I tell him. His face moves between my thighs and his beard feels thick and scratchy. I want him so bad it hurts, but he asked me to show him, so I am. After some fumbling around and a couple moments of indecision he found his rhythm and I found mine. His tongue feels hot and perfect. But I know if I don’t come soon, he’s going to end up with sticky shorts and neither of us wants that. “Keep going,” I encourage him, feeling the rush from doing something so dirty. So immature and illicit. I haven’t made out in the back seat of a car since high school. The fogged-over windows give a false sense of privacy, but anyone could find us. Anyone. Then his tongue hits my sweet spot and my body starts to shake and shiver, the possibility of getting caught makes the pleasure more intense. I’ve barely come down, when I see him on his knees, his dick tenting in his trunks. I pull them down, and his cock bounces like a spring. I open my already spread legs wider, giving him the green light.
