her panties, and she felt the first blush of wetness. The fingers stoked her fire as it rubbed slowly, up and down, pushing the silk inside, stimulating her with slick panty. Mony felt an urge to thrust against his hand, but she resisted. Next to her, Marsha turned to kiss her date. A small group across the wagon struck up a song, and the finger rubbing her moved in rhythm. Tom's hand squeezed her breast, and she felt wetter than ever.

The wagon clattered over a wooden bridge. Tom's fingers pushed aside her panties and slipped into her warm moistness. He thrust against her, and she felt his fingers worm inside. A wave of burning desire broke over her, a gush of need wetted his hand. Mony bit her lip as Tom caught a fingernail on her most sensitive area. Desire flamed inside her, and she hardly noticed they had left the woods. Tom thrust against her while his fingers pranced on her, sliding in and out, feeding the molten frenzy between her legs. Mony wondered how long the ride would last, how hot she might burn.

A woman across the wagon screamed first. The headless horseman, cape billowing, chased down the wagon and swept past, an electric pumpkin in hi hand. Mony wanted Tom to use her, but she knew the ride would soon end. He sensed it too and removed his hands. She wanted to protest but she didn't dare. She rearranged herself while Tom kissed her neck. She felt cheated somehow. She was more than halfway to climax, a and everything was going to end. As the wagon stopped by the bonfire, Tom leaned forward.

"The van," he whispered.

Mony faced a moment of decision when she stepped off the wagon. She could ignore Tom and roast hot dogs over the fire, or she could slip off to Tom's van which was parked fifty yards away in the dark. Her mind told her that the van was crazy. Her wet panties bespoke a different logic her mind couldn't meet. Still, she might have heeded her mind if Marsha hadn't chosen that moment to speak.

"Too bad Gary didn't come," Marsha said. "You could have had some fun on the wagon."

"Yeah, too bad," Mony answered, but the mention of Gary reinforced the neglected feeling in her heart. Too bad Gary wasn't around because she was going to have some fun, some real fun. Mony glanced once around the fire before she edged out of the light.

The van door was unlocked. Mony had one foot inside before Tom grabbed her and pulled her into he dark. He locked the door behind her and pushed her toward the rear seat. His hands fumbled with her jeans.

"Slowly," she whispered as she sat down.

Tom panted as he first untied her Nikes and pulled them off. Then, he unsnapped and unzipped her jeans, wiggling them over her hips, burying his face in her silk panties. He pulled off her jeans and then grabbed her sweatshirt, pulling it over her head. He breached for her buttons, and she grabbed his hand.

"Use your teeth," Mony said.

Tom slid a hand between her legs, rubbing her with the heel of his hand, slow, hard circles.

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