The Back Road Where No One Could See Me

It all started during a strange stretch of my life, one of those times when having any space of your own becomes a luxury. For reasons that don’t matter here, I went from living alone to sharing my apartment with some relatives, and not just for a few days: it was going to be for the long haul. From one month to the next I lost what I valued most without realizing how much I needed it: privacy.

Until then, when the heat rose in me and I had no one to share it with, it always ended in a good solo session. I’m not ashamed to say it. I enjoyed those moments, took my time with them, and sometimes had more fun than in many dates that led nowhere. The problem was that, with the house always full, those moments had become impossible. Thin walls, creaking hallways, someone getting up for water at any hour. I was permanently on alert, and the built-up tension had nowhere to go.

Luckily, work gave me a loophole. Once or twice a month I had to travel to another city to handle company business, and I always came back at night along a long, monotonous highway. One afternoon, while I was driving back and watching the signs go by, the idea came to me. What if I turned these trips into something more? The car was mine, the hours were mine, and nobody cared what time I got home.

The idea got into my head and wouldn’t leave. But if I was going to do it, I wanted to do it right. I needed three things: a place, a time, and maybe something that would make the whole thing more memorable than my usual sessions.

I found the place without really looking. On one of the trips I had taken the wrong exit off the highway and ended up on a side road lined with pines. I remembered that, halfway along, there was a bend where the trees closed in and a dirt track disappeared between the trunks. Hardly any cars passed through there. It was perfect, and it also fit neatly into my route, with almost no detour.

The time was simple: the return trip, late at night, when the road was empty and darkness covered everything.

The toy was what took me the longest to decide on. These days it’s easy to order anything online and have it arrive in an anonymous box without anyone suspecting a thing. I spent several nights comparing options, reading, hesitating. In the end I settled on a realistic dildo, slightly smaller than mine, which is about eighteen centimeters, thick and slightly curved. I also ordered a bottle of regular lubricant and a pack of towels and wipes so I wouldn’t make a mess. I paid, closed the laptop, and started counting the days.

***

The order took a week to arrive. I hid it at the back of the wardrobe, under some blankets, and had to wait another week for a work trip to line up. Those days were a sweet torture. I fantasized constantly about how I would do it, what position, how long I’d last before cumming. Every night I got into bed practically aching with need, with the house too full to do anything about it.

When the day of the trip finally came, I could barely concentrate in the meeting. The day dragged on forever. I handled what I had to handle, shook the hands I had to shake, and as soon as I could, I got into the car with my heart already racing.

It must have been around eight in the evening when I left the highway. The sky had that deep blue of the last minutes before full night. I took the side road and drove slowly, watching for the bend. I recognized it right away. I slowed down, put on the indicator out of pure habit even though there was nobody behind me, and drove the car onto the dirt track until I was hidden among the pines.

I turned off the engine and, with it, the lights. Silence crashed over me all at once. All you could hear was the engine ticking as it cooled and, far off, the muffled hum of some car passing along the road without knowing I was there. The privacy was total. No one could see me. That thought alone had already given me goose bumps.

I got out of the car and opened the trunk. I took out the bag with everything I had prepared and brought it to the back seat. I opened the door, spread a towel over the seats, left the lubricant and the dildo within reach, and sat down for a moment to catch my breath. I took off my trousers, folded them over the passenger seat, and grabbed my phone to look for something to give me the initial spark.

I didn’t need much. I missed that feeling, having time and space for myself, and my body responded before I could even ask it to. I started to feel my underwear pulling tight. I touched myself through the fabric, slowly, feeling it harden with each caress. Soon the fabric started to really bother me, so I pulled the elastic down and freed myself. My cock sprang up against my stomach like a spring. I was hornier than I remembered being in a long time.

***

I took the dildo and compared it with mine, almost out of curiosity. It was a little smaller, by a centimeter or two at most. I smiled in the dim light. I started masturbating slowly while running the dildo over the top, as if another cock were rubbing against mine. That absurd game turned me on even more. Every time it brushed the glans, a drop of clear fluid welled up and slid down, lubricating everything, including the tip of the toy, which became wet and glossy.

I wanted to try it another way. I bent down, lowered my head, and took it into my mouth while I kept touching myself with my other hand. Fuck, this is hard. It was impossible to swallow it whole; I stopped halfway, salivating, realizing that it needed some help I didn’t have. The idea of someone giving it to me flashed through my mind and sent a shiver through me.

Without changing position, I brought my middle finger to my mouth and lowered my hand to my ass. It went in without too much resistance, though it dried out almost immediately, so I repeated the move with more saliva. That time it slid in better. I had completely forgotten about the toy; I was focused on the finger, on the sensation, on breathing deeply. Then I remembered the lubricant. I picked it up, squeezed out a generous amount, and started again. One finger went in easily. Two took more effort, so I took my time, opening myself up little by little, knowing that what came next would be much bigger.

I changed position and lay on my side on the towel. All that time I’d been rock hard, and I made an effort not to touch my cock too much so I wouldn’t finish too soon. The two fingers were already going in smoothly; I even managed a quick back-and-forth motion, panting, moving my hips in the same rhythm while my cock rubbed against my thigh. I knew it was time to break in the toy.

***

I knelt facing the back of the car and braced my chest against the seat back. With my left hand I spread one cheek and with my right I placed the tip of the dildo at the entrance. I started pushing. Ufff. It was much harder than two fingers. For a moment I gave up; it was hurting and I didn’t want to ruin the night. I got back onto all fours and pushed my fingers into myself again, this time more decisively, in and out firmly, until I felt myself opening up again.

I saw a thread of liquid hanging from the tip of my cock. I was soaked. I used it to coat the dildo even more and, without changing position, tried again. This time the tip went in fine. But every centimeter cost me: I could feel it working its way in, stretching me, a mix of discomfort and pleasure that made me hold my breath. I pulled it out, pushed it back in halfway, pulled it out again. When I got past the halfway point, a wave of heat surged through me from the inside, intense, almost electric. I started to tremble. And then I couldn’t stop anymore.

I was thrusting it in and out faster and faster, harder and harder, moving my hips to keep pace. I was enjoying it too much. But in that position I couldn’t get past halfway no matter how much I tried. I needed another idea.

The dildo had a base, so I set it on the seat and checked that it could stand upright by itself. I positioned myself on my knees above it, facing the back of the car, with both hands free to open myself up. I lowered myself slowly. As soon as the tip entered, everything became much easier. I kept descending, feeling fuller and fuller, until I had it all the way inside. Fuck. It felt like a contained explosion, as if my whole body wanted me to stay still for a second and take it in.

I started riding it up and down. The first movement brought a brief relief followed by a deep pleasure, and after that there was no rest. My cock bounced against my stomach, smeared with lubricant and my own fluid, a glossy mixture dripping onto the towel. Up, down, finding the rhythm, losing it, finding it again. The whole car seemed to be holding its breath with me.

***

On one of the downward strokes I got all the way to the base and felt a brutal internal pressure, unlike anything before. I repeated it on the next thrust. And the next. And the next. Each one shook my whole back. I couldn’t take any more. I started trembling for real, felt myself cumming without barely touching myself, and grabbed my cock by pure instinct, as if it were about to explode. I slipped off the toy and collapsed onto my side, finishing myself off onto the towel in spasms that left me breathless.

I stayed like that for a while, lying down, my heart pounding in my chest and an idiotic smile on my face. It had been brutal. Better than I had imagined during all those nights of waiting.

When I caught my breath, I didn’t waste time cleaning up. I wiped away what I had spilled with the wipes, put the dildo and lubricant back in the bag, folded the towel, and put everything back in the trunk. I got dressed, ran my hands through my hair, and sat behind the wheel still dazed, with that feeling of complete calm that only comes afterward.

I started the car. Everything was still dark, so black I could barely make out the dirt track. I switched on the headlights.

And then I saw it.

About twenty meters away, half hidden among the pines, there was another car parked. I hadn’t heard it arrive. I had no idea how long it had been there or whether its lights had been off since before I started. I froze, hands on the wheel, staring at that dark silhouette among the trees.

Did someone see anything?

I didn’t know what to think. Part of me felt a stab of panic, the urge to get out of there as fast as possible. But there was another part, one I hadn’t expected, that found the idea of having had an audience without knowing it set my pulse racing in a very different way from fear.

I put the car in gear and pulled slowly onto the road. In the rearview mirror, the other car was still there, motionless, its lights still off. I drove the rest of the way with one question circling in my head, a question that, far from bothering me, I was already looking forward to answering again on the next trip.