Paring Lot Performance

The beat from within the club still pounds in our ears as we walk out the front door toward the car. Our arms around one another’s waists, we press our sides together as we go, feeling the warmth of each other’s bodies in the cool night air.

The parking lot outside the club is large, and not well lit. We arrived late, and parked far from the entrance to the club. We whisper to one another as we approach the car, giggling at nothing more than our pleasure in being together.

At first, we can’t even see my car, but then we spot it. A large van has parked between it and the club, partially obstructing the view to - and from - the door. I lead you to the passenger’s door, reach to unlock it, but you put your hand on mine. I turn to look at you, and you return my gaze, deep and intent.

My arms wrap around your waist, yours around my neck as we kiss long and hard. I can feel your soft breasts pressing against my chest as we embrace.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper, but you put a finger to my lips to silence me. You turn your head slowly from side to side, saying no. Again, you press your lips to mine, but now your hands begin to wander. Down my shoulders you move, then lower, one hand on my back, the other moving around my waist to my stomach. That hand slides up between us, caressing my chest, then down again, past my belt.

You hold me in your hand, feeling me through my slacks. I am hard in your grip, and you press against me, making me harder. My own hands had been moving up and down your back, but now they rest on your hips, forgotten for the moment. You stare deeply into my eyes as you touch me, your intentions clear. I am weakened by your firm caress, and my eyes flutter closed as I surrender to your hand, your eyes, your will.

Your other hand returns to my neck, drawing my face to yours. Again we kiss, our lips parting as your tongue slides into my mouth. You lean into me, crushing your hand and its rigid contents between our bodies as you push me back against the van.

Your lips leave mine, moving down to my throat. You nip gently at my neck, causing me to jump slightly, more in surprise than from any pain. Your fingers open another button of my raw silk shirt, then two, and you part the material to touch your lips to my chest. All this time, you continue to hold me in your other hand, your clutch cementing your control over me and the situation.

Your free hand slips into my shirt, and your fingertips find my nipples. They are already hard, perhaps from the cold night air, but you think otherwise. You roll one of them between your thumb and forefinger, tugging and twisting gently. Then I feel a sudden jolt as you squeeze tight, pinching down on my tender flesh. A muffled cry escapes my lips as your red nails bite into me. You smile to yourself, pleased with my reaction.

Slowly, you sink to your knees before me, cupping both hands to the heat you’ve created at my crotch. You work me with your hands, then rise to press your face against the eager tool still hidden within my trousers. I can feel the warmth of your breath through the fabric as your cheek caresses me. I push my hips forward slightly to meet you.

Then your hands are at my belt, releasing the buckle and unbuttoning my slacks. You slide one hand up inside my shirt, then down into my pants, where you find me covered by the fine silk of the boxers you gave me not many days ago. You trace my length under the smooth material before snaking your fingers through the fly to touch my skin.

A moment later, you have maneuvered my rigid member to protrude from the opening in the boxers. A chill runs up my spine as you expose my flesh to the cool night. You encircle me with the fingers of one hand, teasing along the underside with your thumb. Your other hand creeps back into my pants to cup my testicles, still encased in the silk. You stroke me once, then twice, from head to root, before touching your lips gently to my tip. Your tongue darts out to taste the droplet of sticky-salty fluid, which has already escaped me in my excitement.

And suddenly, your mouth envelopes my swollen head, your lips clamping tight just below the corona. The hand holding my rod slides up to your lips, then back down, drawing your saliva along my length. Your tongue teases my opening as you suck, hard, drawing even more blood into my already throbbing organ. You begin to stroke me in earnest, kneading my balls in tempo with your motion. My head rolls back, eyes closed, face turned up to the starry night.

Instinctively, I begin to move my hips in the rhythm you have established, bringing my hands to your head. I gently run my fingers through your soft hair as you devour me. Then I can no longer control myself. My hands take a firmer hold of your head as my excitement builds, and my thrusting becomes more insistent.

But this is not what you want. Drawing me deeper into your mouth, you move your hands from my genitals. I feel you take my wrists firmly, though your lips never stray from their work. You place my hands at my side, then gently but sternly push my hips back flat against the side of the van. I understand your signal, and remain as you have placed me while you direct the action.

I feel your hands on my thighs, massaging deeply as you slide them down my legs. Then they disappear for a moment. Your head continues to move slowly up and down upon my erection, as your hands dip into your purse. They emerge, and a torn foil wrapper falls to the ground. Both hands return to my cock, one stroking once more, the other hovering nearby, clutching something inside.

You rock back to sit on you heels, releasing my wet member to bob before you in the cool air. A string of saliva connects us for an instant as you pull away. Your hands move to the swollen purple head of my cock, grasping it firmly, then rolling the latex sheath back along my rigid length. Holding me by the root with one hand, you stroke me through the condom with the other, a few more seconds of pleasure before you calmly tuck me back inside my boxer shorts.

I am trembling in frustration, leaning back on the van, and I don’t notice you turn to press your back against my legs. You begin to stand, your weight pushing against me. I come to my senses as your back rubs against my now doubly-encased rod, and I place my hands upon your rising shoulders.

When you have risen completely to your feet, you lean into me. You wriggle your hips, causing my erection to shift within my shorts, now pointing straight upwards to be cradled between the smooth globes of your firm ass. You draw my hands from your shoulders, wrapping my arms around your waist. Your turn your head, tipping your face up to meet mine, and we kiss once again.

Your lips are wet and hot and raw from the abortive blowjob, and this excites me more. I pull you back against me, pressing my crotch into your ass. Even through the linen of your short black skirt, you can feel my organ straining for release. Our tongues meet, dancing together within the steamy confines of our kiss.

Knowing that it is now my turn to please you, I run my hands over the soft knit of your deep purple sweater. It is a long-sleeve turtleneck, but it’s cropped short at the waist. The wool clings tight to your feminine curves, revealing as much as concealing your figure. My hands climb to cup your breasts. I gently knead your soft flesh, feeling the strange-sexy sliding of the soft wool of your sweater over the smooth satin of the bra beneath it. Your nipples swell, and I can feel the tips rising through the material. I squeeze them more firmly, taking the nipples between thumbs and forefingers and pulling them up and out. My lips move to your ear as I press your breasts together, emphasizing your cleavage. I exhale deeply into your ear as I trace its curve with the tip of my tongue. You shiver and bring your hand up to caress the back of my neck as I nuzzle you.

Your upraised arm causes the hem of your sweater to climb, which I interpret as an invitation. I quickly slide one hand under the wool and up to your breast, which is now drawn tight by your raised arm. My fingers meet the delicate lace of your bra, but they have no patience for such finery now. I catch the edges of your bra-cup with my fingertips and pull down, releasing the soft flesh within. Now my fingers are on the skin of your nipple, gently teasing, turning, pinching the tender aureole.

My other hand rests flat on your smooth belly, the tip of the thumb flirting with your navel. Now it is my turn to nip at the silky skin of your neck, lightly drawing my front teeth along the hairline behind your ear. I release your uncovered breast, and move my fingers to the other, still covered in lace. I hold it in my palm, feeling within the satin your soft, warm flesh capped with the hardened tip. I close my hand upon you, my fingers pressing into your delicate breast through the fabric.

Eager to feel my hand against your skin, you reach to free the still-covered breast. But my hand catches yours, holding it away long enough for you realize that I want that one to remain covered. You moan softly in frustration, but acquiesce to me in this one matter.

I put my hands on your hips now, and push you away from my body. At my urging, you take a half-step forward to rest your hands on the hood of my car. Now you stand, your back to me, bent slightly at the waist to lean against the vehicle, almost as if I were about to arrest you rather than make love to you. I take a moment to run my eyes up and down your lush figure, pausing to especially enjoy this view of your heart-shaped butt.

I step forward, and you can feel the heat of my body against yours. I bend over your back, running my hands down your arms to your wrists. Once again you feel my hardness against the crease of your ass, and you push back into me, reminding me of my own arousal. I draw my hands back up your arms, caressing your shoulders, your underarms, your sides, your hips. I catch the hem of your sweater with my fingertips, and push it up to the lower edge of your bra. I smile at the sight of the lavender silk against the smooth skin of your back, then lower lips to the point where these two lovely textures meet.

I run my tongue along the skin at the edge of your bra, first around your ribs to the left, then to the right. Then I return to the center, where the arch of your back reveals the line of your spine. Touching my tongue to that line, I draw it downward, tracing your backbone to the waistband of your skirt. I move my lips across the small of your back, savoring the warmth and texture of your skin.

You notice suddenly that my hands have crept back up under your sweater to your breasts. The feeling of one palm against bare flesh while the other is shielded by satin and lace causes you to fidget in a last, feeble attempt to free the imprisoned breast. But as you do so, I clamp my hands down upon your flesh, holding each cup in its present position, either up or down. You realize you have no choice but to endure this awkward-but-sexy state of near-undress.

But then my hands abandon your soft globes, moving down along your stomach, past your hips, to rest on your thighs, at the hem of your black linen skirt. I spread my fingers across the flesh of your outer thighs as I sink to my knees. As I lower myself down, I press my face into your luscious ass, dragging my mouth and nose along the cleavage covered by black linen. Passing the fullest point, I whip my head quickly to the right, giving you a playful nip on the cheek. Startled, you flinch and squeak, then sigh as you lower your face to rest against the cool metal of the car.

Now I am at the hem of your skirt, and you can feel my hot, moist breath along the flesh of your inner thighs. I run my hands down your bare legs to your thighs, grasping your ankles. Gently, I pull them outwards, and you take the hint, moving your feet apart and granting me access between your hot thighs.

You feel my lips and tongue on the inner surface of your left thigh, kissing, licking, sucking at your creamy skin. Slowly upward I creep, until I meet the hem of your skirt. Then I am at your right thigh, just above the knee, to repeat the process there. Your skin has a faint salty taste, from our exertion on the dance floor, and this too excites me.

Once again, I am at the hem of your black linen skirt, and now I have nowhere to go but upward. The skirt is slit a few inches up the back, and I explore this opening with my nose and mouth as I bring my hands back up your thighs, sliding them under the linen. I push them further up your hips, dragging the skirt along as I go. I follow the skirt as it rises, my tongue caressing the newly-revealed flesh. You moan softly and spread your legs just a bit further.

I push the skirt over the curve of your buttocks, where it stays, and pause for a moment to admire your rounded globes in the moonlight. With my tips of my thumbs, I trace the curves where cheeks and thighs meet, and brush across the lavender satin of the French-cut panties, which match the bra. I run my hands along the leg openings to the points of your hips, just dipping my fingertips under the fabric. I take the waistband at each side in hand, and you draw your knees together, thinking I am ready to remove your panties. But not yet, lover, not yet.

Instead, I thrust my hands upward, pulling the material tight between your cheeks. Then my lips are upon you, sucking, licking, biting at the flesh of your ass. The panties make you squirm, the discomfort of their fierce embrace making you keenly aware of your sex and your arousal. I push my face into you, pursuing the satin panties as they are drawn up between your cheeks. Only the taught fabric protects your most tender flesh from my eager mouth.

I move down, between your thighs, my mouth now covering your sex. I press my tongue against the satin, which covers you, and I can feel the heat burning within you. I draw my teeth over lightly over your hidden lips. You shiver and gasp, pressing yourself into my open mouth. Now is the time.

With a single swift movement, I draw your panties to your ankles. I lift your feet one by one to free them from the garment. Your lavender lace disappears into my pocket in a flash, holding your scent for my memories tomorrow.

Now it is you who are exposed to the cool night air. Goose pimples arise on the cheeks of your ass, giving your smooth skin a pebbly texture, which I must feel with my fingers, lips, and tongue. I find myself at the top of your bottom, where your more private cleavage begins. I slowly begin my descent, moving ever deeper into your private spaces, exploring them with my tongue. At the same time, one hand creeps around your hips to your tummy, then begins to slide downward as well. The fingertips trace the edges of the neatly-trimmed tuft that decorates your mons.

You try to pull away as my tongue reaches your rear opening, nervous at this contact. But I do not let you escape, holding your hips firmly. Your scent is rich and earthy, your flavor clean and enticing. I run my tongue over the wrinkled entrance, then gently push the tip inside. You cry out faintly, in surprise, and maybe just a hint of shame. You have never been kissed in this most intimate way, and you are embarrassed to find it so pleasurable. My tongue’s gentle invasion of your tight anus sends waves of pleasure up your spine and down your legs. In a moment, your shyness is forgotten. You press into me and I respond, thrusting my tongue deeper into you. You reach back to hold my head in place while you revel in my worship of your hidden orifice.

At the same time, my fingertips creep further down your mound, through the close-cropped tangle to the very top of your lips. Your flesh is dry and hot to the touch, the lips still closed and holding your juices within. I trap your already-swollen clitoris between my fingers and tease it, gently rolling and squeezing it as I continue my oral assault on your ass. I am careful, however, not to open you just yet, putting that pleasure off just a few moments longer.

You release my head, moving your own hands up to your now-forgotten breasts. At last, you have the opportunity to release the one that had remained imprisoned within your bra. Resting your face against the cool metal of the car hood, you run your fingertips over your breasts. Soon, you are kneading them in a rhythm that matches that of my tongue in your anus. Your eyes closed, you lose yourself in the sensations, sighing unself-consciously. Behind you, I smile to myself, pleased to please you so.

Now my tongue abandons the tight rosette of your anus. I move lower between your legs, and you feel my lips against you. You can tell where I am going, and you arch your back to grant me better access.

I place my mouth over your pussy, my wet lips outside your dry ones. I flatten my tongue and press it against you, cupping your warm sex with it. Then I point my tongue and run it up and down your lips. Slowly at first, then faster, my tongue dances over you from your clitoris to your anus. But by now, you need more than this teasing. It is time for me to open you up.

I press the tip of my tongue against your lips, and in an instant they part. Your rich juices finally escape from within, and my tongue touches the soft, pink flesh of your inside. I push it into you, straining to taste more, and you press back against me. My teeth brush over your clitoris, and you shiver, then rock your hips to move your neglected button to my tongue.

Always eager to follow instruction, I caress your clit with my lips. I suck it into my mouth, feeling it swell as your excitement builds. I touch it gently with the tip of my tongue, then more firmly. Soon, my tongue is flicking rapidly across it. Your hips begin to sway, and your breathing grow faster and more shallow. Your fingers dig into your soft breasts, squeezing them tighter than I would have dared. Waves of pleasure begin to spread outward from your groin as my eager tongue takes you higher.

You can feel your orgasm building, but you need more to get there. You shift your hips, and my tongue is no longer against your clitoris. Now it hovers at the entrance of your pussy. I waste no time before pushing inside, parting your outer lips, then the hidden inner folds, as I press my tongue into you. I spread my jaws wide to let my tongue penetrate you more deeply. You can feel my teeth against your delicate flesh, as I make love to you with my mouth.

I place one hand over your mound, the heel of my palm rolling firmly against your clit, while the other explores the crease of your ass. Now you are subject to a three-headed assault on your most private region. With my tongue deeply inside your pussy, I frantically work your clitoris with one hand while the other discovers your anus once more. It is still wet from my earlier ministrations, and I gently press against it with the tip of my thumb.

By now, your pelvis is rocking feverishly, your back rising and falling as you rush toward your climax. You release your breasts to concentrate on the powerful sensations from below. You thrust one hand back to my head, tangling your fingers in my hair and pulling my face into you, while the other arm lies draped across the hood of the car. You teeter on the edge of climax, desperately struggling to hurl yourself into the abyss of ecstasy. I am there for you, between your thighs, fiercely pushing you toward the brink. Closer and closer we come, and then, somehow, we fall back, losing ground.

Your orgasm slips away.

You pound the hood of the car in frustration. We’ve already gone farther than either of us expected to ever go in so vulnerable a location, but you cannot stop now. Your need is too great, your hunger too strong to be denied.

“Get up,” you hiss at me, sounding at once desperate and commanding. “Put it in me! I need you inside me now!”