Mr BMW

So the BDE was an absolute debacle but I was off the leash.

Around the same time on OKC I’d started chatting with Mr BMW, a 40-something management consultant who, I thought, was easy on the eye and falling into my burgeoning ‘type’ of tall, thin/muscular and able to hold a conversation in text form. Sure it fast descended from “so what do you do” to “so am I going to have to travel to __ to kiss you” but it was fun with a level of sparring. I liked it. A lot.

As it so happened just two days after BDE I was again able to escape to meet up with him. These windows of opportunity have previously been unheard of and I marvelled at how the kids are now old enough for it to happen and that I could, in essence, make it happen.

We decide to meet in a bar a few suburbs away from me and not that far for him to travel from the city.

I arrive first and the bar is no good, country and western is blaring and combined with my overwhelming urge to vomit while simultaneously sculling a glass of champagne I send him an “abort, abort” text.

We keep exchanging texts and then I see him. He’s tall, better looking than his photos and in a suit. Tick, tick, tick. We kiss lightly and he points to a top of the line BMW convertible and says, this is me.

I marvel at what a grown up car it is and he replies it is anything but, instead being the ultimate mid-life crisis car. True, but its cream leather interior and fancy-pants-code-red-rating has me ready to cream my pants.

We drive for a little bit, park, walk for a little bit, sit for a little bit, flirt a fair bit, then head back to the car. I can’t quite recall how it transpired but suddenly we are full-on kissing, like tongues down the throat, hand in my bra, other hand going up my dress. On like donkey kong.

I have to work very hard to switch my brain off but I am getting royally finger fucked in a fancy-as-fuck BMW.

We have to keep stopping as people walk by so we decide to find somewhere more private. I am potentially having a heart attack.

We find a somewhat deserted location and pick straight back up where we left off. His pants are undone and pushed to the floor. I’m kneeling on my seat, his hand half way up my cunt while his cock is in my mouth.

It feels FUCKING FANTASTIC.

I don’t really come per se but have these rolling deeply intense episodes which are, quite frankly, on par.

He comes in my mouth. I swallow and realise, that for all those years I put up with funky tasting spunk.

We are both covered in sweat, the car fogged up like some drive-in movie cliche. We kiss and chat, recovering slowly.

He drops me back at my car, we say our farewells and go our separate ways.

We’re still texting each other. I kind of dream about having him in a bed but logistics are tricky and as he says, he gets laid a LOT. Somehow the promise of it is almost enough.

mtc,

RD

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