Black Car by Caleb SmithMy car is black. Each night it sits in the underground amidst a lineup of fifteen cars…of which ten are black.

Unoriginal? Uninterested? Is Gino Vannelli right that black cars look better in the shade?

Is the black car the vehicular equivalent of the little black dress? That little number that, when she adds high-heeled boots, leaves every guy hoping she “forgot” to wear underwear. As his hand reaches beneath that skirt under the camouflage of table in a crowded pub to rev her engine…

Okay, black cars are not quite that exciting.

Unless the aforementioned little black dress is lifted in the back of the black car after the adventure in the pub. Shaded windows protecting walkersby from seeing as his tongue wanders up between her legs as skirt rides up to her hips. Exploring her curves with tight turns and flicks. Grasping her hips at ten and two before thrusting the stick to pushing her into high gear.

Wait…this was about cars.

This was not about that little black dress ripping with his hungry tug to get at her breasts. Pinching nipples, pulling hair and spanking her ass to get her motor screaming in all its glory.

Accelerating her until that black car is bouncing with their pleasure. The car enjoying the live porn going on within it and announcing to the world, with squeaky shocks, that there is actual sexual penetration going on within its fiberglass shell.

At least until it is back in the underground…hiding among other black cars…comparing sensual stories with buddies…until the next night when he slips behind the wheel and drives in search of another little black dress to destroy.

Perhaps, it should be mentioned, this is not about my car…my car mentioned all this on behalf of a friend…

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