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It was a warm mid-summer evening in Southern California; hot during the day but around sunset it generally cools-off to a balmy 75-80 degrees which (in my opinion) is perfect for an evening ride on my Harley. The fact that there is a weekly dirt-track motorcycle race an easy thirty minute ride from my house makes it that much better.

A couple of guys I work with also ride and throughout much of the summer we all get together and make the easy ride to the local dirt track where we spend an evening watching guys braver then us battle it out on motorcycles out on the track. We eat some fattening food, have a few beers then ride home and call it a night. Being Wednesday night made it harder at first but now, a month into the series it had become easier to work-it into my week.

That is until last Wednesday when one-by-one my buddies all dropped-out. One guy was sick, another had to do something with his kid and the third was working out of town at another one of our offices.

I drove home from work disheartened. Sure it’s just a weekly race that I have no stake in but it was still a good way to break-up the week. Not wanting to go alone I was faced with a boring evening at home probably watching a ball game on TV.

Since from May to September my wife is used to me being gone on these weekly Wednesday night rides she has a standing date with our 23 year-old daughter, Fergie so I wasn’t surprised when I arrived home and saw Fergie’s car parked in front of my house.

When she was younger Fergie and I had been incredibly close. She went everywhere with me but then in her later years of high school she had grown rebellious. Sneaking around with boys late at night. One time we’d even caught her giving some pimply-faced teenage boy in her room a blow-job. That was the last straw. When she turned 18 we kicked her out and didn’t hear much from her for a year or so. Then one day she showed-up at our house with a young man who was clean-cut, had a job in sales and seemed to have his life together. They got married a year later and we saw them frequently and all seemed well, though Fergie and I were never as close as we had been.

I walked-in and found my wife and Fergie were sitting at our kitchen table looking at department store ads. I greeted them then told them about my change of plans for the evening. A moment later my wife asked why I don’t take Fergie with me.

Fergie immediately said “I’d love to go!”

I looked at her. To say that Fergie had grown into a woman would be an understatement. She was 5’5″ with blonde hair which I was sure came from a bottle. She had been fairly heavy when she was younger but now seemed to do a good job of keeping her weight in-check. Her tits though were by far the feature that had attracted the boys to her back in school and they were still as large as ever. Despite having curbed her younger wild ways she still seemed to enjoy showing-off her ample cleavage, generally wearing tops and bra’s which were barely able to contain her generous tits.

Despite all that I pondered taking Fergie with me. My wife must have known what I was thinking because before I could say anything she said,

“I don’t mind you taking her, besides it would be nice for the two of you to do something together.”

“What about your Husband John?” I asked Fergie.

“He’s in Chicago on business. He won’t be back until Friday.” She replied.

“We’ll go another time. There isn’t time for you to go home and change.” I said referring to the pleated skirt she was wearing; it came-down to just above her knees. Of course up-top she was wearing a grey halter top which her tits were all but spilling out of. As much as I was guiltily enjoying perving over her outfit, I knew there was no (decent) way she could ride on the back of a motorcycle like that.

“What’s wrong with wearing a skirt to the races? It’s cooler than jeans would be.” She asked.

“I ride my Harley to these races. You can’t ride as a passenger on a motorcycle wearing a dress and sandals.” I replied matter-of-factly.

“Well my car is a mess, but why can’t we take your truck?” Fergie asked.

“The guy across the street asked if he could borrow it a couple of days ago. I told him he could use it tonight since I normally don’t drive to the races. He’ll be over to get the keys in a few minutes.” I replied, now sort of regretting letting one of my best friends borrow my truck.

“So take my car.” My wife said uninterestedly. “I’m not going anyplace tonight.”

“Great, so I get to take my daughter, to the dirt-track races, in a skirt, in a minivan.” I said.

“Beats not going at all!” Fergie said as she jumped-up and gave me a hug. “I think it sounds like fun, let’s go!”

I hate to admit when my wife is right but taking Fergie with me to the races was more fun than I’d expected. I’d forgotten that years before she had gone with me regularly to these races (and others like them) and I was surprised that she still remembered many of the racers.

We talked about some of the things we used to do together, though for the first time in a long gaziantep escort time our conversation didn’t degrade into an argument over who said or who did what, rather we just talked about the good times we’d had and laughed about different things we’d seen and done.

The night’s racing was good, which is always a bonus. Since it’s a weekly series raced by many of the same people week-after-week it can sometimes get a little, well boring. But this night saw a lot of close finishes, a few breath-taking crashes and a couple of rookie’s who seemed to have more testosterone in them than brain’s which always makes for good racing action.

We watched the racing from a couple of different points along the track. At one point we were leaning against a guardrail watching some of the racers getting ready for a heat when Fergie asked me,

“You used to race didn’t you?”

“Yes, but not in this series. I raced in the open desert. Our races were typically several hundred miles long.” I replied.

“Why don’t I remember you doing that when I was a kid?” Was Fergie’s next question.

“I promised your Mother I’d stop racing when we had you. It’s dangerous and she didn’t want to be a single parent.” I told her.

“Do you ever miss it?” She asked.

“Oh, yeah. I loved everything about it. But I also liked the idea of having a family too. Being a spectator helps, so does riding my Harley. It’s different but it works.” I told her.

Sure I enjoy my weekly night out with the guys but I had to admit that I was also enjoying this night-out with my daughter almost as much; it felt a lot like the old days which deep-down I had to admit that I missed, maybe more than I thought I did.

Of course now that Fergie had grown into a woman, the pervert in me was also enjoying having my adult daughter tagging along with me. Especially when we we’re eating dinner Fergie didn’t notice that her top had slid-down just enough that I could see the edge of the Areola on one of her tits. Yeah, I was glad I brought Fergie with me to the races. Although part of me wondered if she sometimes did these things in front of me on purpose.

The races ended about ten. Being a work night for both of us I was hoping to be back home and in bed by 11. I hoped no one who knew me saw me getting into my wife’s Toyota Sienna minivan. Thankfully we made it out of the parking lot and onto the highway quickly.

As we were threading our way towards the freeway I couldn’t help stealing a couple of glances at Fergie’s tits which were being pushed tighter by her seatbelt. She’d always been well endowed so to speak but the seatbelt cramming her tits against her chest was making her Double-D’s look like triple F’s!

Once we got on the freeway I was happy to see that traffic was light this late at night and I soon had my wife’s minivan’s going close to 80mph, which meant that we would be able to make it home faster, but it also required that I keep my eyes on the road and not Fergie’s tits.

Of course this being a freeway in the Los Angeles area it wasn’t long before someone zipped by us going close to 100mph. It was a lowered Honda of some sort all painted-up with fancy graphics and a crazy stereo system thumping away. The guy cut clean across four lanes of traffic and came within inches of scraping across my front bumper. Oddly enough though that type of driving is nothing new on the roads where we live so after shaking our heads Fergie returned to the E-mail she was reading on her phone and I returned to listening to the night’s sports highlights on the radio.

Another thing which LA is known for are these mile-long, sweeping over-passes. They shoot-up in the air 50 feet or higher. Typically used as car-pool lanes, these over-passes are used to bisect crowded inter-changes.

I normally don’t use these ‘Fly-Over’ lanes much however on this night there was construction on the main-line of the freeway and since Fergie was with me I decided to take the one in front of us to save having to slow-down.

I was still driving at close to 80 mph when I saw the taillights from the Honda which had zipped by me just a few minutes before up ahead. Amazingly the guy was trying to pass another car. The fact this particular over-pass was a single-lane road didn’t seem to bother the guy in the lowered Honda.

My instincts took over and I began slowing-down as if I knew what was going to happen next. Sure enough the guy in the Honda went to make his move around an older SUV, the driver of which was apparently unaware that someone was going to pass them. At the highest portion of the roadway, easily 50 feet in the air the two vehicles collided. There were about five cars between us so I didn’t see exactly what happened but in the next instant the Honda went-over onto it’s side, it’s under-side scraping along a low wall and threw sparks seemingly everywhere while the other vehicle spun and went nose-first into the wall on the opposite-side of the roadway. The last thing I saw through the smoke and brake lights was the Honda spinning on its roof just beyond the wrecked adıyaman escort SUV.

Traffic was dead-stopped now and we we’re blocked-in so Fergie and I got out of the van and walked-up to check on the crash victims. The driver of the SUV was conscious but obviously hurt. The driver the Honda (who had caused this whole mess) was unconscious but had a pulse.

I overheard a man talking to the Fire Department on the phone and a woman was sitting with the driver of the SUV. Now I took a look around and realized that we were completely blocked-in; there was no way to go forward because of the wreck, there was no way to turn around because the roadway wasn’t wide enough and even I could have turned the van around there were quite literally a line of stopped cars behind me, all with nowhere to go. We were stuck.

“Get comfortable, I think we’re going to be here a while.” I told Fergie as we walked back to the van.

“Figures.” Fergie said under her breath.

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

“Not really. I just wish I’d gone pee before we left the racetrack.” She said with her cheeks flushed.

“Go in the back of the van. If I know your Mother there is probably a case of water back there, dump one of the bottles out and well, go.” I explained.

“Yeah, easy for you to say. What I’ve got isn’t very aimable.” Fergie said motioning towards her crotch.

I chuckled and as I opened the side-door of the van I told her, “Here, I’ll help” I said as I grabbed a bottle of water from underneath a rear seat, dumped the contents onto the ground then, using my pocket knife removed the top of the bottle and handed it to her.

“Always such the gentleman.” She laughed as she climbed into the rear of the van and I slid the door closed behind her.

I stood guard next to the van; the windows were very dark so other than maybe a silhouette I doubted that anyone could see inside.

A moment later I heard a tap on the inside of the glass from Fergie. I slid the side-door open a crack. As soon as I did Fergie said,

“Um, so I need some help. I can’t hold this skirt up, position the bottle and balance all at the same time. Do you think you could come-in here and hold the back of my skirt-up for me?”

“You must really have to pee.” I said as I climbed into the van and slid the door closed behind me.

“Maybe you were right, wearing a skirt to the races may not have been the best choice after all.” Fergie said with a laugh.

I walked over to where she was kneeling in the back of the van between the two sets of rear seats. Immediately I noticed her thong, a lacy red thing, laying on the floor next to her.

I positioned myself behind her. She bunched her skirt up around her waist, exposing her bare ass to me. It looked firm and flawless.

I’m not one of those freaks who gets-off watching people pee so I soon turned my head and studied the roof of the van while she carefully pee’d into the bottle. However when she finished I managed to sneak one more peak at her firm ass just before I allowed the hem of her skirt to drop-down and hide it from my view.

Just then we heard a stern knock on the side-door of the van. We shared a scared look as she dropped her skirt back down to her knees and I slid the door of the van open wide enough for me to get out.

A Highway Patrol officer was standing next to the van. At first I thought he had seen the two of us in the back of the van somehow and was going to cite us for indecent exposure or something. However if he’d seen what was going on he didn’t say anything, rather he asked what I had seen with regards to the accident. I explained what I had witnessed, both during the accident and just a minute before when the guy had cut in front of my van. The Officer was friendly and took notes even though he confided in me that the guy in the Honda was higher than a kite.

Before he walked-off to gather more statements I asked him about the condition of the other driver which is when he told me that person was in serious condition and they would be using a helicopter to transport that person to a local Emergency Room. As if knowing what my next question was going to be he then said,

“It’ll be at least an hour, probably two before we can get you moving again. We’ll blow a siren three times just before we re-open the roadway.” He said just before he walked away.

Great I thought to myself. Now I wished I had ridden my Harley as I watched a motorcycle rider slowly working his way backwards through the line of stopped cars off the overpass.

Fergie appeared a moment later at the driver’s-side door of the van. She looked around nervously then asked,

“Is the coast clear?”

“Yeah, he’s gone. No one is watching.” I told her.

Fergie then opened the door then dumped it on the shoulder next to the van.

“That was close!” She said.

“Yeah, well I doubt he would have arrested us, though we probably would have had to do some explaining that’s for sure!” I said.

“Yeah, it just reminded me of my younger akkent escort days in the backs of cars.” Fergie said.

The look I gave her must have shown my curiosity at the statement because a moment later Fergie explained,

“You know that wasn’t the first time I’ve had my panties off in the back of a car.”

“Yeah, I can only imagine.” I said now finding myself getting disgusted at what my daughter must have done behind darkened windows, possibly in this very same van just a few years earlier.

We shared an awkward few minutes of silence before Fergie said, “I’m really getting tired.”

“Me too. Forgive how this sounds but you know that the rear seat folds flat and basically turns into a bed.” I said.

“What if they open the road?” Fergie asked.

“That will be a long time from now. They are still working on the guy in the SUV, then they will have to take pictures and measurements, then get a wrecker up here to flip that Honda back onto its wheels and then they’ll be able to tow them away. Then, maybe they’ll re-open the road. Plus that Cop I was talking to said they would blow a siren three times just to let people know to get ready for the road to re-open” I explained.

“Well I do have to get-up early for work tomorrow so an hour or so of rest sounds good to me. I thing I saw a blanket in the back of the van, I’ll go and get it.” She said.

I folded the seat down and Fergie retrieved a blanket from the cargo area along with a jacket we could use as a pillow.

“I’m glad Mom keeps so much crap in her van.” Fergie said.

“Once a teacher, always a teacher.” I said. “I’ve told her we don’t need a minivan anymore, but this is what she likes to drive so I leave it up to her.” I explained.

“Well, there is a lot of space.” Fergie said.

“Which means that either your Mom or I get stuck carting friends and relatives to and from the airport.” I said as we both shared a laugh.

With that we closed the doors on the van then both laid-down on the rear seat and spread the blanket out over us. I reached-up and shut-off the interior light. I doubted that I would sleep but was hoping to at least get some rest.

We laid there in the dark, in relative silence; it seemed most of the other motorists had the same idea as I rarely heard people walking around outside now. It was almost midnight and I hoped that the road would re-open soon.

The seat was adequate for one person or a couple of kids but for two grown adults, it was snug and Fergie and I were forced to lay in a spooning position, Fergie with her back pushed into my chest. I lazily draped one arm over her mid-section and Fergie looked-up at me with a smile, just like she had when she was a little kid.

A few minutes later I was pretty sure she was asleep; her breathing had slowed and her muscles seemed relaxed. However I was finding it hard to fall asleep as I was sure that as soon as I did the road would clear and we’d be able to drive away.

My thoughts now drifted to the youthful figure that was sleeping in my arms. Her Mother, when I’d met her, had looked just like Fergie. At the time she’d had the same firm ass and tits which were round, plump and just the right firmness. I missed those days. Two kids had taken their toll on my wife’s body; her breasts sagged, her ass was no longer firm and she was probably 30 pounds heavier than she was when we met.

Sure my body had changed over the years as well, though I had managed to keep my weight in-check-Being the manager of a large trucking company kept me on my feet a lot. Although I love my wife, it was just at times the horny-side of me missed having my way with a youthful female form.

I moved my right arm down from above my head and Fergie didn’t budge, now I was certain she was asleep. I placed my arm in the narrow space between mine and Fergie’s bodies. I looked-down at the floor and saw Fergie’s lace thong laying there-she obviously hadn’t put it back on-I slowly worked my hand under the hem of her skirt and painfully slowly moved my hand up to her ass, then carefully gripped one of her perfect ass cheeks under her skirt.

It felt as good as it looked! A bonus was that Fergie hadn’t budged. She had to be sound asleep. I remembered back to when she was a little kid she could sleep through anything! I could feel myself getting hard and what I really wanted to do was to grab one of those luscious-looking tits of her’s. The question though was did I have the courage?

I laid there for a few more minutes, feeling Fergie’s torso gently rising and falling. Her tits were no more than three inches from my grasp. When else was I going to have this opportunity? If I was ever going to know what those luscious-looking titties felt like, it was literally now or never. I slowly moved my other hand onto one of her breasts and gave a gentle squeeze.

It was better than I thought. She was wearing a padded bra which made her tits feel softer than I knew they were but I could still feel their firmness beneath the soft material. I stopped and waited what felt like a painful amount of time. My cock felt so hard I thought it would burst! But I held my composure. Fergie’s breathing hadn’t changed and now I allowed my other hand to trace the outline of her ass cheeks under her dress. Finally I figured it had been long enough so I slowly moved my other hand down her top and into her bra.

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