Take Me for A Ride

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Richard makes me cheat on my lesbian girlfriend.
5.2k words
4.47
41.8k
44

Part 1 of the 1 part series

Updated 06/24/2018
Created 07/28/2016
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Allyourbase
Allyourbase
157 Followers

Dear Literotica readers, grab a drink, keep one hand free and take your time with this one - it has a sequel! For those unfamiliar with my style and subject matter: I write dark stuff. Check the tags for warnings. I am much obliged to proofreader mister Ana for invaluable advice. Let me know if it got you off in the comments, okay?

*****

"Richard's coming over in a bit." I hate that I am anxious to tell her this.

"Really. Hm, okay."

I don't know what face she makes, I am avoiding looking at her, because I want to be casual about it. I am. It's nothing special. He's just a friend.

"He's got a new car," I say, like it explains anything.

"Well, don't expect much from me. But have fun." I glimpse at her, I see she's milling things over in her mind as she makes her coffee. She murmurs: "Who's called Richard these days anyways. Does he shorten it to Dick?"

"Men his age," I say. My jaw tenses up. "And why don't you ask him." It feels like a stab. It probably was.

My girlfriend is not his biggest fan, but he is my friend. I am allowed to have friends, right? She has no good reason to dislike him, if you ask me. It's not like she knows how I met him. Not exactly.

'The internet'. And by internet I mean a dating app. It would not have gone over well.

Not much to it, really. It was just something I did. It meant nothing, it was just for fun. I get really horny when I'm single, is all. And I'm not single anymore. Probably for the best. I was hiding a lot on there, it wasn't the safest of ideas. He was into me though. Really into me. All of me. That aroused me. A big man. Older. The kind I've wanted before. But he hit me up around the time I met her. So now I have a platonic friend named Dick. Richard, I mean.

My girlfriend just does not have to know everything. To my girlfriend, I am a lesbian. For a lesbian, I think about cock way too much...

Not necessarily his cock, not too often anyway.

"Dick, what kind of car does he have?" She asks.

"What?" I am not paying attention.

"Richard, his new car, what kind is it?"

I don't know. For some reason that makes her restless. She picks up her book, gets another refill for her coffee.

I don't know anything about cars, what did she expect?

I watch her as she moves through the kitchen. She is gorgeous. I love how tiny she is, and how it doesn't make her look fragile. I love the tattoo curling out from under her shirt hem. I love how strong her face is, with a that bold nose ring. I was sold, totally sold, when I first kissed her and my nose rubbed against that piercing. So sensual. Weak knees. She is the kind of power femme I find irresistable. I needed to make it work with her. No more apps. None of 'em. She was worth it. Is. Is worth it.

She turns around, sizes me up, walks up to me. Tentatively she curls up in my arms for a hug. Smells my neck. Moans softly.

"Hm... so clean. You look good today," she sighs. "Is this that new sweater?"

Her hands slide over my chest.

"Yeah it is," I say.

I am binding today. Simply felt like it. I see her notice it.

Suddenly the tension is back. And no matter how quietly I play with my phone on the couch next to her, reading her book, it's not really getting any better. Not in the least because I am replaying his chat messages in my mind. And, okay, rereading them on my phone.

Oh man, the filthy things he wanted to do with me. Chats with him made me wet, every single time. Yeah I'll admit I was eager. He pushed my boundaries, wanted things I hadn't done before - and believe me, I've done quite some things.

I glance at Camille... I feel slightly guilty for the filth inside my head, and on the screen in my hands. But what can I do.

I have my reasons to like him. She wouldn't understand. Hey, I am not an asshole! Trying not to be at least. I can't help that I have a thing for guys who are.

Goddamn, finally, he rings the bell.

"Hey there," he says, as I open the door.

His smile is as big as himself, and he is pretty big. Partly muscle, partly age; he is not in the best shape, but it looks damn good on him. Or maybe that is just my cunt talking. I can't help but think he smiles because he notices all the choices I made getting dressed this morning. He looks at me like he does. I feel like a deer in headlights.

He steps in, cautiously. It feels like he is holding back his self-assured swagger in the polite way that suggests he knows my girlfriend's apprehension around him.

"Camille, good morning", he says.

"Richard, hi."

"I'm taking yours truly here for a ride this morning," he says. How he is keeping a straight face, I don't know. But Camille would not have appreciated that as a joke. At all.

"Or so I hear. Well have fun," she says, as she gathers her things to finish her coffee and her book outside, with a smoke. Her one vice. "I'll leave you two to it."

And then I'm pouring him a cup while he watches me, like I did with Camille. With her outside, I feel a tiny shift in his attitude. I feel... watched.

"Look at you... being a good boy and making me coffee," he says, with a smirk playing around the corner of his mouth.

"Is that a new sweater?" His eyes deliberately travel to my flat chest and back. My heart rate goes up.

"Calling me boy now, are we?" I throw him a stern look. He knows my buttons, dammit, but pushing them under Cam's nose...

"Well," he says in a low voice, staring back hard. "She can't hear me, so I don't see why not."

Buttons that Camille is not aware I have.

"Bastard," I murmur.

"Oh but you like that," he whispers back.

God I hate him. I am getting wet. He finishes his coffee.

"So do you want that ride?"

He says it in a way that makes me think this is not a good idea, at all.

"Yeah sure."

And there I am, outside, checking out his car. Big, black, shiny. As I walk around it, I feel exposed. Like the whole street can see what is not supposed to be there between us. I should at least care about the car, right? Don't butch lesbians know how to change a tire and fix an engine and shit? Thoughtlessly, I lean on the hood.

"Good height, isn't it," he says.

Shit. Blood rushes to my face. Instantly I recall one very specific fantasy he sent me. I shoot him the angriest look I can manage. He stares back unfazed.

Enough. Goddamn. I need room to breathe.

"Let's go," I say.

The further away from my street we get, the further away from Camille... the better I feel. Slowly, I relax into the passenger seat. It's a pretty nice seat, actually. The interior looks good anyway. Nothing super expensive, just really well made. Comfortable. And yeah, this thing is a joy to drive, I feel that. And, well, that's about as far as it goes for me. I watch the landscape glide by, as he drives. I try not to wonder where he is taking me. Nowhere. Just a ride. Suddenly I notice he's been talking about the car for a while now...

"... Don't you think?"

I stare at him, not understanding what he asked, because half the words didn't make sense to me.

He laughs as I apologize. A deep, soft, rumbling chuckle I feel deep in my belly. It makes me smile. I am starting to enjoy being with him. Quiet small talk during a quiet drive. He's a nice guy. All his teasing, I might be taking it too seriously.

"You don't know shit about cars, do you?" He says.

"Nope," I say, with an awkward grin. "Don't give a shit either."

"Sad excuse for a lesbian, aren't you," he winks.

"Oh you have no idea," I sigh.

"Oh I have a very good idea," he says. "And you know I do."

He takes a turn into a wooded area. I like the forest.

"Camille..." I start.

"Oh, I know. Camille doesn't know. And she shouldn't know. And you've changed, for her, and things like that. You're repeating yourself."

He turns onto a sand road.

"But, you know," he continues, "I can't really ignore the fact that... you're here."

I don't know what to say.

He drives into a secluded, sandy parking space. Enough for a couple of cars. There are none. Just us. He switches off the engine. Turns to look at me.

"Binding for me. I see what you do. You know that is pretty mean." He smiles, licks his lips. "Since I never got to play with all of that."

His hand casually goes to my shoulder, plays with my sweater. I am not stopping him. Why am I not stopping him. My nipples are so hard under my binder.

"So... why are you here? Hm?"

He caresses my chin. My breath trembles.

"Do you miss being a boy, kiddo?"

I swallow hard.

"Dude, of course I do. But... well, y'know... Camille."

My eyes plead with him. Don't push me, please.

"I know," he says. "Camille. But you know what the trouble is..." His thumb caresses my lower lip. "I miss you being a boy too."

I grab his wrist. This is too close, way too close.

"Well then we both miss it. Tough luck. Okay? What the fuck do you want me to do about that, then. Be a cheating asshole?"

The look in his eyes tells me this has been a bad idea. All of it. Suddenly, his other hand grabs my hair, pushes my head into the headrest. His face is close to mine, I can feel his breath on me.

"Do you realize," he sneers. "That I don't actually care about Camille."

I stare into his face. He means it.

"And I would like to find out how much you actually care," his lips touch my cheek.

My heart is jumping out of my chest. My tits under my binder are aching to be touched, having desires of their own. Agonizingly careful his other hand is caressing my chest. My body shudders involuntarily. Slowly his hand is moving down. Slowly. A finger plays with the waistband of my jeans.

"Let me check how much you care, little boy," he whispers in my ear.

And then he starts to push his hand into my boxerbriefs. They're wet. I know they are. And they're getting wetter. Fucking hell, why does he need to do that...

"Don't, please don't," I plead, squirm in the seat.

"Why not? Afraid of what I will find?"

I feel him reach the sticky spot. I see it in his face, the mock surprise, the hateful, accusing smile. Oh he loves this. Bastard, fucking bastard. I curse, but he tightens his grip on my hair. And then his mouth is on mine. Slowly, he pushes two fingers inside me.

Fuck. No. I moan into his mouth. I shudder, grinding myself on his fingers in spite of myself.

He lets go, pulls out his fingers. Keeps them in front of me. They're covered, dripping.

"If you don't want this, then why are you so wet? Hm?" He wipes his hand on my lips. "You know what I think? You don't really care."

"Fuck you," I spit the words at him, as I wipe my face. "Asshole."

He smirks.

"Oh shut up. You told me how hard you get off on this." he says, shaking his head. He changes his voice to resemble mine: "'I want to be used by a guy who's being a total asshole about it', remember sending me exactly that? Hm?"

I remember rereading that this morning, if I am being really honest. Which I don't want to be. So I shut up.

He unbuckles his pants, takes out his cock. It is curved just right, and as big and thick as I know it to be. I have seen it a lot of times. Just not... in real life. He twists his fingers into my hair again, finding a steady grip, pauses for a short while, stares me in the face.

"So tell me again why I shouldn't do this."

Why is nothing crossing my lips? My mind is remembering all the chats we had, all the moments I told him I wanted this, exactly this. I dug my own grave by telling him all of my buttons. I should snap out of it. Now.

"Come on then. Give me a good reason. Tell me you don't get off on this."

I stare at his cock. He is glistening with precum. I try not to lick my lips. My wet spot grows. I stutter the beginning of a sentence...

"- and 'Camille' is not a good reason."

I shut up. Why the fuck do I shut up. He chuckles.

"I thought so."

He pulls my face down, pushes his cock against my lips. I can smell his warm body. His precum is sticky on my skin. Involuntarily I lick it off. He tastes good.

"Come on, taste me, little cocksucker," he whispers. "You know you want to."

Fuck, I do... I open my mouth, let his cock head slide past my lips, onto my tongue. For some insane reason I let him in. His salty taste on my tongue is incredibly satisfying. I swirl around him.

He moans, pushes in deep. His pubic hairs touch my face.

Oh man, how I missed sucking cock.

He slowly starts fucking my mouth, pulling me onto him again and again. Pushing deep, a hand on the back of my head. He doesn't need to force me. His hand caresses my neck, my cheek, oh god he rubs my chest, yes. Fuck yes. He tries to grope a tit, find my nipple, but the binding is too tight. That makes my head explode with arousal.

I feel him leak in my mouth even more. He likes it as much as I do.

"Such a tight top... I love that."

I am so wet...

It's fucked up, Camille can never know this, but this is how I love it. An obedient little cocksucker bent over in a car, servicing someone, pretending I am a boy.

I am going to stop, really. But this is just one blowjob, just this one time. I won't let him cum in my mouth. I promise.

"Get up," he says.

Why do I let him tell me what to do? I should stop, it's been enough, really. I wipe my mouth.

"Get out of the car," he says.

What? No! I'll regret that. But he is not giving in.

"You thought I was joking about the hood? Get out of the car," he repeats. Pulls up his briefs. Opens his door. Steps out.

Asshole.

"Good boy," he says, as I stand there, awkardly wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans.

The forest scent fills my nose, musky, earthy, a bit of pine. A raw, masculine smell. But then, everything feels raw and masculine to me right now. I can't help but stare at his open fly, the wet spot in his briefs covering that big thing. His taste is still in my mouth. A mix of saliva and precum is drying on my chin.

"Now bend over."

Damp handprints form on the black car paint. Hands reach around me, open my jeans. Pull them down, effortlessly, like they've done this countless times. Probably because they have. If his stories are true, I'm just another kid he fucks in the woods. I'm not sure why I like that, but it stirs me. He pushes me down, twists my arms on my back. The warm hood sticks against my cheek. Only now, with my cunt in the air, I feel how aroused I have gotten in the car. I feel wet spots cooling on my skin, way up between my ass cheeks and down on my inner thighs.

Then his big body presses me down. The weight of his belly on my ass makes me feel small. Casually he slides his cock between my sticky ass cheeks and between my legs. I feel another gush dripping out of me. Languidly, he teases me, rubbing the head between my lips. Oh god I am not going to stop him. I should, but I won't. I don't think there's much that can make me stop him.

"Can you come home filled with cum? I know that is the way you like it most. Don't you? Or have you changed?" He whispers in my ear. "Do you think Camille will mind?"

He is such an asshole. He knows how I have gotten off on bareback, hard, knows all about it. I took that risk a bit too many times, but I needed it. It made me filthy and worthless in a very addictive way. Sent me over the edge, always. But that is in the past. It has to be.

"Use a condom," I say finallly. Wordlessly I hear him put one on. I think I can hear him smile. I guess I betrayed myself there on how much I need this fuck...

And then he pushes in. He buries himself in me, until his balls touch my legs.

"Well that was easy," he says accusingly. "You know why that is? Because you are really wet. Do you realize that, boy? How wet you are?"

I hold my tongue, not wanting him to hear how much I love it when he talks like that.

He throws his full weight on me. Man, it is too much. I can hardly breathe.

"Watch out. Get... off m!" I stutter as he slides out, slams in again. He is pushing into a tender spot deep inside of me. Hard. I can't help but grunt. I feel the blood rush to my face.

"Oh I will get off, don't worry. I will get off really nicely. But thank you for being so considerate."

He grinds himself against me, moving inside me, it is almost sensual. Slowly he fucks me, with force but not rough. By now, everything inside feels tender, and everything inside wants it rough. He is so heavy on me. Man, how to catch my breath.

"The interesting question is really, how much do you get off on this?"

His nose is playing with my ear. Softly he plants a kiss in my neck. Another one on my ear. My heart races in my chest. Tears well up, because it all feels good, really good. Oh Camille, I'm so sorry. I hate him. I really do. But man...

"Because it's not like your cunt seems to have a bad time. Don't you hate your body for betraying you like that, hm, boy?" Another kiss. "Or are you going to be honest with your daddy?"

He buries his face in my neck. Goosebumps rise on my forearms.

"If I let your arms go, what will you do? Keep yourself open for your daddy?"

Slowly, he lets my arms go. And then he starts biting my ear, softly. Goddamn. I can't help but grind myself against him. My body wants him deep. Like a reflex, my fingers dig into my flesh, spread my cheeks, so I can satisfy the hunger I feel for his hairs to rub against that sensitive spot of soft skin on the inside of my legs just where they meet my ass. Ah, yes, right there. Good. So fucking good. Thankyoudaddy.

"Good boy!" he whispers.

I shudder under him, pressed down on the car hood, my hair in a tight grip, greedy for this.

"Thank you daddy..."

Did I say that out loud? There is no lying about this thing anymore. I don't care about Camille nearly enough. Not enough to say no to this.

He chuckles.

"Now we're getting somewhere!"

I feel myself zone out. A fuck on the hood, this is all that happened, really. I swear. And yes it was rough. It was... unexpectedly rough. Unexpected in many ways. Ways I won't want to remember. Because more boundaries were crossed. Way more. And also because I don't trust myself. I don't trust having this in my memory. Because when I remember it, I don't trust myself to not want it again. I will admit I enjoyed it, though. But it was going to be my last time. This is the last time. I swear.

"It's time for me now," he says. "Get up."

And I get up.

"Turn around."

I stand in front of the car hood, facing him half undressed. Somewhere I have gotten half undressed. I feel a bruise here and there. Not sure if I can pull down my shirt, pull up my jeans. I don't know what he wants.

He runs a finger down my chest. My nipples are aching for attention, but he is not giving them any.

"That looks good. Don't cover up."

I swallow hard, stare at the ground. I feel watched.

"Now kneel. I want your mouth," he says.

And there they go, my knees, they bend, I sink down, until I am facing his crotch. Boxerbriefs cover a bulge, his fly is open. Slowly, he uncovers his cock. Semi hard, slanting against his leg. Filling with blood fast. His hand touches my chin, holds it up. His eyes lock with mine as his thumb caresses my lower lip. The sudden sensuality throws me off inside, uncovers something needy. Like taking off shoes after a long day. And I open my mouth.

With the same slow sensuality, he feeds me his dickhead. The pearl of precum on my tongue tastes as good as the first time. It makes me moan.

"Good boy, such a good boy" he whispers, like it is more to himself than me.

His fingers curl through my hair, like he cares. Carefully, he holds the back of my head, as he slides deep into my throat. And again. Over and over.

Allyourbase
Allyourbase
157 Followers
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