Man from the bar(2)

But he didn't come. He lasted and lasted until she regained her sense of reality-- at least that's how it felt, as if the sudden, overwhelming compulsion to fellate him had been a psychedelic trip-- and she raised her head to look around. In that insane moment she'd totally forgotten where she was, that anyone could have looked in from the street. "Don't worry. I was watching out. Pause for a minute." He started the car and they continued down the street. "More." She thought at first he meant she should continue her confession. But she'd already told him about that. And yes, she still held his cock, which was still stiff. So this wasn't the instant blow job fantasy she'd just tried to make real, this was something maybe more interesting, more than a blow job. She'd given blow jobs, of course, to both her two previous serious boyfriends, to their immense, babbling gratitude. They'd been good experiences. But the 'job' aspect dominated, more like doing a friend a favor than-- than-- what