Skip to content This is the follow-up to Blowjob in the Car, where Isabella thanks her cousin, Nate, for a ride to the mall by giving him roadhead. But Isabella isn’t done with Nate. Still excited and horny, she wants more, and this time, she takes him into a public bathroom.
*****
I had only reached the gas station when my phone buzzed again. Just as I thought, it was my cousin, but this time it wasn’t another selfie. Just a text. Can you come back and get me? 🙁
The sad face had me weirdly off-balance. I half expected another flirty bribe, or maybe even a dare, but this was just needy. I thumbed out a reply. That was fast. Already done shopping?
No. I hate it here.
I was supposed to head over to my girlfriend’s after this. Not that I was super invested in her at this point, something about Isabella’s lips on my cock had fundamentally rewired my priorities. Still, I texted my girlfriend, said I was feeling sick, and dropped the ruse with zero guilt.
*****
Waiting at the park lot, she looked up as I parked the car, and her mascara was smeared faintly under one eye. Not like she’d been sobbing, just enough to look wrecked.
I hopped out of the car. “What happened?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Can we go?”
But then she didn’t move, and I waited for an answer.
Finally, she exhaled, eyes cutting over at me. “You really want to know?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
She huffed, brushing hair from her face. “My friend Madison is a psycho. She kept taking pictures of me and making fun of my lipstick, saying it looked ‘worn out.’ I ignored her, but then she zooms in and points out, like, a white spot on my lip? She says it looks like I was blowing some rando in the parking lot. Kept going on about it, super loud. I swear she was trying to embarrass me.” She glared at her knees. “They believed her, too. Fucking bitch.”
It took a second for the blood to return to my brain. “Please tell me you didn’t give away what actually happened.”
She side-eyed me, lips twitching. “I told her to fuck off. Not that it matters, she’s always hated that I get more attention.”
I felt bad for her. “Sorry. That sucks.”
She shrugged, sniffling. “Whatever. She’s just jealous because she’s flat and can’t get any guys.”
There was silence.
Isabella finally looked at me for real. “Can we just get out of here? I want ice cream.”
“Yeah, sure. But only if you promise not to blow me while I drive.”
She chuckled and wiped at her cheek. “Wow. You’re actually funny sometimes.”
She headed to the car, and for a second we stood close, and I realized I could still smell her perfume, sharp and candy-sweet. I think she noticed me noticing, because she grinned a little and squeezed my hand before letting go.
While I drove, she plugged in her phone, started a playlist, and gazed out the window, tapping the glass with her nails. Then she reached over and squeezed my thigh. Not in a sexual way, well, not totally, but more like a thank you. “Thank you for picking me up.”
“You’re welcome … Where do you wanna go to grab some ice cream?”
“Not that shitty Dairy Queen near my house. I want Cold Stone.”
“Sure thing, princess.”
She pretended to roll her eyes, then smiled at me sideways.
As we turned into the Cold Stone lot, she unclipped her seatbelt and turned to face me, one bare leg folded under the other. “Can we sit on the patio?”
“Sure.”
Inside, she ordered a “Love It” size with chocolate chips and cookie dough. I got the same as hers. As we waited, she started dabbing at her face with a napkin, fixing her makeup in the reflective side of a napkin dispenser.
When the ice cream arrived, we sat outside. The evening air was warm, but not humid, and the patio was mostly empty.
She dug in like she was starving. After a few bites, she slowed down, licking the spoon with slow, deliberate strokes. She caught me watching.
“You ever stare at a girl eating ice cream and imagine it’s your cock?” she said, not even lowering her voice.
I froze. “Jesus, Isabella.”
She laughed. “Just checking if you’re still alive.” Her lips gleamed with chocolate.
I went in for another spoonful, but she flicked a glob of ice cream onto my nose. It was cold, then sticky. She grinned, pleased with herself, and licked her own lips clean.
I wiped the mess off, but she leaned forward and caught my wrist. “Wait. Let me.”
She dragged her tongue slowly up my finger, then popped it in her mouth for a second. “You taste better than sprinkles,” she whispered.
I cleared my throat. “You’re such a tease.”
Isabella tilted her chair back on two legs, draping one foot up on the fence. If she cared that her crotch was visible to basically everyone, she didn’t show it. I caught myself staring twice and had to force my attention elsewhere.
Isabella, meanwhile, was in her element. She licked the spoon with grossly exaggerated strokes, giggling whenever she caught me watching. She didn’t say much at first, just glanced at her phone and occasionally at me, but eventually she spoke up.
“So,” she said, “if I asked you to lick something off me right now, would you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Isabella, we’re in public.”
She smirked. “That’s not a no.”
She dipped her finger into the whipped cream, then trailed it down her collarbone, leaving a gloppy white stripe between her tits. She leaned forward, giving me a perfect view. “Well?”
I looked around. The nearest table had a mom with two toddlers, but they were nose-deep in their own ice cream. No one else seemed to be watching.
“Come on, Nate. You can’t leave a girl like this.”
My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my ears. I leaned forward, eyes darting everywhere. She lifted her chin, smug and daring, so I licked the cream off her chest. The taste was fake sweet and her skin was warmer than I expected.
She shivered just a little. “See?” she whispered. “That’s what I wanted. You’re actually getting it now.”
I sat back, swallowing. “You’re not going to stop until we get arrested, are you?”
She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Maybe I just want attention.”
“From me?”
She scooped more ice cream into her mouth, thinking. “Yeah. Only you.”
For a second, it sounded sincere. Then she grinned and said, “But you’re not the only one who likes to watch. You should see yourself when you get all nervous.” She laughed and ate another bite. She pursed her lips, then said, “My tit itches. Can you scratch it for me?”
I raised my eyebrows. “No way.”
“Please?” she asked, making her voice even higher and sweeter. “I can’t reach. I’ll owe you one.”
Against all my better judgment, I glanced around again. The mom with toddlers had left. I reached across the table, slipping my hand into her shirt, brushing the underside of her breast with my thumb.
She moaned, loud enough that someone inside the shop turned to look. I snatched my hand back.
“Was it really itchy?” I whispered.
She leaned forward. “Not at all. But you’re cute when you’re scared.”
I tried to focus on my own ice cream, but she was relentless. “Now my inner thigh is itchy,” she said.
“No,” I said, trying not to laugh.
She was dead serious. “Come on, I dare you. One second. Nobody’s watching.”
It was idiotic, dangerous, and pointless. Of course I did it.
She slid her chair closer, and I reached under the table, running my hand along her bare thigh. The shorts she wore were so tiny that it was basically just skin. I started just above her knee and worked up, feeling the fine fuzz of her leg and the heat radiating off her body.
“That’s not my inner thigh,” she murmured. “Higher.”
I rolled my eyes, but kept going. My hand slipped between her legs, and she parted them a little. I expected her to flinch or squirm away, but instead she grabbed my wrist and pressed my hand into the crotch of her shorts.
She wasn’t wearing panties.
I froze, but she pushed my fingers up, guiding me until two of them were pressed against her bare pussy. It was slick, warm, and the tight, soft skin was smooth.
I almost pulled away, but she grabbed my forearm with both hands, holding me steady. “Don’t stop,” she demanded.
For a few seconds, we just sat like that, my fingers hooked in her shorts, her wetness leaking onto my hand, and both of us breathing hard.
Then someone cleared her throat.
I jerked my hand away and looked up. A teenage girl in a Cold Stone apron stood in the doorway, looking bored but slightly judgmental.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, face burning.
The girl shrugged. “Just … don’t do that here. Please.” Then she went back inside.
I was ready to die from embarrassment. Isabella, on the other hand, looked triumphant. “Did you see her face?” she giggled. “She’ll have the best story to tell.”
I glared at her. “You are way too horny.”
She leaned back, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wild. “You love it, though.”
She wasn’t wrong.
We finished our ice cream in awkward silence, though every few seconds she’d bump her bare leg against me under the table, just to remind me what we’d done. When we got up to leave, she swiped a napkin dispenser and carried it with her, muttering something about “being prepared.”
We walked along the beach promenade, and after a few blocks, she ducked into a public restroom, dragging me along with her. “Come on. I have to pee,” she said, but I could tell she wanted to see if I’d follow.
I waited outside at first, but then she popped her head out. “Don’t just stand there. Come here.”
I stepped inside. The women’s room was empty, the floor sticky from over-mopping, and smelled like a cheap air refresher, which wasn’t too bad. She didn’t care. She locked the door behind us and yanked me into the first stall.
She sat on the closed lid, looked up at me, then pulled her shorts down to her ankles. “Can you help me finish masturbating?” she asked, voice low and husky.
I swallowed hard. “Are you serious?”
She grabbed my hand, the same one that had been between her legs earlier, and guided it right back where it left off. This time, she spread her legs wider, revealing everything. Her pussy was pink, with cute small lips, and glistening with slick. I couldn’t help but stare.
“Pretty, right?” she said. “I shave my kitty every day.
I nodded.
She ran my finger along her slit, letting me feel just how wet she was. “Put it in,” she whispered.
I slid a finger inside her. She was so tight it was almost shocking, and the heat of her walls gripped me instantly.
She closed her eyes, mouth falling open. “Oh, fuck.”
I kept going, thrusting slowly. She rode my hand, grinding on my finger, making these tiny, breathless noises. She was so into it, I almost forgot we were in a public bathroom.
Suddenly, she reached down and undid my belt. Suddenly, she had my erect cock out. She stroked it once, twice, then lined it up with her slit. “Push it in,” she said. “I need to feel you.”
I hesitated for a split second. She was my cousin, this was public, this was literal insanity, but then I said, “You have to stand up and bend over.”
She rose to her feet and bent against the wall, flashing me her plump, gorgeous ass. I pressed the tip against her opening. She was so wet I slid in with almost no resistance.
The heat and pressure were overwhelming. I barely got the first thrust in before I groaned, the tightness sending shockwaves through me. She backed her ass against me, pushing in the last couple of inches to the depths of her pussy.
“Fuck me, Nate,” she whispered.
I couldn’t resist her now as I fucked her. Every stroke bottomed out inside her, the friction only making her wetter. The stall walls shook with each thrust.
She held onto the wall, so her head wouldn’t bump against it. “You like fucking your little cousin?” she whispered, so filthy it made me shiver.
I didn’t answer, just kept fucking her, harder and deeper. The taboo, the risk of getting caught, the memory of her lips on my cock, all of it crashed together and made me dizzy.
She pulled away, staring into my eyes as she denied me her precious slit. “Say it,” she demanded. “Say you love fucking me.”
“I love fucking you, Isabella,” I said.
She grabbed my cock from behind and pushed it back into her pussy. I grabbed her hips and started thrusting her hard.
Her whole body tensed, and she started shaking. I felt her pussy clamp down, muscles spasming around my cock as she climaxed. The sensation was so intense I lost control, and then I orgasmed, which felt like a little explosion. I grabbed her hips and pulled her toward me with a loud smack, pumping jet after jet of cum deep inside her. She moaned, loud and unrestrained, her head falling back as she rode out the orgasm as I kept filling her with cum.
When it was over, I slumped against the wall, breathing like I’d just run a marathon. She smiled up at me, utterly spent but glowing. “I can’t believe we did that,” I said, my cock softening inside her.
“Admit it was fun,” she said, biting her bottom lip.
“It was,” I said, pulling my cock out from her gaping hole as cum dripped down to her panties. She cleaned herself with the napkin and then quickly put our clothes back on. Going out, she checked her makeup in the mirror. She applied a fresh coat of lipstick, making sure her lips were perfect, then kissed my cheek, leaving a pink mark there.
As we walked back to the car, she slipped her hand into mine. “Next time, you have to eat me out,” she said, not even trying to whisper.
I stared at her, still shell-shocked, and realized I’d do anything she wanted. No matter how fucked up it was.
And I kind of loved that.
The end.
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