[M]y [F]avorite Car Moment

Hey All,

I’m back for my second post. I hope you enjoy it.

We met online. She had a pretty sparse profile, but there was a sharp personality there, and her pictures were classy but hot. She was a nurse, Filipina, about 5’6″, and a little older than me, so about 32. She lived a bit of a drive away, but not too far away, and when we started talking, I could tell she was a good person, maybe with the kind of playful side I was interested in. Perfect. We began talking, and pretty soon we set up a date. We met up by her, and when I saw her in her heels and her dark jeans, I felt lucky and turned on. She looked very much like her pictures with beautiful dark features, long legs, conservatively wrapped C breasts, and skin a color that made me want to lick to see what taste it could be. Let’s call her Joy.

When she saw me, I could see what I often see. Probably part relief and interest that I really was 6’2″ (I still am, ladies ;-), but the unsureness of a first date. I’m a sweet looking guy, which I am, but if you’re secretly hoping for something dirtier, then I probably wouldn’t be your first guess. What did was she making of me, I wondered, with my leather jacket and my polite disposition. I have brown hair, a blondish complexion, and blue eyes with gold inner rims. I’m told I come off as approachable and unpretentious but confident. I’m also very aware that women may be nervous about meeting a new, large man, and so I try to not come off as inappropriately friendly right off the bat. Honestly, it’s hesitation in my end too, not because I’m self-conscious, but because I’m picky and don’t know this person yet, and so I am warm, but the flirting won’t start until later. Besides, my partners will appreciate it more if they earn it ;-)

Lunch went well. Despite my having picked a place remotely that looked pretty good on Yelp but may have been a little lower class ambiance than desirable on a first date (it’s hard when you don’t know the area, and a given restaurant style only has a few options), she was very appreciative of the food, and I felt very comfortable with her. She was very candid about her personal life, which was complicated. She didn’t have kids, but her roommate did, and she lived with them. She was recently broken up with a long time SO from whom she had drifted away, and now she was here with me. She worked the night shift almost exclusively, which could be touch on dating, and she was a nurse.

Now for me, nurses are very very hot, not because of the usual fantasy where you are sick, and they are taking care of you and handling your body in a power exchange that feels erotic, and not because of some idea about the outfits they might wear. For me, nurses are hot because I have a crazy amount of respect for them; their job is to take care of people in some of their darkest days. Their job is hard, and it requires both technical skill and dedication. It also requires humility because they are dealing with personalities from the staff and from the patients/familieis, because they are dealing with disgusting situations, and because they are probably dealing with MDs with over-inflated egos, and somehow amidst all of this, they are are the ones fighting for the patients in the trenches. That is smoking hot. As a biologist myself as well, it’s also appealing in that nurses often have very similar technical interests.

We talked for a while about our jobs and our personal lives, and eventually we decided we should move on to something else; I suggested she show me the area a bit. She thought a minute and then suggested we go to a nearby orange grove that was open to the public. It was a beautiful California December day, bright and chilly, but not too cold, and we walked in the orange grove, continuing to talk. I took her hand, and it sent that usual electric shock that holding hands does up my body. The scenery was gorgeous, and there weren’t many people around, and all I could think was that I needed to get her someplace just a little secluded so we could have some privacy. A little ways in, we came to the top of a small hill where there was a bench, and we sat down in the sunlight. There was a view of the highway somewhere in the middle distance, and on the horizon, hills stood tall and were spotted with California chaparral and bone-white boulders. We sat, and as we talked, I began to massage her hand and stroke her fingers. I watched for the first deadening of thought, that moment when pleasure bars the way of our thoughts, and it shows in our eyes. Hers became heavy and lidded, and her speech started to slow.

“That feels wonderful,” she said. I smiled and let some of my hunger start to show through. I performed my touching slowly, and I faced her, my knees now in contact with hers, presenting us both with the temptation to reach out touch the other on the thigh. I watched her more openly now.

“You like being touched,” I said. She responded heavily, like the words were being dragged from her mouth. “I do.” She began to look at me differently, a little surprised, a little hypnotized. It was chilly, mid 50s, despite the sunlight, and she began to shiver. I pulled her in and wrapped her in my jacket, which I draped over us like a blanket. She let a pleasured whimper escape as she began warming against my body, as I slid my arm around her and put her hand in mine in her lap. We continued talking, and as we did, she seemed less cold. I continued to stroke her hand against her leg and gradually began to run my hand lightly along her leg. I felt her press into me harder, a non-verbal request to continue. This went on for a few minutes with the conversation proceeding as though nothing had changed, until I took her chin and began kissing her, interrupting the conversation. There was no surprise, just her entire body changing, melting, becoming pliable like clay waiting to be sculpted, worked. This lasted for moments, running my lips along her soft lips, lightly biting the softness, trying to take it in, before the intensity increased to the flicking of our tongues, the drawing her out mixed with the first tiny penetrations. And then she was in my lap. My hands wandering underneath her legs pulled her up roughly, and she went wild. She grabbed the side of my head in her hands and pressed her body along the line of mine. I knew she could feel me hard beneath my jeans.

I put my hand up into her hair and pressed her in harder for a moment before pulling her head back. She gasped, and her body vibrated with a shaky, controlled beath as I went to start kissing her neck. I rubbed at her flank with my hand, just under her breasts, and I kissed down to her neckline, holding her back straight. She began whimpering in pleasure. I released her and stopped, and she went a bit lifeless in my lap, leaning onto me.

“You looked so nice,” she said.

“You’re not the first one to make that mistake,” I told her.

“I was worried this date wasn’t going to go anywhere,” she admitted. “You didn’t seem like the type.”

“I hide it well,” I said. “I don’t want to come off as a creeper, and I don’t want to do anything until I make up my mind. I think it’s best to make sure we’re comfortable with each other first. How am I doing now?”

“Really well,” she moaned, almost a complaint.

“Oh yeah?” I asked with fake incredulity. I moved my hand went from kneading her side, now forcefully gripping and rubbing, to landing on her breast and sinking into its wonderful give. I was rewarded with a gasp and the kind of squirming that was the next best thing to thrusting her pelvis. “You know I’m beginning to think you like being handled.” She managed a mischievous look that managed to come to the surface from under her daze, and she breathed “maybe.” Soon, as she squirmed there in my lap, I could feel her heat, and I had slid my hand up the length of her jeans and felt the dampened fabric, rubbing my hand along her groin while I held her accepting my tongue.

When we managed to settle down and come up for air, it was time to walk back to our cars. It took her a few minutes to wake up from her trance. She wanted to invite me over but couldn’t, and I lived too far away. Such a shame for this time, and so we walked slowly to her car, against which we leaned, her arms up around my neck, and my body, penis erect, pinning her to the vehicle.

“It seems you like being dominated,” I said. “That’s very sexy on a confident, professional woman.”

“I do,” she said. “It’s just a shame we can’t do anything about it today.”

“There’s next time,” I said, and so naturally we ended up in her car where briefly, I slid my hand inside of her bra and felt her erect nipple, making her gasp. She had some of the softest skin I have ever encountered. We had started again, but we stopped ourselves soon enough. The build needed to be halted, or else we would get into more trouble than we wanted this time.

Our next date was to a small jazz bar in the downtown where she lived. Christmas decorations were up in the town square, and we walked, talked, and dined the evening away, eventually sitting nearby and talking about our histories. She told me about how she had tried new things recently, a few threesomes, mutually going down on another woman (though it hadn’t done anything for her), and I felt myself more and more turned on as I rubbed her back and occasionally grabbed her neck and turned her, immediately moaning, for a kiss.

We got into her car soon enough, which was in a dark parking lot facing the decorations, and perpendicular to the people passing by. Her windows were tinted, and soon I placed her hand on my cock, which she felt hard through my pants. It wasn’t long before she unzipped my fly. She pulled my cock out and looked at it with deliciousness in her eyes. “mmm mmm,” she said. “You have a big one,” and then it was in her mouth. It felt wonderful to sit there watching her dark hair fall along my lap and to feel her fit her mouth around my shaft, her fingers squeezing the rest of me and pressing down, warmly, wetly engulfing me. She did wonderfully, going down half way, and I slid my hand underneath her jeans along her firm ass and squeezed. Then after a moment, I gathered her hair, and I pushed her down further, my girth opening her jaws and my length squeezing into the back of her throat. “After a few minutes, I pulled her up. “Did you like that?” I asked. She said she did. “We should find a more private place…”

It was dark out, but this area was still too crowded, but she still couldn’t take me home, and so eventually, we decided to go to an area by a trail head in the area where nobody went at night. We switched to my car in a nearby parking lot, and we drove down a dark road together, exhilarated. There were no streetlights. It was just a very quiet road dead ending in some construction and a nature trail that overlooked a park nearby. We stopped the car, turned off the lights, and looked around us. It was a quite night, a little foggy, and it was starting to rain now.

We moved to my back seat, pushing the front seats forward and began to really kiss, the way you do when you know there is nothing standing between the two of you and what you want now. In the darkness I could see her by the lights of the city reflecting off the clouds, the entire car in permanent twilight. I ran my hands all over her body and pressed up against her aggressively, burying her in my hunger and the weight of my body, grinding my hard dick against her pelvis, her legs spread but her body not yet quite exposed. I put my arms underneath her and pulled her aggressively up against me and put my hands in her hair and controlled our kissing, moving my tongue down to lick her chest while all she could do was stay held down and panting as I began the process of taking her. I ran my hands across her breasts and squeezed them, desperate to see them and to take them out and to have them in my mouth and to hear her spasm as I licked her pussy through her nipple, as I strummed chords across her body, inflicting pleasure in one place and tingling, wet losses of control over her own body in other places. Finally I pulled her up and gave her an order, “take your top off.”

She complied, and soon I saw her beautiful breasts loose as her bra came away. Her breasts were large on her small frame with medium areolas and hard, dark nipples on soft, coffee skin. They were round, full, and natural. I ran my hands over them and squeezed them, feeling just the right amount of firmness and suppleness, driving me crazy.

“Who would have thought we were both such closeted freaks, huh?” I asked. She laughed.

“Who indeed?” she said in a sultry voice.

Her pants came off next, along with my shirt and pants, and we had that moment of expectation as we both knew that we were both fully available to taste and explore. She immediately started going down on me, and she was good. She was excited and motivated, and I let her work my shaft, tasting me, for several minutes before I couldn’t wait any longer, and I pushed her onto her back spread her legs, and ran my fingers lightly along her soaking wet pussy. I could smell her desire, and it was wonderful, and as I slowly began to play with her lips, she started stroking my hair as I looked at her, and then as I pushed my first finger in, her grip on my hair tightened. She moaned, and I watched her belly tighten, a small concave arch.

“Does that feel good?” I asked. “Mmmhmm” she replied. With my other hand, I felt above her slit, moving her lips and hood up and aside revealing how ready her body was for me, clit desperately engorged. I took my finger out from her and drew it up over her, lubricating her most sensitive, hedonistic part, and I began to rub with one hand while I put the digits of my other back inside and started to massage her. Her eyes had remained closed or lidded until then. I started slowly, and then I sped up. Her eyes opened for a shocked moment and looked at me. I began to operate her arms from where her legs met, sending her hands wandering over the seats, searching for something to grip to help her hold on to herself. They landed on her breasts, rubbing her nipples and massaging her swollen, fuck-desperate breasts which had changed texture as her body prepared to accept me. She kept wandering and grabbed my cock and stroked. I moved around to her head and let her have it, and she started sucking on me, moaning as I worked her.

“Fuck,” she said. “Fuck, fuck. Oh God.” I edged her, bringing her close. I love that moment of finger fucking a woman when her body strums to the stroking of my fingers, when her abdomen, her pussy, and what’s left of her mind resonate like a guitar string with convulsion after convulsion. I like it when she becomes so cock hungry that all she can think about is licking the pre-cum off my tip as we stroke each other, until she loses the ability to concentrate on even that, and her head just falls back. Joy came hard.

When she came down, and her breathing slowed, “I want you inside me.” I rolled on a condom, and I got on top of her. I kissed her and her neck, positioned between her legs, and then kissed her breasts. I like sucking and nibbling on nipples, and I rolled hers in my mouth, lightly between my teeth while pushing my head gently between her lips.

“Are you ready for this big cock?” I asked her. She began to answer, but I pushed in, filling her suddenly with part of my length. She opened up but was still tight on my cock. “Fuck,” she said. “You’re big. That feels so good.” I started slowly, but forcefully, wanting her to feel herself empty, giving her a moment’s pause to forget again so that the next time I violated her, the shock would be new again. She felt wonderful, her pussy warm, slick, and soft, squeezing my cock. I brought her hands above her head and pinned her down, took a kiss from her, then put her in my rhythm. Then, when she had loosened enough, I gave her all of me, and she screamed.

I began to hear rain on the car, and the windows began to steam. She felt wonderful, and the smell of sex caught in the car drove me harder. Pretty soon, she came again, moan-screeming, and I thrust a few times, slowly, extra deeply, letting her whole body spasm wrack her and pass, but trying to add to it in a few careful thrusts, the way you can push a spinning disk only in slower, harder, more careful strokes lest you slow it down.

I let her rest a moment, still inside of her, my hands running over her abdomen and breasts, squeezing and lightly tickling, and then I put her feet on my shoulders, sunk deeper, and started again, one knee on my fabric seats, the other leg bracing against the floor to provide thrust. I grabbed her tits and bounced her body on my cock, determined to use her properly. My hands moved up to her hair for a moment while I paused, and I gripped her head forward and thrust some more for a moment. Her orgasm began building again. I let her legs down and wrapped her legs around my waist

“I want you to cum,” she gasped. “Cum with me.” My sweat dripped down onto her chest, and we were both moaning. Her tits bounced wildly, dark nipples moving in helpless ellipses. “I’m going to cum again,” she said. My moans got loader. I felt so full, and it needed to go somewhere. I wanted it to be inside her. I wanted her to take it. I put my mouth down onto hers, and made her take my tongue for a moment, filling another part of her as below I filled her cunt with my body, as I felt only her glutes against my thighs stopping me. When I told her I was getting close, I moaned, and it pushed her over the edge. She began cumming again, and the fullness in me overbrimmed. The spasms took me, and I started emptying into her cunt. I stopped thrusting and rode the orgasm deep into her body, grabbing a breast and overlapping with her orgasm.

Silence.

We both caught our breath. I stayed inside a moment longer, and then I withdrew. When did it start raining so hard? Sometime in the middle, we had opened her door to vent the car, but we had heard some drunk people enjoying their Saturday night in the park, so we had closed it to contain the noise. We opened it again for a few minutes. Letting a little rain in wouldn’t hurt anything.

I took the condom off and caught my breath for a few minutes. Ok, round two. I fingered her again, waiting until I was not sensitive anymore. I was still hard (I don’t tend to get flaccid in between), but I get very sensitive after an orgasm. Another condom, and I was inside her again. I brought her up into doggy and tried to drive her down through the seat, scratching her back, then on her side, with one leg through mine and the other up at an angle, her cheeks above and below my cock, deep inside. She came again soon. The second time is harder for me, especially if I’ve been exerting myself.

When her echoes were gone, I sat back, and we talked for a while with me stroking my cock. She asked if I could come again, and I told her maybe soon, if I was relaxed and could set my pace. I began to have her massage my balls, and slowly, I began to build again. I took the condom off, and my breathing began to quicken. I gripped her by the hair and looked at her, alternating wtih feeling her breasts. She encouraged me, and soon, I forced her down on my cock, opening her throat, and I came with my hands gripping her hair, using her mouth. I pulsed my ropes into her mouth with one of her hands rubbing underneath my balls and one of my hands milking down and up from the base, and she swallowed my pleasure for me, showing me proper appreciation for how I had pleasured her body. She wiped at the edges of her mouth.

The car took several minutes to defog. My knee took several weeks to scab over and heal.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/6jefp6/my_favorite_car_moment

2 comments on “[M]y [F]avorite Car Moment

  1. Too bad ;-). There is something about nurses — your description of your respect for them and attraction to them really resonated with me. I felt like it described perfectly the way I have felt about more than one nurse!

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