I didn’t notice the car pull up beside me at first. I was too busy juggling the flimsy grocery bags from hand to hand on the way back from the Campus Mini Mart. My arms were feeling like they were stretching a mile long, as I mumbled a string of swear words under my breath. But then I heard a hum, deep and smooth, that made me look up.

It was a car—sleek, polished, and black, catching the late afternoon sun on its glossy surface. Expensive. It moved toward me slowly, almost deliberately, then rolled past just as I thought I was imagining things. But then it stopped a few yards down the road and turned around. I could see the flash of its wheels as it glided in a U-turn, cutting across the narrow street, and pulling up just beside me.

The window slid down, and I found myself face-to-face with Simon. It took me a moment to click who he was. Simon - the old man at the Student Union Bar last weekend.

He was leaning over the passenger seat, one hand still on the wheel. His face, so much more defined in the daylight, looked different from what I remembered the night we 'met' in the loud and dark Student Union Bar. Without the flashing bar lights and noisy drunk students between us, I could really see him.

His face had the careful lines of someone who had smiled a lot but possibly not in a while, maybe he was missing me. Joke. His eyes were warm, a deep, unreadable grey, and there was this flicker of amusement as he looked at me, his mouth curling a smile that somehow made me feel shy to be honest. Shy and curious. A slight nervous tingle gave me a sudden shiver.

“Hello again,” he said, his voice carrying that same calm confidence, like he was greeting an old friend. I suddenly became very aware again of how heavy my grocery bags were, how they were starting to dig into my palms, but I couldn’t move. For a second, I felt completely still, like the whole street had paused just to watch us meet again.

“Hi, Simon,” I managed, a little breathless. His name sounded different coming out of my mouth now, less casual and flippant and teasingly than when I’d said it that drunken night.

I glanced at him, trying to take in more than I had before. He was dressed impeccably in a dark suit that fit him so well it looked almost like a part of him. The white collar of his shirt, crisp and pressed, peeked out neatly under the knot of a navy blue tie. Even the mahogany trim inside the car caught the sunlight, glinting against the deep leather. The interior was filled with this warm, musky scent—clean but not too strong. Everything about him, about the car, seemed to belong to a different world than my grocery bags and scuffed-up ankle boots, my messy hair and my thrown-on summer dress.

Then, as he reached across to push open the door, his hand caught my eye. And that’s when I noticed it. A glint of gold on his ring finger. A wedding band.

My heart seemed to miss a beat. How had I not seen it before? The bar had been weirdly lit, true, and we’d been too busy talking for me to notice anything like that. But here it was, shining plain as day, right in front of me.

Actually, now I think about it, why would it ever have even been on my radar that night, and if it had would I have cared? The free drinks and intense old-man cock teasing were far too much of a distraction for something as insignificant as him being a married man. And he had probably taken it off and hid it in his suit pocket that night. Hoping for student-girl action!

My gaze flickered from his hand to his face. He was still smiling, that same friendly look in his eyes, almost like he didn’t know I’d noticed anything different. I could feel my cheeks flush, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because I’d been so caught up in the way he looked at me, the way he seemed so at ease pulling over to talk to me in broad daylight, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. For some reason, I glanced between his legs. That's not usually my style, honestly! I am not a girl on constant cock watch. Honestly! But I checked anyway. Nothing to see here. Yet.

“Need a lift?” he asked, his tone warm and casual, and it was as if nothing else mattered. The ring could have just been an accessory of course. But it wasn’t, and I knew that, even if he didn’t say it. Even though he didn't seem to remember he was wearing it.

I hesitated, my mind beginning to bounce between the memories of that night and the possibilities of this moment. Were the tingles and shivers and drippings of that drunken moment enough to scratch a question mark on my little panties for further exploration?

I tried to play it cool as I moved towards the back door of his car, feeling his gaze steady on me as if he were committing every step to memory. Every flow and movement of my little summer dress felt as if I was teasing him with my secrets and the appearance of every goose bump on my sensitive body parts felt like a clap of thunder across me. The car door opened with a gentle click, and I placed my grocery bags in the backseat, carefully, like they were fragile. But it was more than that. I knew he was watching—closely, intently. So I played the part in almost slow motion and then as I slipped into the passenger seat, I felt my cheeks flush with this warmth I couldn’t shake.

His eyes didn’t leave me, not for a second. I could feel them on me, lingering as I adjusted the hem of my dress. It was a light, summery one that I hadn’t really thought about when I threw it on this morning, and my attempt to hide my bare soft smooth legs was hindered by the lack of material in the dress. I pulled it as far down as I could though it barely covered my inner thighs. But now, sitting there under his gaze, I felt how it brushed my young legs far above my knees.

His stare was unwavering, the kind of look that didn’t hide anything, that didn’t apologize. It was like he wanted me to know that he was taking in every small, self-conscious shift I made—the way I tucked my hair behind my ear, the slight way I turned in the seat to face him, how I straightened my dress with my hands and folded them in my lap. I felt completely… seen. Totally wide open for his viewing.

Simon’s smile softened, and something in his eyes grew warmer like he was enjoying watching me without needing to say a word. I felt this fluttering mix of nerves and excitement. It was strange, being so close to him now, so different from that night. There was no noise, no distraction, just his steady, deep gaze and the silence of the car around us. And of course, on that night he was only an observer of me from behind. The occasional sideways glance and a couple of face-to-face moments. But my view from behind was his pleasure then. And only now could I imagine how much he must have explored me.

“You look different in the daylight,” he said, his voice soft, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“Different?” I asked, feeling my voice come out a bit shaky. I didn’t know what he meant, but the way he said it—there was a depth to it like he saw something I couldn’t quite grasp myself. Or maybe I was being naïve?

His gaze flickered over my face, taking in every detail, from my eyes to my cheeks to the small way my lips curved when I tried not to smile. “Yes,” he murmured, leaning just slightly closer. “But in a very very good way.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, warm and unguarded, as if he was letting me in on a secret. “A super hot way.”

I couldn’t hold his gaze for too long. It was too much, like looking straight into something bright and overwhelming. I glanced out the window, trying to catch my breath, feeling the quiet thrill of sitting in his car, feeling him this close, with his hand resting right there between us, on the leather of the seat, with that ring still glinting in the sunlight. I didn't do the 'maths' and the 'sexual equations' but I am sure a super sexual calculator somewhere would work out that the wedding ring was an exciting trigger for me. No idea why. Didn't want to know. Just felt like going with it. Felt like seeing where this trigger fired me to.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he continued, his voice lower, as though we were the only two people in the world right now, “but I’m glad I ran into you.”

His words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, almost sending me into a trance though I didn't forget about the ring and the age gap - the things I should be considering as red flags. I was simply caught up in that soft, easy smile and the way he looked at me like I was exactly where he wanted me to be. A baby rabbit trapped in his headlights. A younger pussy trapped on his leather passenger seat. Or so he might imagine.

As the car door shut softly, we were wrapped in silence. It was thick with that strange, charged feeling. I could still feel his gaze, warm and steady, as I settled into the seat, once again adjusting my dress over my knees and tucking one leg under the other. For a moment, he didn’t start the car; he just sat there, looking at me with that same quiet intensity. The engine was off, and there was this stillness, just the faint sounds of kids laughing and playing on the path outside, voices drifting in through the window. For some reason this made me realise, OMG I was sitting in the seat his wife must sit in. When they do family things. Maybe he has kids. Kids that sit in the back. I was plonked down in the centre of this family car right now. And all he could think about and look at and want and fantasize about was me. Naughty old man.

Simon finally cleared his throat and turned slightly to face me, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So,” he began, his voice low, soft, “how have you been?”

I felt my cheeks warm immediately, my mind flickering back to the student bar, the drinks, the silent yet intimate time we’d shared. The grinding. The panties going from clean and dry to wet and messy. The hardness he pressed into me. The hardness he felt in my hand. The way I emptied him in that noisy public pace. The slutty feeling and the unexpected power which overwhelmed me. It all seemed a world away, but those memories came back in a rush as if they were happening now, like this would be a very very real deja vu. I couldn't stop my face heating up as I thought about how close we’d been, how unnaturally dirty, the way we’d leaned in to hear each other moan and groan over the noise of the student bar, and in full view of the staff of the club.

“Oh… I’ve been good,” I managed, glancing down, feeling almost shy under his gaze. “Just busy, you know, with classes and… studying.”

He nodded, but his eyes sparkled with that familiar look of amusement as he saw right through my attempt at casualness. “You’ve been busy,” he repeated as if tasting the words. “I had a feeling. I actually went back to the bar once… or twice.” He gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “I thought maybe you’d be there again, but I couldn’t find you.”

My heart skipped a beat. “You went back?”

“Of course I did.” He shifted, leaning a little closer, his eyes piercing into mine. “I wasn’t ready to give up on seeing you again.”

His words hung between us, a touch more serious than I’d expected.

“I’d been thinking about you, a lot, more than I probably should” he continued, his eyes never leaving mine, “hoping I might run into you somewhere, and then… there you were. Couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you walking with those bags.”

The way he said it, so genuinely, like he’d been waiting for this moment, most likely fantasizing about it, sent a flutter through my stomach. I glanced out the window, feeling the warmth of the sun streaming through the windscreen, casting a soft glow over us and making everything feel almost surreal.

“I’m glad you stopped,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop myself. And then I looked back at him, feeling bolder. “It’s… nice to see you, Simon.”

He grinned, I don't think he was expecting me to say this, I certainly wasn't expecting to say it. I don't even think I was glad to see him, maybe just glad to feel this power rush again. But he loved hearing me say it, his gaze travelling up to my face, lingering just a second too long.

“I have to say, you look amazing,” he murmured, his voice dropping a little, as though he were speaking to himself again. “Especially with your hair like that. Pigtails.” His hand moved just slightly on the steering wheel as he spoke, like he was trying to balance himself. “You should wear it up more often, really. Suits you, those pigtails.” His eyes sparkled. “It’s… charming.”

My fingers instinctively reached up to one of the pigtails, tugging at it self-consciously. I wasn’t sure if he was teasing or if he really meant it, but the way he looked at me made me feel a bit like I was the only person who’d ever worn this style. I wasn't sure 'charming' was the word I would go for but maybe this was Simon showing his age whilst trying to be charming in the olden days way.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks heat up again, a little more thrilled at the attention he was paying to something so small. Well I mean, the reason I pigtail myself up is for attention so I shouldn't be so surprised, but I still felt a sexual shock.

“And that dress…” he said, his eyes taking their time, following the curve of the strappy fabric over my shoulders, tight into my slim waist, down to where it brushed over my soft inner thighs. I instinctively crossed and uncrossed my legs. Was I teasing or just nervous? Was I wanting him to ache even more for me or just getting comfortable?

“The colour truly brings out your eyes. And the way it matches everything—the shoes, your bag…” He leaned back slightly as if to take it all in. “It’s like you’re a walking work of art.”

Goosebumps prickled up my arms, and to be honest, they felt as if they were trying to force their way into my shivering panties and I couldn’t help but smile, a bit shy, a bit unsure how to handle all this, but still feeling completely in control and feeling a new invincible power grow within this moment. Cheesy and corny he may be, but he was definitely displaying signs of being smitten with me. And in my eyes, that meant game on for some fun.

Come to think of it, I am not sure that anyone had ever looked at me quite like this before, like I was something special, something worthy of admiration, maybe worship. Maybe it was because he was the oldest 'admirer' I had. It was like he noticed every little detail, every angle of me, as though he’d been waiting all day to finally take it all in. Like he was breathing in my aura and breathing out intense desire for me. It's worship, isn't it? I would imagine he's looking at me very differently from how he looks at his 'wife' when she sits in this seat with him.

The interior of the car was so pristine, the rich leather, and the soft, polished mahogany trim glowing in the sunlight. Everything seemed to blend together—the warmth from the sun, the scent of his aftershave in the air, the faint echoes of children laughing outside. The traces of family life in the air of the car. But somehow, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just us. All the romance of the scene was simply just a time bomb waiting for the last tick.

He turned the key, and the engine hummed to life, a deep, smooth purr that filled the car, breaking the delicate silence that had settled between us. His fingers gripped the wheel, and he glanced over at me, his eyes bright with that same warm intensity. But there was something else now—almost an urgency that I hadn’t felt before, something a little restless. He took a steadying breath.

“I, uh… I have a meeting soon,” he said, his voice slipping just slightly like he was trying to mask his eagerness. “Supposed to be there already. So I'll drop you off but have to dash.” He shot me a quick, apologetic smile. “But… I wish I could spend a little more time with you. I really would like to see you again. Maybe another day?”

I shrugged, giving him a small, teasing smile. I wasn’t about to let him know what I was feeling—that mix of nervous excitement, and the thrill of holding his attention so completely. “Maybe,” I replied, keeping it casual, even though inside I felt a little spark of satisfaction. His face fell slightly, just for a second, before he masked it with a grin. I was starting to see how much he wanted this moment, this chance with me, and it was new—a feeling of control, of power, that I hadn’t really known before. I let it flow over me and stayed in this moment.

I leaned back, glancing out the window. “Just drop me near the student union bar,” I said, giving him a playful look. “It’s nice, you know, having a driver with all these bags. You might need to get yourself a chauffeur’s hat, though.”

He laughed, but I could hear the slight shake in his voice like he was trying a bit too hard to keep it light. “Maybe I should,” he said, his words tumbling out, a bit too fast, his tone almost eager. “But, well, I’m not just a driver, you know.” He gestured around the car, his hand sweeping across the polished dashboard and the mahogany trim, almost as if to remind me of where I was sitting.

“This is… well, it’s a top-of-the-line model. They don’t make many of these, not with this custom interior. Leather seats, hand-stitched. And the sound system? Best on the market.” His eyes flickered over to see if I was impressed, but I just nodded, feeling a small smile tug at my lips, more impressed that he was trying to charm me with his wealth than the quality of his car.

He cleared his throat, sitting a little taller, and went on, this time his words coming out a bit more rushed, a little breathless. “You know, I… I don’t usually get to give rides like this.” His fingers tightened on the wheel, almost nervously. “Most of my days are filled with work, you know? Meetings, conferences, clients…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering toward me, that same uncertain energy in his gaze. “I rarely get to… just talk to someone. Someone as special as you”

His voice had that slight tremor, a kind of nervous energy that seemed to build as he spoke. He was trying, I could tell—trying hard to impress me, maybe to hard, maybe too cliché, to let me know he wasn’t just some stranger but someone important. Trying to find a subject or stream that would connect us and engage me. But his words kept stumbling, his sentences a little disjointed, like he was feeling around in the dark, trying to find the right way to reach me. Because I was being happy using silence as a control technique. Which amused me. As well as aroused me. He was confident, yes, but underneath it appeared to be this fragile edge, something that almost felt desperate, as if he needed my attention, my approval, and wasn’t quite sure how to get it. As if I would be his last chance ever of young approval and he didn't want the opportunity to slip away. I liked that very much.

I glanced over at him, my heart racing a tiny bit. There was this strange thrill in realizing how much he wanted to impress me, how he was reaching for something with each word, trying to give me this picture of himself, hoping I’d take it and be as captivated as he seemed to be with me. That wasn't going to happen, trust me. But I wasn't going to tell him that. Just intended to let him keep believing. Maybe I was turning into some kind of a power-hungry slutty player. Maybe.

“It’s a beautiful car, Simon,” I said softly, my voice warm, letting him know I was listening, that I saw his effort, even if I didn’t give him everything he wanted. Even if I was interested in the car.

“You’ve done well for yourself.” I could see him relax slightly, his shoulders loosening, but he was still watching me, looking for every small sign that I might be interested in.

He grinned, his hand moving on the wheel in a little race driver motion. “Yes, well… I wanted you to feel comfortable. You deserve the best, honestly.” There was that edge again in his tone like he was almost tripping over himself, wanting to make sure I knew just how much he was willing to do, how much he’d give for a moment with me. And I felt it—that small shift, the realization that I had something here, a kind of hold on him. I smiled as I wondered how often he spoke to his wife like this after they had been grocery shopping. Then I randomly shivered thinking how bad it was sitting in 'her car seat' my body being lusted over by her old man.

And it gave me red hot shivers, deep down. Not just goose-bumps but something stronger, like the spark of something I hadn’t known I could hold over someone—especially someone like him. He was so eager to make sure I was impressed, that I saw him as… special. Like he needed my approval in a way I hadn’t expected. It was exhilarating, and with it came a quiet sense of power, a feeling that if I wanted to, I could lead him anywhere I liked.

Just as he was mid-sentence, rambling on about some meeting or business trip he was late for because I was more important, the car phone lit up. The screen flashed a name in bold letters: Ana. It was like someone had hit a pause button in the car. His face went pale, all that bravado draining in an instant. I felt a shiver run through me, a thrill at seeing him, for once, not in control. His hand went to the steering wheel, gripping it a bit too tight. I just watched him, savouring every bit of that shift in his energy, the way he seemed to shrink under the weight of that name glowing on the screen. This must be the wife I thought. Ana. Sweet. Maybe a European woman. I wanted to put my hand straight between my legs right now. The screen flashed her name, the ring tome echoing around the car like a mating call from wifey. I couldn't have written a sexier script myself.

“Oh,” I said, my tone deliberately casual, a slight smile playing on my lips as I turned to him. “Are you going to answer that?” I held his gaze, my eyes widening in a mock innocence that I knew he could see through. Inside, I was amused, amused in many ways, amused and aroused like I’d unlocked some secret door that he hadn’t meant for me to open. I wanted him to know I saw everything.

He fumbled for a second, his face turning even whiter. “Ah,” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly. “It’s… probably just, uh, a sales call or… spam.”

I raised an eyebrow, letting the silence fill the car, enjoying the way he was practically squirming now. “Oh? ‘Ana’ sounds like a personal spammer to me,” I said, leaning back, the edges of my lips curling into a sly smile. I could see his hand tremble just slightly, and I felt another rush of that same electric energy between my legs. That's bad isn't it?

He gave a strained, awkward laugh, his voice even more uneven. “Right. Just… just someone from work. Not important.” But his voice faltered, and I knew he could hear it failing him too. He wasn’t fooling either of us. The tremor in his tone, the way his eyes flicked everywhere but at me, the way he suddenly seemed to have forgotten how to act calm and confident and successful—all of it was giving him away. And I loved it.

I felt goose-bumps prickle down my arms, stronger this time, different. It was a thrill, almost like discovering a power I hadn’t known I had. Should I be angry? Jealous? Should I demand he stop the car and let me out for being a married man using my slutty needs? Nah. All I felt was this tingling energy, this fascination with the way he was crumbling right in front of me. He, the man who seemed so sure of himself, was now the one losing his grip. And I was the one in control.

I uncrossed my bare young legs, parting them slightly in his 'wife's car seat' because I wanted to feel some fresh air between them. To cool my panties. And also.. to send a message to him, to remember the young desirable pussy in his car, sat in his wife's seat, as his wife's name flashes on the screen. Of course, he was still unaware I knew he was married, I think. But probably fearing I was putting two and two together right now.

The phone stopped ringing, but neither of us moved, the silence somehow feeling even louder than before. I glanced at his hand on the wheel, at the glint of that wedding ring he seemed to keep forgetting I’d noticed and then for a split second, his right hand drifted to it, his fingers brushing over the gold band as if to scratch an itch, but all it did was draw my attention more. Maybe he thought it would hide it, or maybe it was a nervous reflex. Either way, it was so clear. So obvious.

Then, like a ghost that wouldn’t let go, the phone rang again. Ana. I think he already knew she would try the phone again. He didn't seem to show any signs of relief when it had stopped the first time. The letters glowed brighter, insistently, almost taunting him. I smirked and leaned forward, tilting my head with mock concern. “Must be important,” I murmured, letting my words hang in the air, savouring the way he swallowed a dry nervous swallow, his throat visibly tightening.

He didn’t answer. The nerves had overtaken him completely, and I watched as his confidence shattered into silence. No quick comeback, no easy charm. Just that nervous, almost guilty look in his eyes, like he was standing in front of me with nowhere to hide. He was completely exposed, and he knew it.

“Why don’t you answer it?” I said, my voice as smooth as I could make it. The power of my commanding question gave me feel a rush of thrilling energy all the way through me. l loved the feeling. I didn't want to stop feeling it. I paused, my voice dropping as I leaned a little closer. “I don’t mind… Maybe it’s your wife, and you’ve forgotten her name?”

His face twitched at this comment, like a pained flinch, and I could see the resignation in his eyes. He knew I wasn’t fooled, that I’d been putting it all together piece by piece, even if he hadn’t wanted me to. And I felt that thrill grow, the strange rush of knowing that he wasn’t hiding anything any more—he couldn’t. And it was all because of me. You have no idea the rush of juices into my panties watching this unfold. An addictive rush of juices.

He looked at me, with a tiny, strained laugh. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he whispered his voice almost plea like, a mix of agony and defeat.

I shrugged, letting the silence speak for itself, and then finally, I let out a small, wicked laugh of my own. “Maybe,” I said, savouring the moment, letting him feel every ounce of control slipping from his fingers. “Go on, then,” I urged, feeling a pulse of power with each word. “Answer it. Answer her.”

For a split second, I could see the fear in his eyes, the nerves that had overtaken any trace of his once-confident self. But beneath it, I sensed something else—a strange relief, almost, like he was glad the game was finally over. Maybe he knew, deep down, that I wasn’t angry, that I wasn’t going to walk away. Maybe he sensed that this—the power I held in making him squirm, in seeing his walls come down—had only drawn me closer.

He took a deep breath, and his shoulders slumped slightly, his hand moving toward the screen with resignation. He hesitated, though, turning to me with an almost rueful smile. And I held his gaze, feeling that tingle, that thrill of watching him unravel, inch by inch, under my watchful eye.

He stared at the car screen, her glowing name on screen in front of us, for a moment, frozen. Then, taking a deep breath, he swiped the screen and the whole car became a listening ear, his eyes darting to me, a flicker of fear in them. I leaned back, crossing my legs slowly, watching him with a small smile as I traced a finger along my thigh. He seemed to pale even more as he caught the movement, and I felt another ripple of that same, delicious thrill.

“Hello?” His voice came out tense, and tight, and I could practically feel him trying to keep his nerves under control.

“Jack?” came a cheerful voice from the other end. “Finally! I was starting to think you wouldn’t pick up. I was just calling to remind you to grab some bread on your way home.”

Jack. I held back a smirk, letting the word sink in as it echoed in my mind.

Jack, not Simon!!

This wasn’t just some casual encounter any more—it was a lie, a second life, unravelling in real-time, and I was here for every second of it. False name and false marital status! Although, to be fair there was never any discussion about marital status the night we met. He didn't have time to mention a wife in between buying me vodka and emptying his cum in the palm of my hand.

I let my gaze drift over him, watching his hand on the wheel as it clenched just a little tighter, his knuckles going white. His face was a mix of worry and forced fake calm, like he was balancing on a knife’s edge, trying not to tip over. And as he glanced sideways at me, I could see the panic flash in his eyes. He knew I was hearing every word.

“Uh… yes, Ana,” he stammered, his voice low and strained. “I’ll, um… I’ll get the bread. Don’t worry.”

She chuckled, completely oblivious to the tension in his voice. “Oh, and don’t forget, the girls have that party this weekend, so we’ll need to pick up a present for them on Saturday morning. I was thinking we could all have a day in town with lunch too?”

I raised an eyebrow in a comic book dramatic style, my lips curling into a pouting smile. He was caught, so completely and perfectly trapped. Not only was “Simon” actually Jack, but he was Dad too. The girls! More than once a Dad. A whole other life, one that he’d thought he could hide away, had spilt wide open right in front of the 'young pussy' he least wanted to know the truth. And he looked terrified.

“Sure,” he said, swallowing hard, his gaze fixed ahead, avoiding my eyes in case they might burn him. “Saturday morning… sounds good.”

There was a pause, and I watched him let out a subtle sigh of relief. Maybe he thought he’d managed to keep things steady, that he’d somehow kept the situation under control. But then her voice came again, light and chatty, stretching the call into something he hadn’t anticipated.

“Oh, by the way,” Ana continued, her tone relaxed and comfortable, the sort of voice you’d use with someone you’d known for years. “Did you pick up that dry cleaning yet? You know how those shirts always wrinkle if they sit too long? Your appointment with Dr Miller is next Wednesday. I made sure it was in your calendar, but you know how you are with dates.” She laughed softly, and the sound of her wifely tones seemed to make his neck tie feel tighter as he wiggled his head in discomfort.

I could see his fingers tapping anxiously on the wheel like he was trying to find some way to signal to her that now wasn’t the time. But he was trapped, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the sight of him squirming. His voice was even shakier now, trembling with that mix of fear and guilt. “Uh, yes, I’ll… I’ll handle all of that. Thanks, Ana.”

I stayed silent, watching, waiting, savouring every tense second as he struggled to end the call without raising suspicion. I was secretly praying Ana would talk about tonight in bed or some dark dirty desire she had, but she didn't seem this kind of woman.

I knew he was hyper-aware of me, of the way I sat there, comfortably close, smiling and biting my lips. I let my hand rest on my knee, stroking it slowly, enjoying the way his eyes flickered toward the movement and then darted away, his face tense with barely concealed panic. And I don't know what made me act so spontaneously but I moved my right hand slowly up my bare legs taking the hem of my dress with it. Lifting the dress. Showing a tiny glimpse of white panties for the naughty married man.

“Look,” I said softly, mouthing the word where only he could see. He caught it, and his eyes widened, his face going a shade whiter. I knew he could feel it, that power shift—how quickly he’d gone from the one in control to the one at my mercy.

Ana’s voice kept drifting through the phone, oblivious, filling the air between us. Every word, every casual detail of their life together was like fuel to that strange, thrilling feeling bubbling up inside me. Here he was, a man who seemed so sure of himself, so used to being in charge, unravelling under the weight of a single phone call. His head must have been a real muddle. Fear of losing me because of this discovery or fear of being caught by his wife with young pussy in her car seat.

Finally, Ana wrapped up, her voice warm and happy. “Alright, then. Drive safe, Jack. See you tonight.”

“Y-yeah,” he managed, his voice a faint breathless whisper, his hand shaking slightly as he swiped to end the call on his screen. I watched him, letting the silence settle, waiting until he was squirming under the weight of it, knowing he’d been seen in a way he hadn’t wanted me to see.

“Jack, huh?” I said, my voice low, teasing, savouring each word.

He laughed nervously, his gaze fixed straight ahead. I could see the tension in his jaw, the way he seemed almost desperate not to look at me, not to see the smirk that was growing wider on my face.

“You know,” I murmured, my tone a careful balance between innocence and something sharper, “I don’t mind. Go ahead, just answer her calls.” I let my hand slide just a little higher on my leg, between my legs, across my white cotton panties, and I could see his eyes flicker toward the movement before he forced them back to the road. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one you’re… trying to impress.”

He swallowed, his voice barely remembering how to speak. “You… you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

I smiled, letting my gaze remain on him, every second of his discomfort only adding to the tingling thrill building inside me. “Maybe,” I replied, savouring the word, feeling it roll off my tongue with a slow satisfaction. And as he shifted uneasily in his seat, I realized it: the real fun was just beginning.

It was as if I’d floated up and out of myself, watching the scene play out from above, like a strange, thrilling, twisted movie. I sat there beside him, yes, but in my mind, I was hovering somewhere else, taking in every detail from this higher place. I could hear his voice, stumbling and shaking, as he spoke to his wife, and I could see myself leaning back in the leather seat, my hand tracing soft circles on my leg, that sly smile creeping over my lips.

At that moment, he wasn’t just the man I’d toyed with in the dark corner of the student bar. Back then, he’d been nothing more than a thrill, a way to test the limits of my own power. I had watched him crumble under my touch, completely under my spell. And I’d left that night feeling a rush, a lingering satisfaction. But that was all he was then—some faceless, 'fake name' man, a brief and intoxicating high.

Now, though, here he was in the cold, clear light of day. Not just some stranger, but a real man, with a wife, a house, and kids. A man like my father or my uncles—someone living a life built over decades, layers upon layers of duty and history. That realization hit me like a wave, sharp and thrilling, and I felt myself buzzing from head to toe. This wasn’t some harmless stranger from a bar. This was a man who had been weaving his life for years, and now I was there, unravelling those threads with a single look, a single touch. He didn't care about any of that right now, at this moment. He cared about young pussy in his car. Not the meeting he was late for which would make him bags of money. Not the wife and kids and family diary. He had tunnel vision right now and at the end of the tunnel, the light was my bright white wet panties.

And there he was, caught in the middle like a boy pretending to be a man. A shrunken quiver. I could hear the desperation in his voice as he tried to keep his composure, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly they turned white, his panicked gaze flicking to me as though I might disappear if he didn’t keep me there. But he was stretched thin, so thin—trying to find an instinctive way to hold onto Ana, to keep that safe, stable life intact, but just as desperate to hold onto me. To keep my attention, my smile, and my presence in his passenger seat. I could almost feel him on a wire, pulling at both ends, barely managing to keep his balance.

And if Ana knew. If she could have seen her husband, maybe on video call, clinging to his life with her and yet straining towards me. Trying to be a saint and a sinner in the same breath.

That image—Ana, in some comfortable home, clueless to the battle going on in her husband’s head—made my pulse quicken. If she could have seen the look on his face, the way he swallowed dry air every second, forcing calm into his voice as he tried to pretend there was nothing out of the ordinary going on in their car, as she talked so generally about a normal suburban life.

I felt my heart beat faster, a pulse of power, and I shifted a little in the seat, the leather cool against my skin, and let my hand drift toward him. Every inch I moved closer, I could see him tense up, his grip tightening on the wheel.

And he knew. He knew that I was watching every move, that I could see the struggle playing out on his face. He knew that every word he spoke, every attempt to steady his voice, was only making it more clear that he was losing control, piece by piece. And that knowledge was rushing through me, electrifying me from within. Here he was, my willing victim, trying to keep his world intact while I watched it shake and crumble beneath him. And I wanted more. He knew that. Maybe inside he got a little thrill from me turning in to a game but the risk was still very high for him.

'Call her back,' I said with a whispered, slutty smile.

He seemed taken aback as I said this, leaning slightly sideways towards him.

'Call her back,' I repeated as my right hand fell onto his leg, stroking him through his smart suit trousers. My little fingers seeming even smaller on his strong, muscled leg. This made him flinch. I assume a cock-related flinch. Which made me massage and tease his leg more.

He was frantically trying to form a sentence, a question to ask me. 'Why phone Ana?' I am sure this would have been the question if he could overcome his confused nervousness. He just rambled alien words from another planet.

'Call her.' I said again. More demanding. Like a baby girl demanding sweets in the sweet shop. This being a new experience for me meant I hadn't yet got the skill set for dominant conversation but my hand on his leg near to his cock and my flashing white panties more than made up for this inexperience.

I took a breath, slow and steady, and let my fingers rest just an inch from his cock. Just close enough that he could feel the warmth, the silent promise, the tease of what I might do next. I could see the sweat forming on his forehead, the way his body seemed to tense and loosen all at once. And I knew, right then and there, that he couldn’t give me up. Even if he tried, even if he wanted to, he’d be back. This was a tug-of-war, and he was on the edge of letting go.

And maybe that was what thrilled me most of all—the idea that I didn’t have to be drawn to him in the way I thought romance was supposed to be. I didn’t have to be swept off my feet or captivated by him. All I needed was this: the knowledge that I was the centre of his focus, that with every word, every breath, he was being pulled closer to me, tangled up in my web. That despite all the risk, he could be at my beck and call.

The phone call began. I don't know what was going through his head, what thoughts and conversations he was holding with himself in there but he pressed to call Ana. I felt calm and at the same time uncontrollably aroused. He looked like a hurricane of confused horniness. Panties on show, bare young legs crossed and uncrossed, young fingers close to his cock, taboo and risky scenes merging moment by moment. What's there not to love about this dangerous wreck of a risky game.

Ana answered, and her happy, lively, sweet voice was the complete opposite of the trembling fearful vibrations of his. She was casual, and he was intense. Probably because she wasn't about to be wanked off in the car.

She would talk and he would mumble something back, a faint, choked reply, his eyes not even leaving the road. I let my hand move, just a fraction closer, a silent message. He could feel me there, I knew, lingering, waiting, daring him to acknowledge it.

After a few moments, he let out a breath, shaky and uneven, and finally turned to me, his eyes wide and filled with something between fear and desire. His eyes moved from my fingers to my panties to my legs to direct eye contact. And as I looked back at him, I felt that thrill deepen, sink into me like a new pulse, a new heartbeat.

I could almost sense him breathing harder, trying to split his focus between hoping Ana hadn't notice his odd behaviour on the call and my hand, inching closer to his leg.

This, I realized, was only the beginning. And I moved my little fingers over his crotch. The palm of my hand began to caress him through his trousers. The palm of my hand resting gently over his old married cock. And he squirmed. Oh my, how he squirmed. As his wife continued talking her voice filling the car.

He coughed. A fake cough. Covering up the little gasps of my hand teasing his cock. To be fair to Simon, I mean Jack, he was doing very well breaking the myth that men can't multitask. He was driving and keeping his wife happy at the same time as lusting after me as I wiped my slutty hand over his hardness. And how hard.

Instantly it took me back to the student bar remembering how big and thick he was in my hand. Only this time we weren't surrounded by a bar full of drunken students. This time we were surrounded by the voice of an unsuspecting wife. And I loved it. I loved the fear in his voice and the shaking from his body and soul. Yet no way did he want this to end. And it wasn't going to just yet. So I unzipped him.

I unzipped his suit trousers and reached my hand inside. I don't know what his wife was saying but I could hear her talking unsuspectingly. He would grunt a reply occasionally. I would shiver and tingle with each groan of his. I'm bad, aren't I?

I reached inside his zip and fumbled to discover a little button on his boxer shorts, I couldn't see it, but I could feel it as I unbuttoned him and reached inside his boxer shorts to free him. He carried on grunting replies to his wife, and Ana carrying on planning the weekend. He gave me little body movements, which didn't really help me but were signals to keep going and keep going I did, as I released his big hard cock into the same car atmosphere which occupied the innocent and unsuspecting voice of his wife.

And I wanked him slowly. Both enjoying that first moment when skin meets skin. He's feeling my soft young fingers gently ghosting up and down him and I'm feeling hard old throbbing intense cock in my power. He looks away from the wife's name on the screen and the driving for a split second to be greeted by a sweet but slutty little smile from me. His smile was for me as he turns away from Ana's voice for a moment. He knew my game and there was no way he wanted me to stop playing it.

And I gave him one or two slightly harder and firmer tugs of his cock to let him know just who was the boss here.

'Pull over here' I mouthed silently to him as he looked at me a second time. He was so engrossed in my hand movements teasing up and down his wanting cock and so intent on not alerting his wife to his misbehaviour that he almost forgot to turn into the student union bar car park. And when he did pull over I smiled to myself as he just about found enough focus to deliberately park in a far corner, obviously hoping for a happy ending. Probably expecting one.

He didn't turn the car engine off. And it wasn't because he was expecting me to make a quick exit so he could flash his way to the important meeting he was late for. I am pretty sure it was because Ana would know he had stopped. And the less information he gave to her the less opportunity there would be for being caught. The less she would discover he had a young girl sat in her side of the car holding his big hard cock. This made me grip him harder. The reality of this unfolding scene hit me with a beautiful clarity. I was actually wanking her husband as they spoke. Phone sex with an unsuspecting partner. He squirmed as my imagination translated into a more intense cockteasing.

I started to sense a more peaceful feeling about him as he stopped driving and was able to focus more on his conversation with Ana as I wanked him. He almost felt at ease sitting back deeper into his chair allowing my pleasure-giving fingers to stroke him to the sound of his wife's voice.

He moved his left hand onto my bare leg. Gave me a little shiver, to be honest. Big, older, strong hand dwarfing my young little leg. The grip felt a little rough, but he stroked me gently. Lovingly enjoying the feel of me, enjoying my allowing him to touch. Quite a sweet moment. Maybe more like the way he would touch his wife's leg as they drive to a romantic meal.

There was a calm about the moment. Ana was non-stop chatterbox and full of information and instructions and energy as we sat back in our seats, relaxed. I with his cock in my hand, aching and throbbing as I wanked him slowly up and down and up and down and he looked at my legs and up my dress to my white and every dampening panties loving the soft feel of my bare young legs gripped in his strong old married hand.

It felt like a dream scene. Watching the pre-cum start to fizz on the tip of his cock and feeling the tingles between my legs interspersed with Ana's voice. And then, as if scripted, she started to close the conversation.

Something came over me that we should all close the conversation this way. That made me gush in my panties even more. I actually needed to be taken there and then. I wouldn't have said no if he had smashed me into the car dash board. But, well maybe one day, maybe him, or now, who knows.

And I think he too sensed the moment was arriving as I wanked him with the same hand which made him cum in the Student Bar. He could feel that moment when the motion moves from playfully teasing a big hard cock between tight fingers to intently controlling it through to emptying mode. His breathing and trembling knew it. His focus on not alerting Ana to this impromptu car wank knew it.

And the more Ana used her voice and words to draw the conversation to an end the more I used my fingers and grip and palm and energy of my forearm to bring his cock to a conclusion. She was using up her last words of the conversation to bring to a close her call with him for now and I was using up the last strokes of my wrist action to empty his cock of all those drops of married cum.

And he arched back into the car seat as she said she would see him later, and he wriggled a little as my wanking hand decided to send him back to his wife empty of cum.

We couldn't have timed it more perfectly if we tried. We couldn't have written a mathematical formula so precise as the moment she ended the conversation saying 'I love you' and he replied, ' I love you' as my final cockstroke pulled his hardness back to fire cum shots into the air.

Like a multi-directional fireworks display celebration of cum as they each said, 'I love you'. His gasps almost unable to be silenced as I wanked him empty, listening to the love in his wife's voice.

If I had touched my pussy even for a nanosecond, I would have cum myself. My panties felt like I had pee'd myself, they were so wet.

His cum was everywhere. I remembered how much he gave me that night in the student bar and he simply repeated the gift now. Cum on my hand, my fingers, the seat, his trousers, the steering wheel and even some on the dash.

Holy shit I gasp with a breathless whisper as I notice some cum dripping down her name on the car screen, Ana with her husband's cum dripping down over her name, all thanks to me.

The call ended with a beep, but the tension in the car lingered, thick and silent. Jack eased his tense hands on the steering wheel, his chest rising and falling faster than he probably realized, eyes fixed straight ahead as if he was piecing together everything that had just unravelled.

I took a slow breath, letting myself settle back into my body, re-grounding myself in the present moment, though every part of me was still tingling. I felt him watching me from the corner of his eye like he was trying to gauge what I was thinking, hoping I’d say something to break the silence, to give him some reassurance that everything was fine. But I didn’t give him that. I just smiled, slow and easy, as if nothing unusual had happened like I hadn’t just peeled back the layers of his life with a single phone call.

The car engine was still humming, a noise that brought me back into the real-life moment of car park wanking. I turned to him and offered a polite “thank you for the lift, Jack” letting his real name hang in the air like a secret I’d just uncovered. “Thank you, Jack,” I said, cool and calm. His eyes widened, searching my face, trying to read any trace of anger or accusation, anything that might let him know what I was thinking. But I kept my expression light, leaving him in the dark.

With that same relaxed smile, I slipped out of the car, moving to the back to gather my grocery bags. I felt his eyes on me the whole time, clinging to me as though he’d lost his anchor, desperately hoping I’d give him a hint of what was on my mind. I reached into the back, taking my time to lift each bag, watching him lean over the passenger seat, his hand gripping the edge of the leather, looking completely undone.

“Wait,” he said, his voice low and hesitant, breaking through the silence. “Can I… can I see you again?”

I looked up at him, letting the question linger between us, and watched the subtle flash of hope that softened his face. I knew what he wanted, and that knowledge ricochet through me, giving me a thrill I had now become addicted to. This wasn’t about romance, not about him wanting me as some young conquest. This was about power—my power over him.

I shrugged a non-committal gesture, my 'maybe style' that I knew would drive him wild, leaving him in that aching space between hope and fear. I could see the desperation in his eyes, the way his fingers dug into the seat, trying to keep his cool but coming up short. It was like he was holding his breath, waiting for my response as if it were the answer to everything.

“Maybe,” I said softly, tilting my head just a little as I studied him, letting the word roll off my lips as casually as I could. I watched his face fall a little, he was clinging to any scrap I offered, and I knew it. I liked it.

I saw the way he searched my face, hoping for something more, waiting for me to tell him that I’d be there, that I wanted him as much as he clearly wanted me. But I kept my smile gentle and simple girl next door, just enough to leave him guessing, to leave him reaching for something I hadn’t quite given him.

His voice dropped lower, softer, almost pleading. “I… I had a great time today. Really.” He looked down, then back up, his expression a mix of longing and uncertainty. “I… I thought about you, after that night. More than I thought I would.”

I held his gaze, letting him feel the weight of the silence, and watched the realization wash over him—that he was the one who wanted, that he was waiting on me, hoping that I’d decide he was worth my time.

Then, I lifted my bags as I gave him one last smile. “Thanks for the ride, Jack,” I said, letting his name slide out one more time, knowing exactly what it would do to him.

As I walked down the street, my bags swinging at my side, I felt that thrill ripple through me, a new insane pleasure and satisfaction at knowing I held all the cards. I could see him again, or I could leave him there, trapped in that empty longing.

That power, that control—nothing I’d felt before came close to the way it shuddered through my soul right now.