We were recapping our night of clubbing; she was sitting on the hood of her 1963 Mercury Comet at the top of a parking garage, her legs hanging off the edge of the car. I rested my hands on her thighs. While she told me about the songs she hated I inched my hands up further under her skirt, working in toward her sweet spot. I felt up her leg until I got to her pantyline, but I didn't feel panties. I stopped nodding, broke our eye contact and looked down at her legs. When I looked back into her eyes, she was no longer talking: Her mouth was still, in a small smile.
"You've had this secret all night?!" I demanded.
"I've been waiting for you to notice," she said with a grin. "You came so close on the dance floor." I'd been wanting her all night, but now I had to have her. I moved my fingers to her opening, coating my fingertips in her wetness then started rubbing her clit, my finger easily sliding over it. She started grinding against my palm. I did this for a few moments, then pulled my hand away quickly and watched her face; she was flushed and seemed frustrated.
I took the fingers that I played with her with and licked them, staring her straight in the eyes. She licked her lips, them nibbled on them. She leaned forward to kiss me and I felt up her leg generously, not caring if I was putting her pussy on display. I felt the heat of her as she moaned between kisses. I grabbed her ass as my tongue moved into her mouth. I could feel the hot metal of the hood underneath her getting damp.