Fantasy: Used: The Car

Of course he drove a Mustang. Of course he did! What other kind of car would a guy like this drive? He dumped me into the passenger seat, and we were off.

He worked the car like he had previously worked my body: no hesitation, no second guessing himself, the Mustang was just an extension of his will. He didn’t rev the engine to impress me, but neither did he hesitate to gun it when he wanted to run a yellow or pass a slower driver.

It wasn’t a long drive before he was parking at a rundown tenement. There were a few buildings around a little grassy open area, and, since it was a nice night, there were a few people around, sitting on benches, enjoying the warm summer air. I made to get out of the car, but he stopped me.

“Not yet,” he said, “I’m ready for round two.”

He unzipped his jeans, and pulled out his cock, already hard and ready to go.

“Here?!?” I asked, looking around at all of the people. It was dark out, but there were streetlights, and it would still be clear to anyone who happened to glance over what was happening if I fucked him here in the car!

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he responded. “I bring sluts like you home all the time, it’s not the first time they’ll see this car rocking. Now get to it; the sooner I cum, the sooner we can go in.”

It was the second time that night he’d called me a slut, and I was definitely feeling slutty. The way my body had reacted in the alley, I couldn’t deny the pleasure he’d given me. But it was one thing to do it in an alley, could I really do it with other people literally watching?

As a partial answer to my own question, I positioned myself over him, hiked up my skirt, pulled my panties aside, and lowered myself onto him. As a more full answer to my question, I wasn’t feeling any pleasure, this time: I just wanted to get it over with, make him cum quickly, and get out of view of the people outside. I hoped the glare of the streetlights against the window would prevent spectators from actually seeing us.

I immediately started sliding up and down on him, building up a rhythm. At first I was trying to be careful, fucking him as hard as I could without causing the car to rock and draw unnecessary attention, but then I looked him in the face and saw the amusement written there. So I went harder; the car would bounce, sure, but it would speed things up. At one point I glanced around, and realized that nobody was paying any special attention to us. One old gentleman glanced over, and tipped his beer at us in a salute, and then went back to his conversation with the other duffers.

“I told you,” he said, “they’re used to a parade of skanks coming through this parking lot. Now are you gonna make me cum, or are we just gonna canoodle?”

Not only did I redouble my efforts, but I also pulled my shirt up, and stuck a breast into his mouth. (Luckily I hadn’t worn a bra.) Men like tits, so I figured allowing him to play with mine would help hurry him along. More importantly, I didn’t want him constantly comparing me to the tramps he usually brought home, so I wanted to keep his mouth busy.

I was tempted to try talking dirty to him, to up the ante even more, but wasn’t sure I’d be able to pull it off – it would have come out sounding too stilted – so instead I just moaned a bit, faking pleasure. At one point he bit down on my nipple, hard, and it sent a tingle straight into my clit – perhaps I was enjoying this more than I’d realized.

Finally he started to grunt, and then I felt his cock start to twitch as he came in me. I hadn’t had my own orgasm, but I did have an absurd feeling of pride at taking his second round of the night into me.

Before I could think about it too much, or adjust myself to look more presentable, he suddenly jerked open his door and dumped me outside the car, before getting out himself. I managed to catch my balance, so that I wouldn’t fall to the pavement, but I was standing there in the open, my shirt hiked up exposing my boobs and my skirt hiked up exposing my pussy. It only took a moment for me to come to my senses and adjust my clothes, but it felt like an eternity, while I dithered about whether I should cover my tits or pussy first. Blushing furiously, I pulled my panties back over my pussy and pulled my skirt back down, before pulling my shirt back down over my tits. (Why hadn’t I worn a bra?!?)

“Careful now,” I heard one old-timer cackle, “don’t get any sperm on the pavement! We don’t clean it every day!” Some of the others around him laughed. It was the most embarrassing moment of my entire life, and also the moment when I realized: I probably wasn’t any better than the usual sluts he brought home. How many other women had done what I had just done, in this very spot, thinking they were better than all the others? Standing here in this public space, finally covering my nudity (and feeling his cum start to pool in my panties), what right did I have to judge anyone else?

“Let’s go,” he said, as he locked his car. “This building over here.” And he gave me a light tap on the ass to guide me in the right direction.