Creaming His Jeans for Me

I should have been disappointed by this experience, but for some reason it's turned into one of my fondest, hottest memories that I've brought myself off to countless times.

When my high school boyfriend Ryan and I were together, finding a place for privacy wasn't easy. As a couple teenagers with siblings and parents in both our houses all the time, we had to get creative when we wanted to get busy. Luckily, he sometimes got to use his dad's car, and so we'd often drive around the city looking for discreet places to park and make out.

On this occasion, we were both due home for our curfews fairly soon, so we had to hurry. Ryan drove around until he found a dark and deserted parking lot at the top of a secluded, wooded area off the beaten path. The moment he parked the car and cut the headlights, we immediately threw off our seatbelts and reached for each other.

Ryan was a good kisser, and the movements of his tongue and lips always made my heart race and my pussy tingle. I writhed in the passenger seat as he kissed me. His hand was under my shirt and kneading my breast, groping for the nipple, finally giving it a pinch when his fingers found it.

I couldn't wait for the moment when he slid his hand into my pants and touched me, rubbed that newly-discovered spot where my clit throbbed. I couldn't wait to hear him moan when he felt the wetness of my arousal as he stroked past my lips to push his fingers into my cunt. Most of all, I couldn't wait till it was my turn to undo his pants, to feel his hard dick in my hands. My favorite part of our encounters was always to jack him off, mesmerized by the foreskin sliding over that swollen purple cockhead, the precum trickling out before he tensed and shot. I lived for that.

We had only been kissing a few moments and he was already pressing his groin against my hip, his erection jutting into me. He moved his kisses to my neck and grinded against me harder. Then he abandoned his kissing entirely and just rested his forehead against my shoulder. The massaging of his hand on my breast grew still. He groaned and humped against my hip harder, and then he lost all control. His groans grew louder until he cried out and shuddered, pushing into me so hard it almost hurt. I didn't move a muscle, too surprised to say a word.

Suddenly light flooded into the car. He wrenched himself away from me and back into his seat, gripping the steering wheel. I sat up straight and looked around in panic. The headlights of another car pulled into the parking lot. But they were only turning around, and they headed off in the opposite direction. 

Any arousal I had instantly evaporated at the idea of being caught. Ryan seemed spooked too. Still breathing hard, he shakily put his seatbelt back on. "We better get out of here before someone actually catches us. That could totally have been a cop." He looked down at his lap and adjusted his pants. "Ugh. Now I gotta sit in this mess while it gets all cold and gross." Even more quietly, he mumbled, "Sorry."

"No worries," I said. We drove away, and he dropped me off at home, where I had to wait until the household was asleep before I could satisfy the sexual frustration he left me with.

It's been two decades since that awkward encounter in the car, but I think of it often. The memory of his cock rubbing against my hip as he lost control and creamed his jeans...it just gets me going. I still so clearly remember the hard bulge of his cock on me, the urgency of his grinding, raw and animalistic and beyond reason and restraint as his lust took over and he couldn't stop himself from fucking against me. How good that must have felt to him, to have that swollen cock thrust against the solid surface of my hipbone, to feel the needy throbbing in his teenage hard-on as climax rushed toward him, as his humping sped up and the precum began oozing out more and more, slickening the hot skin of his cock that he pumped against me again and again. It was a pleasure that overshadowed everything -- his pride, his rational thinking, his usual consideration. Imagining that turns me on so much.

I can't count how many times I've gotten off while thinking of this. Sometimes I like remembering this moment while straddling a pillow and a vibrator, humping hard against it and imagining what he felt when he was in a similar position, losing control of his cock, flooding his jeans as he came. It drives me wild and I always cum so hard.

I think this is maybe the sixth story I've submitted, and not a single one of them has gotten me as horny in the writing process as this one has. Sorting through the memory, examining it in more detail than I have in years, has turned me on so hard. My pussy is soaking wet, I can feel it drenching my panties as I sit here and type. I'm grinding my swollen clit against the seam of my jeans. I'm starting to feel as desperate as he did that night. I can't wait to cum.