“What are we doing?” I whispered, my voice small, still naked and trembling from my releases. “Your turn,” he said, unzipping his pants. Blowjob sex I knew it was wrong—taboo, potentially dangerous—but the way he made me feel, cherished and electrified, outweighed the guilt. But I didn’t move. Mornings or afternoons, he’d pull off, fuck me hard in the truck—sometimes bent over the seat, my face pressed to the window as he pounded me with his massive cock, making me struggle and moan; other times on my back in the bed of the truck, under the open sky, where I’d ride him, bouncing rhythmically while he sucked my tits. “It feels… so good, Jake… oh God, yes,” I’d gasp, my shyness fading with each drive, replaced by bold admissions of pleasure. “It feels… so good, Jake… oh God, yes,” I’d gasp, my shyness fading with each drive, replaced by bold admissions of pleasure. He’d always been polite enough, waving from his truck when he passed our driveway, but
