This guy—a guy I had really just met a few minutes ago—was suddenly pulling me along by the hand, weaving through the glow of cabinets and crowds, until we slipped into the corner where the big sit-down racing machines were lined up. Plastic bucket seats, neon steering wheels, cheap vinyl, flashing lights…
“There,” he said, his voice still a little shaky from the excitement of me rubbing myself against him as he showed me how to play the standing arcade game. “The one in the corner. I’m…good at that one.”
I lowered myself into the seat, my skirt riding high up my thighs. The curved screen lit up in front of me, but all I could think about was the throbbing ache between my legs.
“Come here,” I said. “Squeeze in behind me. Then I’ll sort of be…like…on your lap. And then you can teach me…”
His eyes widened, his face pink in the neon light. But he didn’t resist. Slowly, awkwardly, he stepped forward and lowered himself behind me, fitting into the seat as best he could, his long legs bracketing mine. His chest pressed against my back, his arms slid around my sides, and suddenly I was trapped between him and the wheel, my skirt so high I could see the mound of my smooth pussy in the glow of the screen.