You shove the van door shut behind you and Eddie’s already on you, hands rough from guitar strings yanking your shirt up over your tits. “Been thinking about this pussy all night,” he growls, mouth hot on your neck. He doesn’t bother with slow kisses. His teeth scrape your skin while his fingers pop the button on your jeans and shove them down your thighs.
The van smells like weed and sweat and leather. You’re half-naked on the bench seat before you can catch your breath. Eddie drops to his knees on the floor, spreads your legs wide, and buries his face between them. His tongue is filthy and fast, licking straight up your slit and sucking your clit like he’s starving. You moan loud and he laughs against your cunt, the vibration making your hips jerk.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he says, two fingers sliding into you without warning. He curls them hard, pumping fast while his tongue keeps working your clit. Your hands fist in his messy curls, pulling him closer. He groans like he loves it and adds a third finger, stretching you open.
You come hard on his tongue, thighs shaking around his head. Eddie doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering. Then he stands, unzips his jeans, and pulls out his cock. Thick, flushed, already leaking. He strokes it once and lines up.
“Turn around,” he orders. You scramble onto your knees on the seat, ass up. He slaps your cheek hard enough to sting, then grips your hips and slams inside in one thrust. You cry out. He’s deep, bottoming out, balls pressed tight against you.
Eddie fucks like he plays guitar: fast, loud, no mercy. The van rocks with every thrust. Skin slaps skin. He reaches under you, rubs your clit in tight circles, and talks filthy the whole time. “Take it.
Fuck, this cunt’s squeezing me so good. Gonna fill you up, make you drip my cum all the way home.”
You push back to meet him, chasing another orgasm. He leans over your back, bites your shoulder, and pounds harder. One hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back so he can growl in your ear. “You love getting fucked like a slut in my van, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you gasp. “Harder.”
He gives it to you. The angle changes and his cock drags over that spot inside you until your vision blurs. You come again, clenching around him, and Eddie curses, hips stuttering. He buries himself deep and pulses, flooding you with hot cum. You feel every throb.
He stays inside you for a moment, breathing hard, then pulls out slow. Cum leaks down your thigh. Eddie swipes it with his fingers and pushes it back inside, lazy and possessive. “Keep that in there,” he says, voice low. “We’re not done yet.”
You’re still catching your breath when he flips you onto your back and hooks your legs over his shoulders. His cock is already hardening again. He slides back in, slower this time but just as deep, eyes locked on yours while he fucks his cum deeper.
The second round is rougher, sweat-slick and loud. Eddie pins your wrists above your head with one hand and uses the other to rub your swollen clit until you’re shaking and begging. He comes with a groan, biting your lip, then collapses half on top of you, both of you sticky and wrecked.
Later, when the van windows are fogged and the music from the bar outside is just noise, Eddie kisses your forehead, surprisingly soft. “Next time I’m bending you over my amp,” he mutters. You laugh, already planning to make that happen.
