After the bar booth
Riding shotgun
The hum of the road filled the silence. The car was warm, enclosed, filled with breath and tension. She straddled me slowly in the backseat, guided by my hands — her dress bunched at her waist, her body trembling but eager. I didn’t rush. I made her feel every inch of the moment, every flicker of heat and control. Outside, the streetlights passed in rhythm. Inside, it was nothing but us — skin, heat, command. Her breath h...