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I don’t know how I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket through the heavy thrumming of the bass.  The frequency and intensity of the sound coming out of the subwoofer is enough to rattle the fillings out of my head if I don’t clench my jaw tightly enough and should have overcome the weak motor in my fashionably tiny cell phone.  I quickly palm it and flip the screen up, maneuvering through the shortcut menus until I can read the simple message:

“Wanna go fuck?”

I’m sure my double-take would put Danny Kaye to shame.

Once I regain my composure, I check the sender’s contact information.  Dana.  I look away from the phone and see her watching me from across the room, the smirk on her face practically screaming, “Well, how about it?”  She wiggles her own phone between her thumb and forefinger, soliciting a response.

I look behind me and see Hank, my best friend since grade school, drinking an alcoholic concoction with no name and flirting shamelessly with a shorter blond girl.  He’s tall and goofy, but built like a brick shithouse, broad and muscled from years of high school sports and weightlifting, the opposite of my average height and slender frame.  I’m not scrawny by any definition, but years of martial arts and running around outside have left me lean and toned, the exact opposite of his gym-rat build.  He’s the sort of guy most girls would pick out from the crowd in a bar.  He’s also Dana’s boyfriend.

I look back at Dana.  She glances at Hank, shrugs, and wiggles her phone again.

After a moment’s hesitation, I text back, “My truck, three minutes.”

I slip out the back door of the house and circle around to the front yard, navigating a sea of parked cars and avoiding the few couples either brave or horny enough to stay outside in the cold.  It’s probably 20 degrees outside tonight, and a layer of condensation has frozen solid on my truck’s windshield.  The engine turns over with only the slightest protest, and I rev just above idle to help warm the block.  In moments the ice is receding, and I catch a glimpse of Dana sneaking around the house via the same path I took.  I pop her lock just before she climbs in, beer in hand.  I grin at her and practically peel out of the grass lot.

I’ve barely gotten away from the houseparty before Dana has crawled to the middle of the truck’s bench seat and is unzipping my fly.  I don’t say a word in protest or approval as she pulls my semi-erect member through the zipper and takes the entire length into her mouth.  I stifle the groan, refusing to play by anyone’s rules but my own here, as she orally coerces my manhood to full attention.  I’m rather impressed at her skill, because though I’m only slightly above average in length, my girth is sufficient to quickly induce jaw cramps, but Dana operates like a professional, her teeth only occasionally grazing the tender flesh as she works her lips and tongue along my shaft.  Meanwhile, I just bite my lip and drive, one hand on the wheel, the other tracing lazy patterns across her back.

About two miles away I pull off the road onto a small gravel access road leading to an abandoned pump jack.  I slam the truck into park, kill the engine, and practically heave Dana off of my lap.  She hits the passenger door and grunts in protest, but the sound gives way to a growl as she rips her shirt over her head.  She’s wearing no bra, and her already large breasts seem even larger in the dim moonlight.  I quickly follow suit, unceremoniously stripping myself of every bit of clothing possible.  She’s already completely nude, and she helps me with the second leg of my boxers, which are quickly deposited with the rest of our clothes in the floorboard.

There is nothing graceful or smooth about the way I mount her.  I pin her left shoulder against the passenger door armrest and lift her right leg up over my arm, her calf resting in the crook of my elbow, opening her up to me.  My free hand grips my shaft at the base, and with no hesitation or consideration for protection I guide myself into her.  She is soaking wet, and I feel her juices already gliding against my groin as I bury every inch of myself in Dana’s pussy.  Her growl turns into an almost feral snarl as she bucks her hips up against mine.  This is not lovemaking.  This is not sex.  This is pure, unadulterated fucking, our groins slamming together with enough force to shake the entire truck, biting each other’s necks and shoulders, me twisting her nipples hard enough to make her cry out in simultaneous pain and elation, her reaching under our legs to squeeze my balls, the pain making me spasm and moan in agony but only pushing me to fuck her harder and faster, my forehead falling between her heaving breasts as I lose myself in the overwhelming sensations of heat and wetness enveloping my cock, her head falling back against the window as she screams her orgasm into the silence of the truck, my hips driving forward one last time as I follow her, firing my seed into Dana’s body, filling her with everything I have, our bodies a tangled mess of arms and legs and hair and sweat and longing and passion and intensity that words will never fully describe.

…………….twenty minutes have passed when I look at my watch.  Dana is panting softly under me, her eyes half-lidded, sweat beading and running down her face, pooling between her breasts.  I glance out the window, resting my cheek against her seatback, watching the icy condensation steadily advance across her window.  I look down when I hear Dana whisper something.

“What was that?”

“I said, you’re such an amazing guy.”

I smile and say, “Thanks,” though a voice in the back of my mind reminds me that Kelly might disagree with her on this.  But I can’t be too bothered by that now.  For the first time, I lean down and kiss Dana full on the mouth.  Not a quick thank you peck, not a full-tongue-let’s-go-again kiss, but a lingering contact into which I pour all of my passion and gratitude for her and who she is.  It’s a kiss that’s meant to tell her, “We can never be together.  We would never be happy.  But right now, in this moment, I love you with all the ferocity that I am capable of.”  She wraps her arms around my neck, returning my kiss with the same passion, as if to say, “I understand.  You’re right.  But right now, this is all that matters.”

The kiss lingers for what feels like ages, and I am loath to end it, but I know our absence will be noticed if we don’t get back soon.  I rise to my knees and pull my body away from her, my still partly erect manhood begging me not to stop, and I dress.  Dana does likewise, in silence.  We don’t speak as the truck warms back up, as I drive us back to the party.

I put the truck in park and look at Dana.  She’s watching me with an expression of longing and sadness, like she wants to say something but doesn’t know how.  No one is around, so she leans over and kisses me one more time.  Then she opens the door, climbs out, and goes back to the thumping bass of the houseparty.

I stay in the truck, letting the cold invade my tired limbs, watching the condensation freeze.



  1. “We can never be together. We would never be happy. But right now, in this moment, I love you with all the ferocity that I am capable of.”

    That is the real definition of fucking isn’t it? That is exactly how it feels, so lovely, so lonely, so intense, and so ephemeral.

    • I think you’ve captured it perfectly there. It really is a lonely, fleeting thing. The candle that burns bright then dies.

      That’s a clichéd description. But it’s a cliché because it’s so incredibly true.

  2. Her reply kiss didn’t say that. You know it. That just makes you feel ok. What she was saying is ‘love me’ – even in a flawed way. Easy cum – easy go. Xxx

    • Unfortunately, I think you’re 100% right. The nice thing about memory, and committing it to paper, is that your version will always paint you in a better light than the other person’s. I often wonder what Dana remembers about me and that night. I would like to think that she remembers it fondly, if not bittersweet, as I do. But somehow I doubt it.

      • Bittersweet sexy. Bittersweet. Sounds like it was a good fuck. ‘fuck’ xxx

  3. Just reading your old posts. Excellent writting. Excellent story.

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