What Happened to Me with a Stranger in the Parking Lot

I want to tell this because I still can’t quite believe it was me who was there. My name is Daniela, I’m twenty-nine, with wavy hair and an average height. The only thing I really like about my body is my ass: big, firm, one of those that makes heads turn. I’m a stable woman, I have a partner, a routine, but I’m also one of those who enjoy life, going out dancing, having a drink with my girlfriends on any old Friday.

On those nights of drinks I had a couple of adventures with other men. I never regretted them, but I always told myself the same thing to sleep peacefully: it was the alcohol. I wasn’t one of those women who go looking for it. It was the alcohol, I told myself. And I believed it.

Until that Saturday in August, when I discovered I had been lying to myself for years.

On Saturdays I do the week’s shopping. My partner works that day, so I take advantage of it to go early and leave his afternoon free. The supermarket is ten minutes from home, in a shopping center with the parking lot on the ground floor. I left at eight in the morning, fresh, wearing a short skirt that came a little above the knee and a sleeveless blouse. I was going to buy vegetables and wine, not look for trouble.

At that hour the place was almost empty. Perfect, I thought, I’ll go in, come out, and meet up with the girls. I paid the ticket at the entrance, smiled at the security guard, and parked at the back of aisle two, with plenty of space on both sides.

—Good morning, don’t lose the ticket, it’s checked on the way out —the man told me.

—Thanks, I’ll keep it safe —I replied, and went in.

***

I got distracted more than I should have. I walked through the aisles thinking about how expensive everything had become, compared prices, grabbed a bottle of wine that is never missing at my house. When I looked at the clock it was already past ten. I paid for two bags and walked out unhurriedly.

The parking lot was different now. In two hours it had filled up: thirty cars, maybe more, and people coming and going. I got to my car and realized it was blocked in front and behind. I had no way to maneuver out.

I got here early just to avoid this.

I took a deep breath, put the bags on the passenger seat, and sat down to wait. I didn’t last five minutes. I decided to ask the security guard if he knew whose car was in front, a dark blue Honda Accord with tinted windows. I still remember that car in detail.

When I got out, I noticed something I had missed before: there was someone inside the Accord. Through the tint, you could barely make out a silhouette holding a phone. Well, even better, I thought, I’ll talk directly to the owner and sort it out.

I tapped on the driver’s window. He rolled it down and I was left speechless.

He was an older man, around his fifties, light-skinned, with graying hair and a white tank top. In one hand he held the phone playing a porn video. With the other he was gripping his cock, completely erect, out in the open, with not a trace of shame.

I should have turned around. I should have been outraged. Instead I stood frozen, looking at him, as if my body wasn’t responding to me. He didn’t look away either. He kept staring at me while he kept moving slowly.

I don’t know when he let go of the phone. The next thing I felt was his hand on my ass, over my skirt, caressing it calmly, as if he had every right. He slid it down until it brushed between my legs, over my underwear, and a heat I didn’t want to acknowledge ran through my whole body.

I reacted a second too late. I stepped back.

—Would you be so kind as to move my car? I need to leave —I said, and my voice sounded much less steady than I meant it to.

He spoke with a calm that was scarier than any shout.

—If you want, get in and we’ll talk about what you need.

***

I don’t know what went through my head. I know I walked around the car from behind, opened the passenger door, and sat down beside him. I don’t remember the decision, only the result: me there, with a stranger, his erection a few inches from my hand.

I kept my eyes fixed on the windshield. I wasn’t looking at him, but I could feel his eyes on me. There was a silence that felt eternal, and meanwhile the wetness between my legs kept growing in a way that both shamed and excited me.

What kind of madness am I doing?

—Take off your blouse. I want to see your breasts —he said.

I didn’t move. He repeated it to me, lower, firmer. I thought about running, and just then he took my hand and placed it on his cock. It was thick, heavy, hard to wrap my fingers around. My eyes dropped there before I could stop them. My heart was pounding a mile a minute. I started stroking him, slowly, and I heard him breathe harder.

—That’s it, that’s it —he murmured—. Come on, show me those breasts.

I didn’t say anything. I slipped one strap of the blouse down and he finished the job, unclasped my bra and tossed it onto the back seat. I felt his gaze on my breasts before I felt his hands. He caressed them slowly, and this time I was the one gasping. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t make a sound, but my body had already won the fight.

I saw a drop glisten at the tip of his cock and, for the first time in my life, I knew exactly what I wanted: to taste it. It was as if he could read my mind. He grabbed my arm and pulled me closer. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want to stop him. I ran my tongue over the tip, played with that flavor, and then took him into my mouth as far as I could, which wasn’t all of him, because he was too big for me.

—That’s it —he said, his voice hoarse—. Don’t stop.

He grabbed my hair just when I was most focused.

—I’m not done with you yet. The best part is still to come.

***

With one sharp pull he threw my seat back. I understood what was coming and, far from stopping it, I wanted it. I lifted my hips a little and he pulled my skirt and underwear down in one motion, to my ankles. I took everything off, ending up naked in the middle of the parking lot, in broad daylight, and the idea that anyone could walk by only turned me on more.

He put my seat back in place and moved to the back seat. He gestured for me to follow him. I sat on top of him, facing him, and felt his cock slam against me. I adjusted my hips myself so he could get inside.

The first thrust tore a moan from me that I couldn’t hold back. I had never had someone so big inside me. I went up and down on him, feeling him all the way, and there was no excuse left in my head. It wasn’t the alcohol. It was me, sober, at eleven in the morning, riding a stranger in his car.

—See? You’re exactly what I thought when you knocked on my window —he said, holding me by the waist—. This is what you wanted.

—Yes —I answered, not recognizing my own voice—. Yes, this is what I wanted.

I rode him until I lost track of time. Every movement, every удар pushed me closer to an orgasm I could feel building from very deep inside. I bit my lips, threw my head back, stopped fighting the sound coming out of my throat. When I came, I came hard, trembling on top of him.

I felt him harden even more and knew he was about to finish.

—I’m coming —he said, pressing me against his body—. This is what you came here for.

He emptied himself inside me with a long groan, and I stayed on top of him, out of breath, dizzy from what I had just done.

***

I got down slowly. I picked up my underwear and wiped myself clean with it. I put my skirt on with nothing underneath. When I went to get my bra, he took it first, brought it to his face, and breathed in deeply.

—I’m keeping this —he said—. My souvenir.

I didn’t protest. I put my blouse on without a bra, my nipples still hard beneath the fabric. He moved into the driver’s seat while I finished getting dressed. There were no more words, only silence. I got out of the car and, when I was heading to mine, he called me.

—Come here.

I walked to his window without saying anything. He put some bills in my hand, one hundred and fifty dollars.

—That’s how you ask for things —he said, with a half-smile—. With good service you can get anything. That was so fucking good with you.

Those words lit me up again, though I wasn’t going to admit it. I turned around. I felt a slap on my ass and I didn’t turn back. I got to my car, sat down, and stayed there breathing, my heart racing. I heard him start the engine and drive off; the blockage was gone now, as if it had never been there.

I enjoyed every second with a man whose name I never even learned. And that morning, without a drop of alcohol in me, I understood something I had been avoiding for years. Those adventures had never been the alcohol’s fault. That was the day I stopped lying to myself about who I really am.