The legends are true.

A curious motion sets up when a six-feet three, two hundred pound man starts vigorously thrusting into his wife in the back of a six-passenger Cadillac limousine. It’s like a small boat caught in a swell, pushed forward one second, rearing back the next.

I know this because I witnessed it last night. Mr Bob ____________of ___ ______ _______, Florida, arranged for a limousine and a celebratory dinner. The occasion was his fifteenth wedding anniversary, a night he and his wife, Trudy ________ of the same address marked with a robust session of in-car fucking.

When he said, after dinner, “…take the long way home….and don’t speed…” it was clear what they were up to. With the privacy divider deployed and sufficient alcohol to overcome any coyness, they were into it before you could say “Exit I-275 Southbound.”

They rocked the limousine on its springs for about five miles before I thought the deed was complete. My silent laughter was shortlived, however, because that thing started humpin’ about twenty minutes later….and again not so long after that.

She enjoyed every minute from what I could figure out, although at peak excitement the similarity of her cries to a love-lorn chihuahua was slightly offputting.

So there. I am no longer a virgin limousine driver in the on-board sex department. It does happen.