The air is thick with a film of smoke and steam. windows smudged. I'm wedged into the back seat. tangled up in seat belts David-Cronenberg-style. After straddling the gear shift and thrusting me deep into the seat, you decided my mouth had held one two many fingers as I'd insisted on deep-throating the middle one, and tied me up in seatbelts. You kneel over me scraping hard through my clothes with the sharp brittle edges of a metal snow scraper.

The sharp metal scrapes over my waist and slaps each nipple, slicing at the cloth, pricking at them, you slap my tits and pinch those boy hips and flip me over, seatbelts making me hog-tied. the snow scraper inches down my ass and pauses, slapping my cunt and the package over it, glued to my sharply aching clit. You snap my harness with relish, like it's just another kind of bra-strap.

"Cocksucker," you breathe, smoke rising, "I'll scrape the sluttiness from you. but don't even squeak or your bare ass gets smacked hard enough to shut you up for as long as you're in my Gremlin."

"Fuck you, dickbreath," I say. "and fuck your butt-ugly car, too." Promise a punishment like that and who wouldn't suddenly turn into a Rebellious Bottom?

Next thing I know your fingers are twisted in my hair and twist my head forward, onto the sticky car seat. I taste fake, peeling leather and ash mixed with, distinctly, layers of coffee-flavored lube. guess I'm not your first backseat butch. I like this thought.

My ass is now high in the air. you brandish the snow scraper like a mace and say, "thirty," and I am pelted with cold stinging blows from the scraper, the sharp, gritty edges leaving beveled red indentations.

You're smacking me further into the seat and the harness is working its way in between my cunt lips, adding an aching delicious hunger to this. You smack me down further, edge of the scraper tracing the bottom of my ass which is throbbing down to the very edge of my cunt which is throbbing even more. My clit has swollen and feels like it spills out on one side of the harness, the scraper smacks my clit and cunt both too, for good measure, the metal pressing cold against everything. you pick up the scraper and hold it disdainfully.

"Fuck, you've steamed this up and smeared your boy juice all over this, what do you have to say for yourself, you filthy car slut?"

I grin to myself. "I think you need to fuck me till I don't have any juice left to make a mess with, sir."

You untie the seat belts and flip me over, only to tie one wrist to the safety bar. You lie on top of me, belt buckle pressing against my mound, slowly thrusting. "And how do I know," you ask, "that you won't just make a bigger mess on the back seat?"

"It wouldn't make much difference at this point," I say, wrinkling my nose for emphasis at the mustiness. No need to mention that it turns me on, your own private fuck-bench.

You are fighting back amusement. "We'll see." you reach into the seat pocket and pull out two gloves, pull them on. and a condom. Condom? I think. Then your hands tangle in my hair and pull me back against the cat door. "open wide," you say, so my mouth is open and waiting, wet like the rest of me, and the sharp metal scraper is in my mouth with my own cum to add flavor to it. "At least this," you say, "is clean," and you snap a condom on the thick, rounded plastic handle. I wrap my legs around you and you enter me with the scraper's handle, its hard plastic solidness entering my cunt slowly, relentless. "You're scraping me inside, too," I say, "cleaning me out, sir," and you pinch my nipples and twist them, one and then another. "That's right, I'm going to fuck all of that come out of you," and the handle churns inside of me, there's a tickling heat where it hits me deepest and my hips rise and writhe, strap-on flopping in the air, and you order me to jerk myself off, too, while I'm at it.