Chapter 209 - Woman Fulfils A Man's S.e.x.u.a.l Fantasy

I don't know if everyone gets horny when they're driving, but I certainly do. Something about quiet roads at night in the dark and the gentle thrum of the engine… The long, monotonous journey needs some entertainment to break it up, so my mind wanders to a s.e.x fantasy I've had ever since I first passed my driving test: the woman in the black trenchcoat.

It's hot because she's a stranger, and not just any stranger either—one who's been waiting for a guy exactly like me. Hoping I'll drive down this lonely, twisting dark road. A turn off leads to the woods, and that's where she lies in wait. As the car pulls in to the clearing, headlights cutting through the darkness of the night, this enigmatic stranger steps out to catch my attention. I can almost feel the throb of excitement as she realises the car contains exactly the kind of person she's been waiting for: a guy ready to give her what she wants.

She doesn't wave the car down: she doesn't need to. As soon as I see her illuminated in the headlights I slow down, then stop and cut the engine. She's a vision: like a mirage there to greet me on the night drive. Long black trenchcoat, black heels, hair tucked neatly under a black trilby that casts shadows over her eyes, teasing the mystery of who this stranger might be.

Though I never know who she is exactly, there is never a question about what she's there for. In the glow of the car lights, she starts to slowly tease open her trenchcoat, dancing—almost shimmering—as she sways and grinds her h.i.p.s in time to a tune that only she can hear. My heart beats in my throat, blood warming me from lips to crotch. For the first few seconds, I am paralysed—captured in her gaze and unsure how to proceed. At first, I don't approach her. I just watch as she ripples her body, flashing taut t.h.i.g.hs from beneath the coat and a devilish, horny smile from beneath the brim of her hat. She's wearing earrings that brush against her slim neck accentuating her collarbone and cleavage. I can see flashes of red straps at the collar of her coat, and like a horny teenager, my mind wanders inevitably to what she might be wearing underneath.

My c.o.c.k twitches in anticipation. And I know my eagerness won't be misplaced: she's not just inviting me to join her, she's almost commanding. That outfit and those moves and that killer, wicked smile demand that I get out of the car and give her what she wants.

Who am I to argue? I want to devour her. I get out of the car and step into the headlights beside her. God, women always look so stunning in this light: it picks out the warm curves of their skin so beautifully and casts shadows that make me want to explore further. Bury my face in the darkness and worship the parts of her body the light touches. I want to submerge myself under that teasing black trenchcoat and drink in every detail of the body it's almost revealing.

She doesn't touch me—not yet—but walks slowly back to the car. I'm thrumming now with a sudden urgency. I open the door as if to invite her inside, aching deeply for the first sensation of the head of my c.o.c.k sliding into her c.u.n.t, but she's got far more planned before that. So much more. I am hyper-aware of the thick weight of my big d.i.c.k in my pants, and it hurts for straining against the fabric. But—thank God—I don't have to wait long before relief because as soon as we're back at the car she drops to her knees and unzips me.

Christ, is there any sight more beautiful than someone taking their first taste of your d.i.c.k? I don't think so. The sight of her dipping her head to place wet lips on the head of my c.o.c.k gives me that gut-punch of thudding l.u.s.t, and I urge her onward to more. Long, teasing licks that cover me in wet spit, moist kisses that encompass the whole of the head, and wide-mouthed sucks that give me that throbbing, complete sensation as her whole mouth engulfs me.

The night air is chilly, but not cold. Just cool enough that I tingle from the waist down—the light nighttime breeze brushes against my skin, heightening the feeling of her warm, wet lips as they work at the head of my d.i.c.k. She's good at this—so good. Both playful and powerful: alternating fluttering licks against the underside of the head with huge mouthfuls of as much of me as she can take, soaking the full length of my shaft and swallowing as much as she can. I can see her tongue fl.i.c.k.i.n.g over the taut, straining head of my erection and every now and then—the best part, oh the very best part—she gives me these mischievous flashes of her eyes from under the brim of the hat. She's taking the fat length of me right inside her mouth, and still I haven't fully seen her face—this mystery woman. This d.i.c.k-jerking fantasy.

The woods around us echo with night noises, and my blood thuds harder through my veins when I remember that there could be anyone out there watching us. Maybe this is why she comes to the woods? To enlist men like me to help her put on a show for others watching in the darkness. Maybe this is just her filthy little secret—how she gets her kicks, living out here in the middle of nowhere. Maybe one day she spotted that trenchcoat in a second-hand shop and had this exact fantasy, dreaming of letting her inner s.l.u.t out to play. I don't mind why she does it, because in my driving daydream all I care about is that I'm the one she has chosen. And soon she'll choose to show me exactly what's under that coat.

I'm getting hot now, so I take off my own jacket, and she takes this moment to move inside the car. She slides across the seat and oh God the sight of her—the flash of her t.h.i.g.hs and bottom as she slips in. Warm, b.a.r.e skin on leather seats. I can't wait to get my hands on her. As I climb in after her, she unbuttons her jacket and I finally get to see what's under that inviting coat: a red bodysuit. Bright red. Danger red. Come-get-me red. F.u.c.k-me-in-the-back-seat-then-c.u.m-on-my-ass red. Straps holding her t.i.t.s tight to her body and obviously—obviously – no time-wasting knickers underneath, just a few fasteners that I can pop open to expose her slick, wet c.u.n.t.

In that moment I realise I don't want to f.u.c.k her just yet. First I want to make her gasp and squeal with p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e. She's this wet already just from s.u.c.k.i.n.g my c.o.c.k—how much more can I do for her with my fingers and hands? I want to give her the kind of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e she's already laid on my d.i.c.k, so let's see what I can do to make her squirm, shall we?

First I slip two fingers inside—wet and firm, curled in that come-here gesture that presses tightly against the front wall of her c.u.n.t. Opening her just enough that she has something to clench and grind against, though not so much that I won't still get to enjoy her full-throated gasp when I finally fill her with c.o.c.k. In and out, slowly at first then rapidly speeding up as her m.o.a.ns make it clear she needs it harder and faster. Yeah, that's it—that's the right spot. In my fantasy f.u.c.k with this mystery woman, we communicate without words, and I'm practically reading her mind. I can hear in the crack of her voice and feel in the way she squirms at my fingertips exactly how much pressure to use, and what speed. Yeah, that's exactly it. Her pants and squeals get louder until I'm fully f.u.c.k.i.n.g her now with my fingers. Intense and firm and quick, so I can hear how slick her p.u.s.s.y is—wet and sloppy – echoing rhythmic schlick schlick schlick sounds as I shove them in and out. Back and forth. Cupping her mons in my palm and rubbing against her c.l.i.t on each in-stroke, pushing up into her with force like she wants me to.

She makes such fabulous noises—little shrieks and squeals of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e, all conjured by my own hands. My c.o.c.k is throbbing with the ache of wanting to f.u.c.k her. But not yet—not yet. First, a crescendo of gasps and squeals accompanied by that delicious tight crush of her p.u.s.s.y pulsing around my fingers in the first throes of o.r.g.a.s.m. I cannot get enough of that sensation—like she's holding tight onto my fingers and doesn't want to let go till she's wrung the last drops of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e from what I'm doing to her. I press one of her hands against her c.l.i.t too, so she can rub herself throughout those glorious rolling waves, eking every shiver of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e from her twitching c.u.n.t.

My fingers are drenched with her c.u.m. That feeling of cunt-convulsing slickness is so powerful I know I won't be able to wait much longer before sliding myself inside her eager c.u.n.t. I lift my fingers to her mouth so she can smell and taste herself—that hot, musky, glorious flavour that is so unique to everyone. Even though it's fantasy, as I let myself delve deeper in my dream of the mystery woman, sometimes I imagine I can smell and taste her, even here sitting alone in my car. The evocative, powerful scent of post-o.r.g.a.s.m p.u.s.s.y, dripping from my fingers as I push them through her wet lips. She sucks at them the way she greedily s.u.c.k.e.d on my d.i.c.k, and even grabs my hand as I try to pull it away, begging me for one more taste of herself.

It's time now, I can't wait any longer—that body, f.u.c.k! The way she looked into my eyes as she licked her juices off my fingers, oh God. This impatient, mysterious stranger is too much to resist – I have to have her now, immediately. I take off her jacket, all the better to hold and lick and breathe in the scent of her skin, then lift her onto my l.a.p. She's so light and pliable, even in the cramped backseat of the car there is room for her to ride me, legs pressed together to better squeeze the length of my shaft as I finally—gloriously—get to plunge it in.

I am so desperate for it I rush through that first beautiful moment when my d.i.c.k enters her, feeling the whoosh of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e as the head, then the whole shaft, gets enveloped by her p.u.s.s.y. It's urgent now—so urgent. For both of us. That's the beauty of this fantasy. As soon as we finally get to f.u.c.k, we're desperate and yearning and so so hot for each other—teasing and p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e has given way to an animalistic need to tear into each other. I grab the cheeks of her arse and use my own strength to lift her up and down, bouncing her on my c.o.c.k like she's a toy, letting her focus on enjoying the ride. And oh how she enjoys it! She grinds and squirms against me, working her h.i.p.s and arse to get the best angle on my d.i.c.k, enjoying how I stretch her out and fill her up and slam it nice and deep inside her.

My mystery woman leans back against my c.h.e.s.t as she rides me, and I feel the heat of her body pressing down on my c.h.e.s.t even as I continue my vigorous thrusts up into her. Those earrings brush against her neck as she bounces on top, and she's close enough for me to lick her, bite her. That red bodysuit only barely contains the jiggling flesh of her t.i.t.s, and her legs are spread good and wide so I can plunge in over and over. It's an ecstatic assault on all of my senses—the scent of her skin and post-o.r.g.a.s.mic c.u.n.t mingling with the sensations of her bum slapping against my t.h.i.g.hs and those beautiful high-pitched mewling noises that she makes each time my c.o.c.k slams home.

First frantic, then slow, then frantic again. Building the rhythm up and down with the surges of blood thumping through my rock-solid erection. As I picture this fantasy vividly in my mind, it's almost like the speed of our f.u.c.k matches the ebb and flow of the traffic as I drive down the motorway. I keep my eyes on the road, of course, but my concentration is heightened by the tension of my d.i.c.k in my pants. In my mind's eye I can picture her on top of me, b.r.e.a.s.ts now free of the taut red straps of the bodysuit, bouncing rapidly as we f.u.c.k like rabbits on the back seat of the car. Leather on my n.a.k.e.d arse, her warm skin slapping against my t.h.i.g.hs, and now the view of her bent over in front of me, leaning into the front seats of the car. She places her hands either side of the gearstick for purchase so she can fold herself in half and give me the perfect view of my c.o.c.k sliding in and out of her. The wetness of it. How tightly it stretches out her c.u.n.t. How prettily she jiggles while we f.u.c.k.

It's getting too much now—too cramped in the car. The space we have isn't as much as I need—I want to plunge in slowly with long, firm strokes. I want to stretch out and lean back to drink in the view of her. No, not 'want' – need. I need this. She needs it too—in fact I'd say she's greedy for it.

We get out of the car, throbbing with this need and greed and hunger. I'm still n.a.k.e.d from the waist down, cold air tingling on my skin, and now she's almost entirely n.a.k.e.d—that teasing red bodysuit now no more than a belt around her waist as we've shoved it down to get a more thorough view of her t.i.t.s and arse while we f.u.c.k. God, she's gorgeous. She has these beautiful small, dark n.i.p.p.l.es that stiffen in the chill breeze, and her arse is smooth and perfect, presented at exactly the right angle as she arches her back and braces herself against the car door.

When we resume, she takes the lead to begin—pushing herself back onto me, craving that sensation of me stretching her out again. Aching for another o.r.g.a.s.m, which I'm desperate to give to her in turn. The rushes of my own are coming fast, but I don't want to give her my c.u.m just yet. I want to make the most of this frantic fantasy: I hunger too. For the sensations that I felt round my fingers when I f.u.c.k.e.d her with my hands—those crushing clenches of her c.u.n.t as she comes, taut and hard around the head of my d.i.c.k. I like to hear those gorgeous, plaintive gasps of p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e that she huffs out in time with the strokes, showing him just how much she appreciates what I'm giving her, and I want them to reach their crescendo. Against the car, she rides my d.i.c.k like this, shoving herself back onto me as I grip her slim waist and yank her harder back, faster and harder until I'm so close I need to slow down.

Holding her tightly, I pin her in place exactly as she stands—back arched and bottom pushed out—and I switch to long, firm strokes. Slow and hard, in and out, at just the perfect angle for me to watch my c.o.c.k sliding in. Lit by the headlights in the wooded clearing, I can see the shimmer of her wetness coating my d.i.c.k. I'm panting now too, joining her in vocal appreciation of what we're giving each other. And it does feel like I'm giving her a gift—you can be sure of that. I'm sure of that in the way she m.o.a.ns in agonised delight at every single inch as I slide myself in good and hard. Even more because of the way she uses one of her delicate hands to grab the cheek of her arse and spread it wide.

That's the part I love most of all—how desperate she is to enjoy every single atom of my c.o.c.k, opening her body to me and spreading herself and making all those gorgeous m.o.a.ning noises to highlight how much she loves it. Open, inviting, urging me to keep going. Giving me a better view of how hard I am and what I'm doing, as if to thank me for delivering what she wants.

I'm panting now too, joining in with her as we build to a climax. And oh God oh God how much I love the sound of her coming. The crescendo of m.o.a.ns and pants underscored by the rhythmic spasms in her c.u.n.t as she starts to ride those waves of ecstasy. I grip her tighter with my hands even as her c.u.n.t clamps tightly to my d.i.c.k, and at that moment I realise I'm going to come too. I'm going to come all over this stranger, right here in the woods in the dark, up against the car. Feet in the mud and mind in the gutter and d.i.c.k so deep in her it's almost as if she might swallow me whole.

As I get my breath back, the abiding image that stays with me from this fantasy is the sight of her n.a.k.e.d arse covered in c.u.m—my c.u.m—shining in the light cast by the headlights, glistening on the b.a.r.e skin of this mysterious stranger. And oh God what better way to brighten up a long journey at night in the car than reliving this fantasy over and over? I can't think of a better one.

Will I ever meet this fantasy woman? I doubt it, but I can dream. And in the meantime I can enjoy the way it makes my c.o.c.k throb while I'm driving, the echoing cries of her eager p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e inside my head, and the filthy flash-frame images of her perfect arse painted with my spunk. Then finally the wolfish smile this cryptic woman flashes as she puts her trenchcoat back on, hops into my car… and drives away into the night.

Ends