Taken For a Ride

I knew from the start that it must be a put-on. I was a high-school nerd-girl; short and chunky and bookish and rather shy, a dweeb and a geek and a sexually frustrated more-or-less virgin. Vince was thirty-something, with a fancy car, a receding hairline, a wedding ring, and the body of an ex-competitive swimmer not yet gone completely to seed. He had to be taking me for a ride. So I went along for the ride with him.

He picked me up after school. He didn’t want to pick me up right at my school, because he didn’t want people to see me getting into some strange dude’s car, and he didn’t want to pick me up at home for the same reason. So he met me in front of the post office, a couple blocks down the street. It was all pretty sketch.

He drove a little black sports car. I don’t really pay attention to that kind of thing, but it looked expensive. When I asked him what he did for a living, he said he was an investor.

We drove for quite a while, and about ten minutes into the ride, he casually slid his hand over past the stick shift, and rested it on the exposed naked skin of my thigh. Despite myself, I felt my pussy getting all gushy wet and horny under my stretchy black cotton skirt. I don’t wear skirts very often, and I hoped this one didn’t make my butt look absolutely vast. I asked Vince if he was still married, and he said yeah, and asked if that was a problem for me. I said ‘No’, and it really wasn’t, and I didn’t ask him any more questions.

We had dinner at a tiny, dark, fancy, expensive Italian restaurant. Vince ordered for me, which was kind of annoying, but the food was delicious. He also ordered me a glass of wine, which the waiter brought without any comment about my age. I didn’t mind the taste, not at all, and it quickly made me a little light-headed and giggly.

Conversation was stilted; when it came right down to it, Vince and I didn’t really have much of anything in common. The copious amounts of homemade Italian food helped fill the awkward gaps. He kept running his hand up and down my thigh under the table, which kept my pussy juicy and squishy all through the meal, my clit obnoxiously pert underneath my panties.

We went back to the car, and he opened the door for me. I was pleasantly nervous and tipsy from the big glass of red wine I’d drunk. It was dark in this part of town, there weren’t any street lights, and it was starting to rain. I was all trembly with anticipation.

He got in beside me and closed the door, but didn’t start the engine. The dome light faded to black.

“Well, how about it?”

“How about what?” I asked. I knew exactly how about what, but I wanted to hear him say it.

“How about a little blowjob?” he asked. For the first time that night, he sounded just a tiny little bit vulnerable.

“Sure,” I said, putting on my best smile, “No problem.”

I actually didn’t have a lot in the way of experience at the time; I hadn’t attempted an actual blowjob in several years. The last time I’d gotten any genuine action had been with Karl. I still was a more-or-less a virgin. More-or-less, because the one and only time I’d been poised to have real, actual sex, three things had happened simultaneously:

1) Karl, my junior high school lab partner, fellow d&d enthusiast, and lately jerk-off partner, who’s basement it was that we had been fooling around in, had attempted to slip his stiff dick right up into my spread wide open, drooling, eager young virgin pussy;

2) Karl immediately orgasmed with a little choking squeal, pumping gob after gob of sticky white semen all over and around and up inside said pussy like a soft-serve dispenser gone haywire; and

3) Karl’s mom had walked in on us down in the basement and had started screaming and cursing at me and had chased me out of the house and banned me from ever seeing her son again.

I was of course, terrified that I’d gotten pregnant –pregnant and I didn’t even get laid!—but more than that I was bummed out that my one reliable source for sexual satisfaction had been taken away: Karl was moved to a different school, and I never saw him again. I got my period just fine, and resumed my steady but lonesome diet of porn and masturbation. I figured I’d just die a virgin. More-or-less.

Back to the present. Vince extracted his penis from his black slacks and tighty-whities. His cock wasn’t, as I had been a little afraid, intimidatingly enormous. It seemed like a nice sized cock, maybe a little on the small side, though I was basing that on very little real-world experience and a ton of porn. It was one of those funky dicks where the crown is smaller than the actual shaft, which was pale, and strained up and out, curved like a drawn bow. A glistening drop of precome was balanced on the tip, like a dewdrop on a spear of asparagus. I stuck out my tongue and licked it off.

And was momentarily blinded by the flash of his camera.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“I just want something to remember this moment by.”

Yeah, right. I blinked a couple of times to get the dazzle out of my eyes, and then I got serious about sucking his dick.

I LOVE sucking cock, and while I hadn’t had much actual practice, I had watched an awful lot of blowjob videos with one hand on the mouse and one down the front of my panties, and I had spent a lot of time and energy daydreaming about just exactly how I would do it; so I didn’t think I would disapoint.

I started out just slurping the length, trailing my tongue along the underside of his rigid penis, kissing his balls and the petite scarlet crown; and then when he started to get really into it, I opened wide and swallowed. I admit it, I’d practiced on bananas before, and his cock wasn’t an especially big banana. I could get the whole thing in my mouth and keep it there, bobbing my head up and down and keeping my teeth well out of the way. I don’t know about him, but I was more or less in heaven.

He started to get really into it too, moaning and groaning and humping my face and calling me a horny bitch and a slutty little cunt. The more turned on he got, the hotter it was for me. His cock was swollen with excitement, trembling, practically pulsating. I could tell he was just about to come.

Right on cue, he yanked his slippery dick out of my mouth and started jerking off. It took about two seconds, and then he came, squirting his hot, sticky semen all over my face: into my eyes and hair, up my nose, across my cheeks and lips and chin. Again, the flashing camera. I smiled up at him as the shutter clicked again and again.

He tried, I guess I have to hand him that. After I had wiped up with a thoughtful handy Kleenex, he kissed me and squeezed and rubbed my breasts through my shirt, sliding his hand up under my skirt and fingering my pussy, which was admittedly, quite wet and slick by this point. But it just wasn’t working for me. Before I could even fake an orgasm, he gave up, withdrawing his sticky fingers and offering them up for me to lick off. Which I did, I might add, perfectly happily. More camera flashes. Then he zipped up, and stepped out of the car to smoke a cigarette in the drizzle.

While he was standing on the sidewalk smoking, I went through his wallet. There was his driver’s license, his credit cards, a fat wad of cash. I helped myself to a couple twenties. There was a picture in there of his wife and young child. They were both blonde, conventionally attractive, as if they were models for the Sears portrait studio. The kid looked to be about six; the mom wore too much mascara and had big hair and scary fingernails.

I put Vince’s wallet away and picked up the camera, flipped through the pictures he’d taken. The girl on the little LCD display looked pretty hot, I thought, mouth full of cock, come splattered all over her face. I felt oddly smug looking at those pornographic snapshots. I wondered what his wife would say if she ever saw them.

He drove me home, a long, silent ride. I don’t think a single word was spoken the whole drive.

“I’ll see you soon,” Vince said when he dropped me off up the street from my parent’s house. He didn’t kiss me, and I didn’t expect him to.

Three whole weeks, and he didn’t call, didn’t email, didn’t text. Despite myself I let it get to me. I brooded and obsessed and fretted. Was I not attractive enough for him? Didn’t I do a good job sucking his dick? Did he not like me?

Possibly surprisingly, I wasn’t worried about the pictures. Actually, there was a part of me that hoped that he’d posted them on the internet; that people would look at me and see a wild, sexy thing. Maybe some of the cute guys at school would jerk off to pictures of me sucking dick in a car. Maybe some of the prissy missies at school weren’t such prissies after all.

He texted me out of the blue, asked if I could ditch my afternoon classes. I responded ‘Of course’. He picked me up down the street from the school, in front of the post office.

We drove down to the reservoir and got high together, pre-rolled joints that looked like cigarettes. We kissed a lot and made out, and I groped him and found his cock nice and hard, and he groped me back. Then we drove back to his apartment.

His wife was at work, the kid was in school. He poured me a shot of vodka that made me choke and cough. We migrated inexorably into the bedroom.

I imagined that his wife had picked out the colors: the walls were avocado and the ceiling was pomegranate. There was a framed picture of the two of them together, atop the dresser. It might have been their senior prom; they both looked young, bright-eyed, All-American. They were smiling big and wide, showing off their perfect rows of white teeth. It might have been an advertisement for a high-end cosmetic dentist’s office.

Vince lifted me up and plopped me down on his bed, and then he lay down on top of me. We kissed and groped and fondled a bunch more, and then my shirt and my bra and then my jeans came off, one after the other. Vince sucked my nipples and played with my pussy until I was so drooling wet that the crotch of my panties was soaked through. His cock made a delicious looking tent in the front of his slacks, and I almost couldn’t wait to get my mouth wrapped around it. Almost.

“Would you mind?” I asked, feeling very shy and self-conscious about asking, “Would you mind going down on me a little bit?”

“Sure thing, Baby!” he said, “It would be a pleasure!” And he pulled off my soggy panties with a flourish.

I lay back on the sheets and spread my legs wide as he dove in. I was atremble with anticipation; no-one had ever done that to me yet, and from what I had read it was supposed to be orgasm-city.

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to be very good at it, or maybe he wasn’t trying very hard. His tongue was excruciatingly clumsy, seeming to lick everywhere except the neediest parts. Which might have been ok if it had led in the end to sweet release, but he was only down there for about two minutes before he came up for air, beaming like a benevolent Santa Clause.

“How was that?” he asked, and I said “Thank You”, because I didn’t really know what else to say. And then the doorbell rang, and he got up and went to answer the door, still fully dressed, leaving me naked, wet, horny and frustrated on his marriage bed.

While he was out of the room, I did a quick bit of snooping. There was a bunch of fairly conventional ladies’ underwear in one of the top doors of the dresser; presumably his wife’s. In another one of the drawers was a glass pipe, a fat baggy of pot, a box of condoms, and chrome-plated egg-shaped vibrator. Sitting on top of the dresser, next to their prom night picture, was a dish with some spare change, a few paperclips, and a spare set of apartment keys. I lifted the keys and slipped them deep into my jeans pocket before resuming my position naked on the bed. I masturbated a little, because I wanted him to walk in and see me doing that, and to keep everything nice and wet down there, and because it felt nice.

I suppose I should have flipped out, or at least been discomfited when Vince walked back into the room with another man in tow, but between the pot and the vodka and the screamingly turned-on state of my vagina, I took it all in stride.

He introduced the new guy as his friend ‘Francis’. Francis was not someone I would normally think of as attractive at all. He looked to be about the same age as Vince, with a high forehead and hairy forearms and a bit of a belly and a greasy complexion. He smiled at me and shook my hand, big soft mitts that reminded me of warm Play-Doh.

The guys snorted a couple lines of coke off a mirror on the nightstand, but they didn’t offer me any. Which was ok, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to try that anyway. Then they both got naked and lay down side by side on the bed, and I went to town sucking their hard dicks, alternating between the two of them.

Francis’ cock wasn’t much longer than Vince’s, but it was notably thicker, and much hairier. I liked sucking Vince because it was easy to get the whole thing into my greedy mouth, and I didn’t get his hairs stuck in my teeth, but I really enjoyed sucking them both. The situation was hugely exciting, and I savored the strong, male taste in my mouth.

Then Vince got up and rolled on a condom and started fucking me from behind. It felt nice, and I was secure in the gleeful knowledge that I really and truly, without a doubt, was no longer a virgin. Francis grabbed Vince’s camera and started snapping pictures. He stood by the side of the bed and fed me his thick, hairy, strong-tasting cock while the shutter clicked away like a metronome.

Vince didn’t last very long. He slipped straight into overdrive, humping wildly away at me, his cock twitching inside the condom as he came inside my pussy, emitting a series of hiccupping, stuttering grunts as he came.

They traded off with the camera, and Francis maneuvered himself behind me. It took a little work to get his fat, condom-wrapped dick up my cunt, but Vince had limbered me up, and in the end it slipped right on in. He fucked me while Vince took pictures. His style of fucking reminded me of a steam locomotive: short, almost violent thrusts, starting out slow, and slowly chug-chugging into a fast, staccato rhythm.

I might have even come like that, he had me pretty close, but before I could slip over the precipice, he yanked his dick out of me, peeled off the condom, and with a deep, drawn-out, guttural growl, he shot off all over my back, splashing me with come from my butt-crack all the way up to my shoulder blades.

I collapsed onto the bed, a sweaty, panting mess. The two guys stood over me as I masturbated face down atop the sheets. They made small talk while I fingered myself, commenting on my body (‘horny little slut’ ‘look at that ass wiggle’ ‘fucking tight little pussy’) and snapping more pictures. I finally came, a long, deep orgasm that left me twitching, gasping into the bed linens.

We all got dressed, and Francis took off, and Vince gave me a ride back to school, which was just getting out. He told me he’d call me soon, within the next couple of days for sure. I got out of the car and mingled in with the kids streaming out toward the yellow busses. I was acutely aware of the smell of sex emanating from my body, the gooey wetness in my pussy, my damp panties, and his spare keys jingling in my pocket.

He didn’t call. A week passed. My period came and went. He still didn’t call, and I realized that he wasn’t going to.

I email him a couple of times, late at night, lonely and desperately horny. He never replied.

I was in a funk, and to get out of that funk, I decided to buy myself a toy. I walked down three concrete steps into an Adult Novelty Bookshop, up the street from the bus station. The place was lit with harsh fluorescents that cast no shadow. There were aisles and aisles of DVDs, every genre imaginable. I was the only female in the place, and distinctly underaged, and I felt acutely stared-at as I made my way to the back wall, where the sex toys were kept.

It seemed like all the vibrators were marketed toward men: the packaging was all images of impossibly busty, big-hair women with a lot of make-up, licking their fingers seductively and making eyes at the camera as they nibbled their plastic toys.

Regardless, I hurriedly picked one out, a sparkly pink model, realistically modeled to look like a fairly enormous penis. I brought it over to the cash register, paid for it, watched the clerk pack it carefully into a brown paper bag, then I rushed home to try my new acquisition out in the privacy of my own bedroom.

I was surprised to discover that the vibrating did absolutely nothing for me. It felt like an annoying buzzing, a quasi-tickle, that’s all. There was nothing erotic-feeling about it.

I tried sliding the toy up my pussy next. It was difficult and a little uncomfortable to get it in; apparently my eyes were a little bigger than my pussy. Once the oversized phallus was lodged in my cunt, I felt full, stretched out, somewhat obscene, but not particularly turned on.

It was when I pushed it up against my asshole that I hit pay dirt. The toy didn’t go up inside my butt, exactly, but when I got everything all nice and slippery, and shoved the head hard up against my anus, hard enough that I was stretched open to the point just before it started to hurt; and if I kept it wedged right there, and played with my clit in the normal way, the orgasms were positively explosive. Especially if I were watching filthy porn at the same time. The pressure seemed to make my whole vulva super-sensitive. It made my clitty strain outward. I could whack off for hours like that, just dancing little circles around my horny, swollen clit, the big pink dildo nestled tight up against my anus.

I met a boy. His name was Henry, and he was a year younger than me, and he sat beside me in Creative Writing. He was one of those guys who’d probably be really really hot if he had a little self-confidence. He habitually wore these awful brown-and-orange polo shirts, and jeans that were too big for him. The more I got to know him, the more I liked him, and the cuter he seemed to become.

Henry drew cartoons, and if he was shy about showing me his work (he hardly ever showed anyone his cartoons), he was painfully reticent about showing me his pornographic drawings. Once I’d seen one, though, I was insistent.

They were really good. He drew in pencil, lifelike drawings of people having sex, sex of every variety imaginable. Straight couples, gay guys, lesbians, Vikings, fairies, punk rockers, multi-tentacled space aliens. I spent an afternoon sitting on a beat-up old couch in his basement, going through his secret portfolio. Then I insisted that he draw me.

I gave him his first-ever blowjob on that disreputable old couch. He kept holding back, I guess he thought I wouldn’t want him to come in my mouth. I quickly disabused him of that notion.

Henry had a nice dick, large but not too big, and he kept it shaved clean, and he liked to wear girls underwear. I didn’t think much of that the first time I fished his erection out of a silky pair of purple string bikini panties, other than that it was sexy. I didn’t find out until much later about his penchant for cross-dressing, or his secret fascination with strap-ons.

Henry was also, and it made him blush to admit it, a bon-a-fide virgin. I promised to relieve him of that condition at the earliest possible opportunity. I even went on the pill so that he could come inside me and we wouldn’t have to fuck around with condoms.

We ditched school, and went giggling past the doorman into Vince’s building. I had all kinds of butterflies in my stomach as we took the elevator up to his floor. What if the key didn’t work? What if he was home? What if his wife was home?

The key fit perfectly, and the apartment was empty. There were light rose-pink sheets on the bed, which clashed horrendously with the walls and ceiling.

We got naked. I extracted Henry’s big, smooth, hard dick from the red g-string he was wearing, already drooling pre-come with eager anticipation. I started off by giving him a vigorous blowjob (‘priming the pump’, we liked to call it); I rubbed my boobs up and down his shaft, and licked his fat balls and slurped the purple head until he was harder than hard. Then I put the big red juicy crown in my mouth, pressed my tongue against the underside of the head, and jerked him off hard and fast until he came in my mouth with a little wail; gobs and gobs and gobs of hot, sticky, salty-sweet boy-come. I swallowed with gusto.

Preliminary business taken care of, we raided the dresser drawer. I packed a nice fat pipe full of pot, and we got stoned.

All high and giggly, I lay down on the bed, and Henry proceeded to eat me out, a skill he had been perfecting over the last few weeks in his parents’ dingy basement.

He was really good at it, too. He knew how to find my clit with the tip of his tongue, and knew exactly how long he could avoid touching me there before I would self-immolate with pent-up frustrated desire. One or two fingers kept slipping in and out of my juicy, slurpy pussy as he licked all around down there, nibbling my thighs to make me jump, and just occasionally lavishing some focused attention on my needy clit. Pretty soon I was squirming all over the hideous pink sheets, literally begging him to suck my clit and let me come.

Instead, he flipped me over on my stomach, spread my ass like a ripe peach, and started licking up and down between my cheeks, dragging his tongue up and down my crack. It was something I’d wanted him to do, but he never had, and I had never asked for it. It was absolutely heavenly! Every time his tongue brushed against my asshole, I jumped and groaned out loud. I was shockingly, unbelievably wet. I was making a massive wet spot on the sheets, and still he kept licking. He concentrated on my anus, and it felt like his tongue was drilling it’s way meters and meters up into my ass. Meanwhile, he was still fingering my pussy. I came two or three times like that, his tongue buried in my asshole, his fingers tormenting my pussy and clit; little, speed-bump orgasms like distant thunder that foretold a massive come looming on my horizon.

“Stop it!” I gasped at him “Stop what you’re doing and fuck my butt hole!”

We didn’t have any lube with us, but we found a bottle of extra-virgin olive oil in the kitchen that we figured would work ok. Henry’s cock was hard all over again, bobbing cutely as he walked. I got on my hands and knees in the center of the bed, and he poured oil all over my backside and slathered his dick in the stuff.

He finger-fucked my butt a little bit, but I was too impatient for that. “Just stick it in!” I whined. I didn’t think I could take much more torture. The anticipation was killing me.

I was a little afraid it would hurt; I’d experimented with my own wet fingers before, but I’d never had anything as large as Henry’s cock actually up inside my butt. I needn’t have worried; he was almost too gentle and careful, and his dick slid right up my asshole like it was built for the purpose.

It was amazing! He seemed hesitant to fuck me really hard and deep, so I started rocking back and forth, impaling myself on his cock, forcing it deeper and deeper up my ass. I felt so full and sensitized and stretched to the limit! My pussy was drooling liberally, my tits were shaking, my clit was bulging out like a mini-erection.

Together, we slid past the point of no return. Henry started fucking my butt hard and fast. It was incredibly intense, right on the borderline of what I could take. We were both making a lot of noise, crying out loud with every thrust. I could feel his balls slapping against my engorged labia, the wetness running down my thighs.

I didn’t even have to touch my clit. I came, came hard, and it was like Hiroshima going off. Spasms rocked my entire body and I jumped and squirmed on his dick, setting him off as well. I could feel his dick pulsating inside me, pumping semen deep into my asshole.

We caught our breath for a few minutes after Henry extracted himself. We kissed and cuddled on the bed, his soft wet cock nestled between my butt cheeks. I could feel his come leaking out of me. Henry got up and used the bathroom and washed himself off.

Vince’s camera was out on the bedside table. I picked it up and turned it on while Henry was peeing. There were a bunch of pictures on it, a recent trip to the zoo with the wife and kid, a visit to the grandparents. Nothing dirty or sexy.

We helped ourselves to a little more of Vince’s pot. Then I fished my dildo out of my backpack (I had developed a nasty little habit of taking it with me everywhere I went), and I had Henry take a bunch of pictures of me masturbating.

I guess that turned him on all over again, because before I was finished, he had to set the camera down and jerk off onto my wide-spread pussy while I frantically fingered my sore, swollen clit and jammed the plastic toy against my tender asshole. He didn’t produce a ton of come this time, but when he did come, dribbling pearly white semen onto my splayed-out pussy, it was just what I needed to set me off one more time, and I came too, bucking and writhing, gasping for breath, my tits flushed red and my clit too tender to be touched.

Then we got all paranoid that someone would come home. We’d lost all track of time. We got dressed in a hurry, and straightened out the bed a little. The sheets were a mess; between my juices and Henry’s come and the olive oil, there were stains all over the place. I put Vince’s camera back where it had been on the table, and we made our exit, locking the door behind us, Henry still technically a virgin. For the time being.

We had a lot of fun together that year, me and Henry. We ended up getting together with another girl from school, Natasha, who I had known for years, but never really gotten to know. She wore all black, all the time, and never wore make-up. She spotted Henry’s panties down the gap in the back of his jeans in math class, and started following us around until we just naturally got together. It turned out she was smart, cynical, funny, deeply perverted, and an amateur cinematographer into the bargain. The three of us got along really well, and had some crazy adventures together, which is a different story entirely.

I’ve never come across the pictures that Vince took of me, though I’ve certainly spent plenty of wasted hours browsing through random homemade porn on the internet. They’re out there though, somewhere. I can almost guarantee that.



  1. brick said

    this is a hot fucking tale, thanks for posting it.

  2. william1959 said

    Very nice! I love the idea of getting even by leaving the olive oil- and sex juice-coated sheets and the masturbation photos on the camera.

  3. erikabarcelona said

    Nice story, I liked the sex scenes and the perverted use of the camera. I seemed to expect Vince to appear at the end.

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