The Car Fantasy Finally Came True

It had been twenty-one days without seeing him. Twenty-one days of counting the hours, rereading messages, opening his photos again and again as if I could touch him through the screen. I wasn’t lacking his words, or videos, or voice messages in that deep voice that always ended up winding its way between my thighs. What I was missing was his body on top of mine.

During that time, I masturbated more than usual, almost always thinking about him. Sometimes while we talked, sometimes after hanging up, my head full of everything he promised to do to me when we saw each other. No orgasm was enough to calm me down. On the contrary: it left me hotter, more anxious, more desperate to feel him for real.

We had turned the distance into a dangerous game. He sent me pictures fresh from the shower, his pants lowered, his cock hard and outlined beneath the fabric. I answered with stolen images in front of the mirror, lifting my skirt, spreading my legs, showing him just enough to drive him crazy. Then came the videos: his hand slowly jerking him off, my quickened breathing on the other end, and both of us shamelessly telling each other exactly how we wanted to fuck when we were finally alone.

We had said it many times, but there was one fantasy that always came back. Doing it in the car. Somewhere anyone might come by, where the risk would force us to hold back just enough to drive each other crazier. Every time we mentioned it, I ended up with my fingers inside me and the phone pressed to my ear, listening to him describe in detail how he was going to spread my legs across the seat.

The night before seeing him, I barely slept. I would close my eyes and imagine him kneeling between my thighs, swallowing my moans, or pushing me against the backrest while he fucked me until I was breathless. I felt ridiculous for being so nervous, but it wasn’t girlish nerves; it was the hunger of a grown woman, hunger for flesh, saliva, cock, everything that man knew how to awaken in me.

The next morning I drove to the underground parking garage where I usually left my car. I had a playlist of songs he himself had sent me days earlier, as if he wanted to accompany me right up to the exact moment we touched each other again. I sang along to part of one without realizing it, smiled to myself, and then his message arrived.

—Shall I pick you up?

I laughed as soon as I read it. The question sounded innocent only to anyone who didn’t know what it concealed. I did. I answered yes and felt a hard jolt in my belly, a direct rush to my pussy.

I entered the garage, drove all the way to the back, and parked where I always did: in a discreet corner against the wall, with several empty spaces around me. It wasn’t a perfect hiding place, and that made it better. I turned off the engine, looked at myself in the mirror, and saw my flushed cheeks. I barely had time to breathe before his car appeared and stopped beside mine.

He got out with the calmness that always affected me worse than any hurry. He wore a dark shirt clinging to his body and one of those smiles that already promised trouble. As soon as he opened my door, the scent of his skin hit me full force, and all the tension from the previous days gathered in my throat.

—Come here, he murmured.

He pulled me in by the waist and kissed me without preliminaries. It wasn’t a tender or lingering kiss; it was hungry, wet, as if he too had spent three weeks thinking about this exact second. I bit his lip, slipped my tongue into his mouth, and felt his hand tighten at the nape of my neck. When we parted, I was already breathing badly.

—You’re trembling, he said, looking at my mouth.

—I’ve been waiting twenty-one days for this.

—Then I’m not going to make you wait another minute.

He opened the passenger door of my car and pushed the seat back as far as it would go. I climbed in without arguing, my pulse racing. He closed the door behind him, made sure no one was coming, and, instead of sitting down, knelt on the parking-garage floor, right between the door and my spread legs.

The sight alone drove me wild. A grown man wanting me like that, on his knees in a public parking garage, ready to get between my thighs as if nothing else existed. He bent down and lifted my skirt with both hands. I was wearing black thong panties, the ones I had once shown him in a photo, telling him I wanted him to tear them off me.

—Beautiful choice, he said with a crooked smile.

He slid them slowly down my legs, grazing my skin, until they rested around my ankles. I was already wet. Very wet. He ran his fingers along the insides of my thighs and noticed the moisture before even touching my pussy.

—Look at you, he murmured. You didn’t get this wet from driving.

—Shut up and eat me.

He chuckled under his breath, delighted by my impatience, and spread my legs farther apart. Then at last he lowered his mouth. The first touch of his tongue between my lips made me throw my head back. I moaned loudly, far too loudly for where we were, and had to cover my mouth with one hand. He didn’t take his eyes off me for a second.

At first he licked slowly, as if he wanted to remind me of the route from memory. From bottom to top, opening me with his tongue, gathering every drop of wetness, pausing on my clitoris just long enough to make me shudder. Then he pressed his mouth harder, sucked, thrust his tongue into me hungrily, and tore another moan from me.

—Fuck... yes... like that...

I grabbed his hair and pulled. Far from being bothered, he growled against my pussy, and the sound sent a brutal jolt up my back. He pushed two fingers inside me without stopping his sucking on my clitoris. At first he moved them slowly, curling them, searching for the spot he knew far too well. When he found it, I arched in the seat.

—I missed you here, he said, pulling away just enough to speak before burying his face between my legs again.

His mouth was a delicious torment. He sucked, licked, kissed, then sucked again with greater pressure while his fingers slid in and out, wet and increasingly fast. I spread my legs wider, guided his head against me, squeezed him without thinking. The wet sound of his tongue on my pussy filled the car and made me even hotter. I could feel my orgasm building quickly, hard and inevitable.

—Don’t stop, don’t stop... I’m going to come.

He answered with one long, intense suck, then rubbed my clitoris with the tip of his tongue while pumping me with his fingers. I came with a violent spasm, squeezing his head between my thighs and panting so loudly that for a moment I thought someone might hear us from the other end of the garage. He didn’t pull away. He held my orgasm with his mouth until he left me trembling.

When he finally lifted his face, his lips were shining and his proud expression melted me.

—I was dying to taste you again, he said.

I took his chin, made him stand, and kissed him. Tasting myself on his mouth aroused me again instantly. Without taking my eyes off him, I unbuttoned his pants, reached inside, and found his cock hard, hot, and taut against the fabric of his boxers. I sighed just from touching it.

—Now sit down, I ordered. You’ve spent weeks provoking me with pictures. I want to swallow it for real.

He obeyed, settling into the passenger seat with his legs spread. I lowered his pants and underwear to mid-thigh. His cock sprang free, thick and already shining at the tip. I ran my thumb over the glans, and he closed his eyes for a second, restraining himself.

I knelt between his legs, this time inside the car, and looked at him before beginning. I wanted to see his face when I finally had him in my mouth. I stuck out my tongue and slowly circled the tip, drawing a wet ring around the glans. He let out a short gasp and gripped my hair without pulling, simply holding me, as if he needed to touch me to believe it.

I licked from the base to the top, slowly, feeling the weight of his cock on my tongue. I repeated the motion several times, lingering on the frenulum, knowing exactly how much that spot drove him crazy. Then I opened my mouth wider and took him in little by little, letting him slide over my tongue as far as I could, without hurrying.

—Shit... he whispered. Yes, like that... fuck.

I began sucking him in earnest. Raising and lowering my head, tightening my lips, letting my saliva make him slide more easily. Every time I came back up, I lingered at the tip for a moment before taking him in again. I wanted to feel all of him. I wanted to fulfill everything I had promised him in our messages. When his hand tightened in my hair, I relaxed my throat and went deeper, until I felt the glans striking the back of my mouth.

I coughed lightly, just enough to adjust myself, and continued. He cursed under his breath, his legs rigid, his abdomen contracted, enjoying watching me gag a little on his cock. I kept one hand at the base to control the rhythm and squeezed his balls with the other. I felt him shudder.

—You look incredible like that, he said. On your knees for my cock, looking at me as if you want to eat it.

I looked up at him and swallowed before sinking down again. I loved hearing him talk to me that way. I went up and down, sucked him eagerly, making noise, letting the thrill of the place push us even further. When I realized he was close, because he began moving his hips slightly and gripping my head more tightly, I pulled away with a smile.

—Not yet, I told him.

He yanked off his shirt and was left naked from the waist up, sweaty, aroused, beautiful. I stood and climbed back onto the seat. I settled on my back and raised my legs. He gripped my thighs and pulled me toward the edge as if he had rehearsed that scene a thousand times.

—I want to feel you now, I told him.

He ran his hand over his cock, coated it with all the wetness still covering me, and positioned it at my entrance. The rub alone made me moan again. He pushed slowly at first, letting me feel him opening me, filling me, every inch entering a body that had waited too many days for him. When he was all the way inside, we stayed still for a second, looking at each other.

—Fuck, I murmured, my breathing broken. I needed you like this.

Then he began to move. At first with slow, deep thrusts, savoring me. My legs were over his shoulders and he fucked me leaning over me, pinning me against the seat, kissing me between sentences, between gasps. Every time he withdrew almost completely and pushed back inside, I felt the impact in my belly and my fingers closed over his back.

—What a wet pussy, he whispered in my ear. You really were waiting for me.

—I haven’t thought about anything else.

—I can tell. Look at how you swallow me.

He sped up. The car began to rock slightly with the rhythm of his thrusts. His cock slid in and out with a wet, dirty, obscene sound, and that made me even hotter. He touched one breast over my clothes, then slipped his hand inside my neckline and squeezed my nipple until I arched. I bit his shoulder and let out a moan that sounded almost like a scream.

—Yes, like that, fuck me like that.

He smiled with that quiet arrogance that appeared only when he knew he had me completely lost. He kept talking to me, exactly as I liked: filthy, direct, without a hint of shame. He told me how I felt inside, how he saw me spread open for him, how he had spent weeks imagining this moment. Every word slipped into my head just like his cock slipped into my body. He wasn’t just fucking me; he was dismantling me.

I slipped one hand between us and began rubbing my clitoris in time with his thrusts. He watched me do it and caught my wrist.

—No. Let me.

He lowered his hand and began rubbing it in quick circles while continuing to penetrate me. The combination left me defenseless. I felt that tension building again, stronger and more immediate. I held his gaze because I knew that drove him crazy, and he didn’t look away.

—Come while looking at me, he ordered.

That was enough. The orgasm struck me violently, squeezing his cock inside me and making me moan his name without restraint, without thinking about the fact that we were in a parking garage. He continued for a few more seconds, holding me in the climax, and then pulled out of me. I was panting, undone, but when I saw his expression I understood that he was still far from finished.

He ran his soaked fingers between my buttocks and calmly traced my ass, never taking his eyes off me. We had talked about it many times, and had done it before, so he knew exactly how much I loved feeling that transition from one kind of pleasure to another.

—You’re ready, he said, slowly rubbing my ring with my own wetness. I want that ass for myself.

I nodded without hiding my eagerness. He continued massaging my opening with one finger, then two, slowly stretching me and letting me relax. I moaned again, lower this time. I loved how he knew how to prepare me, how he didn’t rush when he wanted to take me from behind, how he enjoyed feeling every contraction.

Then we saw lights reflected on the wall at the far end. A car was coming down the ramp. For a second, anyone else would have stopped, gotten dressed, and pretended everything was normal. Not us. I grabbed my coat and spread it over his back and my legs, covering just enough without separating our bodies.

We looked at each other and laughed silently, aroused by the risk.

—Don’t stop, I told him.

He shifted into a better position, held his cock in his hand, and pressed it against my ass. He pushed very slowly. I felt the pressure, the delicious burn of the tip opening me, my whole body tensing to receive him. I gasped loudly and grabbed his arms. He advanced inch by inch, patiently, until he sank completely inside.

—Shit... you take me so well like this, he whispered.

I was full again, but in a different way, more intense, wilder. My body adjusted quickly, helped by all the arousal that had come before. When he began to move, first with short, controlled strokes and then longer ones, I knew it wouldn’t last long. Every thrust struck deep, dry and precise, tearing rough moans from me that I buried against his neck.

The car that had appeared finished parking a few spaces away. I heard doors, footsteps, distant voices. Meanwhile, he kept fucking my ass with a determination that made me completely lose any sense of embarrassment. His hand returned to my breasts and squeezed them, then moved between my legs and began touching my clitoris at the same time.

—You’re taking my whole cock like this, he whispered in my ear. You’re such a good girl for me.

That sentence undid me. Nothing else mattered: not the lights, the footsteps, the parking garage, or the absurd possibility that someone might come closer. Only the weight of his body mattered, the strike of his hips, the way his cock opened me from behind while his fingers made me tremble in front.

—I’m going to come again, I warned him, almost voiceless.

—Do it. Come on my cock.

He increased the pace. Harder, faster, deeper. I no longer knew whether I was moaning, begging, or simply breathing in ragged gasps. I felt his cock rock-hard inside my ass, every thrust more intense than the last, and his hand rubbing me mercilessly. The orgasm arrived brutally, folding me over and leaving me completely spent beneath him. I came calling his name, looking into his eyes, exactly as he wanted.

That was what pushed him over the edge. He let out a curse, drove his hips in one last time until he was buried deep, and came inside me with a low growl. I felt him pulse, release his hot load, and remain motionless for a few seconds while we both trembled. I was still lying there with my legs spread, too weak to move, still enjoying the way he filled me.

He remained on top of me, naked and sweaty, his cock still inside my ass, breathing as hard as I was. We looked at each other and smiled the smile that appears only when a fantasy stops being a fantasy and becomes a memory. I stroked his face, then his chest, then his back, damp with sweat.

—You have no idea how much I needed this, I told him.

—I do. Because I needed it too.

He withdrew slowly, and we both let out a low moan at the sensation. We began getting dressed in a hurry when we heard footsteps drawing closer and the rattle of a cleaning cart coming down the aisle. He pulled up his pants, still breathing unevenly; I straightened my clothes, picked up the thong from the floor of the car, and let out a nervous laugh.

—We’re a disaster, I said.

—A very well-used disaster.

Before getting out of the car, I caught him by the arm and made him lean toward me. I gave him a slow, deep kiss, tasting him one more time. My legs still weren’t entirely steady. He noticed and smiled with that shameless satisfaction I loved so much.

—Don’t stop making my fantasies come true, I whispered. And don’t let me stop making yours come true.

He stroked my jaw with his thumb, opened the door, and I stepped into the garage as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. I felt it on my lips, in my sensitive pussy, in my still-hot ass, in the way I had to press my legs together to walk. After twenty-one days of hunger, he had finally given me exactly what I had spent weeks asking him for: risk, saliva, cock, and that kind of pleasure that can’t be parked anywhere.