and ‘beautiful’ were perfectly fine substitutions.
“These seats…are so…nice, ohhhh.” Her moan grew as I pushed deeper into her.
“Italian leather,” I responded without missing a beat.
“Do you want to try a different position?” she asked breathlessly, lifting her head a little so I could see her uninteresting profile.
Fuck, no. I didn’t want to stare at her subpar face.
“No, stay right where you are,” I said, pushing her head back down quickly. “You’re perfect just like that.”
“Okay.” She didn’t argue with me as I began to push in and out of her harder. Her moans grew into screams, and she began to push back into me, which I admit felt pretty good.
A lot of the time, girls just lay there, dead and lifeless, and expected me to do all the work. Those girls never heard from me again. Okay, so most girls never heard from me again, but the ones who actually put some effort into the fucking had a better chance of hearing from me.
Then I felt it—the incredible rush that built up within me, letting me know that I was close to cumming. Pounding her a little harder—and feeling her juices running down her inner thighs and onto me—I began to groan.
“It’s happening, baby.” Shit, what was her name? “I’m cumming.”
“Oh, God!” she cried at the same time.
And then all at once, I was done. The feeling passed, and I pulled out of her, slumping against the seat. I’d have to get them cleaned since she’d dripped all over them, like I did after I was done with the rest of them.
“That was incredible,” she gasped, turning around and moving into a sitting position so she could look at me.
Some women looked even hotter with sweat dripping down their face—this woman did not.
Not bothering to respond, I leaned over the front seat and popped open the glovebox. Inside were mini plastic bags, condoms, lube, and wipes that I was always replenishing. When you fucked a lot of women in your car, you learned to carry aftermath supplies.
Tossing the girl a wipe, I pulled the condom off and tossed it into a plastic bag and then cleaned myself up. The girl leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek.
My first reaction was to recoil from her. “Uh, I’m not into the whole kissing thing. Just a personal preference.”
“Oh, okay.” There was hurt in her eyes. “Do you want to hold me?”
“Not really.” I didn’t hold people.
“Well, what do you want to do?” She sounded annoyed now as she pulled her clothes back on.
I nodded at the door behind her. “Well, you can go back into the bar and I’ll meet you in there in a few minutes.” It was the nicest way I could think of to ask her to get the hell out of my car.
“Fine,” she said with a pout, opening up the door.
As she climbed out, I adjusted my clothes, grateful that she hadn’t put up too much of a fight. Some girls freaked out when I didn’t snuggle with them afterwards. Snuggling, really? Did I look like a person who wanted to fucking snuggle?
“Do you want my number?”
Oh, God, she was still standing outside the car, holding the door open. There was a hopeful expression on her face that almost made me pity her. Almost.
“I’ll get it inside.”
“Okay, sure,” she said with a nod, her face brightening.
I watched her stumble back into the bar, barely stable in her too high heels. Easy, drunk sex—we had all been there at some point in our lives. I had just been there more than others.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the fine leather seat. She was right, though—these seats were nice.
I was satisfied for now, but I knew this feeling wouldn’t last long. Not when the only thing that could satiate this need coursing through me was the one girl who was resistant to my charms.
Kira.
Shit, I wanted to run my tongue over her hot, little body. I wanted to rip her lacy panties off with my teeth. I wanted to make her gasp and moan, just like the blonde had.
There
“These seats…are so…nice, ohhhh.” Her moan grew as I pushed deeper into her.
“Italian leather,” I responded without missing a beat.
“Do you want to try a different position?” she asked breathlessly, lifting her head a little so I could see her uninteresting profile.
Fuck, no. I didn’t want to stare at her subpar face.
“No, stay right where you are,” I said, pushing her head back down quickly. “You’re perfect just like that.”
“Okay.” She didn’t argue with me as I began to push in and out of her harder. Her moans grew into screams, and she began to push back into me, which I admit felt pretty good.
A lot of the time, girls just lay there, dead and lifeless, and expected me to do all the work. Those girls never heard from me again. Okay, so most girls never heard from me again, but the ones who actually put some effort into the fucking had a better chance of hearing from me.
Then I felt it—the incredible rush that built up within me, letting me know that I was close to cumming. Pounding her a little harder—and feeling her juices running down her inner thighs and onto me—I began to groan.
“It’s happening, baby.” Shit, what was her name? “I’m cumming.”
“Oh, God!” she cried at the same time.
And then all at once, I was done. The feeling passed, and I pulled out of her, slumping against the seat. I’d have to get them cleaned since she’d dripped all over them, like I did after I was done with the rest of them.
“That was incredible,” she gasped, turning around and moving into a sitting position so she could look at me.
Some women looked even hotter with sweat dripping down their face—this woman did not.
Not bothering to respond, I leaned over the front seat and popped open the glovebox. Inside were mini plastic bags, condoms, lube, and wipes that I was always replenishing. When you fucked a lot of women in your car, you learned to carry aftermath supplies.
Tossing the girl a wipe, I pulled the condom off and tossed it into a plastic bag and then cleaned myself up. The girl leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek.
My first reaction was to recoil from her. “Uh, I’m not into the whole kissing thing. Just a personal preference.”
“Oh, okay.” There was hurt in her eyes. “Do you want to hold me?”
“Not really.” I didn’t hold people.
“Well, what do you want to do?” She sounded annoyed now as she pulled her clothes back on.
I nodded at the door behind her. “Well, you can go back into the bar and I’ll meet you in there in a few minutes.” It was the nicest way I could think of to ask her to get the hell out of my car.
“Fine,” she said with a pout, opening up the door.
As she climbed out, I adjusted my clothes, grateful that she hadn’t put up too much of a fight. Some girls freaked out when I didn’t snuggle with them afterwards. Snuggling, really? Did I look like a person who wanted to fucking snuggle?
“Do you want my number?”
Oh, God, she was still standing outside the car, holding the door open. There was a hopeful expression on her face that almost made me pity her. Almost.
“I’ll get it inside.”
“Okay, sure,” she said with a nod, her face brightening.
I watched her stumble back into the bar, barely stable in her too high heels. Easy, drunk sex—we had all been there at some point in our lives. I had just been there more than others.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the fine leather seat. She was right, though—these seats were nice.
I was satisfied for now, but I knew this feeling wouldn’t last long. Not when the only thing that could satiate this need coursing through me was the one girl who was resistant to my charms.
Kira.
Shit, I wanted to run my tongue over her hot, little body. I wanted to rip her lacy panties off with my teeth. I wanted to make her gasp and moan, just like the blonde had.
There
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