Wet Front Seat

Is there such a thing as perfection? Nothing in this world can ever be perfect, can it? People especially. There's no such thing as the perfect sexy body. No one is the perfect fuck. You might have a perfect day or a maybe even perfect sex. But those are moments. They pass. True perfection is just an ideal, it can't exist in the real world.

Or can it?

I'll call my lover Valentina. She's a raven-haired, feisty Celtic princess with a laser wit, wicked smile, hot, slim bod, and doesn't suffer fools. If you're not a fool, she might speak to you, and if she finds you to her liking you might be allowed to have a longer conversation. If you get invited back for any more that, you're in a very small, very select group of men. Count yourself lucky.

I know I do.

We've been together for a few months and still getting to know each others' bodies. She loves being stroked all over and her firm tits are sensitive but not overly so. She's getting to know her way around my cock, finding its pleasure points and learning how to edge me by taking me to the brink of cumming and then holding off, letting it ebb away, then bringing my orgasm back again, over and over, until I'm begging her to let me cum.

We usually meet in hotels, but our relationship is more than just sex. One day last week I said to her I wanted to go for a long walk in the Surrey Hills, stop for lunch at a pub, and then get back to our (different) homes before either of our families realised anything was up.

In the back of my mind was the possibility that we might find ourselves alone in the deep woods, with not a soul around, some very convenient foliage nearby, and the irresistible urge to rip each other's clothes off. And yet, that wasn't plan. The plan was a walk. And lunch. A romantic afternoon in the gorgeous forest.

And then it rained. Well, in fairness it had been threatening all the way as we drove down from London, but it was only when we got to the car park in the nature reserve that it began coming down in sheets.

'It'll pass,' I said, hoping not to sound too foolish. Some hope. It was April. The forecast had said scattered showers. It was more like Bangalore in monsoon.

We waited. And waited. At one point a couple ran from the forest soaked to their skins, dove into their car, and drove away. That left us as the only vehicle. Probably for miles.

There was only one thing for it. I put my hand on her thigh and let it sweep up towards her tits then turned and kissed her mouth, then her neck, and then her ear...

'There's not another soul on earth,' I whispered, 'who knows where we are right now.'

She laughed. 'That's a very romantic thought.'

Encouraged by her response, I let my hand go to her breasts, feeling for her already hard nipples and giving them a tweak.

'But there's no way I'm going to fuck in a car.'

'Cool. There's got to be some hotels around here.'

Rearranging my now very hard cock down in my jeans, I got out my phone and started looking for a hotel.

'Looks painful,' she laughed. Then ran her fingernails up and down it.

'That's not going to help.'

Not that it stopped her. I'd located the first of the hotels and her nails were making it difficult to concentrate.

'Shit, I hadn't thought of that,' I said. 'These are country hotels. Not like the ones in the city where they'll rent you a room for the day. Like with this one, check-in time isn't til three.'

'One of them must do it.'

I checked others, They were all the same. 'What's with these people, don't they realise they're missing out on the whole infidelitous couples market? Or do they not fuck each others' wives out here in the boonies?'

'I thought it was all they did out here.'

'But where?'

Instead of answering my question, she began unbuttoning my jeans.

'I thought you said --'

She pulled it out and began stroking. 'I said I wouldn't fuck you.'

And then she leaned over and took me in her mouth, just the tip at first, rolling her tongue around it and flicking my frenulum.

The car windows had long since steamed up so there was no chance of anyone seeing. I could sit back, relax and enjoy being given head in a car like a teenager.

As much as I was enjoying it, I knew Valentina would want to be played with too. She was wearing a skirt and what women called 'sensible' tights (but which I always found stragely sexy) and without any complaint from her I hunted down the waistband and began to tug. She obliged by lifting her ass and in a single sweep the hose and her knickers were down below her knees.

My lover moaned as my fingers found her already wet - and, I have to point out, almost hairless - pussy, and I began to run my middle finger from the bottom to the top, pausing each time to go around her clit once or twice. I added a second finger, and then a third, trying to stimulate as much of her vulva as I could with every sweep of my hand.

Whether she needed to come up for air, or to spend a few moments just enjoying her own pleasure, I found Valentina's lips on mine. I could taste my pre-cum on her tongue - salty and erotic.

'If I tip the seat right back,' I said.

'Then what?'

'You could lay back, or lean over.'

'Didn't I say --'

'But baby I need you, I need to feel my cock in your perfect pussy.'

Because it was true. Valentina has a gorgeous, fit body, but one of the many extraordinary things about her is that she has something that can't exist, but does -- she has a perfect pussy.

And, needless to say, I love fucking her.

'We're not teenagers.'

'Let's pretend we are.'

I was sure she was going to turn me down. But then the seat back dropped ninety degrees. She'd found the handle. She laughed as she lay back onto it.

'So are you going to fuck me then, or what?'

I dropped my jeans and got on top. I massaged her clit on the way in to ease entry - I'm a little wider than the average. Okay, a lot wider.

'Go slow,' she whispered.

It was the best approach anyway, savouring every millisecond of entry to that perfect pud. Nudging a bit further, then a bit further, rocking slowly back and forth, stretching her out, until I was past a certain point when she grabbed my waist and pulled me in with a loud gasp.

Deep inside her I enjoy every millimetre of that glorious hole - tight yet yielding, gliding but not sloppy, somehow touching and stimulating every nerve-ending in my cock at the same time.

I pulled her ankles onto my shoulders - her feet pressing on the car roof - so I could sink even deeper, filling her completely.

Something about the angle must have worked for, because the next thing I knew she was cumming - hard and fast.

'Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,' she commanded, tapping me on the back to increase the tempo. I heard her wail building in her throat. I pumped faster, harder, faster, harder, and she gripped my arms she came, her mouth open in a long cry of ecstacy. It was too much for me too, I couldn't hold off a second longer, and I shot my load deep, deep into her.

When I orgasm it's like electric bolts shooting through me and I let them flow, feeling the charge down to the tips of my fingers and toes.

We lay for a few minutes without moving, enjoying the extra intimacy of being in this tiny space inside a cavernous forest, with the rain still hammering down around us.

When finally I pulled out and we both sat up I noticed to my horror a huge patch on the velour seats. It wasn't only soaking wet outside, it was soaking wet inside, too.

'That's why I don't fuck in cars,' she laughed. 'Explain that when you get home.'

'I'll think of something. Big Mac Secret Sauce, maybe.'

'Shall I call you Mac from now on?'

'Very funny. Lunch?'

'So long as it's not Maccy D.'

'I think you deserve better. That was a solid Burger King.'

It earned me a punch on the shoulder.

I started the car. As we drove off, the rain began to clear.