He fucks you

The stretch is immediate and painful, your body still sore from Bobby earlier. He doesn’t give you time to adjust — he starts pounding into you with rough, selfish strokes, the cruiser rocking slightly with each thrust. His grip on your hips is bruising as he uses you.

A wave of panic cuts through the alcohol haze when you feel him raw — no barrier, no condom. Just his bare cock sliding deep inside you.

“Wait— you’re not wearing anything,” you gasp, trying to push against his chest. “Please, pull out—”

He laughs, low and breathless, slamming into you harder. “Shut up and take it. You’re lucky I’m not dragging your ass to jail.”

His pace quickens, hips snapping against yours. You can feel him swelling, getting closer. His breathing turns ragged, groans growing louder. Just as his thrusts become erratic and you feel him start to throb inside you, adrenaline surges through the fear.

You twist violently, shoving at his shoulders with all the strength you have left. He slips out of you mid-thrust with a wet sound. He snarls in frustration, grabbing for you, but you scramble back against the passenger door just in time.

“Fuck—!” he hisses.

Thick ropes of hot cum splatter across your lower back and ass as he finishes outside you, stroking himself roughly through the last spasms. Some lands on the seat beneath you. The warmth is disgusting, sliding down your skin.

He pants heavily, glaring at you with a mix of annoyance and lingering lust. “You little bitch… almost had you.”