She cursed herself as the head of his dick brushed across her dry pussy. She could never get wet for this, no matter how hard she tried. Gritting her teeth, she stifled a groan as he began to force his way into her tight, dry pussy. His cellphone lay on the front seat of the SUV, her husband's voicemail on the other line. If thier sex wasn't completely silent, the evidence would be recorded for her husband to hear. He slowly sunk into her, grinding hard against her cervix once he hit bottom. He was intentionally hurting her, trying to make her cry out. She lay on her back in his SUV, her skirt pulled up around her hips, her shirt unbuttoned and her breasts pulled out of her bra cups. Her car was parked next to his, as it was every Wednesday afternoon at 1pm. Several months ago he had realized that she was having sex with her boss in order to get a raise, and had hidden a video camera in Mr. Randall's office. Now she had to endure this ordeal on a weekly basis just to keep him quiet, and she still had to fuck her ugly, fat boss on a regular basis and service her selfish and disinterested husband often enough to keep him from getting suspicious. Julie was coming to hate sex. Her pussy ached as he sawed in and out of her. He rarely lasted more than a minute or two, since all he cared about was his orgasm. He was fully aware of how much she hated these meetings, and it really turned him on. He always made her prepare herself for him as he watched in the rearview mirror. She could never look him in the eye as she exposed her breasts and took off her underwear. Once she was laying on her back with her legs spread he would come around to the back door. The dark tinted windows served him well. From the outside of the car you couldn't see a thing. He would sit between her legs, gripping her breasts as he slowly stroked himself until he was hard. She wasn't a beautiful woman, and even the thrill of using her so blatantly wasn't enough to give him wood without some manual stimulation. His lack of ability to get hard over her just added to her humiliation and proved that the whole event was about power and shame. Once he was ready he would dial her husband's voicemail, set the open phone on the front seat, and crawl on top of her. She would lay there, staring at the ceiling of the SUV, trying to ignore it all. She was never really able to block it out, though She hated his orgasms most of all. She would feel his dick start to swell and then he would go rigid and still on top of her. He would continue to swell, and suddenly she would feel the pumping as his cock rythmically shot streams of jizz into her cunt. Once he pulled out of her he gave her exactlly one minute to get out of his vehicle. It was barely enough time for her to readjust her clothing. As she walked back to her car, his cum would run down her thighs. He always left satisfied, his nuts drained and his smug superiority intact. Julie always left numb and hollow, feeling dirty and dishevelled, wanting to scrub herself clean. She always swore that she wouldn't come back again, that she would find a way to end it all. But each week when Wednesday rolled around, she still hadn't found a way to extricate herself from the mess she had gotten into.