The male anatomy is most conveniently designed for daytime sexual activity in cars. If I want some attention administered stealthily while we’re in a train station car park, the most I’ll get is a few discreet fingers and the deepest I’ll get depends on the tightness of the pants I’ve chosen to wear. Note to self: try a skirt without hosiery next time and stop lamenting. And design a prototype car with one-way windows for proper privacy.
Jekyll? Easy. Unzip, gently manoeuvre cock from underpants, nestle into his groin and feast while he keeps half an eye out for passersby. I almost gagged on his cock when someone approached: instead of tapping my head in warning and covering his genitals with his shirt, he shoved my head further down his cock and held me there. (I still don’t know if there really was someone or if he was messing about with my gag reflex – I suspect the latter.)
Tongue kissing him afterwards was a lot of fun. I enjoy corrupting his neutral breath with the musky scent of his cock and the fresh, seawatery-tang of his ejaculate.
I was left a little undertouched and overexcited, and he’s promised next time he’ll return the favour. I’ll carry a blanket in the car to conceal him and I’ll pack my new vibrator. It makes me squirt – just the thing to exact a little revenge when my hand is locking his head down.