What Happened in His Car After the Library

Exam season was beginning and, just as had happened to me the year before, I felt a stress that worked its way into my body without warning. I knew there was still time, that it wasn’t such a big deal, but that feeling accompanied me in all my background thoughts, the ones that appear when you aren’t thinking about anything in particular.

And yet my desire to go out at night wasn’t fading. My phone was full of messages, some perfectly respectable and others considerably less so. That contradiction defined me pretty well in those months: studying during the day, wanting to lose myself at night.

I had started going to the faculty library because I couldn’t get any work done at the residence. The problem was that the library was also full of looks that weren’t aimed exactly at the notes, and coffees I ended up having with one person or another. One of them was Damián, the typical team-sports guy: shaved head, broad shoulders, legs built by a lifetime of playing football, and blue eyes that drew more attention than he seemed to realize. He started sitting in my study room right after that first coffee.

Would I be a good influence on him, or he on me?

Looking at it coldly, I think what happened was what had to happen. Or at least what had been simmering for weeks between the coffee machine and the corridors.

That afternoon I had gone to study dressed to go out afterward: high boots, stockings, a tight black dress that gave me quite a cleavage, and an oversized sweater over it to conceal it. The plan was to get through some of the syllabus and then go out for a drink without staying up too late. I hadn’t counted on Damián having other plans.

In the middle of the afternoon we went down for coffee and, without realizing it, forgot all about our notes. He confessed that he had a girlfriend, but that he felt a strange attraction to me and that, in a very unsubtle way, he was letting me know it.

Maybe I was imagining things. But I felt complicit in something that hadn’t happened yet, and I, for my part, still had a partner too.

The coffee machine became our little corner. We spent more than an hour talking, mostly about what he wanted, and very little about his girlfriend.

My mind went off on its own. Although I didn’t encourage him to do anything except talk, inside I was already imagining his cock in my mouth, and I was getting more and more nervous, wetter and more aroused than was good for me.

I returned to reality when he suggested we go out for a while; he had plans to meet up later for a drink downtown. It was an invitation with a second intention, and I knew it. Even so, I gathered my things and went out with him.

***

We started walking without any clear destination. He had plans to meet up in another part of town and I, although I was supposed to meet people near the faculty, was planning to stop by the residence first to drop off my backpack.

I could tell he was a little lost, unsure what to do with me. He had gotten me out of the library, had me willing to go along with his plan, but he didn’t dare put a name to what he wanted.

We walked all the way around the block. On the second lap, I got tired of all the circling and decided I would be the one to take the initiative.

—What are you doing now? I asked him.

—Well, I’d made plans for after studying, to have a drink downtown.

—And how were you planning to get there?

My interrogation finally got him to admit that he had come by car. And, as was only natural, I managed to accompany him to the entrance of the parking garage.

It cost me nothing to get in and sit in the passenger seat. I bit my lips imagining myself as a cat that had located its prey, and the idea that he would eventually give in, hard cock and no excuses, turned me on.

I could tell he was tense, struggling to come up with subjects to talk about while the heat between my thighs began to rise. The sweater covered exactly what I wanted to show him, so I settled myself in the seat and took it off slowly.

He turned his head toward me and I saw his gaze lose itself in my cleavage. It turned me on to know that he was imagining my tits a few inches from his face, sucking my nipples. If he’d told me, I would have pulled them out of my bra right there and let him suck them for as long as he wanted.

But he didn’t. He grew even more nervous, to the point that I had to be the one to ask what was wrong.

—You make me nervous. And I have a girlfriend.

—So what? We’re just talking.

—Yeah, yeah. Besides, you have a partner too and…

A huge silence fell. I was turned toward him so he could see me properly. My cleavage pointed straight at his eyes and the dress had ridden up a little because of my position, revealing a glimpse of the black thong between my stockings.

—Do you want me to leave? I said.

I could feel him getting tenser and tenser. He looked at me without knowing what to do, and I loved being in control. I wanted him to make the first move, so I gave him one last hint.

—We’re alone. It’s no big deal.

Maybe that was the switch he needed, or maybe he finally found his courage. He moved slowly toward my lips and we began to kiss.

***

I let myself sink back against the seat as our tongues tangled, and felt a hand settle over my bra. He squeezed gently, almost asking permission, and I thought that this guy who looked so tough was, deep down, much shyer than he appeared.

I had to take his hand myself and guide it a little higher, to my skin, until he moved aside the bra and the edge of the dress and left one of my tits in his palm, its nipple already hard against his fingers.

At last I felt him wrap his hand around it, squeezing it slowly, pinching my nipple between his index finger and thumb until he drew a moan from me against his mouth. I stopped kissing him and focused only on that, on the sensation of hands grabbing me, pulling at my flesh. I was wet, getting wetter by the second, and it excited me even more to know I’d gotten exactly what I was after. But I wanted more.

Almost without thinking, I spread my legs until my stockings and thong were on display; by then the thong was already stuck to my soaked pussy. I arched my back as his hand moved from one tit to the other, sucking my nipples when I brought my breast up to his face, and I began looking at him in a way that left no room for doubt.

I pulled the dress cup down until only the bra remained. His mouth closed over one nipple, tugging it, biting it softly, and his hand immediately moved lower, without any preliminary caresses, straight to the top of my stockings.

—Wait, wait, you’re going to tear them, I said, laughing.

I had time to pull my stockings down to my boots, and immediately I felt his hand over the fabric of my thong again. He began rubbing me slowly, grinding the fabric against my pussy, and I could feel the moisture soaking through the material and wetting his fingers. Pleasure shot up my legs and a moan escaped me against his neck.

—Move it aside, I whispered. Touch me properly.

I looked into his eyes, full of desire, while he pushed the thong to one side and ran his fingers over my pussy lips, up and down, slipping through my own wetness. He searched for my clitoris with his thumb and began making circles, clumsy at first, more accurate once I guided his hand with mine. We started kissing again, and a few moments later, with his tongue still in my mouth, two of his fingers thrust inside me.

—Ah, fuck… I let out against his lips. Like that, don’t stop. Put them all the way in.

I felt them inside me, moving, curling against the wall of my pussy, and I arched to make it easier for him, thrusting my hips forward to swallow them whole. I closed my eyes and decided simply to feel. His thumb kept circling my clitoris while his two fingers slid in and out with a wet sound that filled the car. Between one movement and the next, a “more” escaped me that I couldn’t control, and I focused on the rhythm, getting hornier and hornier, closer and closer, squeezing his fingers with my pussy every time he pulled them out a little.

—Another one, put another one in, I panted, and he added a third, opening me wider, forcing me a little. I screamed against his neck.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop… I’m going to come, I panted. I’m coming, I’m coming, fuck, don’t take your hand out.

That scoundrel, despite all his shyness, made me come right there, with all three fingers buried to the knuckles and his thumb grinding against my clitoris. My whole body shook on the seat, my legs spread wide and my pussy dripping into his palm, while I bit my lip to keep from screaming too loudly. I imagined that afterward he would want to continue, put his cock inside me without all the circling, but the opposite happened: he pulled back. In the middle of that half-empty parking garage, with me half-undressed in his seat, my tits out and my pussy soaked, Damián was suddenly overcome with guilt.

—We shouldn’t be doing this.

—If you want, I’ll leave.

And I meant it. Despite how good he’d made me feel, I was beginning to get tired of a guy who neither moved forward nor backward. I wanted to continue, yes, I wanted to feel a cock inside me, but not if he was going to fill my head with his doubts.

He kissed me again, softly, and once more his hands sought out my tits, squeezing them, bending down to suck them again as if he couldn’t resist.

—Do you want me to leave? I asked him. Or do you want me to do something else?

***

He froze, not knowing how to react, and I loved leaving him like that. It was his last chance before I got bored with the game, but I still felt like misbehaving.

I kept gaining ground until he was sunk deep into his seat while I reclined slightly over him. I asked him again, just to watch him grow more nervous.

—Do you want me to do something else? I repeated, lowering my eyes toward his crotch. Do you want me to suck you?

Although we were almost in the dark, the bulge beneath his jeans was visible, tense, outlining his cock to one side. I ran my hand over it, tracing its shape, squeezing it through the fabric while I watched him. It didn’t take long for him to undo his pants and pull them down a little, along with his boxers, until he took it out completely.

I leaned forward. It was a few inches from me: not especially thick, rather long, with a slight curve visible in the dimness and a shiny glans already showing a clear drop of precum. I licked my lips. I liked the idea of being in control of this too, knowing that the moment I wrapped my mouth around it, he wouldn’t be able to say no anymore.

My orgasm had left me wanting more instead of satisfying me. I wanted to keep being a little shameless, a little wicked, a slut.

—Tell me what you want me to do, I insisted, while I wrapped my fingers around the base and squeezed gently. Say it.

—Suck me, he finally blurted out, direct at last. Suck me all the way, please.

I liked hearing him say it like that, without beating around the bush, almost begging. I’d decided a while ago that I would please him, but seeing him melt completely and give in turned me on even more. The forbidden nature of being in that parking garage, the fact that half an hour earlier he’d said we shouldn’t: all of it was transforming into pure desire, into an insane urge to have his cock in my throat.

I started by sticking out my tongue and running it along the underside, from the base to the tip, slowly, looking him in the eyes so he wouldn’t miss a thing. I kissed the glans, then kissed it again, and kissed it as if I were kissing his mouth, with tongue, sucking only the tip and letting a thread of saliva run down the shaft.

—Fuck… he whispered, pressing his hands against his thighs.

I sank down. I opened my mouth wide and took him in. I let him slide along my tongue, and since he wasn’t thick, I took him all at once, until the tip touched the back of my throat and I had to fight back my gag reflex. I began sucking him without pause, sliding in and out between my tight lips, rising until only the glans was inside and lowering again until I swallowed him whole, while he tried to stay still, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.

The silence of the car filled with the sound of my mouth: wet sucking, saliva sloshing, my gasps between each downward stroke. I had lost myself completely: the exams, my partner, his. Everything. There was only that cock sliding in and out between my lips.

—Fuck… he moaned, gripping the steering wheel. My God, don’t stop.

I took one hand off him and brought it to my pussy again, over the thong, and began rubbing myself while I kept sucking him. It turned me on to suck him and masturbate at the same time, to feel myself getting soaked all over again with his cock in my mouth. I pulled him out for a moment to catch my breath and ran my tongue over his balls, sucking them one by one while I looked up at him.

—You’re going to kill me, he muttered, his voice broken.

I smiled at him and put him back in my mouth, this time helping myself with my hand, moving up and down with my lips and fist at once, squeezing hard on the way down and loosening my grip at the top. I became absorbed in the movement, rising and falling. Of all the ones I’d tried, the thinner ones, even when they’re long, are the easiest: you slide along them and can take them very deep. This one went in well, too well, sinking into my throat with barely any resistance.

I began to taste him filling my mouth, that thick, salty mixture of a guy on the edge, but I kept going a little longer, until I had so much saliva that it was running down my chin and over his balls and I had to stop to breathe.

—Are you going to warn me? I asked, looking into his eyes, my lips glistening and my hand still moving slowly over him. Don’t pull it out of my mouth without warning me, okay? I want to feel it.

And, after his muffled yes, I lowered my mouth again.

I soon lost myself in the rhythm once more, absorbed, feeling him swell between my lips, feeling his stomach begin to tremble, feeling his thighs tense beneath my elbows. He was about to explode, and I knew it. I sped up, tightening my lips, letting the tip strike the back of my throat each time, my hand moving up and down the base in the same rhythm, until his cry came. His warning. His “I’m coming, fuck, I’m coming.”

You have to give him credit: he held it back a little longer than he should have. I realized he was about to come before he said anything, from the way he suddenly swelled and the first spasm I felt in his shaft, and he didn’t warn me until the exact moment I began to feel the first hot jet burst against my palate. I didn’t pull him out. I kept his cock inside me, sucking and swallowing every lash of thick semen that filled my mouth, feeling him empty himself completely against my tongue while he moaned and clutched the steering wheel as if he were going to tear it off. When he finally stopped trembling, I slowly released him, sucking him to the tip so I wouldn’t let a drop fall, and showed him the last bit on my tongue before swallowing that too.

But that, perhaps, is another confession.