Scottsdale Thunder Head

It was a dark and stormy evening.

Perhaps I can blame my wildly unusual behavior on the weather. In Scottsdale, dark and stormy evenings are far from normal. When they do occur they remind me of my midwestern youth. Maybe the storm triggered a sense of teenage nostalgia?

The question flitted through my brain as I continued to blow the near stranger in his car. But I didn't dwell on it. My pussy was soaked, wetter than it had been for a long time, and I focused on sucking that new cock.

The evening started as an innocent girls night out. Some clouds building on the western horizon, typical of our monsoon season, were of no real concern as I got out of my Uber at the restaurant.

My husband of 17 years had just left town with our teenage son to visit former neighbors for the weekend in Texas. We have a great marriage. We dated in college and married soon after graduation. A few years later came our only child. We both work hard at life, parenthood, and our careers.

We have sex 2-3 times a week and yes, being honest, we've lost a bit of the spark. As far as I knew neither of us has ever cheated. Life was good!

So why was I bent over the center console of a strange man's car, my spit dripping down his thick shaft, puddling in my hand that was busy massaging his ball sack? A low, rolling thunder passed over the empty parking lot. I noticed it, since it was a strange occurrence, but only for a split second. I had a blowjob I desperately wanted to bring to a hot, salty conclusion.

My name is Mabelle, after my grandmother, but I go by Mae. I'm 39 years old and work as a fitness instructor. Given my profession, my body is tight.

I'm good looking, with big blue eyes and full lips. A petite brunette, 5'4", small in the chest, but with great arms, a flat stomach, and shapely legs. According to my husband, past boyfriends, and my fitness friends, I have an amazing ass. Not fat, but bubbly and firm.

Let me say I look good in yoga pants. Maybe that is why my fitness classes seemed to attract a healthy percentage of men. My ass turns heads.

Is that what drew this guy to me? No doubt it helped. Or was I an easy target? Could he tell I subconsciously wanted a spicy evening? All I know is my white denim skirt was rocking.

Now it was hiked up around my hips, not hiding anything, but at the restaurant I think it fit just right. I'm sure it was my ass that did it, as he was now paying it a lot of attention.

His right hand was alternating between rubbing, spanking, and squeezing my taught butt cheeks. His left hand gripped my ponytail, not aggressively yet, not fucking my mouth, more guiding me. But I could feel a little more force in his guidance as the pace quickened. I really didn't think much about the quick flash of lightning that lit up his Cadillac, for just at that moment, just as my tongue edged the sensitive underside of the head of his hot, throbbing cock, his hand left my ass, slipped under my thong, and two fingers penetrated my dripping pussy.

I often go out for dinner and drinks with my fitness friends. We do garner attention, but usually it is focused on my friends. They are younger, blond, with fuller figures, and two of them are actually models. We have fun, occasionally not-so-innocent fun, but like I said, I've always steered clear of any debauchery.

I met my two girlfriends at 7pm and the restaurant was happening. We couldn't find space at the bar, but three guys had a high-top table with three empty seats, so my friend Lindsay (model gorgeous) asked if we could join the guys. They didn't refuse.

I was wearing a black tank top, a short white jean skirt, and black wedges. It's hot in Arizona in August! So, while I guess you could say I was showing a lot of skin, and I was showing off my arms and legs and ass, it was very ordinary for the scene.

Lindsay, for example, had a deep diving halter top that showed her ample cleavage and flat stomach. Milly was showing at least half her tits, all side-boob, with a short red leather skirt. We all looked good. But I wasn't "asking for it" or anything.

The restaurant's garage-style doors were open, ceiling fans turning, misters misting, and with the clouds building up the valley, it really was a beautiful sunset. The energy was high. I told the other girls to take the seats and I'd go fetch the first round. And then it started to go sideways.

Of course, as you know, it ended up quite sideways, as I was now getting finger fucked while sucking a near-stranger's cock, my throat working overtime, bent over the center console of his Escalade.

All of the guys were nice looking, but none of them were panty-dropping studs. Ethan, the guy I would end up blowing, had a sweet smile. He got up from his stool and offered it to me, saying that he would like to buy our drinks.

He was impeccably dressed. Designer clothes, a nice Rolex, Gucci sneakers. Yeah, I noticed. My husband is a great guy, but a t-shirt, cargo shorts, flip flops type of guy. I didn't care about money, or at least I thought I didn't. Ethan did look nice.

"No thanks, Ethan. We can get our own drinks. Don't want to send any wrong signals," I said.

"I understand, but please allow me. I can't allow you three beautiful women to join our table without buying you a drink. No mixed signals. You're brightening up our night, and a drink on us is just the polite thing to do."

My friends, never ones to happily pull out their credit cards, voiced their approval. So I acquiesced. One drink became two. Followed by a third with some tapas.

The restaurant kept up the mood, and we all sat and ate and drank and talked. We spoke of our lives and our families. Like us, the guys were married. Ethan's wife was home with the kids. It seemed very safe, and as the drinks flowed, the conversation turned more raunchy.

Talking about sex is exciting and everyone was enjoying it. I was particularly enjoying Ethan's attention. I was sitting next to him and he was into me.

Like I said, I'm an attractive woman, but when I'm out with my girlfriends, my younger, blond, sexier girlfriends, the attention is rarely focused on me. So yeah, I enjoyed it, including the sexy questions and answers. I enjoyed the flirting. And then he stunned me.

"Does your husband still get you wet?" he asked quietly, just loud enough for me to hear in the pulsing restaurant.

I didn't immediately think the question crossed the line. After all, we had been talking about our sex lives. But mostly it had been funny anecdotes. That question was like a splash of cold water.

Some time passed as it sunk in and I think he knew it had hit its intended target...bullseye. Because the fact is the answer was no. Sure, I had an active sex life, and I almost always reached orgasm, but we'd get it on with spit or lube. My pussy just wouldn't get that wet anymore. Which I think is normal. We'd been together almost 20 years!

After far too long a pause, I whispered "Yes." But he knew the truth.

"Great." he said. "Good for you. I think that's pretty rare."

The conversation continued. But the seed had been planted. I guess at this point in the evening I really wasn't myself. I could pass as being myself to my friends, but my thoughts were jumbled.

Still, I was ready to Uber home with my friend Lindsay (we lived a few blocks from each other), no harm no foul. But the energy of the evening was not to be denied, and his timing was perfect.

Just as the skies opened up and it started to rain, I felt his hand on my knee. We made eye contact and he smiled, a sweet smile, but also with a mischievous twist. He rubbed up my leg a few inches, settling his hand on my thigh, and I smiled back.

Now, as he pushed my head down with more force on his slick cock, almost making me gag, I flashed back to that smile, his recent question, his hand on my thigh. I realized my pussy had been wet since that moment.

"I have to get home," announced Lindsay, a few minutes later. "Gotta teach a 7am hot yoga class! Sorry to bust up this fun night. Mae, want to grab an Uber?"

"No need," butted in Ethan. "I live just a bit from you two and I'm sober enough. Let me drive you home."

I was about to decline, unsure of what control I had over myself, when Lindsay responded, "Great! Saves us some money. Thanks Ethan."

We said our goodbyes. Ethan left, and, ever polite given the pouring rain, ran to get his car and pulled it up under the restaurant awning. Lindsay, being the first stop, got in the back seat. I was in the passenger seat as we left Old Town, heading north on Scottsdale Road.

I didn't participate much in the small talk, thinking over the evening and my feelings and what might happen after we dropped Lindsay off. I wanted to be sure. So I made up my mind.

In a blink of the eye Lindsay said goodbye, hopped out of the car, and Ethan and I were alone.

"I have had an amazing evening hanging out with you, Mae," said Ethan, as he drove away from Lindsay's house. "Would you like to have another drink and continue our conversation?"

"I'm not going to fuck you, Ethan," I blurted out. "I just wouldn't be able to live with myself."

He sighed. "I understand. Obviously, I'm extremely attracted to you and yes, disappointed, but I respect your decision."

I leaned over the center console and put my hand in his lap, over what I could feel to be a quickly stiffening dick. I whispered in his ear, "I will, however, suck you off. I think I could live with that. Given that offer, would you still be disappointed?" I squeezed his dick and licked his ear and he almost drove off the road.

He stammered, "Ahh, no, no, that would be..would be...totally acceptable."

He turned off the main road and pulled around the back of an office building. After a brief scan of the surroundings he parked in a dark corner of a deserted parking lot. Still raining, we had all the cover in the world. I unzipped his pants and unbuckled his button and belt, and with a little help pulled his slacks and briefs out from under him.

His cock stood hard and proud. It wasn't a monster cock, but I didn't care. It was a different cock than my husbands, and I inspected it in the dim cabin light of the Caddy. The devil in me wanted to remember it. A slight bend to his left. A large vein on the right side. A tasty looking purplish head.

I stroked him for a few strokes, but really didn't want much fondling or kissing. I got up on my knees, bent over the console, and took him in my mouth.

For the first few minutes I sucked his dick I focused on the head, at times licking the sides of the shaft to get it slick with spit. I massaged his balls. He didn't talk much, just breathed heavily, and then pulled my skirt up to my waist, so my ass and thong were exposed. I wanted him to remember this blowjob. Heck, I wanted to remember it too.

I loved giving head and it felt good to have a near-stranger's dick in my mouth. Naughty, for sure. But so good, which surprised me. The heat of his cock. The rigidity. He was as hard as possible. I was determined to milk out a huge load. When I suck off my husband he cums pretty hard, but I was hopeful this would be a major cum guzzling.

After several minutes I started taking him deeper into my mouth, deep throating him to the hilt. And then coming up and sucking and licking on his cockhead. The windows were steamed. The rain was slowing. The thunder struck while I sucked him hard and massaged his balls. I was in a good head bobbing rhythm.

He was playing with my ass and I liked it. I had decided I was going to suck him off and not fuck him, but I didn't think it through regarding his pleasuring of me. Just when lightning briefly awoke me from my dick sucking trance, he slipped fingers into my wet pussy.

My blowjob had a fair amount of slurping, but my pussy was so sopping the sound that dominated the cabin was a squishing sound every time he thrust his fingers inside me.

I hadn't planned on cumming, but when he started to brush my clit with his fingers that weren't plunging into my hole, I knew it was going to happen. I was just fired up, so I didn't take much. I stopped my sucking and slowly jerked his slick dick, while I focused on his fingers.

I started bucking my hips harder and he finger fucked me with all the pace he could muster. I stopped stroking his dick as I came with a loud moan. It was an immense, wave-like orgasm, starting in my pussy, and spreading from my head to my toes.

I was shaking for a good 30 seconds, relishing every bit of it, and as the wave crashed and then subsided, I twisted my head and looked up at him and said, "That was amazing. Now I want to swallow your load. Fuck my face until you can't hold it anymore."

I went back to sucking his dick, taking him deep, and rubbing his balls. He grabbed my ponytail with more force and I encouraged him with my moaning and head bobbing pace. He revved up, bucking his hips and more aggressively pushing my head. With his other hand he slapped my ass pretty hard. I liked it let me know by sucking him harder. A couple more spanks and he was getting close.

I could feel his cock thicken in my mouth. I gave his balls just a little tug and sucked him as hard and fast as I could. He screamed into the dark and stormy night and let loose a torrent of hot, sticky cum. I noted the taste, different from what I was used to, and swallowed it down. Jet after jet hit my throat until he was finally spent.

I didn't spill a drop, or so I thought. When I pulled off his softening dick he put the light on in the cabin. A small dollop of cum sat on the left side of his dick. "Lick that up, slut," he said to me. I didn't like it, but I did what I was told, and gave him a little extra cleaning to be sure there was no evidence left behind.

I was a slut tonight, I thought. After collecting himself he turned gentlemanly again. He drove me home and dropped me off, saying it was a night he would never forget, and asking if it would be possible to see each other again. I took his number but didn't give him mine.

I felt like it was a one-time thing. But I guess I don't know what might happen the next time a storm blows through the valley.