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Previous story in the series: Parking 

Pavlov's Response
(#2 in the Parking trilogy)
by
Lilith Faire

            It was the best sex I've ever had. Maybe that's part of the problem. I mean, what Starsky did to me that night in the Torino was nothing short of mind-blowing. And I can't stop thinking about it.

            I've always prided myself on being able to view things objectively. I'm a thinker. I know I can analyze something to death when you get right down to it. But I can't seem to get a handle on this problem and it's starting to slowly drive me insane.

            What exactly is my problem you may ask?

            My problem is that I can't get into Starsky's car anymore without getting an erection. It's beginning to get embarrassing.

            I knew something was up the minute he invited me to dinner. And when he arrived at my doorstep.... Well, let's just say that I've never seen him so wired. You see, I didn't know that Starsky had got it into his head to take me parking and then declare his undying devotion to me. I'd already made up my mind that night that I would tell Starsky how I felt about him, so I decided to sit back and enjoy the show.

            I won't bore you with all the gory details. As I said earlier, it was the most intense experience of my life and the love that I feel for that man only increased after what happened. But I digress.

            We managed to get our wits together enough to call for a tow truck and then headed back to my place after dropping the car off at Merle's. For the next few days, we used my beater during the day and then spent the evenings away from the world, wrapped up in each other. I couldn't get enough of Starsky.  I reveled in our lovemaking. That that beautiful passionate man could actually be mine astounded me. His kisses are like fine wine. I could sip at his mouth for a lifetime and never get enough.

            Sorry - where was I?

            Oh yes, my problem.

            It started after Starsky's car was fixed. We were back to using the Torino and the first two days were fine because we spent most of the time doing paperwork at the station. But the third day we were once again cruising the mean streets. When Starsky started driving, I could feel the power of the car beneath me, the engine thrumming in concert with my heart, and before I realized what was happening I was getting hard. It blind-sided me and I had to concentrate on willing my erection to subside. Within a few minutes, I was back to normal, wondering what the hell that was all about. Unable to come up with any satisfactory explanations, I chalked it up to being over-sexed. I mean, Starsky and I had been going at it every chance we got.

            Then the same thing happened the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. I didn't know what to do. It was getting downright weird. It got to the point that I would just think about the Torino and my dick would stand at attention. I was racking my brains trying to figure out what my problem was. I was so desperate that I started going through all my old university psychology texts. That earned me more than a few strange looks from Starsky, I'll tell you. He'd be lounging on the couch, looking positively edible and I'd be sitting by the bookcase flipping through books as if my life depended on it. And it did.

            Today he wore his leather jacket and it's just about finished me. I had mentally steeled myself before getting into the car and was heaving a 'so far, so good' sigh of relief when I smelled it. It was raining and the scent of the leather went straight to my groin. I was hard enough to cut diamonds before you could say 'ready for the cuckoo factory.' It really was the final straw. I had to get out or I was going to come in my pants the minute Starsky started the motor. I made some lame excuse about leaving the stove on and hightailed it back to the apartment. Once there, I pretended to get sick to my stomach so I wouldn't have to get into that damn car again. I sent Starsky off to work with much reassurance that it was probably the 24-hour virus that was going around. Now here I sit, surrounded by weighty tomes, frantic to come up with an answer to this dilemma. Starsky's going to want to know what the hell's the matter with me soon. I mean, the man may play at being dumb, but he's actually one of the brightest people I know. How on earth am I going to tell the love of my life that I'm having an affair with his car?

            Ya know, trying to find out what's bugging Hutch is like trying to find hen's teeth. The man has been acting strange for two weeks now and damned if I know why. He sure won't talk about it. Our daily routine hasn't changed; we drive to the station, do our paper work, patrol the streets as usual. But when we're in the car, he can't seem to keep still. Ya'd think he had ants in his pants or somethin'. I've never seen him so restless. As soon as I stop the car, he's out like a shot. What on earth is that all about?

            Even when we're at home, Hutch's acting weird. He's taken to reading his old textbooks and he's practically ignoring me. I'll sit on the couch wearing my tightest jeans with the strategically torn crotch and - nothing.  No response. I have to physically remove the book from his hands in order to get his attention. Mind you, once I have his attention, we're fine.  We're more than fine if you get my drift. But I know my Hutch. He's like a dog with a bone. Once he's got his teeth into something, he sure doesn't like to let go.

            That cock and bull story he fed me this morning about being sick just proves how much something is bothering him. Ya can't bullshit a bullshitter, and he knows it. He must be mighty desperate to try to con me.  As far as I'm concerned, it's gone on long enough. Once I get to the station, I'm going to talk with Dobey and get us a few days off. Then I'm going home to talk to that crazy blond.

            Well...I finally found out what my problem is and I could just smack myself for not realizing it sooner. Pavlov's Response. You know, that scientist Pavlov who conditioned his dogs to salivate when they heard a bell thinking that they were going to get fed?

            It's all starting to make sense now. The Torino is my bell and my erection is a conditioned response to that bell. In other words, my dick thinks that it's going to get laid when I get into the car. Of all the damn things to happen.

            You know, this is all Starsky's fault. If he hadn't taken me parking in the first place none of this would have happened. No, I really can't blame him.  It's not his fault that my dick has a mind of it's own. I just need to figure out what to do about this before Starsky gets home. At least he'll be gone for the day. That should give me plenty of time to come up with a plan of action.

            The look on Hutch's face as I walked through the door was worth the price of admission. I've never seen him look so panicked. His mouth was open but he couldn't seem to get the words out. He sat there gulping like a fish out of water while I hung up my jacket. As I turned to face him again, I could tell that he didn't want me there. And when I told him that Dobey had given us a four-day weekend, I thought he was going to have a stroke, especially when I mentioned driving up the coast. Now that was interesting. Since when did Hutch turn down one of his favorite things to do? It was time to take charge.

            I pushed Hutch into the bathroom insisting that he take a shower while I packed. It didn't take me long to throw a few necessities into an overnight bag. After all, if I had my way - and I planned to - Hutch wouldn't need much in the way of clothing.

            I decided to put away all those books Hutch had scattered everywhere while I waited. I love the man dearly, but I've never known anyone who could shower as long has he can. I was just about to close the final text when a line caught my eye. Pavlov's Response. Now why did that ring a bell? I read further. Oh yeah, the guy who got the dogs to drool when he rang a bell.  What was Hutch doing reading this stuff? It didn't make any sense to me, but then nothing Hutch has done lately has made much sense. Well...we had the whole drive ahead of us for me to practice my interrogation skills.

            I was going to get to the bottom of this and what better way than a relaxing car ride. I could hardly wait.

            Oh god, I can't believe I'm in this car again. Starsky had me up and out of the apartment so fast, it made my head spin. Before I knew it - there I was sitting in the Torino praying to every deity I could think of that I wasn't going to do something I hadn't done since college. It's taken every ounce of concentration I own to keep from coming. I put on my loosest pants and they are still too tight. Oh god, he's just started the car. I'm never going to survive.

            Maybe if I concentrate on the view. I've always loved this drive up the coast; the winding road and around every corner another spectacular sight.  I wonder where he's taking me. You know, if it wasn't for the fact that I would gladly kill to get some release, this could be a great get-away.  Starsky certainly looks relaxed. He does love to drive this car. And I love watching the way his hands caress the wheel. His hands are never still.

            Starsky is a very tactile person. He touches everything and it seems like he always has something in his hands. Those hands sure know how to touch me. The way they stroke my body almost reverently. He can bring me to the edge just with his fingertips.

            Oh shit.

            Okay, this is not the best line of thinking right now. Don't look at Starsky - look out the window. Take a big breath.... All right, so that's not a good idea either. Damn that leather jacket. Maybe if I roll down the window.... That's better. Now, to turn my mind to something innocuous.

            Baseball. Let's run over those stats. ERA, RBI, who's on first, what's on second, when are they going to get new uniforms. I wonder what Starsky would look like in that baseball uniform. Starsky's ass in a baseball uniform. Me taking Starsky's ass. Me taking Starsky's ass in this car....

            Fuck, fuck, fuck.

            Starsky, are we there yet?

            That man hasn't sat still since he got in the car. First he's looking out the window, then he's looking at me, then he's looking out the window again.... Now he looks like he's about to cry. I keep asking him what the matter is but he just shakes his head and won't answer. Okay, now he's adjusting himself for about the millionth time. Hmmmmm.

            If I didn't know better, I'd say Blondie there is sportin' a sizable woody.  Actually - now that I think about it - Hutch has been adjusting himself an awful lot these past two weeks. I've been trying so hard not to jump his bones while we're working that it never registered until now.

            Pavlov's Response. Why did I just think of that? All right Starsky, you call yourself a detective. Now's the time to put your money where your mouth is. Pavlov got those dogs to drool when he rang a bell because they were conditioned to expect something to eat. Conditioned response to a certain stimulus, I think that book said.

            Fact - Hutch gets a hard-on whenever he gets in the Torino.

            Fact - The first time we made love was in the Torino.

            Fact - We told each other how we felt in the Torino.

            Fact - We both had life-altering orgasms in the Torino.

            Fact - I'm getting hot just thinking about making out in the Torino.

            I'm sure I'm on to something here. I just need to put it all together.

            Dogs' drooling equals Hutch's hard-on. That sounds right. Then that means Pavlov's bell equals.... MY TORINO?!?

            Oh man. No wonder Hutch has been looking so miserable. Why on earth hasn't he said anything to me about this? That he could hold something like this back from me kinda ticks me off. I think that we're goin' to have to have a serious talk about keeping secrets from each other. But I'll do it later because Hutch there looks like he's about to explode.

            Let's see - where exactly are we? Oh, perfect. I have just the place where we can park in complete privacy and get this all out in the open. Then maybe we'll be able to enjoy this weekend together.

            Thank heavens - Starsky's finally slowing down. Wait a minute - there's nothing here but an old service road. I didn't know there was a rest area here. It's pretty far off the beaten track though - doesn't look like it's been used in years. I don't care; I just want to get out of this car for a few minutes.

            That's better. Finally, some fresh air. Now to walk the kinks out, so to speak. Starsky's rummaging around in the trunk anyways - don't look at his ass. Don't look at his ass.

            Damn - you looked at his ass, didn't you? Okay, walk away slowly and no one will get hurt. Whew. That was close.

            Now what is he doing? Why are you sitting on the hood of your car? Do you have any idea what you are doing to me here?

            Oh, shit. He's touching himself. He's sitting on the hood of that car and he's touching himself. Starsky, cut it out. Don't do this to me.

            Don't take off your jacket. I said - don't.... You took it off. You had to go and take off your jacket. All right - I can live with that. Just don't do anything else, okay? I'm begging here.

            No - DON'T lie down on the hood. Starskyyy.... Why are you...? NO! Not the zipper, Starsky. Have mercy on me, not the zipper....

            That tears it. I'm either going to kill him or fuck him into tomorrow. Or maybe both.

            Look...just turn away. How hard can that be? Don't watch him.

            You can't, can you? I'm like a moth to a flame; he's that irresistible. My beautiful love spread out on the hood of the Torino looking like a feast for a starving man. Lying there with his eyes closed, playing with his cock with those marvelous hands. Tempting me, teasing me, torturing me.

            I can't take it any more.

            Starsky, let me kiss you. That's it - open your mouth for me. God, you taste so good. You taste like sex. Let me take your mouth; let me suck on your tongue. Oh, yes.

            You make me wild for you. Babe, I've got to taste all of you. Let's get that shirt off. I don't care if it's your favorite - I'll buy you a new one. I can't wait.

            Your nipples are so responsive. I love to suck on them. Shall I bite one?  Ooh, you like that. I think I'll try that again. Oh, does it sting? Here, let me kiss it better. Now your other one - wouldn't want it to feel neglected. That's it love, arch your back for me. Show me how much you need me. Are you aching for me yet?

            I want to taste more of you. You know where I'm headed, don't you? But not yet. First, I have to pay homage to your navel. I love the way your stomach quivers when I kiss you there. Let me caress you, let me love you. I could stay like this forever.

            But I need to take you in my mouth. I need to feel your strength. That's it - let me suck you. Velvet steel. I don't think I'll ever get tired of making love to you. I love to run my tongue around the head of your cock and taste your essence. Your flavor is exquisite. I'm addicted to that taste. I'll never get enough.

            Starsky, I love you.

            The skin on your balls is so soft. You are so sensitive there, aren't you?  More than a light touch and you go out of your mind. I live to make you go out of your mind. In fact, I think I'll lick them now. Oh yeah, you love that. Now I'm going to take one into my mouth. Flick it with my tongue.  Listen to you moan. Can I make you scream, my love?

            Let me kiss you again. Do you taste yourself? You're driving me insane with that mouth of yours. Yesss... Drive your tongue into my mouth - don't stop.  That's it - nibble on my lips. Oh god, suck on my neck. Leave a mark - I don't care. Starsky, oh Starsky, what you do to me.

            I've got to have you now. I can't wait any longer.

            Pull those jeans off - get rid of the runners. Let me lick you, love. Let me worship that gorgeous ass of yours. Lift up your legs - that's it. Your ass was meant to fit in my hands. I have to taste you there. I can't stop now. I love to lap at you and feel you open, just for me. It's all just for me, isn't it?

            Suck on my fingers, Starsky. Get them wet. Let me loosen you, love. You are so tight and so hot. Your ass is grabbing at my fingers, spasming around them. You love my fingers fucking you, don't you? My passionate man - you were made for loving.

            I have to get rid of my jeans. Oh my god - now I can feel the car against my thighs. I don't think I'm going to make it. I have to take you now, on the car. Will you let me take you here? Can you see how much I need this? I have to get something - I don't want to hurt you....

            Starsky, what's that in your hand? Oh babe, I should have known better than to try and keep anything from you. I love you so much.

            You are so tight. I'm trying to go slowly but it's killing me here. Don't move, Starsk. I said, don't.... You moved, didn't you? Do you want me to take you hard?

            Starskyyy....

            I'm burning up; I can feel the hard metal of the car as I pound into you.  Faster and faster; it's too good, it's everything I've dreamt. But I need more. I want you to come for me, my love. I want to hear you scream as you spill yourself.

            Yesss.... I can see you coming, feel your ass clenching around me, hear you shouting my name. It's finishing me - I have to come. Oh god, oh god....

            Hold me, babe, just hold me. I need to have your arms around me, feel your hands stroking my hair.

            You amaze me. How is it that you always know what I need? Your love surrounds me and frees me. It's all I've ever needed and everything I could ever want. I love you more than I'll ever be able to tell you. Never let me go, okay? Please never let me go.

The End 

Next story in the series: Playing it to the Edge