No One Saw What I Did in That Tinted Car

It was Lucía who put that idea in my head, like almost all the bad, exciting ideas I’ve had in recent years. We were sitting on her terrace one Friday afternoon, with a half-finished glass of wine and that sticky heat that doesn’t let up until nightfall, when she told me she’d been paying for her app rides for months in a way that didn’t appear in any payment menu.

—Most of them cancel right away —she said, laughing—. They get scared. They think it’s a trap. But the ones who stay… they come back wanting more. And there’s one, a huge black guy, who asked for my number and fucks me in the car whenever he can. He gets it so deep I can’t even sit down the next day.

She told it to me with that mix of mischief and matter-of-factness she had for talking about these things, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. And even though I laughed and said I’d never do anything like that, the truth is I kept thinking about it all night. The risk. The look on their faces. The strangeness of it. All of that kept circling in my head when I tried to sleep, with my hand between my legs and my fingers making circles over my soaked cunt, imagining a stranger unzipping his pants.

The next day was Saturday and I had to go to a mall on the other side of the city. I opened the app, saw the ride confirmation screen, and something in me said yes.

I showered more carefully than usual. I chose a white skirt that hit mid-thigh, loose and light, a tight strappy blouse without a bra —my tits were outlined clearly, my nipples hard against the fabric— and sandals with a small heel. Underneath, a tiny black thong I already knew I was going to ruin. I painted my nails red. I checked my profile photo in the app —a full-body shot I’d taken last summer— and requested the ride.

The first driver to accept the request was named Sebastián. Mid-twenties, friendly face in the photo. I wrote him on the app’s internal chat:

—Sebastián? I have a proposal. I can pay for the ride in another way, if you’re interested.

It took him less than ten seconds to cancel. No reply. I had a nervous laughing fit there all by myself on the sidewalk and remembered exactly what Lucía had told me: “Most of them get scared.”

I waited. The sun was beating down hard. A couple of minutes later another notification came in: someone else had taken the ride. In the profile photo, a slim man around forty, dark skin, serious face, could be seen. His name was Nicolás.

I sent him the same message as the first one, almost word for word. This time there was no reply. But there was no cancellation either. The green dot in the app kept moving toward me.

My heart was pounding when I saw the black car turn the corner. Completely tinted. It stopped right in front of me and I looked down to adjust my bag, trying to seem calmer than I was.

I opened the passenger door and got in. I set my bag carefully on the floor, crossed my legs so the skirt rode up a little, showing almost all of my thigh, and looked up.

—Good afternoon —I said.

—Good afternoon —he replied, still not looking at me. His hands were on the wheel and he was staring ahead—. The code?

I gave it to him. He checked the number on his phone and started driving. For a moment I thought he was going to ignore my message completely, that we’d arrive at the mall in silence and I’d get out feeling ridiculous.

Then he spoke:

—What you wrote me… were you serious?

His voice was calm. There was no surprise in it, no discomfort. Just the question.

—Completely serious —I answered, looking at him in profile.

Nicolás nodded slowly, his eyes on the street. A traffic light turned red and he took advantage of it to turn his head and look at me for the first time. He had dark eyes and an expression hard to decipher, somewhere between doubt and something that still hadn’t quite decided to become open desire.

—Why? —he asked.

It was a good question. I hadn’t expected it.

—Because it’s been days since anyone fucked me properly —I said, holding his gaze— and it seemed easier than looking somewhere else.

The light changed. He looked back at the street and drove in silence for a few seconds, but I saw his throat bob as he swallowed. Then he said, very softly:

—I’ve been doing this for four years and no one’s ever offered me anything like that.

I put my hand on his thigh, very slowly, with no pressure. Just the weight of my palm over the fabric of his pants. Then I slid it higher until my hand touched the bulge that was already beginning to show. I squeezed it gently. It was hard and hot even through the fabric.

—Then today’s your first time —I told him—. And you’re already rock hard, and I haven’t even touched anything yet.

I felt him tense a little under my hand. He didn’t pull his leg away. On the contrary: he spread his legs a little more to give me more room.

—Here? —he asked—. While I’m driving?

—Or we can find somewhere quiet. Whatever you prefer. But not too long, because I’ve had my cunt wet since I got in and I can’t hold out much longer.

That made him laugh. A short laugh, almost surprised. And he turned at the next corner, leaving the main avenue.

***

The park we reached was one of those that show up on maps but almost nobody uses: a rectangle of badly cut grass, three concrete benches, and a row of large trees that cast shade over a dead-end lane. At that time of afternoon there was no one there. The tinted windows made the inside of the car completely opaque from the outside, like a black box beneath the branches.

Nicolás turned off the engine and leaned back in his seat, giving me room. He looked at me without saying anything. Waiting.

I brought my hands to the straps of my blouse and pulled them down in one sharp motion, baring my tits. I saw him open his mouth a little at the sight of them. My nipples had gone hard from the air conditioning and from wanting. I took his right hand, the one that had stayed on the gear shift the whole trip, and placed it over one of my breasts.

—Touch me first —I said—. Don’t be afraid.

His hand was big and rough. He squeezed my breast slowly, weighing it, and brushed my nipple with his thumb. A long sigh escaped me. He started playing with both of them, pinching them softly, twisting them, while I tried to settle myself as best I could in the passenger seat, gathered my hair back with one hand to keep it out of my face, and with the other slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. He stayed still, breathing a little faster than before.

What I found was already hard. Very hard. Bigger than I expected, thick at the base and with a swollen tip, shining with thick pre-cum peeking out of the slit. I pulled it out carefully, held the base with my fingers, and looked at it for a moment before starting, enjoying that second of anticipation that carries a kind of power.

—What a delicious cock you’ve got —I murmured—. Good thing Sebastián canceled.

I started at the edges. Small kisses from the base, going up slowly, not reaching the tip yet. I licked his balls underneath, one first and then the other, while I worked him slowly with my hand, squeezing and rotating my wrist on the way up. He let out the breath he’d been holding and his right hand moved from my tit to the back of my neck, not gripping, just resting there. I ran my tongue along the full length, from bottom to top, leaving a trail of saliva, and when I reached the head I circled it slowly, tasting the salty flavor on the tip.

—God —he murmured. It wasn’t an exclamation. It was almost a complaint.

I took my time. There was no rush. The park was still empty beyond the glass, the sun came in filtered by the leaves of the trees, and I had the whole afternoon for this. I sucked only the tip for a while, drawing gently, playing with my tongue while he began to move involuntarily, hips wanting more without daring to ask for it yet. I spit on it, a strand of saliva from above, and with my hand I spread it all over his cock until it was nice and slippery.

When I took him all the way in, there was no warning. All at once, as far as I could take him, feeling the tip hit the back of my throat and the gag reflex rising. I held it. Nicolás choked on a sound between his teeth and his hand closed in my hair.

—Wait… —he said, his voice completely broken—. One second, that…

I didn’t wait. I started moving my head, up and down, with steady rhythm, while my tongue kept working underneath. The sounds inside the car changed: my saliva sloshing, his ragged breathing, the small moan escaping him every time I went up and squeezed with my lips around the tip, the filthy, beautiful sound of a mouth doing its job right. Strings of saliva ran down my chin and dripped onto his balls, which I was massaging with my other hand.

His hand moved from my neck to my back and then down. It found the hem of my skirt and pushed it up without ceremony, wrinkling it over my hip. His fingers traced my thighs from the inside out, feeling around, until they hit my thong.

It was soaked. The fabric clung to my lips, dripping. For a while now.

—Jesus —he said softly, almost to himself—. You’re a fountain.

He started stroking me through the fabric with his palm, pressing just a little. He was slow and clumsy at first, like someone who doesn’t quite remember how this goes, but he found the rhythm quickly. He pressed exactly where it was needed and I moaned with my mouth full, the sound vibrating around the cock I had buried to the hilt.

His fingers shoved the fabric aside and touched me directly. He ran over my slit, gathering my slick, and spread it over my clit in circles. Then he went lower and two fingers slid in slowly, carefully, curling inward to find the spot that makes everything else disappear. He found it at once.

I had to stop moving for a second. Just one second, with my forehead against his thigh and my mouth still full of him, focused on that exact pressure, on that precise place. My cunt clenched around his fingers and he noticed.

—There, there —he whispered—. Suck me while I fuck you with it.

I picked up the rhythm again, sucking him harder, taking him down to the base every three or four strokes, while he opened and closed his fingers inside me, pulling them almost all the way out and sliding them back in slowly, soaking the whole passenger seat. By then the obscene sloshing of his fingers going in and out of my cunt could be heard, a wet, filthy noise that filled the car along with the muffled moans I was making around his cock.

I pulled away for a moment to breathe. A thick strand of saliva still linked my mouth to his head.

—Put it in me already —I begged, gasping—. I need to feel it inside me.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed my waist, yanked me over the gearshift in a tug that nearly tore my skirt off, and sat me astride him. The thong tore with one hard pull when he shoved it aside, threw it to the floor, and I braced myself on his shoulders while he took his cock in his hand and put it at my entrance.

I lowered myself. Slowly. Feeling how each centimeter opened me, how my cunt stretched around him, how the tip reached a place nobody had reached in a long time. When I had him all the way inside, to the hilt, I stayed still for a second with my eyes closed, breathing through my mouth.

—Holy shit —I murmured—, you fill me so well.

I started moving. At first in circles, grinding myself over him with my clit pressed against his pelvis bone, then going truly up and down, pulling almost all the way off to spear myself back down to the bottom. My tits bounced in his face and he took them in both hands, brought them to his mouth, sucked my nipples one after the other, biting them softly while I rode him.

The car began to move. The windows fogged up from the inside. The seat creaked every time I dropped down hard. I held onto the headrest with both hands and fucked myself on top of him, looking at his face, watching how his mouth opened and how his neck tensed. He had his fingers buried in my ass and helped me go up and down, setting the pace, faster and faster.

—Turn around —he said in a rough voice—. I want to see your ass while I fuck you.

I lifted myself for a second, his cock came out dripping with my juices, and I turned around. I ended up with my back to him, my knees braced on either side of his thighs and my hands on the dashboard to hold myself up. He grabbed my hips, lined himself up at my entrance again, and yanked me down in one brutal pull that made me scream.

And that’s when he really started fucking me. From bottom to top, hard thrusts that shook my whole body, while I braced myself on the dashboard and moved my ass to meet him halfway. The sound of our skin crashing together filled the car, the skin of my ass slapping against his thighs, smacking, smacking, smacking, and I moaned louder and louder without caring if it could be heard outside.

One hand left my hip and found my clit from the front. He started rubbing it with two fingers while he kept driving into me from below, and that combination was all it took.

—I’m coming —I warned him, my voice hoarse—. I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t stop.

—Come on my cock —he growled against my back—. Take all of me with that cunt.

My own orgasm had been building from the knees up, that pressure that starts in the legs and climbs. When it came, it was sudden and forceful: my whole body clamped down on his cock, the walls of my cunt squeezed him in a way I could even feel myself, my hips moved on their own and I cried out দীর্ঘ, my head thrown back over his shoulder, while he kept rubbing my clit mercilessly and pulling the orgasm out of me from deeper and deeper inside.

That finished him off. He pulled me off him with a strength I hadn’t expected, turned me again so I was facing him, and shoved my head down until I had him back in my mouth. He slammed into my throat two, three times, and on the fourth he emptied himself. Long, thick spurts, one after another, filling my mouth and making me swallow fast so I wouldn’t choke. I swallowed almost all of it. A little escaped the corner of my mouth and spilled onto my tits, a white, viscous thread sliding down to my nipple. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and licked it before sitting back up.

***

We stayed silent for almost a minute. He stared at the ceiling, still with his cock out and shining with saliva and me. I stared at the empty park beyond the glass: the still trees, the deserted lane, no witness to anything. That solitude we’d found without really looking for it. My thighs were trembling a little and I could feel his cum running hot inside me.

Nicolás got dressed first. Then he looked at me.

—I never thought a Saturday afternoon would end like this —he said.

—Do you regret it? —I asked, pulling my blouse straps back up over my tits still marked by his mouth.

He let out a short laugh.

—Not at all. It’s just… I don’t know. You drive all day, the same thing over and over, and then something like this shows up out of nowhere. —He shook his head—. Do you do this often?

—It was my first time —I said.

He looked at me with something like disbelief.

—Doesn’t seem like it. You suck dick like you’ve been doing it for years.

I smiled, fixing my blouse. I pulled my skirt down —I had nothing on underneath anymore, the torn thong was still on the car floor and I left it there as a souvenir—, checked that the seat looked presentable, and ran my fingers through my hair as best I could. He started the engine without saying anything else and drove out of the lane slowly, returning the car to the main avenue.

The ride to the mall was short. The radio played softly, some song I didn’t recognize. Now and then I felt his sideways glance, dropping to my crossed legs and the wet stain I knew I was leaving on the upholstery, but neither of us spoke. There was something comfortable in that silence, as if nothing more needed to be said.

When he stopped in front of the main entrance, he kept his hands on the wheel, staring ahead.

—If you ever need another ride —he said—, I can be available.

I took my bag from the floor and opened the door. I paused for a moment before getting out.

—I’ll keep that in mind, Nicolás. Thanks for the service.

I closed the door and walked toward the mall entrance without looking back, even though I knew he was watching me. My legs still felt a little heavy and I could feel his semen slowly leaking down the inside of my thigh, under my skirt. The afternoon sun hit my face when the automatic doors opened.

Inside, among the people and the air conditioning and the usual noise, I took out my phone and opened the app. The screen asked if I wanted to rate the ride.

I gave it five stars, of course.

Then I closed the app, put my phone away, and wondered if it made any sense to walk home.

Maybe not.