Bottom of the Funnel, 19: Sucker

The ride home was fast and reckless, rapid acceleration, sharp turns. I wanted to yell at her for this, normally I don’t put up with it, but Karmen stuck me in her mouth as soon as we were in the car. “Sorry, lover,” she breathed, not sorry at all, shredding my shirt and pants like we were in a cartoon, and then I went from her palm to the insides of her cheeks.

I‌ watched the little white needle on her old dashboard twitching ecstatically beyond 60 when we took the highway. Sticking out of her lips, I‌ saw how her fine-boned hands gripped the wheel, flicking the turn signal mere seconds before changing lanes. I witnessed how her thigh and knee rose, how her calf bulged as her toes depressed the accelerator, while her saliva soaked into my miniature custom boxers, while the sea level of her saliva rose above my shoulders and crept into my ass crack with equal parts discomfort and seduction.

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