As we sat in the pub, waiting for the pre-arranged meeting with a new stranger, nervous giggles slipped out now and then. None of us really knew what to expect or how the evening would unfold. The low hum of conversation and clinking glasses only heightened the anticipation.

Then he arrived, exactly as instructed. Jeans and a white T-shirt. Taller than expected, but a pleasant sight on the Mrs’ eyes. She glanced at her husband and gave a quick bite of her lip, the familiar signal that she liked what she saw.

He came over after collecting his drink, and we exchanged the usual introductions. After a short while and another sip, she moved closer to him, leaning just enough for the neckline of her shirt to fall open. Only a hint was revealed, the soft silhouette of the top of her nipple catching his eye.

Before long, his hand began to wander, brushing against the hem of her mini skirt. It hovered there, tempted to slide higher and see what was underneath, but he kept his composure. The conversation relaxed, the tone turning playful, then naughty. When the Mrs gave her husband the secret sign, it was clear it was time to go. The stranger had no idea what was coming. He was only just getting comfortable, hoping the night still had more to give.

She slipped off to the bathroom to freshen up. The husband excused himself shortly after, telling him she would return and guide him through what the rest of the night would bring. He waited, nervous but intrigued, tapping his knee with one hand while finishing the last sip of his drink.

She appeared almost perfectly on cue, took his hand, and led him outside toward the car park.

As they reached the dark German SUV, he noticed the husband already inside, the engine softly purring. She opened the back door and gestured for him to climb in first. As he did, she gave his bum a cheeky, deliberate squeeze. Sliding in behind him, she shut the door.

Almost immediately, the car pulled away. The stranger felt a rush of nerves mixed with excitement. The road grew darker, the city lights fading behind them. Then he felt his trousers being opened. Buttons undone, zip lowered. Before he could even look back, she was between his thighs, her mouth replacing her hands. Warm breath, soft lips, slow and deliberate. The unmistakable sounds of her working filled the car, wet and rhythmic, leaving no doubt about what she was doing. The driver adjusting the rear-view mirror was far too obvious. This was planned. 

 It felt almost too good to be true. He returned the favour, gently squeezing her breasts while she focused her attention exactly where it mattered most.

Before long, she wriggled her way over him, her legs now on either side, facing forward and leaning in to make it easier for him to keep a steady rhythm. The movement synced almost perfectly with the passing roadside lights. The pace built, urgency taking over. She leaned forward and whispered into her husband’s ear that he could turn back. She could feel it coming, the rhythm shifting, the tension tightening.

The timing was flawless. As he turned into the parking lot, a moan of pleasure filled the car, followed by release. The moment left everyone relaxed, satisfied, and smiling to themselves.

A five-star Uber experience, without a doubt.