My Truck Cherrybybawidgetcoms©
Let me paint a picture for you. I'm five-foot-four, which I adamantly argue is average. I have long, wavy, brown hair with strong hints of red and gold. In the winter when it darkens, I've been told it's "chestnut." My eyes are very green. While I'm average height, I'm above average weight, with curves in all the right places and some of the "wrong" ones! I'm about a size 16, 18 in some stores.
My torso is petite, considerably slimmer than my hips and very short in comparison with my legs, which are quite long. I have smallish hands, fingers, wrists and shoulders, thick thighs, anda rounded, bulbous ass.
My toenails are always painted, usually a bright color. I keep my fingernails painted with clear polish. My legs are shaved, as is my pussy - fully smooth. My breasts are small, just a handful each, well-shaped and fairly high - 38B. I have medium-pink areola and very responsive nipples.
My brows and lashes are black. I wear natural-looking makeup most days, including light lipstick, but I rarely make-up my eyes, though I often curl my lashes. When I remember to, I wear glasses - my favorites are rimless with green-tinted metal in a curvy pattern tucking them behind my ears.
My teeth are almost perfectly straight. My lips are not overly large but full, slightly pouty and naturally pink. My upper lip curves upward, and my nose has an upward tilt. My cheekbones are fairly high. I have a light dusting of freckles across my nose and forehead that you'd only notice from close proximity. My shoulders, however, are noticeably coated in freckles.
Puberty was rough looks-wise. My hair was frizzy, my breasts seemed destined to maintain a triangular shape for life, and my curves were embarrassing. As I grew up, I grew to like my appearance more. I've developed the opinion that a woman of thirty or forty has a beauty about her that a girl of eighteen or twenty has yet to develop. I don't yet look over thirty, according to most, though on days when I'm tired, my age shows more.
I want you to have an image of me, the woman in this story, as I describe the man and our interactions. At the time of this story, he was 19. I am eleven years his senior. Though I rarely saw him fully dressed, I know he usually wore loose jeans with a belt clasped with a hefty, decorative buckle, usually with a buttoned shirt or tee over a "wife beater."
While I have years on him, he has inches on me. He's 6'-6" tall without shoes. His hair is black, wavy and sometimes unruly. He has a soft gotee and mustache surrounding the softest, most delectable mouth I've ever seen on a man. I loved the way his mustache felt when we kissed. His lips are full and pink. His face is long. His eyes are a deep, dark, chocolate brown and turn down at the corners. His lashes are jet black and longer than mine.
He's very slender, almost bony, but still weighs over 200 pounds. His hands are long, his fingers slender, and his feet quite large. He has a trail of hair winding deliciously from his pubic bone up to his chest, where it spreads into a spattering of wiry, black curls. His nipples are small and react quickly to my tongue.
He has narrow hips and a slight ass. His cock, beneath his thick bush of black curls, is thick in girth and long but doesn't look it's size against his tall body. It's a beautiful specimen - veiny with a thick, mushroomed head that makes my mouth water upon seeing it.
And his truck is a red Toyota Tacoma, king cab. I've been in it only two or three times. This short story recalls one of those times.
It was getting late. As the sun sank behind the tree line, it seemed like our house became an oven this time of year, trapping the heat. I wanted ice cream, craved a root beer float for some reason, but there was no ice cream or root beer in the house. The stores in the nearest tiny town would close in fifteen or twenty minutes.
I was restless and bored. I felt horny and alive, as if I'd been lit like a match by the summer heat. On a whim, as I headed out the door alone, I decided to send a text to a friend - to "him." I asked what he was doing, and he was about to go grab a late supper with his cousin. That meant he wasn't too busy - I felt confident I could easily derail his plans.
Instead of going to the closest town, I headed for one a little further away, in the other direction, between his house and mine. After a few more texts, he'd bailed on his cousin, grabbed a sandwich and was on his way to meet me instead.
We decided to be daring and parked side-by-side in front of the local high school, away from security lights. I felt turned on and cautious at the same time because I knew half of everyone who worked there during daylight hours.
I stepped out of my little car and hoisted myself up into the passenger seat of his larger truck. The anticipation during our respective drives had created a fever pitch.
As soon as the door shut, his mouth found mine. He reached inside my tiny dress and groped for a breast, pinching my left nipple hard. My tits felt small in his hands, but he exclaimed how much he loved them as he drew my dress over my head and pressed his lips against one then the other, sucking so hard I'd have purple marks to remind me the next day.
I reached for the erection I knew waited for me behind his belt buckle, and he fumbled with it for me in the dark. Soon he deserted his pants and our awkward attempts at intimacy in the front seat. Grabbing my left arm, he pulled my naked body (I'd only been wearing the dress) into the back seat with him. Somehow he shed his pants along the way. The boy was gifted in the removal of clothing.
As soon as he sat, I sat beside him and leaned over his lap to taste his cock. I gathered my hair and indicated he should hold it. I'd never had a man hold my hair while a puked, but many had done me this service while I gave head.
When that position proved too impractical, I dropped to the rough, tan carpet and rug-burned my knees as I enthusiastically swallowed his cock until it pressed against the back of my relaxed throat. I took his full length in and out, giving him a thorough, slobbery blow job. My tongue danced around his shaft while his hips lifted to meet my face. He grabbed my head and fucked my face hard, grunting and groaning as he felt my wet lips siding against his hard cock.
Suddenly he stopped, pushed me gently away and pulled me back up beside him. I heard a school bus coming, probably returning athletes to school from an away game, and I almost panicked. He calmed me. "The windows are tinted, the lights are out.. No one can see you."
He followed that with, "Come here and sit on this hard cock." He scooted lower in the seat and guided my right leg across his lap. I straddled him, barely able to see his face in the dark, except when a second bus passed by. I paused as it passed with his dick barely touching the entrance to my wet, engorged tunnel. He groaned in exaggerated frustration and grabbed my hips, forcing me down onto his erection.
I let out a throaty moan like a proper slut as I felt his thick cock stretch my tiny, tight, soaking wet pussy wide open. Oh, it felt so good to be full of him. He liked to call me his slut, and he did then. He bit my neck below my right ear and hissed, "You're a good little slut, aren't you, baby? Fuck my hard cock, you fucking slut." He followed that with, "You are so fucking sexy," then licked a trail down my neck to my tits.
He began to hump up toward me with urgency, and I met each thrust with vigor of my own. I pushed down hard and pulled back, purposely dragging my wanton, hardened clit through his mass of black hair. The wiry hair stimulated my little nub, and I moaned.
He wrapped his long fingers in my hair and pulled my face to his. His kiss was innocent and eager - no tongues, but lips pressed together, moving against each other in hungry desire. Then our mouths opened together, and we began to nibble. In my passion I bit his lip a tad hard, and her cried out. "Sorry," I whispered. His response was a low, guttural growl.
He grabbed my supple ass with both hands and dragged his short nails across my cheeks, pulling me down onto his cock hard and fast. He always marked me somehow, and his handprints on my ass would be his mark this time. His thrusts became so vigorous that I stopped returning them and instead let him fuck me to oblivion.
I focused on the feeling of intense pleasure I felt when his thick cock slid in and out of my delicate pussy. He nearly popped out, tickling the soft folds at my entrance, and then he plunged deep, hitting my cervix hard, causing me to cry out in ecstasy with a tinge of pain.
Soon I'd be able to take no more and plunge over the cliff to my orgasm. I told him, breathlessly, "I'm going to cum... I'm going to cum!" and he forced me down with a few final jerks before his cock began to shoot stands off thick, hot semen deep into my pussy.
As I felt the spasms of his cock releasing cum into my hungry cunt, I lost all control and ground my clit hard against him as my own orgasm began. We came together, mostly, and my contracting pussy milked his spurting cock.
When the intensity of our mutual orgasm began to subside, I fell against him. Our mixed sweat stuck our bodies together, but soon I broke away. "That was fun!" I grinned at him like a happy child.
He gave my ass a final squeeze. "Yes, it was."
I had to get going. I grabbed my dress and pulled it over my head, gave him a quick peck on the lips and left him there recovering while I drove away to buy... What had I even come to buy?
Oh, right... Root beer and ice cream. As I drove across the small town to the grocery store, I felt his cum leaking out of my pussy. Would it run down my legs in the store? I hoped not... But it would be kind of hot if it did.