It started with a text.
"Get dressed. We're going for a drive. Alone."
I didn’t hesitate.
Slipped into a tiny dress no bra, no panties and met him outside like a good little slut. Zoey was still asleep. The sun barely up.
Mr. Carter didn’t say a word when I climbed into his truck. Just gave me a look—dark, unreadable—and drove.
Ten minutes in, he pulled off the road, tires crunching gravel as we rolled into some quiet, wooded spot. Then he cut the engine.
Silence.
Tension.
I was wet already.
“Backseat. Now.”
I climbed over instantly, heart racing, thighs already pressed tight together. He followed, slamming the door shut behind him.
“You really came out here with no panties?” he asked, lifting my dress and exposing my soaked p***y. “Slut.”
I whimpered. “I knew you’d want me.”
