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Imagine if it were just the two of us

You know, I’ve been thinking… Just imagine: the two of us in your black Bentley, at night, driving along an empty road by the sea. I’m behind the wheel, my dress has ridden up, I’m not wearing any knickers, and you’re sitting next to me, slowly running your hand over my bare leg. Your fingers glide higher… higher… I realise I’m already wet. You tease my clitoris, slide your fingers inside me, and I try to keep the steering wheel straight, but my legs are shaking and the car swerves a little. I whisper, ‘Don’t stop, deeper,’ and you pick up the pace until I start to moan softly. Then we turn onto an empty beach. The doors are open, the waves are crashing, the moon is shining. You pull me onto the back seat, throw me onto my back, spread my legs and thrust into me abruptly, hard, right deep inside me. I scream, dig my fingernails into your back; you f**k me mercilessly, every thrust deeper than the last. The car rocks, the windows are rolled up, and we’re both on the edge. Finally, you come inside me, hard, holding my hips tight, and I come a second time, clinging to you so tightly that you groan. Then we lie there, breathing heavily, listening to the sea… and I whisper: “Next time, you’ll be behind the wheel, and I’ll be sitting on your lap.” Translated with DeepL.com (free version)