The World Cup game on the 7th was intense. We all gathered at a local Irish pub and with beers and ciders in hand, stayed glued to the screen for over 90 minutes of tension, until finally, the match was called and Spain was declared the winner over Germany. Cooper Fiennes and I had discussed going dancing that evening, however, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He decided he wanted to get some work done that evening and sleep in, so perhaps no dancing. Instead, we planned on some dinner and then I was going to head home. Only I didn’t make it home any sooner than if we had gone dancing.
I brought him to a local seafood and barbeque place that is known as a foodie’s paradise. He ordered barbecued beef ribs while I had mussels and french fries. We chatted in our normal friendly way and then, after our meals were finished, I moved over to the banquette and sat beside him. His hand ran up my skirt as we drank bad sangria and looked around the room to ensure no one saw what he was doing. After we left, we walked around wondering where we could go make out. There were no parks, no alleys, no where private. My place, dirty, was too far away. His place, new flat mate, wasn’t cleared for overnight guests yet. So, dilemma, what to do?
Cars by the hour, cars when you want them…. rental cars are the saving grace of horny people everywhere! I made a reservation over the phone and picked one up about 20 minutes later. As I drove, panties on the floor board of the car, his hand was between my legs. That makes it really difficult to concentrate on the road, in case you are wondering. At one point I pulled off the road into an alley because I was going to crash or cum. Unfortunately, I didn’t do one, and fortunately, I didn’t do the other. I did, however, ask him to stop so we could get somewhere that I could park the car without risk for arrest.
20 minutes later we were parked behind a warehouse with a waterfront view of the city. After ten minutes of grinding my knee on the passenger door as I was grinding myself on him, we decided to move to the back seat. it was a remarkably roomy car, allowing for extended foreplay, three sexual position changes, and some post coital cuddling. Not bad. We looked at the view of the night skyline and listened to the radio pump out old Cure songs. I was strangely content.
I made him return the car, it was in his neighborhood. Since we fucked behind a warehouse in mine, I figured he could return the car to his. Only fair, correct? The only truthful negatives to car sex? Upholstery burn on my knee, a bruised nipple and arm. Are these wounds a fair trade for hot sex with my Spaniard? Always. Viva Espana!