the first time as a whore

We had arranged to meet at the service area at eleven at night, and the drive there had me tense, with damp hands on the steering wheel and the dress sticking to my legs from the heat and nerves. Every stop along the way made me fear someone would recognize me and shatter the fantasy that had brought me there.

When I arrived, I adjusted my heels and wig in a shadowy corner, listening to my breathing grow faster and faster. I waited, watching the entrance, getting out of the car and getting back in every time another vehicle appeared, until at last an SUV entered the lot and flashed the agreed signal with its lights.

I came out of my hiding place with my heart pounding in my chest. He got out of the car and approached calmly; he was a large, firm silhouette, impossible to ignore.

“So you’re the whore who’s come to offer herself,” he said, with a slow contempt that left my face burning.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

He took hold of my body with a confident gesture, inspecting me with his hands as if reading every curve hidden beneath the clothes. His touch was firm, precise, intimate. Then he gave me a brief slap and ordered:

“Follow me somewhere quieter and don’t speak unless I tell you to.”

He returned to his car and I followed him along the road, leaving behind the glow of the service area. He took a more isolated road, and soon there was only black scrubland, motionless trees, and the dry sound of engines breaking the night.

Finally he parked without turning off the lights, and the glare was pinned onto the dirt like an interrogation spotlight. He got out of the car and signaled to me; as I approached the hood, I understood that the light would keep me from seeing his face, which made me feel even more excited.

His hands moved over my body with confidence and left me breathless, especially when he squeezed my nipples. Every touch sent a hot shock down my back and filled my belly with unbearable anticipation.

Finally he reached for his fly and took it out.

“Suck, whore.”

He made me kneel, and a good thick cock began to grow, making me gag, while he held my head firmly. His control disarmed me and made me more docile, more available.

Then he forced me to stand and pressed me against the hood. With his fingers he pushed the skirt aside, held me by the hips, and examined my trembling as if he wanted to tear away my last resistance. He slipped one finger in, playing with my ass, then two… he pulled them out, leaving a strange emptiness.

And he shoved it in all at once. A moan escaped me. The thrust went through me with a mixture of pressure, dizziness, and pleasure that made me arch against the car and lose the sense of where my body ended.

The movement was intense, almost hypnotic, until the air seemed to break around us.

After a good while, he pulled away. I was still leaning against the h...