It started like any normal date. Dinner, a movie, some casual flirting. I was wearing this little black dress — short enough to show off my legs, low-cut enough to get his attention. We sat near the back of the theater, and pretty soon his hand found its way to my thigh. I didn’t stop him.

As the movie dragged on, I barely paid attention. His fingers kept inching higher, just brushing the edge of my panties beneath the hem of my dress. My heart was pounding the whole time — a mix of nerves, curiosity, and straight-up lust I didn’t quite know what to do with.

After the movie, neither of us wanted to go home. So we drove — aimlessly at first, then on purpose — until we found a quiet, dark spot just off an old road, parked under some trees where no one would see us.

That’s when things really started to heat up. We leaned across the center and kissed — slow, hungry, deeper by the second. His hands were all over me, sliding up my thighs, cupping my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress. I straddled his lap, grinding against him as he got harder and I got braver.

Then, out of nowhere, I whispered it — “I want to suck your cock.”

I couldn’t believe I said it. I felt a rush of nerves right after, but he looked at me like I was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He leaned back in his seat, adjusted himself, and unbuttoned his jeans. I slid off his lap and shifted beside him, kneeling on the passenger seat with my heart pounding in my ears.

He lifted his hips, tugged his pants and boxers down just enough, and out came his cock — semi-hard, warm, thick in my hand. I wrapped my fingers around it and gave a few slow strokes, feeling him swell in my grip as I leaned in.

I opened my mouth and took the tip in, slowly, nervously, letting my lips stretch around him as my tongue swirled gently underneath. He let out this low groan that made me even wetter. I went a little deeper, inch by inch, careful not to rush it. I didn’t know what I was doing exactly, but I tried to go slow, listen to his reactions, and figure out what he liked.

He reached down and gently brushed my hair out of my face, then rested his hand on the back of my head, not pushing, just holding. I started bobbing my head, stroking him with one hand while sucking him with more confidence, feeling him get harder and longer as I went.

I loved the way he tasted — clean, warm, just a little salty. I loved how his thighs tensed under my free hand. I loved how his breathing changed the deeper I went, the sloppier my strokes got. It wasn’t messy, not yet, but I could feel my spit starting to mix with his precum, slick and hot as I worked him over.

I pulled back for a second, looking up at him, then licked from base to tip slowly before taking him back in. This time, I let him guide me just a little, and when he groaned again — low, desperate — I knew I was doing something right.

“Fuck, that feels so good…” he muttered, breathless.

I didn’t stop. I was getting into it now, moaning a little around his cock, letting my tongue stay active even when I couldn’t go too deep. My hand stayed busy at the base, stroking him in rhythm with my mouth. I could feel his cock start to swell again, his thighs getting tighter. He was close.

“I’m gonna cum…” he said, voice strained.

I looked up again, and that eye contact — God, it was intense — but I didn’t pull back. I wanted to see it through.

A few more strokes and he gasped, then moaned as he came in my mouth. Hot, thick shots hit the back of my throat, and I swallowed instinctively, surprised at how much I liked it. I kept sucking gently as he came down from it, licking him clean before finally letting him slip from my lips.

I wiped the corner of my mouth and looked up at him, a little breathless, a little shaky — but proud.

He was still catching his breath, smiling like he’d just won the lottery.

And me? I was hooked.