The Longest Uber Ride of My Hoe Li[F]e – A Butt Plug Story

Hi. It’s me. A slut from the internet who meets men (scoring ladies on the internet is hard for EVERYone, man) of questionable morals for casual sex because I disguise my abandonment issues as self-confidence. I’ve written other stories about my self-confidence that you can read at your leisure if you want to experience the emotional roller coaster of being a person who hates everyone but fucks strangers. They’re all real. They’re detailed because every awkward moment is carved into my soul, and I get off to the thought of others getting off to my suffering. PMs are open, because what the fuck else do I have to be doing?

Now that we’ve got the obligatory disclosure out of the way, I understand I’m entitled to offer you visual folks who are still reading your porn (you adorable balls of conflicting internal interests) a description of me: I’m 5’2″, 130 lbs, that weird trendy gray shade of blonde, resting bitch face, oversized Warby Parkers, fake DDD boobs that I’m told could totally pass for natural (liars), objectively work hot, and (fuck you to whoever coined this) PAWG-ish. I only put PAWGish because I paid really good money for really awesome tits, and still get told my ass is my best feature. This really sucks as a 5’2″ person with short arms to take appropriate pictures of. I’ve included a fair effort. This [picture](https://imgur.com/a/omqRxDQ) is the best I can do. Just kidding – Here’s a [picture](https://imgur.com/a/nPZhJ5E) of my yoga pants covered in cat hair, which is actually the best I can do.

Why ass pics? Because I have an ass story for you today.

I was traveling for work, and had just gotten in that morning. As one does, I immediately opened Tinder and swiped with gratuitously low standards, because I can’t be assed to fuck with Tinder plus. By that evening, I’d arranged to meet with a guy who promised 8 inches but delivered 6. This story is hardly about him, stay with me. Since I like talking to people on the internet before I meet them for casual sex (that doesn’t end in murder) , I own a lush and a hush. These are bluetooth/app controlled sex toys. One is a bullet. One is a fucking giant butt plug that some over-confident bitch probably should have calmed the fuck down before she made such a hasty impulse buy (I struggle sometimes. Yes, probably more lube will help. Maybe I like struggling). It was me. So in the 21st century, you can send someone a link to control your vibrating butt plug, which is sometimes a fun way to build vibes over when you’re going to fuck an internet stranger. Especially since you can only text each other once every three hours to seem aloof and cool even though we’re both on the internet for sex and really don’t need to drag this out. Holy run-ons, Batman. I’ll edit this later.

So, I’m about to leave my hotel and feeling impulsive and over-confident. I call the uber while I pull the vibrating butt plug out of my luggage. The TSA has randomly selected it for inspection, as is tradition for me. I look at the widest part of the plug. It looks back at me. I figure it will be fun to let this guy warm me up while I make small talk with the Uber driver over generic radio sounds. I turn the plug on, connect the bluetooth to my phone, and then I apply exactly as much lube as you feel I should have (feel free to congratulate my excellent judgement in the comments) and wiggle it into my ass. As I’m trying to convince my ass to let this happen, I get a notification that the Uber is here. I care a lot about my passenger rating, so I push it the rest of the way in and wash my hands while I wait for the sting to settle. I dab away the tears prickling at my eyes, and dash to the waiting Uber. In the elevator, I send my date a link to control my plug with an expiration of 30 minutes, since my Uber ride will be about 20. After I send the control link to someone, I no longer have the ability to control it. So, the plug isn’t vibrating at all as I get in the Uber.

I slide into the back seat of a Prius. The driver is probably in his late 40’s, early 50’s. Overweight, but friendly. If you can’t tell yet, I’m not friendly. He mentions he’s staying in the same hotel he picked me up at, and doing Uber in the evenings for some extra cash. As I explain I’m around for work, I start to put in my headphones to give the universal “please don’t force me to make small talk” signal. He understands quickly, and I make a mental note to tip him well. We’re pulling up to the first red light, and I’m looking for which Spotify daily mix is aligned with my mood at the moment (my text has sat unread for like three minutes while he knows I’m on the way – I refuse to be annoyed so it’s something other than that). The car is stopped and dead silent. The radio is off. The engine cuts.

Oh fuck.

I’m in a Hybrid Prius. It is the most quiet car I’ve ever been in.

I have to abort the plugged mission. The vibrating noise isn’t obnoxious or anything, but at its highest setting, the toy is not discrete. For perspective, it’s lowest setting is probably a whisper. The loudest setting is a cricket with more bass. Easily drowned out by the radio up to it’s medium-high speed. At the highest speed, you might raise your eyebrow, but I think it’s easily written off. I open the text window to see a read receipt, with no response. I’d sent him a link with no context, so by my guess, he’s at best still googling to see what the fuck kind of virus I’ve sent him. The link opens as a web app, but it quickly becomes apparent as to what this is. The loudest noise in this dead silent car is now the furious tapping of my fingertips.

This was in December, but I’m probably trying to text “Hey, that’s for when I get there. Don’t start it before I get there, or you’ll run out of time early!” I don’t remember, because before I can finish, I feel the toy tun on. It’s on low. I look up in the rear-view mirror, and the uber driver doesn’t appear to notice. I erase my panic message because I’m super cool and chill and write “Oh hey there.”

I wonder if I the driver would notice me trying to extract this thing from my ass. I’d assumed there would be all kinds of car and radio noises covering everything up, but I feel the hum in my ears as well as my ass. I decide I’m going to play it cool. He pushes the settings up and down for a minute, and the variation makes my spine tingle. I involuntarily push down on the seat a little harder to feel it better.

I really don’t want to disrespect this nice Uber driver working two jobs, so I text the guy with 15 minutes to go about what’s happening. In detail, I describe the Uber driver’s commitment to the environment with his dead silent car. That there was no radio. I tell him to turn it off until I’m there. He replies with some variant of “lol” and turns it up to the highest setting. He’s leaving his phone to charge while he takes a quick shower before I’m at his house, he says. Lol, he says. Bastard.

It’s loud. It’s the loudest sound I’ve ever heard in my life. My body refuses to be still. My mind panics because I’m confident and slutty, but I’m not some rude piece of shit flaunting her holes in places where people are trying to live their lives. Well, if I do, I do it very, very discreetly. This no longer feels discrete. I bite my lip to suppress the natural whimper at the tip of my tongue.

The actual dumbest thing about this story is that I could have just turned off my Bluetooth, and the toy would shut off. I’m so simultaneously panicked and blissed out that this will not occur to me for the entire 15 minutes that I am tormented.

I try to appear zoned in on my phone. Distracted. I try to slightly hover my ass above the seat to see if that makes the noise quieter since it feels like the leather of the seats is creating some kind of echo. My knees immediately buckle together. The movement of my pelvis has created this amazing sensation, and it’s clear I can’t hold this pose. I don’t even know if that position was quieter.

I sit back down. I push down harder in the seat to see if I can muffle it, and it wouldn’t matter if that fucking worked because I immediately groan. It’s a noise from the back of my throat that I couldn’t have stopped even if I were enough of a dick to get off to this. My eyes cut to the mirror, and the driver looks away to the street. He might have glanced up.

“Sorry. Work emails.” I say, probably too quickly. I really hope my moan can be described as something wonderful or awful happening in a work e-mail. My tone was definitely too high pitched, but this guy doesn’t know me, and now this is my speaking voice for the next 9 minutes. I open my work e-mail app to be more convincing, even though he clearly wouldn’t be able to see it. It’s for me more than him.

The uber driver and I both pretend the other doesn’t exist. The hum of my vibrator is steady against the leather seat. There are several sets of indentations on my knuckles from me biting into them, and a smudge of lipstick. I cross one foot under my other thigh so that I’m sitting half criss-cross apple-sauce (No. I don’t fucking know what the adult term for it is). I decide this is quieter, but we’ve established I have pretty shitty judgement so take whatever you want from that.

I rest my crotch on the heel of my shoe, and as I try to settle into this position with five minutes left, I notice I’ve just done the worst thing I could have done. I’ve stimulated my clit, and it felt fucking amazing. I decide that the Uber driver either knows some shenanigans are occurring and has decided he doesn’t have time for this shit, or somehow doesn’t notice the low hum in his vehicle. He doesn’t look at me. I don’t look at him. Thus, I must be getting away with this. I don’t really do a great job at stopping trains, and this is a trainwreck in progress.

With small shifts of my hips, I begin to grind my cunt against my shoe. I rock my hips in tiny circles, and bite my lip and stare down into the black void of my locked phone. I close my eyes. My neck wants to give out and let my head tilt back, so that I can focus on the way this feels. I can’t give in that much. Instead I work to regulate my breathing as an orgasm builds somewhere between my soaking cunt (thank you moisture wicking yoga pants) and the deep place in my ass this plug is vibrating against. I can’t stop now. I’m too close. We’re there in two minutes. This is almost over. Looking at the Uber driver at this point would just drag this out, so I instead just hope like hell that my movements are subtle enough.

I press hard against my heel and the seat, digging into my poor aching cunt and using the seat to press the plug deeper as my orgasm starts. My bottom lip aches from my teeth pressing into it, and another low moan escapes. The feeling makes my heart beat faster and my thighs quiver a little as I settle into the seat and enjoy the ride of my orgasm overtaking me. It’s not a the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had, but it’s long and fueled by my panic and guilt and that delicious feeling of getting away with something. As it passes and my ass keeps humming, I notice that my body is exhausted from all the tensing and panic. I open my eyes. The uber driver looks away.

“Sorry. It’s been a hard day.” I say, breathless still.

He doesn’t respond. We pull up to my destination, and suddenly it hits me that my night is just getting started. As I step out of the car, the Uber driver looks at me and says “I hope you enjoyed your ride.” I don’t know that blushing is actually a thing, but my face literally felt hot as I said a quick thanks and walked towards the house of the Tinder stranger. I tipped him generously as I made my way up the driveway to the door. The car didn’t move yet. I’m sure he was just finding his next pickup. I don’t know. I’m not an Uber driver.

I ring the bell. A man who thankfully looks like his snaps answers. I stand on my tip toes to kiss him.

“You’re going to pay for that” I said. I made god damn sure he did.

My Uber passenger rating went up by a tenth of a point a few days later (From 4.81 to 4.82). I don’t know if it was him.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/fkftux/the_longest_uber_ride_of_my_hoe_life_a_butt_plug