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. But it was too naughty. It was too hot. I moaned into his kisses, and I realized that our movements were growing more careless.
We were being too loud. We might be overheard.
"You're going to come for me again," he whispered, working my nipples and grinding his hardness against my thigh. "Come for me," he said, over and over into my ear, our fingers grinding together over my clit and making me feel helpless. I mentally fought back the orgasm that was coming. But I didn't know who I was fighting.
I think I was fighting myself.
My hair was matting at my temples from the effort, until finally I started pumping my hips against his hand and mine. His voice was a sweet whisper of encouragement in the darkness, and it pulled from me every emotion. When I came, this time, I let out a cry, which he stifled by putting his hand over my mouth.
I screamed into the stranger's hand. He smiled and kissed my forehead as I started to calm down. Panting, sweaty, and overwrought, I went limp in his arms. He lifted my wet fingers to my lips and tried to push them into my mouth. I didn't want that, and shook my head, but he whispered, "I want to see you do it. I want to see you suck the juices off of your fingers."
For some reason that I couldn't explain, I wanted what he wanted.
So I sucked them clean, letting the salty taste roll over my tongue.
He seemed pleased. In fact, his pleasure rippled through me so powerfully that I couldn't resist when he took my hand and brought it again to his pants. He was so hard.
He started using my hand to rub himself the way he'd forced me to rub my own clit. I didn't struggle this time. I didn't struggle when he tangled his hand in my hair and brought my mouth to his either. The way he kissed made my knees weak, so I didn't struggle when he started pulling my head down to his neck either, and then to his chest.
But when I realized he was forcing my head into his lap, I did struggle. It was one thing to hide naughty fingers under a coat. It was quite another to give a blow job in a semi-public place. I didn't even know him. But then it hadn't mattered how well I'd known him when I was crying out into his hand moments ago...
Still, I'd let this go too far already. I had to stop it now. "No."
He ignored me, unzipping himself with one hand while his hand firmly fastened at the back of my neck to force me down on his cock. "I helped you get off twice. Now it's my turn."
"Stop!" I hissed, digging into his thighs, denim under my nails.
But he didn't stop. "You're going to suck me, even if I have to make you. But I don't have to make you do it, because you want to."
Oh god. That made me both afraid and ashamed. Then, there it was. He showed me the swollen purple head of his cock. It was thick and rigid and my mouth watered to taste him. "You want to," he said again, more gently, bringing it close to my lips.
Oh, I wanted to taste him so badly that it took all my energy not to slide my lips over the head of him and take him all the way to the back of my throat in one stroke. But I'd already kissed him and let him watch me masturbate—two things I could never tell my boyfriend. I was just starting to come to my senses when the stranger thrust his hips up at my face, his pre-cum smearing on my cheek.
He was right. I did want to. It was just head, I told myself. It wasn't like I was fucking a stranger. I was just sucking him off. And all at once, my resistance faded away. I relented. I just opened my mouth and let him push his cock in. He was clean tasting and hot and hard. He tasted so good that I moaned around his shaft. With my mouth still on him, I knelt in front of him on the floor. Then he draped my coat over me to keep anyone from seeing.
Truthfully, I'd lost the will to care who caught us now.
His grip tightened on my hair to the point that it hurt, guiding my head so that I would suck him just the way he wanted. He looked down at me, and as we passed a streetlight I saw his eyes lock on mine. I knew he could see me, darkness or no, with my mouth held wide open around his shaft.
He let out a quiet groan. "You're a fantastic cock-sucker."
It embarrassed me, made me angry, and excited me. He thrust into my mouth, unmindful of anything but getting off, and his doing that made me crazy. I thought about how I must look to him now. I thought about what I must seem like to him. The kind of girl he must have thought I was...the kind of girl I felt like. I couldn't help myself; I ground against his leg with my pelvis and eventually put my hand back into my panties, wanting to get off again.
He noticed, and startled. Lifting the coat up to look at me, with my mouth full of him, he asked, "This turns you on, doesn't it, baby? Having my cock in your mouth makes you want to come again." He thumped the back of his head lightly against the seat as if I had admitted something intensely pleasurable or tragic. His grip loosened on my hair and his hand stroked my cheek before it returned to the base of my neck. "How many times do you want to come tonight?"
What kind of question was that? I felt like I was on fire. It seemed that the more times I came the more times I wanted to. I was at a desperately slutty point, and at a loss for words, I didn't answer. I just sucked him. But he stopped me. "Answer my question. How many times?"
He couldn't seriously expect an answer! My cheeks flamed, though I didn't even know that I could feel more embarrassment than I already was feeling. Searching for some sort of coherent answer, when all I wanted was to get his cock back into my mouth, I said, "A lot of times."
"Ten times?" he whispered, and his cockhead so near my mouth. It felt like torture that he wouldn't let me suck it!
I gave a small nervous nod.
"Twenty?"
I looked away, feeling like a total nympho.
He leaned forward and chuckled. "Suck me."
