I used to date this guy, let’s call him… Pete. We worked together at a high-end restaurant downtown. Pete was a ton of fun to be around, but like a lot of service industry folks in this city, Pete was also an alcoholic and cocaine user. He would get drunk during shift, do some bumps, get drunk(er) after shift, do some lines, etc etc. I don’t party like that anymore, but when I did it was with Pete. No ragrets.
If you’ve ever worked in restaurants, you know that it’s fairly common for everyone to be humping everyone else. If you were the type to get your feelings hurt when your crush fucked someone that wasn’t you, then this was maybe not the best scene for you to be on. Pete and I were on the same page; we were fucking, no jealousy, just fun. We were super open with each other, which led to him revealing one of his fantasies to me, and (surprise, surprise) I thought, fuck it. Let’s give it a try.
Pete got off on other men giving me orgasms. He explained this to me, and we got into a sort of a routine (I guess we did this about 15 or 20 times during the 6 months we dated). We’d finish a shift, head to the bar with everyone else, and pick someone to approach. Most times it was someone we knew, a couple of times it was a stranger.
I’d flirt for a while, get their attention, then whisper something super slutty in their ear. “Do you want to watch me cum?” or “You ever wonder what I taste like?” usually did the trick. I never tired of the look on their face when it hit them that I was being real. They’d usually look over at Pete, and he’d smirk and nod, then they’d look back at me, bewildered.
I think only one time did someone actually straight up say no. The rest of the time it went something like this: We’d go out back to Pete’s SUV, he would open it, and I would grab the guy by the hand and take him into the back seat. I would lean against the opposite door and pull him on top of me and start making out with him. I would take off just enough clothing so he had access to my crotch, and he would bury his face in me and start sucking me off.
Pete would be outside the car, leaning on the back door, smoking a cigarette and playing lookout for his little whore girlfriend.
It’s not hard to make me cum, but I’m also not the most vocal person naturally. For these encounters I turned it up to 11, because I knew that’s what got Pete off the most. I would moan and cry out and writhe my hips around, grinding myself on whoever’s face I was lucky enough to have between my legs that night. I’d get off (sometimes multiples, depending on how good the guy was), I’d thank him, and I’d send him on his way. Pete would open the door and let the guy out, then climb in and fuck the ever living shit out of me.
Of course this could never last, and it was never meant to. But booooooy oh boy was it fun while it did. Something about the sheer sluttiness of it and the risk of being in public still make me shiver when I think about it. Pete’s since moved away, but I still run into a few of those guys around town now and again, and they always look at me that same bewildered way.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/c4bbd3/petes_car_service_aka_i_get_a_tuneup_from