And then he said, “Oh, I watched that squirting video you sent me.”
What a throwaway comment to change the topic, I thought.
“What did you think?” I asked.
“I think I was using too much energy and strength in my fingers rather than the whole arm movement. I noticed the guy in the video wasn’t built like Mr Universe but he still had his girlfriend coming like crazy.”
“Did you notice the sound when he was working his fingers inside her?”
He shook his head.
“Damn, it was one of the most important signs that the technique is spot-on; I should have thought to tell you when I sent the message. No worries, we can watch it again and try another time.”
He kneeled higher from the floorpan and unbent my legs from atop the dashboard, shifting one to each side. He inserted two fingers inside me and said, “Apparently my fingers aren’t supposed to bend, something like this I think.”
I felt the swelling build against his finger tips during each plunge and could feel the approach of an orgasm. I crashed back against the seat and swore as I came.
I shook some sense into my head and said, “A bit more practice and you’ll have it down. I came but I didn’t sq…”
Suddenly the leftover internal pressure felt like it was releasing with a different sense of urgency and I sprayed fluid down his hand and forearm. My backside soon felt cold and wet, which meant his car seat was damp as well. Fuck.
“Whoops, sorry. The orgasm and the squirt usually happen within a couple of seconds of each other, not, um, 20 seconds. I’m a little out of practice.”
I felt sheepish that I’d lost control but he was inspired and determined. He commenced fingering me again and within 10 seconds my fingernails were wedged deep in his forearms as another orgasm ripped through me. The release of my juices was more closely synched this time and he lifted his arm proudly to show me the wet trails dripping from his elbow.
He placed his hand between my legs again for more and I acted all grown-up and sensible and said that we needed a towel before I destroyed his upholstery. Neither of us had brought one so his work jacket was sacrificed in the name of squirting.
The jacket was soaked. And I received a message two days later saying the seat was still damp. Oh.