Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Rainy afternoon in the car

“So, the back of the car?” We’re walking out of a shop we’ve been erranding in. “Yeah.” What? She must not have heard me right. “Oh, I thought you said back to the car. It’s a nice day. But I don’t think this parking lot is the place.” I agree. Even though it’s a bit obscure. And what does she mean by nice day? The same thing I mean, I think. Not the weather. But even the rain is nice.

We had a bit of a disagreement last night. About people who are inconsiderate, irresponsible, disrespectful, and stupid. They bother me too deeply sometimes. I got over it before I went to sleep. It was still lingering with River a bit this morning. We talk. We’re both better. The topic of sex comes up. “It seems like we have to do it before these things are entirely over with.” I see it differently. “To me, it’s like doing it is the sign that it’s over.”

So it’s a nice day. Good emotions. Working together. River looking hot in her new leggings. Even the rain is nice. River likes the sound of rain falling on the roof of the car. Not too many people out walking in it. One of those times when things are coming together. A moment to seize. And River knows how much moments mean to me.

We come out of the shop from our next errand. “So how much time is left on the meter?” She peers out the windshield to check until she realizes why I’m asking. I’m just being amusing. I hope. But how can she know when I’m serious? This is not a very sexy spot. Too many smoking losers walking by. Not the kind of potential audience we want.

As we drive away I can tell she’s actually trying to think of a place to park. We run through a few ideas. “Maybe across from the train station.” Where we didn’t do it last time. But as we drive past, it doesn’t seem so great. And there are too many people walking here for some reason.

“Let’s try the park.” There’s just one car in the small lot when we get there. The driver is heading into the restroom. River picks a spot at the end. A bit conspicuous, but a few spots away from the other car.

Gray rain washes from the sky.

We climb into the rear seat. “Now what?” “Well I can just do this.” River faces forward in the middle of the back seat. The black leggings come down. I see her stripey panties inside. She raises her legs to expose her fuzzy snatch between the backs of her thighs. Just the right height to fuck with me kneeling in front of her. I slide my pants down. Finger my cock. Move my fingers over her lips, slip between them into her wetness.

“Wouldn’t it be something if you were more nervous about this than I am? I’m not nervous at all.” “I’m just worried about getting hard.” “Don’t. Take your time.” “It must be nice not to have to worry about that.” “It is.” I didn’t used to have to worry about that. I should get hard just thinking about fucking River in the back of the car in a rainy park. But that’s not how it works anymore.

The driver of the other car returns. She gets in. And stays. No big deal. River’s car has seriously tinted windows. Not usually a good thing. But helpful today.

River rests her feet on the ceiling. That would be an interesting sight if anybody can see in. “How are you doing?” I feel like I’m interviewing her. “This is pretty comfortable. And the view is nice.” “I’m getting there.” Taking my time was a good idea. I watch River’s deliciously thick lips follow my thumb around as I do circles on her clit. River watches me get hard. When I seem to be ready I get in place and try the stick-in. But her leggings are somewhere around knee level, holding her legs together, and I’m trying to get a not-so-stiff cock into a tight target. It takes a few tries but we squeeze together until it straightens up and goes in. And we’re fucking in the car on a rainy afternoon at the park. It seems surprisingly normal. Fucking is just something we do. Doesn’t everybody?

“Am I at a good height?” “Just right.” My cock is sliding in and out easily now. Her feet are still braced on the ceiling. She’s really wet. This is fun. This could become a habit. River almost doesn’t look like she’s fucking. “Is this doing anything for you?” “Yeah. My pussy is filled with hard cock. That’s something.” I grab her legs and pull. Fill her all the way. Hit her harder. Wonder if the car is rocking. Now she looks like she’s fucking. And sounds like she’s fucking. That makes me want to come. But not yet.

“I’ve never done it in a car before.” She told me she hasn’t either. But now she’s not saying anything. Has some old memory been jogged loose? I hope not. I like doing something neither of us has done before. The last thing I want to hear is her saying “yeah”. “Neither have I.” That was the right thing.

Another car pulls into the lot. River can’t see it, but I watch as it parks beside the first car. No one gets out.

I’m amazed at her wetness. And it feels like my cock has been leaking, making a contribution—I could easily come at any time—but I think it’s all her. “I wonder what I’ll do when I come. Usually we wipe up with my shirt.” I’m about to find out. I guess I can survive without a shirt. In a few more thrusts I push in and come. Not the most spectacular orgasm, but a happy orgasm. I fold her up and we kiss.

We look around the car for something to clean her up with, but there’s nothing. I leave my cock in while I pull my shirt over my head, then pull out and wipe her pussy, front to back, my finger pushing in as far as I’m comfortable before I move aside for River’s more aggressive efforts. We’ve just done our first car fuck. And we liked it.

That evening. Before dinner. “You probably don’t want to hear this. But I could totally make a habit of that.” She smiles. “It wasn’t bad. It was like a camping fuck.” Urban car camping.

1 comment

Anonymous said...

I like how you fucked her. and i like how she encourages you to fuck her.

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