The car

I sat in the passenger seat with the coat buttoned and the bob still neat, bridge lights on the window. Vikram waited until I said he could touch me. Same night. Same man. Forty-six. I was not inspecting anything. The car was parked at the end of the bridge, off the walkway. I took the lube out of my bag and put it in his hand. I said I wanted his cock in my ass, my pace, and then I wanted him to fuck my cunt and cum on my ass. I said I was asking. He said yes.

I knelt on the seat as well as a car allows, trousers down, coat open. He slicked his fingers and pressed one into my ass. I told him another. When I was ready I reached back, lined his cock up, and sank onto it myself so the pace stayed mine. His cock stretched my ass. I fucked myself on his cock slowly, then told him he could thrust. He fucked my ass in deep strokes, lube everywhere, his hand on my hip only as firm as I pushed it there. I rubbed my clit. My cunt clenched on nothing and I told him that was about to change.

I lifted off his cock. I said cunt. He fucked his cock into my cunt and the switch made me gasp. My ass was still open and slick. He fucked my cunt hard while I rubbed my clit, and I came with my forehead on the seat, cunt gripping his cock. I said pull out and cum on my ass. He did. Cum hit my ass in hot stripes. I wiped with a cloth from the glove box, trousers up, coat closed. I drove myself home. He took a cab I called and paid for myself. I did not give him the number from work. I did not promise a second night. I slept alone. The hard hat was still in the closet, which is where it belongs when I am getting fucked.