Designated Driver

- Horndog D -

The exact moment I knew I was fucked was when Mitzie took my cock out of her mouth and said, "You taste like licorice."

Before that, our group was killing time inside a little dive bar called Mitchell's. Keyon sat across from me, laughing and cracking jokes between thirsty gulps of beer. Malcolm and Chloe sat on opposite sides of the table, the two skunks looking like life-sized bookends the way they unconsciously mirrored each other's position leaning on one elbow. I had my arms tucked in close to make room for Mitzie to sit beside me. She turned a bottle upside-down above her head to drain the last of its contents before she pulled it away and buckled over in a fit of laughter. Keyon was really on a roll that night. The hyena adjusted the imaginary tie around his neck as if to signal the start of each new joke. "So this porno director was casting actors for his next movie, right? He had to interview this camel, but he—"

An empty bottle plunked down on the table with a loud thunk. "Whoa, time out, time out!" Mitzie held her hands up in the shape of a T. "You make me laugh again and I'm gonna piss myself. I'll be right back." The sheep pushed her chair out with a kick and sauntered off toward the restroom. Without thinking about it, I turned my head to watch her as she walked. Mitzie stopped halfway and glanced back over her shoulder, smiling. "Like what you see, Jacob?" She shook her ass from side to side, each swing hard enough to make her short tail bounce from one tight curve to the other. I looked down to the empty straw wrapper looped around my fingers until I heard her hooves clack out of the room.

Mitzie White. The girl has always seemed like a walking contradiction to me, and not just because her wool is black as charcoal. Weekdays, she's one of the most responsible people I know. She works part-time in her folks' furniture store and volunteers at a food bank twice a week. On top of that, she somehow manages to maintain a 4.0 GPA with enough time left over to jog two miles every morning. She's smart—dangerously smart. The kind of smart that would make her the worst kind of enemy, except her personality would never allow her to be anybody's enemy. That's Ms. White from Monday morning through Friday afternoon. Each and every Friday night, some supernatural force transforms Mitzie into a fucking rock star. I've seen it happen time and again. Her secret identity is a wild child. She parties like it's 1999, her 21st birthday, and a bachelorette booze cruise all rolled into one insane balls-to-the-wall thrill ride of a weekend. Copy and paste fifty-two times a year.

I uncoiled the paper sheath around my fingers as my mouse tail coiled around the leg of my chair. I had a flash of déjà vu—a whiff of cleaning solution rubbed into a tabletop just hard enough to draw out the scent of cigarette smoke trapped inside the wood. The smell of every dive bar I've ever walked into.

My attention snapped back to Keyon when he resumed his story. "So this camel stud was, like, the best in the business. Foot-long dick and enough stamina to film three scenes a day. But the director heard he was super sensitive about his hump and got really easily offended. So the director, he has to explain to this guy what he's supposed to do in the movie, and the whole time he's thinking to himself, Don't mention humping, don't mention humping...!" The story sounded like something dug out of a comedian's waste basket, but the alcohol kept Malcolm and Chloe howling at every word.

Suddenly, we heard trumpets. The tavern came alive with tambourines and a wailing saxophone as the tune of an energetic samba filled the air. We turned to see Mitzie dancing in front of the jukebox, motioning for us to join her. The smell of cleaner and cigarettes flooded into my nose. I briefly considered staying in my seat, but I knew any effort to preserve my dignity would be futile. You can't hang with that crowd and be a stick in the mud, especially not with that little black sheep leading the parade. When she's in party mode, Mitzie doesn't take no for an answer, and she always gets what she wants.

After a couple clumsy attempts at samba dancing and another round of drinks, our group decided to move on. Chloe gave me directions to The Beach, where we arrived just in time for happy hour. Officially called The Beachfront Bar & Grill, the place was done up like a tiki bar on some tropical island. I instantly felt like the world's hugest nerd when I pointed out that we were in the heart of downtown a good twenty miles from the nearest body of water bigger than a koi pond, especially when Chloe said that was all part of the charm. Not that it mattered either way; they served three-dollar cocktails from ten to eleven, and that was a good enough reason for us to be there. We found another table and toasted four Mai Tais and a glass of Coke.

When the five of us kicked off our weekly barhopping expeditions, we decided to rotate a designated driver to save on cab fare. That plan worked for a month or two, then Malcolm got a promotion at work and I volunteered to take that week so he could celebrate. After that, I ended up driving most of the time. Not that I mind. Call me boring, but I've never been much of a drinker. Staying sober gives me an excuse to hang out with everybody without having to get too crazy. Being on double D duty is the only time when people admire you for not having fun.

From ten o'clock until a quarter after eleven, I watched my friends dance against the crimson sunset painted on the back wall of the bar and tapped my toe in time with the beat blasting out of the subwoofer beside the DJ booth. Mitzie was the last to return to the table and the only one who didn't look like she was on the verge of collapsing. "This is great," she said, her golden brown eyes wide with excitement. "Where are we going next?" Typical Mitzie. She was like a lamb in a candy store, every lounge and nightclub and cantina in the city another treat she couldn't wait to sample. When the DJ started playing another set, she was right back on her hooves and dragging Chloe onto the dance floor with her. Twenty minutes later, both women danced all the way out of the bar and across the parking lot until they were in the back seat of my truck, their asses still rhythmically shifting side-to-side as we set off.

Part of me does enjoy playing chauffeur, especially when I get to drive my new truck—a silver crew cab pickup with four wheel drive and a sunroof. The truck belonged to my father until the end of last year when he sold it to me for half of what it was worth. Even though the model is sixteen years old and the bed is speckled with rust spots, it's still a nicer ride than anything I could afford working in tech support. I always feel proud sitting behind the wheel, even when it's to shuttle my drunk friends between bars.

When I pulled up to a red light, Malcolm clapped his hands together from the back seat. "Shit, I almost forgot! There's a rave on tonight."

"Oh yeah! At the Rumpus Room." Keyon leaned in close to me, his breath smelling like strawberries and alcohol. If I hadn't watched everyone do a round of Jell-O shots, I'd have guessed he chugged a bottle of cough syrup. "Dude, we have to go."

"Yes! Oh my god, that sounds like so much fun!" Mitzie's enthusiasm seemed exaggerated, like she was putting on a performance to get me to go along with the idea.

"Hey, sure," I said. "Wherever you guys want to go." Malcolm and Keyon both gave me a friendly slap on the shoulder as if thanking me for changing my mind. Not that I'd ever said no.

Malcolm explained that our destination used to be a warehouse in the industrial district near the outskirts of the city. Waving searchlights guided me through the maze of one-way streets to an enormous brick building with THE RUMPUS ROOM hanging above the entrance, each letter blazing in bright orange neon. Even with my friends shouting as they unloaded from the car, I could hear and feel the pounding bass of electronic music reverberating through the concrete. "I hope this is the right place," I joked. No one heard me over their excited hollering.

The interior of the warehouse was a chaotic sci-fi battlefield of laser lights set to a racing techno soundtrack. Glowing tubes and bracelets trailed streaks of color against the darkness in time with the music, every thumping note blaring so loud I imagined it leaving ripples in the air. We moved inside and were swallowed into a group of hundreds of bodies all moving as one giant, pulsing mass. I held onto Mitzie as she led our group against the current of tangled arms and bumping torsos to arrive at the bar area. Four servers scrambled to mix drinks for a line of thirsty ravers, all of them holding up fists clutching wads of bills with their glow sticks.

"This place is awesome!" shouted Keyon. I had to strain to hear him over the deafening music. I wanted to fold my ears flat against my head and tie them down with one of those glowing necklace ropes.

Mitzie had begun bumping and grinding against some random canine dancing near us. When she saw me staring at her, she changed the target of her seductive movements from the stranger to me. She held one hand behind her head and pointed to my crotch with the other. "Jacob! Let's see you shake the goodies!"

"Maybe later." Call me boring, but I've never been much of a dancer, either.

"What should we drink!" Chloe yelled her question like a command to make her voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

By that point, I'd had about all I could take of noise and crowds and shouting. "I think I'm gonna wait in the car, guys."

Malcolm cupped a hand around his ear. "What?!"

"I'm going to wait in the car!" I bellowed. I sucked in a breath of air to refill my lungs and turned to fight my way back through the jostling mob.

Outside, the cool night air felt rejuvenating. With the techno muted to vibrations in the ground, I could hear myself think again. A pang of guilt struck me as I realized how angry I must've looked inside, and I made a plan to apologize to everyone as soon as they came out. I pushed the driver's seat of my truck as far back as it would go to let my legs stretch out, then switched the radio to some smooth jazz. A tired sigh slipped out of me as I realized I was reclining in the same seat where my father had sat all those times my friends and I were at the mall arcade or the water park. Dad had sat right there, probably listening to the same jazz station while he patiently waited for us kids to finish having our fun so he could drive us home. I switched off the radio, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

I woke up some time later to the sound of a nail tap-tapping against glass. My vision came back into focus to the sight of Mitzie's face wearing a huge, goofy grin. With the pickup sitting so high off the ground, petite little Mitzie had to stand up completely rigid to meet my gaze. Her chest was squashed up against the bottom of the window, her right breast having popped out of her dress. The stiff nub of her nipple dragged sideways against the cold glass. I opened the door to see what she wanted; instead of stepping aside to let me out, though, Mitzie climbed into the cabin and plopped down on my lap, facing me. Her face inches from mine, she grinned and said, "Hi."

"Hi there," I mumbled, still groggy. I glanced down to the dashboard clock to see it was 1:52 am. "Hey, um, listen. I'm sorry if I was kind of grumpy earlier. I guess I just..." Before I could find the words, Mitzie fell forward and kissed me. A deep, wet, hungry kiss. With our mouths locked together, she slipped her legs around either side of my waist and pulled the door shut.

Mitzie White. I couldn't see that young woman as anything but a walking contradiction. Weekdays, she's a total pro. Vibrant and friendly, but always focused on the task at hand—always working toward something. Come Friday night, she acts like time is an illusion and everything she cares about will exist forever. Her weekend goal is only to have fun. Mitzie had never kissed me before that night, but I couldn't honestly say her actions surprised me. I'd seen her make out with other girls at concerts and swim topless in a public fountain at three in the morning. It was no secret that Mitzie was prone to getting horny when she was in party mode. A little harmless fooling around between friends was to be expected; with her weekday schedule planned down to the minute, finding room to fit a boyfriend would've been impossible.

The real surprise came when Mitzie broke the kiss, giggled, and slid off my lap onto the floorboard. The back of her head bumped against the steering wheel on the way down. I asked if she was alright and got laughter in response. I almost started laughing myself. "Somebody's sure had fun tonight."

Mitzie licked her lips. "Gonna have more fun..." She pushed her butt back until she was crouch-sitting under the steering column, her legs straddling the base of my seat. I only figured out what she was trying to do when she yanked down the fly of my jeans and shoved four fingers through the hole. I grabbed her hand. "Come on, Jakey," she whispered, her fingers petting my shaft through my boxers. "I promise it'll feel good."

I didn't doubt that. Alarm bells sounded inside my head and my heart thrashed against the prison bars of my ribcage. Still, I took my hands away from Mitzie's, silently giving her the go-ahead. She undid my belt buckle and tugged my pants down a few inches for better access to my underwear. After a second of fishing, she pulled out my cock. I was already half-hard, the full length twitching to reveal my speeding heartbeat. The warmth of Mitzie's hand felt incredible. She stared at my cock with the eyes of a starving beggar looking at a Thanksgiving dinner. When she gulped down more than half of my seven inches, I nearly took off through the sunroof. The sensation of her watering mouth massaging my cock shot to every part of me, zipping along my nerves like I'd just penetrated an electrical outlet. I shut my eyes and listened to the sound of Mitzie sucking in breath as she pulled back to nurse on my leaking tip.

Again, I heard tap-tap-tapping on glass. I opened my eyes expecting to end what must've been a marvelous dream. Instead, I saw Keyon waving at me from beyond the passenger side window. He didn't wait for me to react before opening the door and jumping up into the seat. In his intoxicated daze, it took him a moment to notice Mitzie's face bobbing between my thighs. "Whoa, nice!" He held up a hand to high-five me the way he would if we'd just won a game of foosball. I sat there, frozen, my neck and limbs as stiff as my manhood. A second later, the left rear door opened to let Malcolm and Chloe collapse across the back seat as conjoined twins, their arms wrapped tightly around each other as they Frenched. Keyon motioned behind us and whispered, "Don't tell 'em I told ya, but I think their on-again, off-again relationship is back to ON."

The reality of the situation slammed into me. I looked up to see the words above the warehouse entrance had gone dark. Below them, black silhouettes wearing multicolored rings around their necks and arms flooded out into the parking lot. Dozens of young technophiles all with phones in their pockets. I suddenly remembered horror stories I'd heard about couples getting drunk and having sex in the back of clubs where they think no one will see. Then some joker whips out an iPhone and two days later the footage is racking up hits on a hundred different amateur porn sites.

I panicked. "Shit! Mitzie, ease off. Somebody's gonna see us!" Mitzie gurgled something inaudible as she continued to blow me, her eyes only half-open. The black mass of exhausted ravers moving toward us looked like a host of evil spirits come to drag our souls to Hell. "Mitzie, I— Ah, god. I'm serious. In one minute the parking lot will be too full to move. We need to go now."

"Dunno if you've ever had a BJ 'fore," Keyon slurred, "but one awesome thing about 'em is they're hands-free."

I gently cupped Mitzie's head in my hands. "You need to—mm!—stop now, honey. Please."

Keyon held his arm out straight and pointed forward through the windshield. "Home, Jeeves!"

Fine. The word tore through my mind like a gunshot. Fuck being the wet blanket. I jammed the key forward in the ignition and felt the engine roar to life. You guys want to go wild, let's fucking go! Two hard revs and we were off, speeding out of the parking lot just ahead of the crowd. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I drove with Mitzie hungrily sucking down my hard-on. I gripped the steering wheel tight, my arms shaking like a strawberry Jell-O shot.

Half a mile down the road, Keyon turned his head to watch the freeway on-ramp zoom past us. "We're taking the scenic route tonight," I explained. The last thing I needed was an even bigger audience for my first high-speed blowjob. I turned onto a two-lane highway leading out of town, knowing it would be deserted that time of night.

Mitzie sucked and slurped her way up and down my cock, drool leaking down her chin to soak the fur covering my nuts. The vulgar noises coming up from between my legs pulled at my attention as I tried to navigate the winding road. Tall pines closed in around us, choking out the light of the city. Road signs blurred past faster than I could read, and every curve and corner seemed to appear out of nowhere. I was only just beginning to get the hang of steering with Mitzie's head between my lap and the wheel when she lunged forward to deep-throat me. Hot breath blasted against my abdomen as she exhaled through her nose while swallowing my throbbing meat halfway down her esophagus. All four tires squealed as I zigzagged between lanes.

"God damn," I gasped. "This is dangerous."

"Mmmghn," Mitzie grunted around my cock. "Cum im mah mouff."

I frantically looked for a place to turn off—a rest stop, a gas station, a haunted graveyard, anything—when the rear-view mirrors all flashed red and blue strobe lights. For a split second I thought the rave had followed us. Then came the distinctive WHOOP-WHOOOOP of a police siren. "Shit, shit, shit!" I pulled the truck onto the gravel shoulder of the road, the police cruiser stopping a short distance behind me. My heart inched its way up into my throat. I silently screamed at my cock to abort the mission and go soft, but the tight ring of Mitzie's lips wouldn't let it. "Mits, you need to stop now. Please, please stop!"

Mitzie looked up at me with a heavy-lidded gaze. Slowly, she pulled my cock out of her mouth and said, "You taste like licorice." I ran my tongue over my lips and recognized the faint anise taste left from when she'd kissed me. In that moment, I knew I was fucked. Mitzie can hold her liquor better than just about anyone I know, but Jägermeister is her kryptonite. A couple shots of that stuff is all it takes to make her brain melt.

I looked at Keyon. "Don't tell me you guys did Jägerbombs."

The hyena held his fists together in front of his face, then quickly pulled them apart with his fingers spread wide. "Kaboom!" His smile exploded into cackling laughter.

I would've told everyone in the car how I was going to murder them had it not been for the sound of tap-tap-tap-tapping against glass. A horse wearing a state trooper uniform stood on the other side of the car door. I rolled down the window as he produced a flashlight to shine into my eyes. The beam of light moved to Keyon, then to the two skunks who had only just then stopped groping each other. "Good evening o-officer," I stammered. "Is, uh, there a problem?"

The cop was all business. "Sir, have you been drinking tonight?"

"No. No, not me." I gestured awkwardly to the other seats. "These guys have, but I'm driving. I mean, I'm the driver. I didn't drink anything."

"You sure about that? You were swerving quite a bit back there."

"Yeah, yes, sorry about that. They were getting kind of rowdy and I got distracted for a second. I should've paid closer attention to the road, I know. I'm really sorry about that." I smiled in an apologetic sort of way, hoping it wasn't obvious how hard I was trembling. Please, please don't ask me to get out of the car.

The horse moved his flashlight from seat to seat. His uniform was all straight lines, every crease absolutely perfect. The edges of his collar were so sharp they looked like blades wrapped in khaki fabric. "I'm going to need to see your license and registration."

I pulled my driver's license out of my shirt pocket and handed it over. Keyon finally made himself useful by retrieving my registration card from the glove compartment so I didn't have to lean over. After the cop walked back to his patrol car, I let out a sigh of relief that deflated my lungs. Miraculously, he hadn't noticed the head of black wool tucked under the front of my seat or the erection tenting the bottom of my shirt. I started to tuck my dick back into my pants when Mitzie latched her mouth onto the bulging head to suckle it like a pacifier. My back arched against the seat and I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from swearing. I could feel the rhythm of her tongue slurping back and forth across my cockhead radiate to the tips of my fingers and down into the pads of my feet.

Keyon snickered. "She wants the graaa-HAAAY-veee," he said in a singsong voice.

"Oh, Mitzie..." I watched the girlish roundness of her face bob up and down my cock, the shaft painted ruby red with smeared lipstick. Her golden eyes stared up into mine. I wanted desperately to give her the prize she'd worked for. My mind leapt back and forth between holding on and letting go. I was so close I could feel tingling in my stomach. The sound of gravel crunching beneath hooves drew closer as my balls pulled away from Mitzie's kneading fingers.

"Alright, Mr. Halden." The cop stared down at my license as he stepped up to the window. "Looks like everything's in order. What I'm going to do is—" He glanced up to see my face contorted and shaking. I must've looked like I was having a grand mal seizure. He leaned closer just in time to see Mitzie rear her head back gargling a mouthful of white soup. My cock spasmed in her hand and sprayed the cop's perfect shirt with a blast of cum. The next shot nailed his badge, coating the polished mirror finish in thick, milky rodent spunk. The cop jumped back as the next jet arched through the air and splattered across his pant legs. Mitzie clamped her mouth over the cum geyser in time to catch the next eruption, then moaned as she sucked me the rest of the way through the most mind-shattering orgasm of my life.

The cop stood with his mouth gaping as he processed what had just happened. Gobs of my load dripped off his clothes to splat against the pavement. As he looked up from his stained uniform, his face warped into a dark, angry grimace.

Still high on the euphoria of my climax, I could think of nothing else to say. "I'm really sorry about that."

*  *  *

The wolf leaned against the handle of his rake as he stood and listened to my story. I told him the entire thing, not omitting a single sordid detail. When I reached the end, he said, "Damn. That beats the hell out of gettin' a DUI."

I sat at a picnic table absentmindedly picking at a peeling chip of paint. "Yeah, well, guess I can't argue with that..." Not that I'd meant for it to be a contest.

The probation officer assigned to our work crew walked into a clearing beside the tables and clapped his hands above his head. "Okay everybody, break time's over. Let's get back to work."

I slipped my reflective vest back over my shirt and grabbed a shovel leaning against the table. Me and three other workers had been tasked with digging holes where a line of juniper shrubs would be planted near the east end of the park. As I started to walk away, the wolf stopped me. "So, hey. Real quick, what was the damage?"

"Negligent driving and indecent exposure. Both misdemeanors. The judge waived the fines, but I got stuck with a hundred hours of community service."

"That ain't so bad." The wolf snorted. "Hell, sounds pretty worth it to me."

I thought of Mitzie. That little walking contradiction with a mouth like a vacuum hose and a taste for fresh cum. Sobered up, she was just as sweet and sensible and smart as ever. A straight-A student who volunteered, stayed in shape, and somehow found the time to become an amazing cook. I found that out the first day I came home after picking up trash along a county highway all morning. Mitzie was in the kitchen of my apartment, dancing to the stereo while she fixed me a hot lunch. She explained that a "sorry" wasn't going to cut it; no, she was taking time off work to cook for me and help out until I was done repaying my dept to society. Mitzie said she owed me, anyhow—if the cop hadn't been so pissed at me for doing a bukkake scene all over his uniform, she would've gotten in trouble too. Because of that, I learned Mitzie makes the best spinach and cheddar frittatas I've ever tasted.

Something else I learned that day is Mitzie maybe isn't as much of a contradiction as I'd thought. Even on a weekday afternoon, she still likes to have her fun. I figured out that much when she cleared the dishes and climbed up on the table wearing nothing but an apron. With her legs draped over the sides of my chair and her fingers digging inside her pussy, she didn't even try to be coy when she asked me if I felt like some cream pie for dessert. Even stone-cold sober, that girl grabs life by the balls. And she always gets what she wants, even if you've already pumped three loads of cum into her cunt and she's determined to suck out a fourth. I learned you can't say no to that little black sheep. At least not when she's drinking down every ounce of jizz in your balls like your cock is a straw, and certainly not when she says she's going to drain your boys every single day until she can swallow it all without spilling a drop.

I hoisted the shovel over my shoulder and smiled at the wolf. "Totally worth it."