Glass mottled by fat raindrops obscured them from discovery in the underlit car park. Only the diffused moonlight threw milky shadows against their bodies. It felt exciting and tawdry; the danger of being discovered outweighed by the need for gratification.
His cock felt magnificent. It had the heat and hardness that only a teenage youth could possess. The white noise of sudden breaths conveyed his surprise. Fidgeting in the front seat, he squirmed as she lowered her mouth to the root of his shaft. Grazing the back of her throat, he groaned as it pulsed. Down she went again, and her contented moan buzzed his shaft.
It was a struggle, an assault course of levers and pedals in a tight space, but she was there. Her breasts mashed against his face as she held it to her wet entrance. With enough purchase to rub it against her wet slit, the blunt tip smeared her juices.
“In there?” mumbled the callow youth with the thick cock.
“Uh huh, right up my married pussy.”
“Your husband won’t mind.”
“My husband won’t know. He’s still in the bar. Just sit there and let me fuck you.”
With a gasp, she had him, and gravity did the rest, “Fuck! You are a big boy.”
Tiny repetitive squeaks from the car seat punctuated her determined grinding movements. His thick shaft was a bar of iron that knocked the wind out of her. Clutching the car seat tight, it whitened her knuckles; he did not stand a chance at this pace. Her twenty years of milking cocks versus his two of fucking cunts.
With her clammy breasts in his face, she had him by all his senses.
“Suck on them,” came her rasped order, direct and sudden.
Her evocative perfume, the aural delight of soft feminine moans and the pleasure of her yummy-mummy body writhing on him. The car began to rock, and another squeak replied to the animated car seat. The sound of lips smacked together and joined the mechanical ensemble. She steered her body against his, revelling in the snug embrace of his ample girth. Guiding him to that well-oiled spot, these long sweeping undulations defined her purpose.
He mumbled, suffocating in her ample cleavage, and she picked up the pace. It was automatic; her hips steered her to the inevitable, already addicted to the fill of his young meat. Finding his pronounced pubic bone, she mashed her aching clit against it. Rising with familiarity, she reached the summit, and this tawdry act provided the last glimmer of inspiration.
A rapid shuddering took her as its peaked, a mere taster but necessary.
“Fuck, yes!” she gasped, needing that one all night, “Jesus! You’re eighteen, and you can do that?”
“I… I guess.”
Unable to tame her addiction, she shuffled her hips back and forth.
“Not bad, lover,” she purred, “Let’s see if you can do that again.”
“I… I… don’t think I can hang on much longer.”
“Don’t worry about that. Just shoot it inside me.”
“What?”
“Just let go, and fill me up.”
There were no further pleas as her relentless tempo dissuaded him. Peering into his eyes, she devoured his dreamy gaze. The older woman rode him hard, enjoying the thick chord of his superior meat.
Moaning as she clamoured for it, their bodies skidded with all the latitude available. Lofting her sex, he bucked with abandon. The car squeaked in time with the travel of its suspension. Twice his age, she knew how to let it out and gripped him tight with that instinctive reflex. Pressed tight to his wriggling body, sweeping her hips, it brought her to the ragged edge of another climax.