Jake is my car fuck.

Now, pegging a guy bent over a hotel bed while he screams is one of my favorite hobbies, but it’s hardly my only one. Truth is, I’ve always had a thing for cars – more specifically, riding a nice thick cock while we’re in a car. It’s the setting. The risk. The fact that you’re not supposed to be doing what you’re doing.

And Jake has the perfect car for it.

He drives this gorgeous old Impala with one of those massive front bench seats. You could host a small orgy in that thing. Every time I’m in his town, he’s a guaranteed booty call. He picks me up, takes me somewhere with a nice view, and I proceed to have my way with him.

It’s a system that has worked very well for a few years.

Last time I visited, he drove us up to an overlook above the city. Beautiful view. Little houses scattered below us. City lights coming on in the distance. Romantic, if you’re into that sort of thing.

We weren’t there for romance. We were there because Jake gets this stupid grin on his face whenever he realizes I’ve decided he’s the entertainment for the evening.

Things were progressing nicely – we were in full fuck mode. His pants were down around his ankles, sitting in the front seat. I had hiked my skirt up, and was on his lap, riding him. I’d just pulled his t-shirt up over his head when there was a knock on the window.

A police officer.

Now, I thought it was hilarious. Jake, however, looked like his soul had left his body.

The officer asked if everything was alright. I told him I was fine, but he was interrupting me. To his credit, he laughed.

Poor Jake was absolutely dying beside me. Well, actually, he was still in me.

The officer told us to finish up and move along. Then he walked back to his cruiser.

What made it even funnier was that he stayed there for a while. Maybe he was making sure we weren’t causing trouble. Maybe he was bored. I think he liked watching.

Meanwhile, Jake was sitting there looking like he’d just been informed of his own execution.

I couldn’t stop laughing, but we had work to do. While the officer’s lights continued to illuminate the Impalla, I got back to work – and to his benefit, Jake was still rock hard. It only took me a couple of moments to reach my finish. I climbed off him, adjusted my clothes, and told Jake to drive me for food. Fuck, I’d worked up an appetite.

The entire rest of the evening he kept asking how much the officer had seen.

I told him it was probably all over the police group chat by now. I also reminded him about the officer’s bodycam footage.

I could tell he was embarrassed and hopelessly turned on at the same time. Poor bastard. That’s why he’s one of my favorites.