A quickie in his car

You bite your lower lip as you consider the aggressive older man's invitation.

"My friend warned me about you," you say, stalling for a little more time.

Mr. crassle smiles and takes his hand off your ass, but he doesn't back away.

"I'll be on my best behavior," he holds up his hand as if he's swearing an oath. "Scout's honor."

That decides it for you. You gesture to Sara that you'll be five minutes and then you turn back to the older man.

"I don't wanna turn down the first guy who comes up to me tonight. How about we go out to your car and see what we can do?"

"That sounds beautiful," he says, lacing an arm around your waist and leading you back towards the front door.

Out in the darkness of the parking lawn Crassle's arm holds you a bit more tightly. He guides you to a silver Mercedez and with a beep of the alarm and a click of locks he opens the back door.

"Little more room in the back," he says and holds the door open for you.

You smile and duck inside the car. The back is very comfortable and spacious, with brown leather seats that crinkle beneath your weight. Crassle follows you in and closes the door behind him. He is on you immediately, his lips pressing against yours and his tongue pushing into your mouth. He rolls his weight atop you, pinning you back into the seat. One hand holds your cheek as his tongue roughly probes your mouth. You moan into his rude kiss with a mixture of surprise, pleasure, and anger.

Crassle's other hand is busy. He quickly unties your leather coat and pulls it aside. You dutifully shrug out of it. He pulls his lips away for a moment, leaving you gasping for air as he admires your breasts. He takes one in each hand, squeezing them roughly and teasing the hardening pink nipples.

"Magnificent," he says before diving down and sucking a nipple into his mouth.

You moan as he mawls your tits, teasing and twisting the nipples with his fingers and moving back and forth between them with his mouth, sucking the nipples into his mouth so hard they begin to become sore. His tongue works them constantly. He is still sucking and nibbling at your breasts when you feel his hand searching for the waist of your panties. He tears at them and you lift your butt up off the seat so he can slide them down. His fingers find your swelling lips and brush against your clit. He may be very rough, but he is succeeding at turning you on.

He plunges two fingers straight into your fortunately very-well lubricated pussy. He lifts his mouth from your hard little nipple, glistening with his saliva in the moonlight.

"You're wet and ready, sweetheart," he pronounces.

He sits back and quickly undoes his belt and opens his fly. His hard cock springs free from the fly of his boxers. It is thick and veined and surrounded by gray pubic hair. There is a single liquid gem of precum at the tip. He spreads your legs with his hand and positions himself between your legs. Finally, some sense returns, and you hold up a hand to stop him.

"Hang on, stud," you say. "You need to put on a rubber. I barely know you."

He grumbles and turns out his pockets.

"Damn," he says, "looks like I forgot to bring them with me. They must be in my wife's purse."

His search seemed a little short and lazy and his line isn't completely convincing.