The truck

Different man, different night, a diner that does not know my name. Nabil is forty-six. He had a pickup and a careful way of asking, and I had my own car in the same lot so I would not need his. We talked for twenty minutes over coffee I actually drank, and then I said I wanted to suck his cock and ride him in the cab and have him cum on my stomach. He asked if I wanted to go somewhere more private. I said the lot is the point, and the door can stay open a crack if the cab light is off. He said yes. I climbed into the open door of the truck in the denim jacket and black shirt, red bob messed by the diner wind, and sat there a second so I would remember I had chosen the seat.

I shut the door enough to block the worst of the lot and left the window cracked. I told him to lean back. I opened his belt and took his cock out and sucked him, patient at first because my mouth likes a start, then sloppier, fist and tongue, until he was gripping the wheel and not my head. My cunt was wet against the seam of my jeans. I came up for air and told him I was going to fuck him. Jeans off one leg, awkward, funny, and I did not mind the comedy. I swung over and sank down on his cock in the dark cab. The stretch made me swear. I rode him slow, then harder, black shirt rucked up, his hands on my waist because I put them there.

Headlights swept the lot and did not stop. I got wetter. I told him so. A person could have looked through the glass and seen a woman fucking herself on a cock, and the risk sat sweet under my ribs. I rubbed my clit and came with my forehead on his shoulder, cunt gripping, a low sound I let the upholstery have. Then I told him out, on my stomach, now. He stroked his cock and came across my stomach in hot stripes. I sat there and looked at it, pleased, and I wiped it with his shirt because I had decided his shirt was the rag. He laughed, shocked and fine. I kissed him once, brief, not a plan.

I got my jeans on. I told him I drive my own car and I do not do mornings. He nodded like a man who had been given a clear map. I walked across the lot, started my car, and left the diner lights behind. The studio was dark when I got the door open. I swept nothing. I washed, fell into the bed in the back, and slept without a next plan written anywhere.