PARKED · ENGINE OFF · EXT 895
Fantasy Fuck In The Front Seat
windows up. you don’t get the hotel.
Fantasy Fuck · Cougar Phone Sex · Rough Sex · Confession · No Limits · Cock Control · Degradation · Cheating · MILF Phone Sex · Dominant · Edging
You’re in my passenger seat because I told you the hotel was full. It isn’t. I just didn’t feel like giving you a bed. Streetlight on the dash. Your belt already open. My coat still on. Cougar Phone Sex is the polite name. You’re thirty and you keep looking at my mouth like you’re hoping I’ll be nice. I won’t be nice first.
This is a Fantasy Fuck. Say it so I know you understand the rules. You don’t touch until I say. You don’t come until I say. You keep your hands on your thighs and you watch me push the coat open. Black dress underneath, already hiked. Red hair down. Long red nails on the wheel, then on your knee, then higher. I squeeze once. Hard. You jump. Good.
Rough Sex is later. Right now I want the wait. Confession: I picked this lot because the cameras don’t reach the back row and because your wife thinks you’re still at work. I tell you that while I wrap my hand around you. Slow. Mean. Thumb over the head until you leak. No Limits on what I’ll say about her. Cock Control on what you do about it. You stay still. If your hips lift, I let go.
Degradation fits the way you sound when I call you greedy. Cheating is just the fact. MILF Phone Sex if you need a softer tag to hide behind. I’m thirty-six and I don’t soften it. Dominant is the seat I’m in. You’re the one with your pants at your knees and your cock in my fist. Edging is what happens when I stroke you to the edge and stop, twice, and make you thank me for the stop.
I climb over the console. Dress around my waist. One knee on the seat, one braced. I don’t sit yet. I rub against you, wet, and I pull away when you try to push up. You curse. I tell you to ask. You ask like it hurts. That’s the sound. Fantasy Fuck is you needing it and me deciding the second. I sink down slow. Full. Stay. You feel how wet I am and how little you’re allowed to move. My nails dig into your shoulder. Red. Long. Almond. You’ll have the marks tomorrow.
I ride. Not pretty. The seat creaks. Streetlight hits my throat and the open coat and the place we’re joined. I brace on the headrest and use you. Short. Deep. I tell you to keep your hands off my hips. You grab anyway. I slap your wrist against the door and grind harder. Clit on the rhythm. Breath going rough. I don’t announce when I get close. You feel me clench and get wetter and I keep going through it, forehead against yours, still not letting you finish.
You try to speed up. I pin you with my weight and make you take my pace. I reach between us and stroke you where we’re joined, filthy, and I tell you you’re close and you still don’t get it. You whine. I call it whining. I lift off. You throb against nothing. I make you watch while I use two fingers and come on your stomach, messy, my other hand in your hair. Then I laugh, low, and I tell you that was for me.
Your turn is meaner. I stroke you fast, coat still open, mouth by your ear. I tell you to come on your own shirt. Not in me. You do. Shaking. I don’t coo. I keep my hand moving until you flinch, then I stop. I make you look at it. I make you say thank you. You do, hoarse. I kiss your jaw like I might bite it and I tell you to button up before you open the door.
If you call tonight, don’t ask for the hotel. Come already hard and already sorry. A Fantasy Fuck with me starts in the car. You don’t get a room until you’ve earned the parking lot.
Your shirt is ruined. My coat is fine. That’s a Fantasy Fuck when it’s me. I start the engine and I don’t offer you a napkin.
engine on · 11:42pm
Be good for me… or don’t. I enjoy the punishment just as much.
— Kay