I [F] fucked my Uber driver [M] on the back seat after a night out

*[If you want to know a bit more about me, [here’s a post for that.](https://www.reddit.com/user/SaysLuna/comments/w9j02v/who_is_luna/) If not, you can skip ahead!]*

This story happened in 2016.

I am, for the most part, a responsible drinker. Firstly, because I never drink myself anywhere near black out. Secondly, because I don’t drink and drive. Thirdly, alcohol has never led me to unwise sexual decisions.

Just kidding, that last one is bullshit.

I’m definitely a horny drinker. If any statistical mind is out there, I know correlation doesn’t mean causality, but I’ve been drunk and horny enough times to suspect that something connects the two in my brain.

Today’s story starts right at the end of a night out clubbing with friends. I had followed my usual pattern: drink heavily at the start of the night until I am happily drunk then stop drinking altogether by the middle of the night, letting myself deescalate slowly back to a tipsy state by the night’s end.

I was supposed to share an Uber with Maria back to our place (you might have heard of her from my [previous story]( https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/w6xy31/i_f_fucked_my_neighbor_after_matching_with_him_on/) – in case you haven’t, she was and is both my best friend and my housemate). As it were, she told me she planned to go back to a guy’s place. *Rock his world, girl*.

Nearing 4 AM I made my way out of the club and called an Uber. Then I waited. Alone, tipsy and – you guessed it – kind of horny. In my defense, I wasn’t planning on doing anything other than make my way home and rub myself to sleep.

We were approaching summer, and the nights were getting warm. I was wearing a pair of tight black pants and a black high-neck sleeveless top with some lace details, which left my stomach mostly exposed. Nothing too forward, but still attractive.

My ride arrived, a large car, with tinted windows in the back. I knew from his name on the app that he wasn’t Portuguese. Let’s call him Tom. I hopped onto the passenger seat. I rarely go for the back seats because I easily get carsick when drunk and sitting on the front helps. Immediately, I was hit by this guy’s perfume. Sweet but not too intense. Manly.

*Luna…*

It made me wonder if he felt my own perfume of alcohol and cigars (not mine, I don’t smoke). Not wanting to make things awkward, I greeted him and took a quick glance. I didn’t want to keep checking him out while he drove me home. He was older than me, probably nearing his 50’s. Combed black hair with some grey starting to creep in. Wrinkles near his eyes. A bit of a stubble. Not James Bond, but a handsome face. He was also on the heavier side. Barrel-chested, well, barrel-bodied to be honest.

He started driving.

“Had a fun night?” he spoke in accented English.

*Ugh*. How had I not noticed his voice when he greeted me? Usually, I instantly give a 5-star review whenever my driver doesn’t try to start a conversation, provided he doesn’t drive like a maniac. But this guy could be on the radio. Such a deep voice. His tone suggested he merely intended to exchange pleasantries, but I just wanted him to keep talking.

“It was great, only complaint is that my feet hurt from dancing. What about yours?”

*What a stupid question.*

“You’re actually my second customer only. Had a late start, you know, hard time getting out of bed to work nights.”

The following ten or so minutes were filled with small talk. We shared basic stuff about each other, I talked about college life, and he talked about his country (Netherlands), and he shared a couple stories related to college-aged drunks in his car. His deep voice would normally ease me down to sleep, but that night it was resonating deep within my belly.

Had I ever fantasized about hooking up with an uber driver? *Yes*. Had I already peeked to make sure there was no ring on his finger? *Yes*. Was I imagining how his voice would sound moaning or asking me for more? *Yes*. Was I going to make a move out of the blue? *You’re goddamn right*.

“So, uh, I know this is sudden. Do you want to have sex with me?” *Great, Luna. Truly you’re the master of subtlety.*

If this was a movie, the guy would probably lose control of the car for just a second, swerving to one side in surprise before correcting and thinking straight. If it was a porn movie, he’d probably tell me he had been expecting that and uncover a hard-on the size of a Pringles’ can and ask me if I had no money to pay the trip.

Instead, what followed was a moment of unimaginably awkward silence. I felt my face burn red. I cursed my tipsy brain and mouth and, more than that, my tipsy uterus who had plotted this all by itself. I was seriously considering asking him to pull over and calling another driver.

“Are you fucking with me?” his voice was inquisitive, perhaps slightly annoyed.

“What?” I was brought up from the depths of my loathing, barely making sense of the question. “No, I’m serious! There is a parking area near my house where we can pull over. And the windows are tinted so I figured we could hop onto the backseat…”

*Luna, stop overexplaining. Is this your first time flirting or what?*

“You are actually serious?”

“I am”

“Ok.” Ok? If I weren’t 50% tipsy, 50% embarrassed, 100% horny I would probably feel offended by such a curt answer. However, the only bells ringing in my head were telling me I was going to get laid and drowning any other thoughts.

The following minutes weren’t any less awkward. No further flirting, no stripping and showing him my breasts, no brushing my hand up his thigh. Pure uncertain agony. I was too busy figuring my own head out, and he probably was interpreting that as me having second thoughts. Only when I told him to make a detour from the GPS instructions so we could head to the parking area did the vibe in the car shift.

“Why me?” he asked as we were approaching our destination. I could hear the uncertainties he didn’t voice: ‘I’m too old for you. I’m out of shape. I’m just an uber driver. Are you gonna rob me?’

I *can* be subtle. I just naturally default to being blunt, especially when drunk. That lack of subtlety sometimes drives me into awkward spots, but is thankfully very appropriate for situations such as these. I’m not one to hold back flattery, especially when my sights are set. I prefer being upfront than playing chase.

“You are handsome. Your hands are gorgeous” – I’m a sucker for large hands – I pointed a right turn that led us to the entrance of the parking area. “And you’re charming. Also…” I saw him smile at the pleasantries “I have to admit that ever since I got in, I’ve been wondering how your voice would sound moaning my name” *Talk about escalating*.

“You’re not half-bad yourself”

I chuckled. We parked.

“So, how are doing this?” he turned the engine off. He seemed uncertain about our surroundings.

“Never had sex before?” I teased, but when I saw him about to complain, I answered seriously “Hard and fast”. *In hindsight, I really should have said Fast and Furious.*

The logistics of car sex can, sometimes, be a bit of an obstacle. Not for me that night. I pulled my seat forward as much as possible; he did the same to his, and I got out of the car and hoped back in, to the back seats. As soon as he joined me, I was climbing atop his lap, straddling him in the middle seat.

From up close, with only hints of light from the night outside, he looked even more handsome. There’s something to be said about a face full of shades. I smiled and gave him an exploratory peck on the lips.

“You *really* are serious, uh?” his brain seemed to be having a hard time processing it, but his hands had a mind of their own and were already exploring the skin on my back.

Instead of stating the obvious, I simply leaned forward and kissed him. His perfume flooded my senses again, I hoped he was not put off by the smell of clubbing on my clothes and hair. Those worries were short lived, as I sensed the button on my pants being undone. On my next breath his hand snaked inside the newfound space between my ass and my pants, and gave me a squeeze.

If I had to give advice to anyone having sex in a car, it’d go along the lines of: strip as little as possible, take out only what is necessary.

Did I follow my own advice that night? Absolutely not.

My hands moved down his shirt, leaving a trail of opened buttons on their wake. The last button was the one on his pants, and they finished their descent by sliding down his zipper. We were kissing clumsily through all of this, learning about how to kiss each other every time our tongues met.

I broke the kiss and looked deeply into him. *I really need to buy a car with tinted windows*. “Take your pants off.” I moved away from his lap as he obeyed and proceeded to break the stripping world record, taking off my top, bra, sneakers, pants, and panties. Remember the advice from three paragraphs ago? Yeah, me neither. I was naked.

Like a magnet, I was back on his lap with my crotch pressed on his boxers. His eyes were completely glued to my nipple piercings. I almost made the *Hey, my eyes are up here* joke, but I enjoyed the attention. He dove in.

This guy just couldn’t have enough of my tits. Sucking one then the other, licking them, nibbling, playing tentatively with the piercings, making an absolute drool fest on my chest. And I was loving it. As he devoured my breasts like they had the nectar of life, I could feel his cock tensing against my crotch, hard as a rock. I would have let him taste me for as long as he wanted if I wasn’t in such a hurry to have him.

I pushed him away from me, and he complained, muttering my name in a low growl “Luna…”. Ugh. *Nevermind moaning, I want you to gently rebuke me with that voice of yours*. As if my lady parts could get needier.

I pressed him against the seat with a smile, and fetched my purse, materializing a condom out of thin air. I pulled his boxers down, tucking them underneath his balls and, like a proper lady, poured an obnoxious amount of drool on my hand, which I then stroked on his cock, coating it nicely. That earned me another moan from him, which almost made me throw sanity out the window and ride him raw.

Truthfully, I was just looking for a quick session of pure ecstasy. I let him unroll the condom down his shaft. The moment he was done I was hovering my crotch over his. I love the sensation when it first slips in. I’m not going to say it is the best moment in sex, far from it, but it’s unique. I’m sad to say I didn’t really savor that moment, because as soon as he pushed in, I pressed my weight down on him.

Have you ever seen someone being jolted repeatedly, their whole body jerking and shaking? Me neither. But that must have been what I looked like. As soon as he was inside me, I was grinding as if my life depended on it. No slow build-up, no escalation. We were going over the speed limit from the moment I first put my foot on the gas. Truly fast and furious.

The car was filled with gasps, moans, and grunts as our crotches grinded together. I was going at it so hard that I wouldn’t be surprised if we set off sparks.

“Fuck. This is crazy.” He panted. He had given up tasting my breasts, I was moving too much for that. Instead, he had settled into leaning back, his hands squeezing my thighs as he watched the show I was putting on.

I was too busy to talk, so I just nodded with a smile, my own mouth agape as I breathed hard. The temperature inside the car seemed to have skyrocketed. I changed from a grinding motion to bouncing on his lap. I could feel sweat starting to form and slowly drip down the middle of my back. Don’t let the narration fool you. 5 minutes of constant, frenetic humping make for some *intense* exercising.

“Slow down… please,” a whisper. *What? You can’t expect me to slow down when you give me that voice.*

“No.”

“You’re gonna make me cum” he warned.

*No kidding.*

I kept going at it. My thighs were burning like hell, but hell’s heat was no match to that of my pussy that night. My moans blended into his groans, and I felt his body tense under me, then tense further, and further. The last mile between the point of no return and the climax seemed to stretch forever.

And then it came.

“Fuck. Luna.” It was a grunt, a breathless moan. I don’t know what it was. It was hot as fuck. I saw his orgasm wash through his body. His thighs tensing and releasing. His face contracting, wincing, and relaxing. Each of his moans reverberated all the way down my spine and into my lady bits.

I leaned forward, my forehead pressed on his shoulder as the adrenaline slowly faded from both bodies. My breathing steadied, and I finally flopped to the side, leaving his semi-limp cock behind. Tom had his eyes closed, but opened them to look at me as I tried my best to sprawl in the cramped space of the back seat. His eyes lazily scanned my body. His hand moved to my thigh, feeling it up.

“You’re really freaking hot” he said. Now he was just playing with me, placing his voice, playing with the fact that he knew it’d make me melt.

I invited him upstairs, for a second round where he could put his voice to use. But I’ll save that for a future story.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/wdi6rz/i_f_fucked_my_uber_driver_m_on_the_back_seat