Ditched My Friends To Fuck Future Hubby

The memory hits me sometimes, out of nowhere, and a slow, dirty smile spreads across my face. It was one of those nights that just felt charged, you know? The air was thick with possibilities, and every look felt like a secret. I was twenty-two, in my last year of college, and I’d driven a couple of hours to a different city to hang with a big group of friends. We were taking over a shitty sports bar, the kind with sticky floors and cheap beer pitchers, and the noise was a solid wall of laughter and shouted conversations.

I was wearing these tight, low-rise jeans that I had to lie down on the bed to zip up and a little black top that showed off just enough to keep things interesting. I felt good. I felt powerful. And of course, that’s when Mark decided to make his move. He’d been circling me for months, with his puppy-dog eyes and his lame attempts at being a ‘nice guy.’ That night, he planted himself next to me, his arm slung over the back of my chair, his beer breath warm against my neck as he tried to whisper something he probably thought was clever. I could feel his knee pressing against mine under the table, a persistent, annoying pressure. I gave him a polite smile, a pat on the arm, and shifted away, but he didn’t get the hint. He just kept on, talking about how he’d always had a thing for me, how we’d be so good together. All I could think was, God, no. I just didn’t feel that spark, that raw, gut-punch of desire. With him, it was just… nothing. A void.

My phone, facedown on the table, vibrated. I flipped it over, hoping for a distraction. It was a text from Jake. My Jake. Well, he was my ex at the time, but let’s be real, he was always my Jake. We’d recently started talking again, tentative texts that quickly escalated into late-night conversations that were part emotional unpacking and part downright filthy sex talk. His message was simple. “What are you up to?”

A plan, wicked and perfect, crystallized in my mind. I typed back, my thumbs flying over the keypad. “Stuck at a bar with boring people. Miss you. Wish I was with you instead.” I added a winking emoji for good measure.

His reply was almost instantaneous. “Yeah? What would we be doing if you were here?”

I didn’t hesitate. “I’d be sucking your cock right now. And you’d be fucking my throat until I couldn’t breathe.”

The three little dots appeared and disappeared. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs. Mark was still talking, but his voice was just a distant buzz. The entire noisy bar faded into a blur. The only thing that was real was that glowing screen in my hand.

His next message came through. “Get in your car. Come to me. Now.”

That was all I needed. I didn’t even make up a good excuse. I just stood up, grabbed my purse, and said, “I’m out, guys. Something came up.” Mark’s face fell, a picture of pathetic confusion. I didn’t care. I was already halfway to the door, the night air hitting my hot skin like a promise.

The drive was a blur of anticipation. I rolled down the windows, turned up the radio, and let the wind whip through my hair. Every mile marker was a countdown to him. He was at a friend’s house in another town, and when I pulled up to the curb, he was already waiting outside, leaning against the porch railing. He looked so good it almost hurt. Just a simple t-shirt stretched across his chest, jeans hanging low on his hips. He saw my car and jogged over, sliding into the passenger seat with that familiar grin.

“Hey, you,” he said, his voice a low rumble that went straight to my core.

“Hey, yourself.” I didn’t even put the car in park before I leaned over the center console and crushed my mouth to his. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was all tongue and teeth and desperate, hungry need. He tasted like mint and a little like beer, and he kissed me back with the same ferocity, his hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered against my lips.

I drove, one hand on the wheel, the other on his thigh, feeling the hard muscle under the denim. We didn’t talk much. We didn’t need to. The tension in the car was so thick you could taste it. I found a dark, deserted parking lot behind a closed-down grocery store. The second I cut the engine, we were on each other again. The gearshift was digging into my side, but I didn’t give a fuck. His mouth was on my neck, sucking a mark that I knew would be there tomorrow, his hands sliding under my top, rough calluses scraping against my bare skin.

“Back seat,” he growled, and it wasn’t a suggestion.

We clambered over the center console, a clumsy, frantic mess of limbs. The second we tumbled into the back, the space felt both too big and too small. The windows started to fog up almost immediately. He was on top of me, his weight a delicious anchor. “I’ve been thinking about your mouth all night,” he breathed, his fingers working the button of my jeans. “I want to feel those lips on me.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. I pushed him back so he was sitting on the seat, and I knelt on the floor in front of him. I made a show of it, looking him right in the eyes as I undid his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and pulled down the zipper. I could see the hard outline of his cock straining against his boxers. I hooked my fingers in the waistband and pulled them down, and he sprang free, thick and already leaking for me. I didn’t tease. I took him in my hand, stroked him once, twice, and then leaned forward and took him all the way into my mouth in one slow, wet slide.

He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through my whole body. “Fuck, Lucia. Just like that.”

I set a rhythm, one hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, the other gripping his hip. I bobbed my head, taking him deep into my throat, relaxing my muscles until my nose was buried in the coarse hair at his base. I gagged a little, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I loved it. I loved the feeling of him hitting the back of my throat, the taste of him, the sounds he was making. His hands were in my hair, not forcing, but guiding, his hips bucking up to meet my mouth. Spit was dripping down my chin, onto my chest, making a mess, and it was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced.

After a few minutes, he pulled me up by my hair. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

He laid me down on my back on the cramped seat. My jeans and panties were around my ankles, and he yanked them the rest of the way off. He positioned himself between my legs, and I wrapped them around his waist, pulling him closer. He paused for a second, his cock resting against my wetness. “We don’t have a…” he started.

“I don’t care,” I gasped, arching my back. “Just fuck me, Jake. Please.”

That was all the permission he needed. He pushed into me, and my eyes rolled back in my head. There was no condom, nothing between us. It was just skin on skin, a white-hot, perfect friction. He was so deep, filling me up in a way that felt like coming home. He started to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that quickly turned frantic and desperate. The car was rocking, the old suspension creaking and groaning in protest. My head was bumping against the door, my feet were pressed against the window, and I didn’t give a single damn.

He was pounding into me, his breath hot against my ear, whispering the filthiest things. “You like that, you dirty girl? You like me fucking this tight little pussy? This is mine, isn’t it?”

“Yes!” I cried out, my nails digging into his back. “It’s yours, all yours!”

I could feel my orgasm building, a tight, hot coil in my belly. The sounds were obscene—the wet slap of our bodies, our ragged breathing, the squeak of the vinyl seats. I came with a choked scream, my body convulsing around him, clenching and milking his cock. Feeling me come sent him over the edge. He drove into me one last, deep time, burying himself to the hilt, and I felt his own release, a hot, pulsing flood inside me. He groaned my name, a long, drawn-out sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

We collapsed together in a sweaty, sticky, breathless heap on the backseat, his weight half on me, his softening cock still inside me. We just lay there for a long time, the only sound our ragged breathing and the occasional car passing in the distance. The windows were completely fogged up; we were in our own little secret world. He finally pulled out, and I felt his cum trickle down my thigh. He drove me back to my car, and we shared one last, deep, lingering kiss before I headed home, his taste still on my lips, the smell of sex and him all over my skin. The next day, my roommate saw a text from him light up my phone. “Still can’t believe how good you felt. Last night was fucking incredible.” She raised an eyebrow at me, and I just shrugged, a secret smile playing on my lips. Oh, well.