<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/cQ5ZPB0.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="bbc_u">Blaire Simmons</span></span><br/><span class="bbc_u">Location</span>- En route to The Rusty Spur Saloon<br/><span class="bbc_u">Date &amp; Time</span>- April 15th, 2006. 10:25 PM<br/><span class="bbc_u">Tag</span>- Clint<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>A slight shiver of anticipation coursed through Blaire's warm thighs and up the rest of her body while Clint retaliated with a bit of trash talk of his own, his hand stubbornly and insistently pressing onwards. Then again, she obviously hadn't<em>really</em>been trying to push him away, it was just another part of the escalating game that they liked to play. The blonde didn't need to be a fortune teller to know that her fuckfriend's prediction would be coming true later, which was of course more than acceptable as far as she was concerned, but she also knew that he wasn't being fully serious right now.<br/><br/>She was almost certain that Clint was going to blueball her if she allowed him to get that far...but at the same time, it was so hard to resist. If there was anything that Blaire was truly horrible at, it most assuredly had to be controlling her impulses. That trait of hers had been at the root of just about every major mistake she'd ever made, including the truly life-altering ones, but it had also allowed her to experience some incredible things that she might have let pass her by otherwise, so it was a fickle thing to deal with to say the least.<br/><br/>In this situation, the stakes weren't especially high, however, but that only made Blaire more inclined to give in to the immediate gratification that her body was demanding. The truck's cabin suddenly felt very hot, or maybe it was just her, she couldn't tell if the feeling was coming from inside or out. Everything was turning her on; Clint's controlled cockiness, his drawl and the timber of his voice, the ever so slight grating sensation of his imperfect palm and fingers against her smooth thighs. It was crazy what an overpowering effect he always had on her. Bordering on ridiculous, even.<br/><br/>Blaire pulled her hand away from Clint's and reached over to crank the air conditioning way up right as his fingers first grazed against her red cotton g-string, easily stimulating her through the barely-there material. Whether from his touch or from the sudden rush of cold air licking at her flesh, the blonde shivered once again as she drew in a breath, this time much more noticeably than the first. There was a high likelihood that Clint would notice a small damp spot on her panties.<br/><br/>Pulling her hand back from the dash, Blaire pressed it against the seat to steady herself while her right hand grabbed Clint by the wrist firmly, but she lacked the willpower to push him away. "Stop it, not now. Don't be a dick..." she whined, but even while she was doing that, her left arm was straightening, her upper body was arching and leaning back against her seat and her hips had slid forwards slightly. "Seriously!" She'd tried to sound serious but had no idea how convincingly it had come out. Probably not very. Hoping that perhaps actions might indeed speak louder than words in this case, Blaire tugged halfheartedly at Clint's wrist, but she knew that he wouldn't stop unless she made it very clear that she<em>really</em>wanted him to.<br/><br/>And maybe she didn't, maybe she knew that she deserved this as payback for the numerous times that she'd teased Clint in the same way, not to mention all of those times that she'd intentionally gotten him rock hard in public, sometimes causing him to have to wait for hours. Or maybe Blaire was just too weak-willed to turn down a good fingering, even when she knew that there wouldn't be any happy ending and that she'd end up getting frustrated.<br/><br/><em>How far is that fucking bar again?</em>