Carpark Slut

7.30pm Saturday night.

You've dressed me in black... black dress, black bra, black stockings
and suspenders. No panties. Black sling-back heels, red lipstick, red
bag. The black and red contrast against my pale skin and blonde hair.
Allure, by Chanel, lingers lightly on my skin, perfuming the warm air.
You're pleased with me, you're pleased with the way I look, and
because you're happy, I glow.

We're going out for dinner... or are we? Because, on the way out the
door, you catch me from behind, your hands roaming over my full
breasts, your groin pressing into my ass, your lips on the back of my
neck, nipping and biting. Instantly, I'm wet, I'm such a slut, your
slut, your slightest touch sends shivers of desire coursing through
me. Your large hands move over me, teasing me, following the curve of
my waist, the swell of my hips. You turn me to face you, I am
powerless to resist as you lower your lips to mine, taking my breath
away as you kiss me, my soft, full lips bruising under your firm
mouth. I love it when you kiss me like that, deeply, passionately, I
love it even more as I feel you hands cupping my ass, drawing me
closer to you. I'm melting into you as we kiss, helpless as your
tongue slips into my mouth, teasing me, tantalising me. Your hands are
under my dress now, I feel your fingers probing my wet cunt, slipping
inside my folds, penetrating my pussy. First one, then two, moving
inside me, your thumb on my clit...

Then, abruptly, you're gone, lips and fingers just... gone, leaving me
aching and desperate as you pick up your keys and open the door. "Come
on," you say, a little impatiently. "We'll be late, and you know I
hate being late."

In the elevator, I adjust my clothing, fix my makeup, and try to catch
my breath as we make our way down to the basement carpark. As you
hurry toward the car, I try to keep up, but my heels slow me down. You
arrive first, and wait for me impatiently. I stumble a little as I
reach the car, falling against you. You catch me, and as I look up at
you, I feel your lips on mine again, capturing mine, invading my
mouth, making me melt all over again. Then, your lips pressed against
my ear, you say:

"Beg me to fuck you, slut. Beg me to fuck you, right here in the
carpark, where anyone can see us, should they come. Beg me like the
slut you are."

I love it when you call me that, you know it. I love being your slut,
love being used by you, fucked by you, owned by you. But... in public?
Fucked in public? But I can't resist you, I'm so wet and I want you so
badly so, of course, I beg.

"Please Sir, please fuck me. I need you to fuck me, want you to fuck
me, I don't care who sees us, I don't care who knows what a slut I am.
Please, fuck me."

And so, because I have begged so well, and because it pleases you to
do so, you lift me on to the hood of the car, lay me down, push my
dress up around my waist, with my legs spread and my knees bent.
There's no time to mess about, you just want to fuck me, so that's
what happens.

Because I'm such a slut, your slut, I'm so wet that your cock slides
into my cunt with the minimum of resistance, and I groan as you fuck
me slowly but firmly, filling my cunt with your cock. Grabbing my
hips, you slide me down the hood of the car, telling me to "lift your
legs, slut, put them over my shoulders," and, when I do, you're able
to fuck me harder and deeper, your cock hitting my cervix as you
thrust in, in, in.

You're using me, and I love it, love being fucked so hard, I love
being your slut, I crave it. I don't care who sees us, I don't care
who sees me with my legs over your shoulders, being screwed so quickly
and roughly. I can hear your breathing quicken now, and I know you're
close to cumming, so I beg you to "cum inside me, cum inside your
slut, fill your slut with cum, just fuck me, use me and cum in me."

And you do, filling me with stream after stream of your hot cream, so
much of it that it spills from my cunt as you pull out, slipping down
between my ass cheeks and pooling on the hood of the car.

You help me up, help me keep my balance as I find my feet. I'm
breathless, my face flushed, my hair messed, my makeup smudged. You
clean yourself up a little, and tell me "hurry, now we're really going
to be late, you can fix yourself up in the car... but... don't wipe my
away cum, slut. Fix your hair, fix your makeup, but leave my cum
inside you, let it trickle down your thighs and stain your dress as we
dine..."

As I must, I obey you, and we go to dinner with me smelling of sex,
leaking sex, wanting still more sex. Because, after all, I am your
slut, you control me, you own me, and you honour me with your cock and
your cum. You are my Master, I know how lucky I am, your needs are my
pleasure and your pleasure, my happiness.

I am yours.