I Dare You to Get Naked
“I dare you to get naked,” The Older Guy (Number 24) said to me once, on a motorway somewhere between my place and whatever barracks he was based at, at the time.
I was never one to turn down a dare, but there were vehicles all around us, many of which were higher than ours, during rush hour traffic. Passing folks would get a front-seat view of everything I had to offer.
“Here?” I giggled, squirming a little in my seat.
“Right fucking here,” he grinned, eyes flicking between the road ahead and my reddening face.
I wasn’t sure if I was that uninhibited, but something about the boyish grin splashed across his face seemed to spur me into action. I whipped off my shirt and scrambled out of my jeans, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with people driving slowly past us.
“How about this?” I asked, toying with the strap of my bra.
“Take it off,” he barked back quickly.
And, again, I did exactly as I was told.
I felt more and more emboldened with each item of clothing shed to the floor of the car, so without needing further prompting, I lifted my butt and shimmied out of my thong.
“Here,” I said, sliding it under his hand on the steering wheel. “You can’t taste me right now, but at least you can smell me.”
His response was somewhere between a grunt and a groan, and he shifted in his seat. I could see his dick starting to stiffen, bulging against his shorts. It turned me on more than I could ever express. An awkward and uncomfortable erection in a highly unsuitable place? Oooft, yes, please. New kink unlocked.
“What would you do if I did this?” I asked, spreading my legs a little wider. He glanced my way for two, three, four seconds. “Eyes on the road, darling,” I mocked.
“Ummm. I’d cry, probably. How the fuck am I meant to keep my eyes on the road?”
“Easy,” I laughed. “Eyes front.”
Shifting forwards on the seat, so my tits were lower than the window, I let one hand trail across my skin; first, to roll a nipple between one finger and a thumb, then to swirl goosebump-inducing circles over the soft skin of my navel. My fingers were dying to dance around my clit, but we had at least an hour of driving left ahead of us, maybe more with the traffic, so I wanted to make it last.
Correction: I wanted to make it mind-blowing.
I thought about the last time we’d fucked as I held out for as long as possible. We’d stayed at his mother’s house, where he was housesitting, and we’d taken a morning shower together. We didn’t fuck in the shower, though. We’d made it all the way through that, all the way through getting out, and even all the way through drying off with soft towels that smelled like fresh fabric softener.
It was right after we’d brushed our teeth that it happened. He’d spat and rinsed, then I’d spat and rinsed… then, he’d picked me up, like I weighed nothing, and sat me down on the bathroom counter. That’s when he fucked me. Hard. Fast. One of those little quickies that takes you by surprise and leaves you jittery in the knees.
I lasted three, maybe four songs on the radio, with a couple of ad breaks spattered in-between. I couldn’t hold out any longer. The heat, the music, his very obvious erection… it was intoxicating without the threat of being seen. Add that part in, though, and I was more turned on than I even thought possible.
My fingertips, once busy tweaking, pulling, and twisting my nipples and roving across my torso, slowly edged down between my thighs.
“What if I leave a wet patch,” I asked him, as innocently as I could. Truth be told, I was soaking wet already. The wet patch was a definite. Maybe I was more of an exhibitionist than I thought.
“I’ll lick it up after,” he smirked, and my whole body shuddered at the thought.
One more song later, plus one more ad break, I was a sweaty mess, right on the brink. So much for making it last. I rested one foot on the dashboard – the left one, obviously. The right one would’ve restricted his view, and I wanted him to see everything.
See it, hear it, feel it…
I grabbed his hand and used it to finish the job, my hips gyrating into his probing fingers. It was incredible. My head thrown back, back arched, my tits definitely higher than the window…
And, of course, when I came, I left that wet patch that I was so “concerned” about.
“Fuck me, I’m a lucky guy!” he grinned, eyes wide, still trying hard to focus on the road.
“Wait until we get back to yours,” was my response. “You’ll be a lucky guy all over your house.”
And, people, he most certainly was.
(That first fuck lasted about 0.5 seconds, so I’m going to take that as a compliment.)
Thanks so much for reading my blog today! 🖤
Would you like to read all about my little love affair (that wasn’t love) with The Older Guy? (Warning: he was 36 and I was 18.) You can find that right here.
If you’re in the market for more spicy stuff, why not check out one of my smutty favourites:
