Bred in a Car

He had a mullet and a Suzuki Samurai – if that tells you anything.

It was years ago, right around this time of the season. There was a park, or really an outdoor athletic facility that consisted of 42 baseball fields, which got converted into football fields in fall. Lots of intramural play happened here, but during the weekdays, it was nothing more than a cruising ground.

There were “roads” that took you to whichever area of the park had the field you were looking for. Since multiple cars would show up to carry the amateur athletes, there were just places to park – whether to play or when I’d show up, to score dick. When there was sporting shit, there were tons of cars. When it was cruising, usually only a dozen or so were there – depending on day or evening.

On this cold afternoon, you could count the cars on one hand. His being one. Mine being one. I went to this park quite often and had a usual routine. I’d scout out a site to park my car and see others driving around and they’d come check me out. It seemed to make more sense than trying sync cars as they continued to drive and drive. I used the same technique at a bookstore or bar. It’s not that I thought they should all come to me – that I’m that hot – it’s that if one is stationery it just makes it easier to connect.

He pulled up next to me. Backed in even. I was that way too. It made it easier to see who was approaching, be it either a potential trick, or the law. There was the requisite nodding of the head to acknowledge each other and then the rolling down of the windows to make chit-chat in the ever-dropping temperatures. I was invited over. I accepted.

Chat lead to dirty chat. That led to I’ll show you mine, you show me yours. That invariable led to his hand on the back of my head pushing me down into his lap. I gave little, if any resistance. No surprise.

He had a nice body, a great face and a nice 7.5” dick. Thin, but still more than a mouthful. As it turns out, it fit nicely there – among other places. His hand still at my head, he used the leverage to hold me down to push up his hips. I met his thrusts, not that he was giving me much of a choice. Maybe he got off on the scene, I did, but in reality I had no intention of going anywhere.

Considering our surroundings, I was surprised at the turn of events. Yes, my pants were open and down so I could play with myself. So were his – but so I could play with himself.

For the life of me I have no idea how it happened. Sun had set so it was dark. This guy had me recline my seat as far back as it would go and somehow he got me on my belly. If you’ve been in a Samurai, they aren’t the easiest things to maneuver in. The gear shift is on the floor, neither of our pants were fully off, but before I knew it, he was on top of me pushing his 7.5” into my ass.

I didn’t try to stop him.

But in the back of my mind, I knew we were now facing away from any one who might approach. The car was still facing forward, but my ass was facing out and my face looking out the back window.

It wasn’t a long fuck, but longer than you might think in that situation. 10 minutes maybe. It was hard. He was hard on me. The situation kind of lent itself to that. This was no, ‘how does that feel’ kind of encounter. This was, ‘I’m gonna fuck the hell out of that hole and flood that ass’.

…and that is exactly what he did.

Violent movements in and out of me until he just stopped. No words. No sounds. He just stopped moving and let it go into me – all his white liquid.

Without a word he pulled out and rolled over to his drivers seat. And what he did next was priceless: as I was trying to get myself together, he reached over and opened my door. He was done with me. In every way.