Confessing My Wild Car Fuck in the Forest: Private Locker Secret
I’ve kept this locked tight in my Private Locker for years. That mental vault where shame and thrill collide. Tonight, the urge hits hard. Adrenaline surges as I type. No more holding back. This is me, Robert, 40, married, two kids, sales rep from 5 Allée des Glycines in MénagèresDésespérées. That day, deep in the forest south of town, I cracked open.
Her name: Mme Duseing. Met her at a client pitch. Eyes locked during my demo. Tension built. After, I suggested a ‘drive to discuss details.’ She slid into my passenger seat, skirt hugging her thighs. We drove silent, my cock twitching. Found a lost spot in the oak woods, ferns brushing the windows. Parked. Heart hammered. Turned to her. ‘Fuck it,’ I thought. Leaned in. Lips met. Soft at first, then hungry. Tongues danced. Her breath hot, minty. My hand on her shoulder, striped shirt tight over my chest. Hers in my short hair, pulling me closer.
Unlocking the Vault
She tilted back, mouth locked on mine. I followed, tasting her fully. Leg swung over, short beige skirt riding up. Black stockings gleamed, thin on her fine calf, thicker thigh. Skirt flipped easy. Hands roamed. Mine gripped her waist, then ass. Slid under fabric. Pulled her string aside. Head dove down. Tongue lapped her wet folds. No panties barrier now. She gasped, words lost in some wild tongue – moans echoing. Hands gripped my head, nails digging. Hips bucked up. Pussy slick, pulsing.
Pulled back. Fingers tore her pink blouse open. Pale skin glowed under. White silk bra, 90C at first glance. She yanked it down herself – fuller, 95E tits spilling out. Nipples hard, pink. My jeans strained, size 44 waist. Zipper down. Her left hand wrapped my cock – thick, veined, purple head throbbing. Stroked slow, then fast, 10cm up-down, squeezing tight. Laid her back on the seat. Legs up, red heels size 39, 8cm spikes on my shoulders. Pushed in. Her pussy gripped me like a vice. Inch by inch, 15 seconds to bury deep.
Deep in the Heat
Thrusts started slow. Hips rocked, 5cm pulls, 1Hz rhythm. Her nails raked my arms. Left hand on headrest, right kneading her tit. Amplitude grew – 15cm strokes. Her left breast jiggled, shape shifting with each pound. Freq upped to 1.5Hz, then 2Hz. Sweat beaded. She clawed harder. Shifted right 40cm. Hands squeezed her tits together. Cock slid between, warm flesh enveloping. Slow grinds, 5cm, half Hz. Eyes shut, mouth agape. Built fast. Exploded – hot ropes on her face, neck. Thick white, like yogurt streaks.
Collapsed on her. Bodies slick, heaving. No words. Pulled out slow, cum dripping. Zipped up. She fixed her skirt, bra snapped back. Drove her home silent, electric afterglow buzzing. Back to life – wife, kids, sales calls. But that rush? Sealed it away. Until now. Vault’s empty. Lighter. Thrill shared. Secret’s out. Fuck, feels good.
