Practicing Dirty Talk from my Car

Getting better at being filthy

LaPetiteMorte loves dirty talk.

Well. Doesn’t everyone?

He’s pretty good at it. He can do it in two languages, which burns up my phone and ears when I hear him. This girl loves to listen to it.

But can she do it?

In writing, yes. I can spin a tale of sex, lust, and passion that makes his head spin. He loves it. He wants more.

In-person, not so much. I seem to flounder. I seem silly when I say things about what I want to do to him. What I want him to do to me. Generic is okay. Filthy details, not so much.

So I had an idea. We’re trying to see each other again and had something booked, but COVID got in the way. He came down with it. He’s on the mend, but it meant our window is gone.

I asked him if he would practice with me over the phone. It seemed fun, sexy, and practical. Who could say no?

He loved this idea! So, we picked a day around his schedule, and he’d call me at lunch.

Feeding each other’s mind and soul.

That day I rushed out to my car and started driving away from work. About 5 minutes in, he called.

“Bonjour ma bijou. Are you parked yet?” LaPetiteMorte growled.

Laughing, I replied, “Not quite. Looking for that empty spot.”

There was an empty lot near the road, private enough for what I needed and close to work, so we had time. I pulled in and faced out to the road so I could see someone coming. Just in case I had to leave or stop quickly.

“All good,” I said, then added, “so…what are you wearing?”

He howled and told me it was pajama pants as he was working from home. Only the pants. He was commando.

Nice.

LaPetiteMorte started talking about our overnight. About what he liked. What we didn’t get a chance to do. This got me going very quickly.

“You didn’t get a chance to sit on my face. I was thinking about you just now. How I’d look up at your body, with my face pressed into your pussy. Looking up at your beautiful skin and breasts moving as you grind into me. Hands clutching that headboard, trying to hold on. Trying not to come.”

Oh…he’s good.

My reply: “Oh god. I want to look down at your dark head buried between my thighs. I want to see your eyes closed while you suck me. Lick me deeply. I want to come all over you. Can you drink me down?’

My hand was in my blouse and under my bra, kneading and working my breast. I sent him a selfie showing what I was doing. He sent one back of his pajama pants pushed down and his hand on his very hard cock.

“Once you come over my face. I want to push three fingers in you and feel you clench around them. I’m pushing hard against you, and you’re riding my fingers.”

“Morte, oh god. I might break your fingers. But you’d like it. I’m flipping around and putting my pussy in your face. You’re going to suck it while I lie on you and suck your hard cock.”

He groaned. He likes this idea.

“I’m licking your shaft up and down. My lips are trailing over you, up to one side and down the other” I sighed as I started to get very wet. “My tongue is flicking your tip and that sweet spot right underneath. Over and over.”

He kept describing what he was doing. How hard his cock was. What I was doing to him.

I tried to keep up. But once my hand went down into my underwear and found my clit, all bets were off. Words stopped. Moaning commenced.

Until there was a car driving towards me.

Shit.

They stopped, and a young man got out to come to my window. I rolled it down to see what the problem was.

“Maam, are you okay? We saw you drive in fast and wanted to ensure everything was alright? This is a private lot that we keep an eye on.”

“Ah, no, I’m okay. I had an emergency call. I’m still on it. I needed to get off the busy road. I didn’t know that anyone was around. Can I stay and finish my call? I won’t take long.”

He assured me this was okay. He wished me the best and drove off.

LaPetiteMorte started laughing hysterically. I just had my hand down my pants, and my shirt was half-open. So I started laughing too.

Laughter relaxes me. It takes that stress level down So I picked up where I left off.

Fingers on my clit, I started describing what I was doing to him. I was beginning to come as I said, “I have two fingers pumping inside. I’m so wet. I want you to come fuck me hard to finish me off”.

He started crooning out sweet and dirty words to push me over. He liked my cries echoing thru the car. I made him rock hard with my desire.

“Come for me. Take pleasure from me. This cock is yours.”

I came hard, crying out in my car. We sit there in silence for a few minutes. I am breathing fast and trying to put myself back together to go back to work.

“What do your fingers smell like? What do they taste like?”

“Like a raspberry truffle,” I laughed.

“Before you go, take a selfie with you tasting your fingers. Show me what I need to taste again.”

I assured him I would. We both had to go back to work.

Driving back, I reflected on did we do what we set out to do.

Am I more comfortable with dirty talk?

Maybe. Maybe not. The fun is in the trying. Not the words themselves.

He likes me for me.

Raspberry truffle and all.

Join LaPetiteMorte and I for our first date which lasted 15 hours.