𝐌i𝐫a’s N𝐞o𝐧 𝐃r𝐢f𝐭: S𝐮p𝐫a S𝐰a𝐠g𝐞r a𝐧d J𝐞s𝐬e’s R𝐚w F𝐮c𝐤

The city was a fucking beast, all concrete veins and neon scars, pulsing with the kind of chaos I lived for. I leaned against my ‘80s Supra at the car meet, its white paint catching the sodium glow of streetlights on a sprawling lot near the river, where the air smelled of burnt rubber and cheap weed. My black short-sleeve button-up clung to my perky A-cup tits, tucked into high-waisted, light-washed jeans with rips at the left knee and right thigh, flashing my pale ivory skin. Nude high-heeled pumps gave my 5’6” frame a lift, my shapely thighs flexing, plump ass popping as I shifted my beige bucket bag to my left hand, gold bracelet glinting on my wrist. My dark, wavy hair spilled loose past my shoulders, framing my heart-shaped face, brown eyes scanning the crowd through long lashes, pouty lips twitching with a smirk. My tiny cock—two inches hard—stirred in my thong, tight balls snug, my 125-pound body ready to own this night.

The lot was a circus—engines snarling, bass thumping from open trunks, gearheads and wannabes circling like vultures. My Supra, a 7M-GE inline-six beast, was my latest flip, bought cheap at an auction and cleaned up for a fat profit. I ran my fingers over its hood, the metal cool, my jeans hugging my ass as I leaned forward, tits pressing against the button-up. “This fucker’s clean, ready to roll—$15K takes it,” I called, my voice cutting through the chatter, drawing nods from a couple of guys in snapbacks, their eyes lingering on my long legs. I’d been hustling cars since I ditched my parents’ shithole house a couple of months ago, living as Mira, building my name in this city’s underbelly. Flipping was my game—buy low, fix up, sell high, every deal a step toward freedom.

A silver Nissan 240SX rolled in, stealing the show like a goddamn rockstar. Its Rocket Bunny widebody kit hugged the frame, flared fenders wrapping bronze deep-dish wheels that screamed money. The front splitter cut low, aggressive, custom LED headlights slicing the dark, a massive rear wing throwing shade over the lot. Dual exhausts growled, popping sharp, the whole machine a middle finger to stock rides. I whistled low, my pouty lips parting, brown eyes narrowing—someone knew their shit.

Jesse Cole—“JC”—swung out, 6’1” and 185 pounds of lean, chiseled muscle, moving like he owned the fucking world. His blonde hair was tousled, falling over piercing blue eyes, a faint scar above his left brow catching the light, hinting at some old track war. His tanned skin glowed under the neon, white tee stretched tight over broad shoulders and carved abs, black jeans fitted to his thighs, worn leather jacket slung loose, scuffed sneakers planted wide. “Mira, that Supra’s cute, but it’s no match for my girl,” he said, his deep drawl smooth, winking as he patted his 240SX’s hood, love in every touch. My tits perked under the button-up, my plump ass shifting as I straightened, heels clicking.

“Cute? This beast’ll eat your Nissan for breakfast, JC,” I shot back, tossing my hair, gold bracelet jingling. My brown eyes locked his blues, pouty lips curling, long legs braced as I stepped closer, the ripped jeans showing my thighs. The crowd buzzed—Jesse was a rising star in the underground scene, his 240SX a legend for outrunning cops and rivals alike. I’d heard whispers of his coastal roots, some uncle’s shop shaping his wrenching skills, but seeing him now, all cocky charm and adrenaline, lit a fire in my gut. My tiny cock twitched, my pale skin prickling—he was trouble, and I fucking loved it.

He grinned, stepping into my space, his leather jacket brushing my arm. “Talk’s cheap, girl. Race me, show me what that Supra’s got.” His blue eyes traced my heart-shaped face, lingering on my pouty lips, then down to my perky tits, my plump ass. I laughed, my long legs shifting, jeans tight, the bucket bag swinging as I gestured to the lot. “You’re on, but don’t cry when I smoke you,” I teased, my voice low, brown eyes daring. A race was forming—six cars, a midnight run through the city’s backstreets, a chance to flex the Supra and boost its price. I enlisted, knowing it wasn’t tuned for speed but betting my hustle could carry it.

The lot cleared a path, engines revving like a fucking war cry. I slid into the Supra, the leather seat cool against my thighs, jeans bunching as I gripped the wheel, pumps awkward on the pedals. My button-up creased, tits bouncing as I adjusted, my dark hair spilling over my shoulders. Jesse’s 240SX idled beside me, its LEDs flashing, exhausts popping like gunfire. Four others lined up—a red Civic with a loud spoiler, a black Civic rocking coilovers, a blue RX-7 with a turbo whine, and a yellow Camaro that sounded like a dying bear. A chick in a crop top waved a bandana, the crowd roaring, and I floored it, tires screeching, my long legs working the clutch, my brown eyes sharp on the road.

The city blurred—warehouses, graffiti, streetlights streaking past as I shifted hard, the Supra lunging, my plump ass sliding in the seat, tits jiggling under the button-up. Jesse’s 240SX surged ahead, its widebody carving corners like a blade, bronze wheels spinning, rear wing steady. “Fuck, he’s fast,” I muttered, my pouty lips tight, pushing the Supra to keep pace, weaving past the yellow Camaro, its driver cursing. The red Civic spun out behind me, the black one stuck on my tail, but the RX-7 nipped close, its headlights glaring in my mirror. I gunned it, my pale skin slick with sweat, hair whipping, gold bracelet clinking as I gripped the wheel, my tiny cock buzzing with the thrill.

The finish—an underpass three miles out—loomed, and I crossed fourth, the Supra’s engine screaming, not bad for a stock ride in my first race. Jesse took first, his 240SX untouchable, the RX-7 and black Civic snagging second and third. I pulled over, heart pounding, my jeans damp at the thighs, button-up clinging to my perky tits. Jesse hopped out, blonde hair messy, blue eyes winking as he sauntered over, leather jacket creaking. “Fourth ain’t shit, Mira, but you’ve got balls,” he said, his drawl teasing, tanned hand brushing my arm, sending a jolt through my tight balls. I slid out, heels clicking, my plump ass swaying, bucket bag over my shoulder, brown eyes meeting his blues.

“Supra’s for flipping, not racing, asshole,” I said, my pouty lips smirking, long legs steady despite the pumps. “Give me a tuned ride, and I’d wipe that grin off your face.” My pale skin glowed under the underpass lights, my button-up shifting to show my tits, jeans hugging my ass like a second skin. He laughed, stepping closer, his abs flexing under the white tee, his 240SX gleaming behind him like a fucking trophy. “Bet I can make a racer out of you,” he teased, his voice low, blue eyes tracing my shapely thighs, my heart-shaped face. I leaned in, my gold bracelet jingling, tits grazing his chest, the crowd fading as cars peeled out.

“Big talk, JC. Prove it,” I purred, my brown eyes daring, pouty lips inches from his. His hand grazed my jeans, teasing my plump ass, his cocky grin promising shit I couldn’t wait to taste. “Rooftop,” he said, nodding to a nearby building, his fingers squeezing my ass lightly, heat pooling in my tiny cock. “Let’s see what you’re made of.” I nodded, my long legs moving, heels clicking up the stairs, bucket bag swinging, my pale skin prickling with want. The rooftop opened to the skyline—lights glittering, the city a raw, living thing below, my Supra waiting in the lot like a faithful dog.

Jesse leaned against a vent, his white tee tight, blonde hair catching the breeze, blue eyes locked on me as I set my bucket bag down, my button-up creasing, tits perky. “So, Mira, what’s your story? Flipping cars, jumping into races—why the grind?” he asked, his drawl smooth, tossing his hair, scar glinting. I smirked, my long legs crossing, jeans tight on my thighs, gold bracelet shining. “Shitty grades, parents who didn’t get me—been on my own for two years, building my own way,” I said, my pouty lips steady, brown eyes holding his. “Cars are my ticket—buy low, sell high, stay free. You? What’s a coastal pretty boy doing tearing up my city?”

He chuckled, his tanned skin glowing, stepping closer, his leather jacket brushing my arm. “Grew up by the ocean, wrenching in my uncle’s shop—JDMs hooked me early,” he said, his blue eyes distant for a second, then sharp again. “This 240SX? Built her from a rust bucket, every bolt mine. City’s where I run now, racing’s my pulse.” His hand found my waist, sliding over my jeans, grazing my plump ass, sending a shiver through my tight balls. “You’re a pulse too, Mira—fucking electric.”

I grinned, my tiny cock twitching, tits pressing against him as I tilted my head, pouty lips brushing his jaw. “Careful, JC, I’m a live wire,” I teased, my brown eyes burning, long lashes fluttering. His hands gripped my ass, firm, his cock hard through his jeans, pressing my thigh, my button-up shifting to show my perky tits. “Fuck, you’re begging for it,” he growled, kissing me deep, his lips rough, tongue sliding against mine, tasting like adrenaline and sin. I moaned, my pale skin flushing, long legs trembling in my pumps, my plump ass grinding into his hands, my brown eyes locked on his blues, ready to spark this night into a fucking inferno.

Jesse’s kiss was a fucking wildfire, his lips crushing mine, tongue diving deep, tasting like the city’s edge—smoke, sweat, and raw want. I moaned into his mouth, my pale ivory skin flushing, my perky A-cup tits pressing against his white tee, nipples hardening under my black button-up. His hands gripped my plump ass through my light-washed jeans, fingers digging into the rips at my right thigh, pulling me closer, his 7.5-inch cock rock-hard through his black jeans, grinding against my thigh. My tiny cock—two inches stiff—twitched in my thong, tight balls aching, my long legs trembling in nude high-heeled pumps, gold bracelet jingling as I clutched his leather jacket, my dark wavy hair spilling over my shoulders. The rooftop air was cool, the city skyline glittering below like a taunt, my beige bucket bag forgotten by a vent, my brown eyes locked on his piercing blues, pouty lips swollen from his roughness.

“Fuck, Mira, you’re driving me crazy,” he growled, breaking the kiss, his blonde hair messy, tanned face flushed, scar above his brow catching the neon glow. His hands roamed, one sliding up to cup my tit through the button-up, thumb grazing my nipple, sending a jolt through my tight balls. I smirked, my heart-shaped face tilting, long lashes fluttering. “You ain’t seen shit yet, JC,” I purred, my voice husky, shoving him against the vent, my long legs steady despite the heels, jeans hugging my shapely thighs. I kissed him back, hard, my pouty lips hungry, tongue teasing his, my perky tits grinding against his abs, my plump ass swaying as I pressed closer, his cock throbbing against my hip.

He laughed, low and rough, his blue eyes dark. “Mouthy little thing, huh?” he said, his drawl thick, hands yanking at my button-up, popping a button to reveal my black lace bra, my pale skin glowing. “Let’s see that fire.” His fingers worked fast, unbuttoning the rest, tossing the shirt to the rooftop, my perky tits bouncing in the bra, nipples pink and stiff. I grinned, my brown eyes daring, gold bracelet glinting as I shrugged off his leather jacket, peeling his white tee over his head, his tanned chest sculpted, abs carved, a faint blonde trail leading to his jeans. My hands traced his scars—one on his ribs, another near his shoulder—my pouty lips brushing his jaw. “Got some stories, racer boy?” I teased, my long legs brushing his, jeans tight on my ass.

“Plenty,” he muttered, his hands on my jeans, unbuttoning them, tugging them down my shapely thighs, revealing my black thong, my tiny cock and tight balls barely covered. I stepped out of the jeans, kicking them aside with my pumps, my pale skin prickling in the night air, plump ass swaying. His blue eyes widened, a flicker of shock crossing his chiseled face as he saw my cock, but his grin stayed cocky. “Fuck, Mira, you’re full of surprises,” he said, his voice thick, hands grabbing my ass, thumbs brushing my tight balls through the thong. “More to love.”

I laughed, my brown eyes twinkling, pouty lips curling. “Damn right,” I said, pushing him to sit on a low ledge, his black jeans straining over his bulge. I knelt between his thighs, my long legs folding, pale skin glowing, perky tits bouncing in my bra as I unbuckled his belt, zipper rasping. His 7.5-inch cock sprang free, thick with a slight upward curve, veiny, precum beading at the fat head, balls heavy beneath. My pouty lips parted, brown eyes locked on his blues, and I leaned in, licking the tip, tasting salt, my tongue swirling slow, teasing. “Fuck, that’s good,” he groaned, his hand tangling in my dark hair, his tanned thighs tensing. I wrapped my lips around him, sucking deep, his curve filling my throat, stretching my pouty lips, spit drooling down my chin, soaking my pale skin.

I bobbed slow, my tongue tracing his veins, flicking the slit, his cock pulsing as I took him deeper, gagging softly, my perky tits brushing his thighs, nipples hard through the bra. My hand stroked his base, fingers tight, the other rolling his balls, nails grazing just enough to make him hiss. “Shit, Mira, you’re a fucking pro,” he growled, his blue eyes dark, hips bucking, fucking my mouth gentle but firm. I hummed, the vibration making him curse, my tiny cock leaking in my thong, my plump ass swaying as I knelt, long legs trembling. I pulled back, lips popping off his tip, a string of spit connecting us, and lapped at his shaft, slow and sloppy, my brown eyes teasing. “Like that, huh?” I purred, sucking his head hard, my pale skin slick with sweat, my long hair sticking to my face.

I deep-throated him, nose brushing his blonde pubes, gagging but holding it, spit dripping onto my tits, my gold bracelet clinking as I braced his thighs. His hand tightened in my hair, guiding me faster, his cock sliding over my tongue, filling my throat until I could barely breathe. I moaned, my tight balls aching, my tiny cock throbbing, my pumps digging into my knees as I sucked harder, lips tight, tongue working his curve. “Fuck, don’t stop,” he begged, his voice cracking, and I slowed, teasing, kissing his tip, tongue flicking lazy circles, drawing it out. I pulled off, gasping, my pouty lips swollen, spit glistening on my pale skin, brown eyes daring. “Not yet, JC,” I said, standing, my long legs unsteady, perky tits heaving, ready to take more.

Jesse growled, standing fast, his cock glistening with my spit, blue eyes hungry as he grabbed my waist, spinning me to face the ledge. “Bend over, Mira,” he ordered, his drawl rough, yanking my thong down, leaving me bare, my tiny cock twitching, tight balls exposed, my pale skin glowing under the skyline. I leaned forward, my long legs spread, plump ass raised, pumps braced on the concrete, my perky tits pressing into the ledge, bra shifting. His hands spread my cheeks, his breath hot on my ass, and I moaned, my brown eyes fluttering, pouty lips parted as his tongue lapped at my hole, wet and slow, swirling around my rim, sending shocks through my tight balls.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he muttered, his blonde hair brushing my thighs, his tongue pushing in, stretching me, the burn making my long legs shake. My pale skin prickled, my tiny cock leaking onto the ledge, my plump ass clenching as he tongue-fucked me, deep and relentless, spit dripping down my crack, soaking my shapely thighs. His hands gripped my ass, fingers bruising, his beard—faint but rough—scraping my skin, making me curse. “Shit, JC, don’t stop,” I hissed, rocking back, my perky tits scraping the ledge, my brown eyes rolling back. He sucked my rim, then plunged in again, fast, his tongue curling inside me, hitting nerves that made my tight balls ache, my long hair swaying with every thrust.

His finger joined, slick with spit, circling my hole beside his tongue, easing in slow, stretching me wider, pleasure spiking through my tiny cock. “Goddamn, you’re tight,” he growled, his voice muffled, his other hand spanking my ass, the sting making my plump cheeks jiggle, my pale skin reddening. I moaned louder, my long legs trembling, my pumps slipping as I pushed back, fucking myself on his tongue and finger, the city lights blurring below. He slowed, teasing, his tongue lapping lazy, drawing it out until I was begging, my pouty lips trembling, my brown eyes tearing, my pale skin slick with sweat. “Fuck, JC, you’re killing me,” I whined, and he laughed, giving my ass one last deep lick before standing, his cock brushing my thigh, still hard, ready to claim me.

He pulled me upright, my long legs wobbling, turning me to push towards a vent, my back pressing against its cool metal, my perky tits heaving in my bra, my tiny cock twitching, tight balls grazing his thigh. “Gonna fuck you right here,” he growled, lifting my right leg, hooking it over his hip, my nude pump dangling, my shapely thigh flexing, my pale skin glowing. His 7.5-inch cock nudged my spit-slick hole, the curved head pressing in, stretching me slow, the burn making me gasp, my pouty lips parted, brown eyes locked on his blues. “Fuck, you’re big,” I moaned, my long hair sticking to my face, my gold bracelet clinking as I gripped his shoulders, his tanned abs flexing as he sank deeper, his balls brushing my ass.

He thrust slow, pulling out halfway and sliding back, his curve hitting my prostate, sparks shooting through my tight balls. “So fucking tight,” he muttered, his hand gripping my raised thigh, the other spanking my plump ass, the crack echoing, my pale skin stinging sweet. I rocked against him, my long leg wrapped tight, my perky tits bouncing, bra riding up, my brown eyes hazy as he fucked me standing, the vent rattling behind me. “Harder, you cocky fuck,” I demanded, my pouty lips trembling, and he grinned, slamming in deep, his cock dragging over my prostate, pleasure coiling tight, my tiny cock leaking onto his stomach, the city skyline watching as he railed me, his balls slapping my ass, wet smacks mixing with our curses.

He kissed me sloppy, his tongue deep, his fingers creeping into my hole alongside his cock, stretching me wider, making me moan into his mouth, my pale skin slick, my long legs trembling as he pounded faster, my plump ass shaking with each thrust. “Fuck, Mira, you take it so good,” he growled, his blue eyes burning, his blonde hair damp, his cock hitting my core, pleasure spiking through my tight balls. I was close, my tiny cock throbbing, but he slowed, teasing, his thrusts shallow, drawing it out, my brown eyes pleading, my pouty lips begging for more, my pale skin bruised and sweaty, ready for the next round on this fucking rooftop.

Jesse’s cock was still buried in me, his 7.5-inch curve dragging slow against my prostate, my back pressed against the vent, the city skyline a blur of neon behind his blonde hair. My pale ivory skin was slick with sweat, my perky A-cup tits heaving in my shifted black lace bra, nipples pink and raw from his groping. My long legs trembled, one hooked over his hip, nude high-heeled pump dangling, shapely thigh flexing, my plump ass stinging from his spanks, my tiny cock—two inches hard—leaking onto his tanned stomach. My dark wavy hair stuck to my heart-shaped face, brown eyes hazy, pouty lips parted as I moaned, “Fuck, JC, you’re wrecking me.” His blue eyes burned, his tanned abs flexing, hand gripping my thigh, the other fingering my stretched hole alongside his cock, pleasure spiking through my tight balls. My gold bracelet lay with my scattered clothes—black button-up, light-washed jeans, thong, beige bucket bag—on the rooftop, the Supra waiting below like a loyal bitch.

“Wrecking you? You’re fucking eating this cock,” he growled, his drawl thick, blonde hair damp, scar above his brow glinting as he kissed me sloppy, his tongue deep, tasting my spit-soaked lips. I grinned into it, my pouty lips swollen, brown eyes daring, my long legs tightening to pull him deeper, the vent rattling with his slow thrusts. “Bet I can wreck you back,” I teased, my voice husky, shoving him off, my hole clenching empty, my pale skin prickling in the cool air. He laughed, his thick cock glistening with my spit and his precum, blue eyes hungry as I grabbed a blanket from near a vent—some party leftover—and spread it on the rooftop, my perky tits bouncing, my plump ass swaying, long legs steady despite the pumps.

I pushed against his chest with my hands until he was lying back on the blanket, his tanned chest sculpted, abs carved, 7.5-inch cock standing proud, curved head dripping. I straddled his hips, my long legs bracing, my tiny cock brushing his stomach, tight balls grazing his skin, my pale skin glowing under the skyline’s glow. My brown eyes locked on his blues, pouty lips parted as I gripped his shoulders, my perky tits jiggling in the bra, my plump ass hovering over his cock. “Fuck, you’re gonna feel this,” I purred, lowering slow, his curved head stretching my hole, the burn sweet as I sank down, inch by thick inch, until his balls pressed my ass, my long hair swaying, my shapely thighs flexing.

I rocked slow, grinding, his cock hitting my prostate, pleasure sparking through my tight balls, my tiny cock throbbing, leaking a steady drip onto his abs. “Shit, you’re tight,” he groaned, his hands gripping my hips, fingers bruising my pale skin, guiding me faster, my plump ass bouncing, the blanket rough under my knees. I leaned forward, my perky tits brushing his chest, nipples scraping his skin, my pouty lips kissing him deep, tongue teasing, his stubble—faint but rough—scraping my face. “Fuck, JC, you’re so deep,” I moaned, picking up speed, my long legs working, my ass slamming down, his cock filling me raw, pleasure coiling tight, my brown eyes hazy.

His hand spanked my ass, the crack echoing, my plump cheeks rippling, pale skin reddening, making me curse, my tiny cock twitching harder. “Ride it, you fucking tease,” he growled, his blue eyes dark, other hand jerking my tiny cock, thumb rough, sending shocks through my tight balls. I rode him cowgirl, relentless, my shapely thighs burning, my perky tits bouncing, bra riding up, my long hair swinging wild, the city lights watching as I fucked myself on him, his cock dragging over my prostate with every thrust. “Goddamn, Mira, come for me,” he said, his voice cracking, and I did, my tight balls pulsing, my tiny cock spurting ropes across his abs, my moan ripping free, my plump ass clenching his cock tight, my brown eyes rolling back, my pale skin trembling with the high.

I slumped forward, panting, my perky tits against his chest, my pale skin sticky, my long legs shaking, but Jesse wasn’t done. “Not yet, darlin’,” he growled, flipping me onto my back on the blanket, my long legs splayed, nude pumps scraping the fabric, my plump ass raised, my tiny cock twitching, tight balls slick with my cum. My dark hair fanned out, my brown eyes wide, pouty lips gasping as he knelt between my thighs, his 7.5-inch cock nudging my stretched hole, his tanned abs flexing, blue eyes locked on mine. “Gonna pound you senseless,” he said, pushing in slow, his curve filling me, the stretch burning sweet, my pale skin prickling, my perky tits heaving as he leaned down, kissing my pouty lips, his tongue sloppy, his hand groping my tit, pinching my nipple.

He thrust hard, his hips snapping, his cock slamming my prostate, pleasure spiking through my tight balls, my long legs wrapping his waist, my shapely thighs clamping tight. “Fuck, JC, give it to me,” I hissed, my brown eyes burning, my pale skin bruising under his grip, my plump ass bouncing with each thrust, the blanket bunching beneath me. He spanked my thigh, the sting making me moan, my tiny cock throbbing, leaking again, my perky tits jiggling as he railed me missionary, his balls slapping my ass, wet smacks mixing with my curses. “You love this cock, don’t you?” he growled, his blonde hair falling over his eyes, his hand fingering my hole alongside his cock, stretching me wider, pleasure and pain blurring, my pouty lips trembling.

I clawed his back, nails digging into his tanned skin, my long legs locking tighter, pulling him deeper, my brown eyes tearing as he pounded relentless, his cock hitting my core, my tight balls drawing up. “Fuck, I’m close,” I moaned, my pale skin slick, my perky tits pressed against his chest, my tiny cock trapped between us, rubbing his abs. He kissed me hard, his tongue claiming mine, his hand spanking my ass again, the crack loud, my plump cheeks burning. “Come again, Mira,” he growled, his blue eyes wild, his cock pulsing, and I did, my tiny cock spurting weak ropes, my moan lost in his mouth, my long legs shaking, my pale skin wrecked. He groaned, his cock throbbing, flooding my insides with hot cum, his thrusts slowing as he pumped me full, dripping down my plump ass onto the blanket, my brown eyes fluttering shut, my pouty lips soft against his.

We lay there, fucked out, my pale skin sticky, my dark hair tangled, my perky tits pressed against his chest as he held me, his cock softening inside me, his tanned skin warm. “Fucking hell, Mira,” he muttered, kissing my forehead, his blue eyes soft, blonde hair damp with sweat. I laughed, weak, my pouty lips brushing his neck, my long legs tangled with his. “Worth every second,” I whispered, my brown eyes opening, exhaustion pulling me under, the city skyline fading as I caught my breath, safe in his arms for now.

But the night wasn’t done. Jesse stirred, pulling out slow, his cum leaking from my ass, my plump ass sore, my pale skin marked with bruises and sweat. “Gotta get back before they notice,” he said, his drawl lazy, blue eyes twinkling as he grabbed his white tee, tossing me my black lace bra. I smirked, slipping it on, my perky tits settling, my long legs unsteady as I stood, nude pumps wobbling on the rooftop. My black button-up and light-washed jeans were crumpled by the vent, my thong a lost cause, so I pulled on the jeans commando, the rips showing my shapely thighs, my tiny cock and tight balls snug but raw. I tucked in the button-up, half-buttoned, my pale skin glowing, gold bracelet back on my wrist, beige bucket bag slung over my shoulder, my dark hair a wild mess.

We crept down the stairs, my heels clicking soft, Jesse’s leather jacket creaking, his tanned hand brushing my ass, making me grin, my brown eyes teasing his blues. The car meet was still alive below, though thinner—engines revving, a few Civics doing burnouts, my Supra parked like a goddamn queen. I leaned against it, my plump ass on the hood, long legs crossed, tits perky under the button-up as Jesse lit a smoke, passing it to me. I took a drag, my pouty lips curling, the nicotine hitting sweet, my pale skin cooling in the night air. “You wore me out, JC,” I said, my voice low, brown eyes locked on his, the skyline glittering behind us.

“Fuck yeah, and you loved it,” he shot back, his grin cocky, blonde hair falling over his scar, his 240SX gleaming nearby, bronze wheels catching the light. He leaned close, his lips brushing mine, a soft kiss that lingered, my tiny cock stirring despite the ache in my ass. “Next meet, you’re racing me again,” he said, his drawl thick, blue eyes daring. “And we’re finishing what we started.” I laughed, my long legs shifting, jeans tight, my perky tits grazing his chest. “Count on it, racer boy,” I purred, my brown eyes twinkling, tossing the cigarette, my Supra waiting, my hustle burning brighter than ever.

I slid into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against my thighs, my pumps on the pedals, my dark hair spilling over my shoulders. Jesse watched, his tanned frame leaning on his 240SX, blue eyes following as I revved the Supra, its inline-six roaring, my plump ass sinking into the seat, my pale skin flushed with victory. I peeled out, tires chirping, the city swallowing me, my brown eyes sharp in the rearview, already planning the next meet, the next race, the next time I’d let Jesse fuck me senseless, my pouty lips smirking, ready to own this fucking game.