Under the Carport's Shadow

The rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of the carport, a relentless, insistent rhythm that mirrored the escalating heat building between us. We’d just returned from dinner, the remnants of a surprisingly pleasant evening with my friends – a rare treat, really, considering the demands of our little one, Hannah. They’d teased me, of course, about how soon my life would be over, consumed entirely by motherhood, leaving no room for anything else. They weren’t entirely wrong, but the thought of giving up even a sliver of that spark, that connection with Sharon, felt unbearable.

Sharon’s mother, Delores, had insisted we needed a break, claiming she was well-equipped to handle the chaos of a newborn. A dubious offer, perhaps, but desperate times called for desperate measures. As it turned out, Hannah had slept through the night, a miracle in itself, and Delores was fast asleep, oblivious to the simmering tension in the car.

The drive home was filled with a charged silence, punctuated by the occasional glance at each other. Sharon’s blue dress, tight across her hips and clinging to her curves, felt like a deliberate provocation. The fishnet stockings peeked out from beneath, a flash of forbidden pleasure. I’d been staring at her all evening, lost in the intoxicating scent of her perfume, the curve of her lips, the way her eyes held a secret, knowing glint.

“I’m tempted to take you to a hotel room after dinner,” I’d said, my voice low and husky, the words hanging heavy in the air.

Her response had been equally provocative. “I’m tempted to let you.”

But the thought of a hotel, the sterile environment, the lack of privacy, felt somehow wrong. We wanted to be alone, just the two of us, to lose ourselves in the immediate, primal connection we shared. Besides, a hotel room felt like an unnecessary expense.

As we pulled into the driveway, Sharon reached over and unbuckled my belt. The rain intensified, drumming a frantic beat against the metal roof. She moved with a slow, deliberate grace, her fingers tracing the outline of my erect member as she lowered the zipper of my jeans. The cool night air met the heat radiating from my body, a delicious contrast.

“You want to do something here?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, my gaze locked on her exposed flesh. “In the car?”

“I don’t really feel like climbing into the back seat,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of invitation. “I just want to play around. Maybe this could be all about you.”

The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. The proximity, the vulnerability, the sheer intensity of the moment. It felt reckless, almost dangerous, but I couldn’t resist. My arousal intensified, a powerful wave washing over me.

The carport, attached to our small backyard, felt like a sanctuary, a private space shielded from the prying eyes of the world. Peeking through the tinted windows of the house, I saw the faint glow of the living room lamp, but no movement. Delores was deep in slumber, likely unaware of the simmering passion in our car.

Sharon’s hand slipped between my legs, her fingers gently squeezing my crotch. It wasn’t a forceful pressure, but rather a slow, deliberate tease, designed to heighten the anticipation. My body responded instantly, my muscles tensing, my breath quickening. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the pleasure.

“As long as you’re sure,” I murmured, my voice thick with desire.

“Stop worrying,” Sharon said, her voice a silken whisper against my ear.

Her hand moved further, working its way under the elastic band of my underwear. The feeling of her fingers against my skin was exquisite, sending shivers down my spine. When her hand found my penis, she gripped it firmly, her nails digging into the flesh. She leaned over, her lips brushing against my neck, sending another wave of heat through my body.

Looking at the house through the rain-streaked windows, I felt a sudden surge of guilt, quickly followed by an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Was this too much? Was I jeopardizing our relationship by succumbing to these intense desires? But then I looked back at Sharon, her eyes dark and lustful, her body radiating heat, and the doubt vanished.

“We couldn’t make love in the house tonight, could we?” I said, breaking the silence. “Not with Mom in the next room.”

“No,” she replied, her voice firm and resolute. “That would be gross.”

With a swift, decisive movement, she pulled down the zipper of my jeans, exposing my fully erect member to the night air. Her fingers danced along the length of my shaft, tracing its contours, sending a jolt of pure pleasure through me. The rain continued its relentless assault, but it felt distant, irrelevant. All that mattered was the sensation of Sharon’s touch, the heat of her body, the intoxicating scent of her perfume.

“But isn’t the carport like part of the house?” I questioned, my voice barely audible.

Sharon’s open mouth was an inch away from my penis when she paused, her eyes locking with mine.

“No, the carport is not part of the house,” she stated, her voice unwavering. “The carport is outside of the house.”

“Isn’t that just a technicality?” I countered, my voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “The carport is still part of the property. When we say this is our home, we mean the house, the yard, and the carport. I can show you on the property map.”

“Yes, it’s all our property,” she confirmed, her gaze never leaving mine. “But Mom is inside the house sleeping and we are outside in our car, where nobody can see us. Now, do you want a blowjob or not?”

The question hung in the air, charged with anticipation. I wanted it, desperately, but the image of Delores, asleep in her guest room, flashed through my mind. The thought of her discovering us, her disapproval weighing heavily on my conscience, held me back for a moment. But the pull of Sharon, the irresistible desire that coursed through my veins, was too strong to resist.

“I love your blowjobs,” I finally admitted, my voice a low rumble. “But I can’t stop thinking about my mother.”

I pointed towards the house, my finger trembling slightly.

“You’re starting to make me think about my mother,” Sharon said, her voice laced with a hint of irritation. “And I find that very disturbing. Would you rather we didn’t do this?”

Looking down at my fully exposed member, I realized that the thought of not indulging in this moment, this raw, primal connection, felt even more unbearable than the risk of displeasing my mother.

“Convince me,” I challenged, my voice filled with a desperate plea.

Sharon leaned closer, her breath warm against my ear. She bent over, her lips descending slowly, deliberately, and began to kiss my penis. The pressure was gentle at first, a teasing exploration, but quickly escalated into a demanding, insistent assault. My body writhed in response, lost in the exquisite sensation.

Through half-opened eyes, I watched as Sharon’s bobbing head provided a hypnotic rhythm to our encounter. The rain continued to fall, but it seemed distant, muffled, as if it were happening in another world. The scent of her perfume filled my nostrils, intoxicating and overwhelming. The world narrowed down to this single, intense moment, this shared pleasure, this undeniable connection between us. Forget about Delores, forget about Hannah, forget about everything else. There was only Sharon, and the exquisite, forbidden pleasure she was offering me. It was all I needed. And as she continued to caress and tease, I knew that in this small, rain-soaked carport, surrounded by the darkness of the night, we had found our own private paradise.

Story taboo sex

Under the Carport's Shadow

Did you like this story? Under the Carport's Shadow look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.