I imagined that in 50, 75, 100 years, some archeologist would come across my panties.
A lost artifact, from a woman in the distant past, frozen in time by rock.
And maybe in that future, cloning will have evolved, and they'd be able to find a single strand of my pubic hair preserved, and they'd be able to make another Beyonce with the pussy dna. And when they revived her, they'd ask about the summer when she left her panties on a highway.
She'd talk about those black lace panties being her favorite, and how the man that ripped them off, couldn't have given a fuck about how much she'd paid for them. He'd bruised her side by a single yank of her underwear. A love scar. Or something like that.
She saw the panties being submerged in a puddle of mud, and thought about saving them, but thought against it. She'd leave them there, to be discovered, maybe by a scientist looking for fossils, or maybe aliens. Or maybe they'd go undiscovered until the end of time.
I thought to myself about these weird things as me as Carter drove in silence. Both of us still muddy, and wet, and aching, and shocked by what we'd done on the side of that road. He stared ahead, one hand on the steering wheel, the other at his side. His eyes avoided mine. His breathing was so shallow, as if he was trying to hide over in the corner. He looked embarrassed.
Never had he taken me like that. I wondered if he'd ever fucked any woman that brutally. He was so shocked and speechless after he had cum inside me, that I had to gather myself and explain to the strangers who stopped to check on us that we were okay. They looked at him as if he could have raped me or something, but I assured them that all was fine between us. They drove away slowly. I wondered if maybe they had called the police.
I think Carter was worried when he saw me walking all funny back to the car. Every part of my body hurt, though my pussy was still tingling. My hair was a disaster. I don't think I had ever been as filthy dirty as I was then. This wasn't just normal mud. This was clayish, thick, itchy, hard mud covering me and Carter, and subsequently the interior of the car when we got back inside. Our clothes would likely never see the light of day again, and it would take some serious cash to clean the seats.
When the rain stopped pounding on the window, and the sun started to peak through the dark grey clouds, Carter finally looked over at me. He looked me over slowly and then stared into my eyes. He couldn't hide his shame.
"Are you okay?" he asked me.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry," he said lightly.
"Don't be."
He sighed. And looked ahead at the road. We'd been able to speak openly and honestly ever since this trip began, and now we were lost for words. Sex could change things fast. He looked at my ruined hair and sighed. I smiled.
"Don't worry about it. Are you okay?" I asked.
"I just want you to be okay."
"I'm fine, Carter."
"I hope I didn't hurt you."
I chuckled to myself.
"You hurt me in all the right ways."
I assured him by grabbing his arm and rubbing. I wanted him to know that, though unexpected and out of left field, what we'd done had been an amazingly surreal and pleasurable experience. I wasn't sure what it would mean for us going forward, but it didn't have to mean anything other than what it was, if that was what was bothering him.
"What happened Bee?" he asked. "With you and Rihanna. What exactly happened?"
I took a deep breath and thought back. What me and her had been through always hurt me to think about in depth. Any time I put myself out there, as a lover for her, something always made her retreat. It was frustrating. Especially since this time we'd made us official, and announced it to family and friends. Breaking off our engagement was even more embarrassing than my divorce.
