Homecoming Car Fuck

The automatic doors of international arrivals led me out into the freezing January night air. My skin still carried the humid heat from my trip to Argentina, my hair was wild from the long flight, and my lips were chapped as all get out. But all I could think about was Alex. Thirty days without him had been torture. Every message, every late-night video call had only sharpened the ache between my legs. I spotted him immediately.

He stood apart from the crowd waiting, black hoodie up, hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyes locked on me the second I appeared. The flowers he’d brought last time were gorgeous, but I saw the glint in his eye...

I dropped my backpack at his feet, and let my suitcases roll where they wanted, never breaking eye contact. He caught my waist before I could speak, and pulled me against his chest so hard the air slipped out of my lungs. His mouth crashed into mine, like teeth clashing, tongue lashing, one hand fisting my hair at the nape type of shit. I moaned into his kiss loud enough that I caught some disapproval from some people in the waiting area, but neither of us cared.

“Get in the fucking car,” he said against my lips. “Now.”

He dragged me through the terminal, my hand locked in his grip, my pulse hammering in my ears. The parking garage was colder, still, his black Subaru sat in the farthest corner, half-hidden behind a pillar. He threw my suitcases in the back, unlocked the back door (I asked why but wasn't given an answer). I leapt into the back seat, and he slammed the door open behind me and chirped the doors closed.

He was on me in seconds.

His hands tore at my shirt, literally ripping my gross t-shirt halfway down the front. My bra followed, yanked down so my tits spilled out. He groaned like a starving man, latched onto my nipple, sucking so hard I yelped, teeth grazing the edge of pain. My back arched, and my fingers clawed at his hoodie, tearing it off. He shoved my shorts and panties down in one brutal tug, not even bothering to get them off my ankles before he forced my thighs open.

“Look at you,” he rasped, staring between my legs. “So fucking wet already. All that time away and you’re still dripping for me.”

He spat on his fingers, dragged them roughly through my folds, then plunged two inside without warning. I gasped, hips jerking. He didn’t let me adjust, just fucked me with his hand fast and mean, curling hard against that spot that made my vision go white.

“Missed this tight little cunt,” he said, his voice low. “Missed how you clench when I’m rough.”

I was shaking, my thighs were trembling, and I was already embarrassingly close. He pulled his fingers out, smeared them across my lips, then put them in my mouth so I could taste myself. While I sucked, he ripped his belt open, jeans shoved down just enough. His cock leaped out, thick, veined, leaking at the tip. God, I missed it.
No time for teasing. No slow entry. He lined up and slammed into me in one vicious thrust.

I screamed, half in pain, half in ecstasy - the stretch felt brutal after a month apart. He gripped my hips hard and started pounding into me like he wanted to ruin me. The car rocked, and the windows fogged up pretty damn fast. Every thrust punched the air from my lungs, my tits bouncing, my nails raking red lines down his back.

“Fuck yes! Harder -” I begged.

He groaned, slid out to flip me onto my back, hooked my legs over his shoulders, and slammed back in so deep I swear he hit my cervix. One hand clamped around my throat while the other found my clit and rubbed in merciless circles.

“You’re gonna come all over my cock,” he ordered. “Right here. Right now. Where anyone walking by could hear you screaming my name.”

The threat, the pressure, the relentless pounding...I snapped

My orgasm hit like a freight train.

My back curved off the seat, my thighs locking around him, my toes curled as a raw, cry tearing out of my throat as I came so hard my vision went blurry. Wetness flooded between us, soaking his jeans, the leather, everything. My walls clamped down on him in violent pulses.

He followed two strokes later, panting my name like a curse, burying himself to the hilt and flooding me with heat. He kept thrusting through it, shallow and punishing, dragging every last shudder out of me until I was whimpering.

When he finally stilled, he didn’t pull out. Just stayed buried deep, forehead pressed to mine, both of us panting, our heartbeats slamming against each other.

“Welcome home, baby,” he murmured, voice hoarse, kissing me slowly this time.

I smiled against his mouth, still trembling.

“Best fucking homecoming of my life.” [email protected]