He tugged on his cock; the head angry and red, pouring out precum like it was the last thing it’d ever do. Like it was the last orgasm he would ever have. I stared at his cock for what felt like hours before I heard a whimper come from his throat.
“Mr. Aguinaldo,” he squeaked out, desperate.
“Yeah?”
“I’m gonna cum.”
“Y–yeah?”
“Please. Look at me. Look at me while I cum.”
I obliged, finding his eyes. So much like Rachael…. I choked back the thought. I stopped thinking of my wife. Honestly, I’d never started. In this moment, in this car, it was me and Mr. Rodriguez, staring into each other’s eyes as we worked our dicks to feverish orgasm. He looked at me, his mouth agape, his eyes straining, while he brought himself closer. While I brought myself closer.
“Mirame,” he choked out. Look at me. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum. I’m gonna fucking cum….” He repeated it over and over again, and the phrase reached into my brain and took hold. I was so close. I was right on the edge….
And when I heard him groan, almost cry, and saw the first of his hot white shots strike true against the roof, I lost it too. I felt a roar bubble up out of me as I burst, my thick spurts of cum shooting from my cock and onto my sweat-drenched body. It landed between my tits, onto my belly, tangled in my body hair. My voice was hoarse as I watched myself shoot, watched him shoot.
I felt like I was going insane.
Soon enough, when there was only our desperate, guilty panting filling the car, I let myself sit back upright. The windows were whited out with steam. Cum was quickly cooling on my body, and I could barely look at Mr. Rodriguez. I heard him pulling his pants up. His breath came in measured bursts. God, did it ever smell like sex in here.
“Mr. Aguinaldo–” he started to say.
“–please, Mr. Rodriguez, I think it’s best if you went home,” I was already saying at the same time. Guilt replaced lust in my brain, and I could think of a million places I wanted to be besides here.
“Ah….” I didn’t look at him. All that came from him was a whispered, “Okay. Have a good night.” And just as easily as he’d come in, he left. He shut the door. Through the haze, I watched him disappear, half-jogging, behind the tall fence.
I put my shirt back on, and it was cold, and damp, and terribly uncomfortable, and buttoned my smock back up. I turned my fans on, and as the fog receded, I sat there, face in my hands against the steering wheel. Mr. Rodriguez…why did you have this pull on me?
I loved Rachael, I did.
But I wanted to to fuck Aaron Rodriguez so hard he cried out my name while he came.
As I steeled myself to leave, my purpose slowly coming back to me, I became then aware of a small piece of paper that had been left on the passenger seat. I stared at it for a long minute before I finally touched it. As if it would burst into flame before me.
I turned it over. My stomach rolled in my gut.
Aaron Rodriguez, the note read; 613-XXX-XXXX.