What Happened in the Night-Shift Van

That Thursday in mid-March, I had to stay late. I had a couple of reports due the next day and, since all my information was on the office desktop, there was no way to take the work home with me. I finished after nine-thirty at night, with the floor almost empty and the hum of the air conditioners as my only company.

The company I work for offers transportation for staff at three different times. The ten o’clock van was about to leave and would drop me a couple of blocks from my apartment, so I had to hurry if I didn’t want to wait for the next one.

Since there were so few people around, that morning I’d dared to put on a push-up leggings that clung tightly over my ass. It was a white I loved: with the right light, you could make out the thong I was wearing underneath through the fabric. That was why I’d brought a long sweatshirt that covered me well, and only if I bent over would everything show. Standing up, the secret stayed hidden.

I put my things away in my handbag —which was really barely anything, because I left everything in the desk drawer— and walked over to where the vehicles were parked. I got into mine and sat just behind the front passenger seat.

I recognized the driver right away. His name was Rubén, or at least that was what I’d heard him called before. As soon as he saw me get in, he smiled and greeted me with a courtesy that came close to flirtation.

—Good evening, miss. You had to leave later tonight, huh? —he said, watching me in the rearview mirror.

—I had some reports to finish —I answered—. They’re done now, luckily.

He started the engine and we set off. For weeks I’d noticed he liked me: every time I got close to or away from his van, I felt his eyes run over me with a mix of boldness and desire he didn’t bother to hide. That night, on top of that, it was just the two of us. No one else had taken that time slot. The idea struck me as unsettling and exciting in equal measure.

The streets were almost deserted. The streetlights came in and out through the windows, drawing bands of light across the van’s interior. I kept looking at Rubén’s reflection in the glass, pretending I was watching the city, while he shot me quick glances every time a traffic light forced him to stop. There was a thick tension in the air, the kind that needs no words to be understood.

I adjusted my sweatshirt, more out of nerves than cold, and crossed my legs. I could feel the leggings rubbing against my skin and, without meaning to, I started imagining what would happen if, just once, I let what we’d both been circling around for so long actually happen. I’m crazy, I thought. But the idea, far from scaring me, tightened something inside me.

Halfway through the ride, a cellphone started ringing. Neither he nor I answered, because neither of us had it in our hand. A little while later it rang again, insistent, and Rubén pulled over onto the shoulder to figure out where it was coming from. The sound was coming from right behind me, from the back seat.

I turned around. To reach the phone, I had to plant my knees on my seat and stretch backward, my whole body bent forward. Before I saw it, I felt him turn on the van’s interior light. He turned it on on purpose, to see my ass in all its glory.

I realized it perfectly. And, instead of hurrying, I took a little longer than necessary to reach the phone. I let him look. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him run his tongue over his lip, slowly, like someone licking his chops in front of something he’s about to eat. He wants it right now, I thought. And so do I.

I sat back down with the cellphone in my hand and pretended to be surprised.

—Here was the damn phone —I said, showing it to him.

***

Rubén didn’t answer. He turned off the engine, got out, went around the van, and opened my door. Before I even quite understood what he was doing, he was already sitting beside me, forcing me to scoot over to give him space. His closeness hit me immediately: the heat of his body, the smell of man-sweat he’d carried through the whole shift. I felt myself getting wet before he’d even touched me.

—Let me see the phone —he said—. Maybe I’ll recognize whose it is.

I handed it to him. Instead of taking it, he grabbed my hand and didn’t let go. He pulled me toward him and kissed me with a roughness that cut off my breath. I kissed him back with everything I had, hungry, and dropped my free hand to his crotch. There it was: hard, swollen, pressed tight against the fabric of his pants.

He didn’t stop touching me. He ran his hands over my thighs, squeezed my ass, tugged me against him. He had worked arms, the kind you get from carrying or lifting weight, and big, rough hands, callused. I’ve always liked men like that, men whose hands you can feel.

With a single movement he yanked my leggings and thong down, both garments at once. I let myself go and unbuttoned his pants. His cock sprang out almost by itself, as if inviting me. It was big, thick, veined, with a huge head. When I took it into my mouth, it barely fit.

I sucked him slowly. I wanted to enjoy it, because you don’t come across something like that every day. I kept at it for a good while, feeling him tense more with every sweep of my tongue. At one point I asked him, without taking him all the way out, to hold on.

—Not yet —I murmured—. First I want you to fuck me from behind.

As soon as I finished the sentence, he reacted.

—Kneel there, on the seat —he ordered, his voice rough.

***

I positioned myself exactly as he asked: on my knees on the seat, legs bent, my ass exposed toward him. Rubén knelt on the van floor and started eating me out. He pushed his tongue into me, trying to get deep inside, and I moaned louder and louder, gripping the seatback.

With one hand he reached my little cock, which was already hard and dripping. From time to time he stopped licking my ass to suck me, gathering the liquid that was running out with his mouth. That turned me on even more, made me squirm against his face.

Within minutes he had me well lubed, ready to take him. He lowered my hips a little to line up my opening with his cock and started pushing in, slowly, with the calm of someone who knows what he’s doing. As soon as I felt the head enter, I writhed between pain and pleasure.

—Wait, wait —I gasped—. Don’t pull it out, but don’t push it in any farther either. Give me a second.

I needed to get used to that huge thing forcing its way between my ass cheeks. He stopped, patient, one firm hand on my hip.

When he noticed my breathing had calmed a little, though I was still panting, he started pushing again, millimeter by millimeter. I could feel him opening me with every advance. When more than half of him was inside, he grabbed my shoulders and gave a sharp thrust. I felt him bury himself all the way to the hilt. My eyes flew open and I choked back a scream; only a long, broken moan came out of me.

With his cock fully inside me, he didn’t even try to pull out. He had me speared to the hilt, and I could feel his balls against my ass. After a few seconds he started rubbing himself against me, slowly, and I felt the brush of his pubic hair on the backs of my legs.

***

Little by little he pulled it out only to push it back in to the very end, all very slowly at first. Then he sped up. Faster and faster, harder and harder. The wet sound of the fucking in and out filled the enclosed van, mixed with my moans and his heavy breathing.

I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. So I lifted my ass higher, offering myself, trying to get him even deeper and make his thrusts harder. I was on the edge, moaning without holding back.

—Come inside me —I begged him, almost pleading—. Inside.

He didn’t take long. I felt him empty himself into me, felt his cock pulse over and over, and the amount of cream he let out surprised me. At home they don’t milk him the way I did tonight, I thought, with a smile he couldn’t see.

He collapsed onto my back, exhausted, but he was still hard inside me.

—Don’t take it out —I told him—. Leave it in until it comes out on its own.

We stayed like that, in silence, for about five minutes. Neither of us spoke. When I finally felt him slide out, a warm thread started running down my ass and thighs.

***

What came after only made me love him more. Rubén, very much the gentleman, took paper and some wet wipes out of the glove compartment and cleaned me carefully, bit by bit, without rushing. That detail, after something so animal, melted me more than anything else.

I put my thong and leggings back on. About ten minutes passed before he started driving again, only to confirm for me, with a half smile, that he’d take me home like every night.

I was still in a kind of limbo, lustfully replaying everything that had just happened, when his voice pulled me out of my thoughts to tell me we’d arrived. He got out, opened my door, and said goodbye with a long kiss and a firm squeeze on one of my ass cheeks.

As I climbed the stairs to my building, my legs still trembling, I had one certainty: this was not going to be the last time the night shift left me like that.