Ellie’s Filthy Truck Threesome Under the Moon

After snagging condoms from a machine, we spilled into the night, the air a cool slap against my buzzing skin. Ryan’s truck — a battered F-150 with chipped red paint — waited in the lot. He took the driver’s seat, Nate sprawled in the back, and I rode shotgun, plugging my phone into the aux to blast a gritty rock playlist. The engine growled as we tore off, city lights fading into endless fields and shadowed pines.

The cab smelled of motor oil and faint weed, a raw edge that matched the moment. We didn’t talk much, the silence thick with intent, each of us coiled and waiting. Ryan turned onto a rutted trail, the truck jolting through woods until we hit a clearing. Moonlight poured down, painting everything in stark silver, and he cut the engine. The stillness was deafening, broken only by the creak of settling metal.

“Far enough from prying eyes,” Ryan said, twisting to face me, that grin promising trouble.

I nodded, their stares pinning me, the air in the cab turning heavy and hot. “What’s the move?” I asked, voice husky.

Ryan and Nate shared a glance — some primal code I couldn’t crack. Then Ryan’s hand grazed my knee, a question in the touch. “What do you want, Ellie?”

I met his eyes, lips curving into a slow, daring smile. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Ryan’s chuckle vibrated through me, stoking the fire in my veins. Nate broke in, voice rough. “She’s not one to dive in blind.”

“You think you’ve got me figured out?” I shot back, arching a brow, keeping up the charade.

“Enough to know you’re here for a reason,” Nate said, his gaze steady. “You want it messy.”

He was right, and I didn’t argue. I shifted, the vinyl seat sticking to my thighs, and crossed my legs slow, watching Ryan track the motion. I reveled in it — the control, the way they hovered, drawn in tight. My heart pounded, a wild drumbeat urging me on.

Ryan’s hand slid up my thigh, deliberate now, pushing under my skirt. His fingers brushed the lace of my panties, then slipped beneath, finding my clit with a precision that ripped a gasp from me. I spread my legs wider, instinctive, heat flooding me as he circled, slow and teasing.

“No bolts here,” I breathed, half-laughing through the haze, “but you’re working me just fine.”

His eyes darkened, locked on mine, while Nate’s hands roamed my chest, tugging my tank down to palm my breasts through the bra. I arched, caught in their orbit, the dual touch igniting me.

“Cramped as hell back there,” I said, nodding at the tight rear seat. “Outside’s no picnic either — dirt’s a bitch.”

Ryan caught Nate’s eye in the mirror, a silent pact forming. “One then the other,” Ryan said, voice gravelly, fingers still stroking me. “Short bursts — draw it out. Condoms or nothing.”

“Perfect,” I panted, already sinking into it. Nate muttered something — hating the pretense — but agreed.

I kicked off my panties, the denim skirt bunching as I peeled off my tank and bra, baring myself under their hungry stares. Ryan’s breath hitched. “Fuck, Nate, she’s a goddamn vision.”

I slithered to the back, straddling the seat as Nate shed his clothes. I rolled a condom onto him, sucking him briefly — wet, messy, just enough to make him groan — before he knelt between my thighs. I braced against the seat, legs splayed, and he pushed in slow, stretching me with every inch until he bottomed out.

“Pound her,” Ryan growled from the front, voice thick. “She’s built for it.”

Nate thrust deep, deliberate, his cock filling me as I rocked to meet him. “She’s fucking endless,” he said, playing along, “could take more and then some.”

“I’ll fill her up,” Ryan countered, eyes blazing. “Ass too — she’s begging for it, aren’t you?”

“Love it,” I moaned, staring him down, daring him to prove it.

Nate’s rhythm faltered, too eager, and I tapped him out before he finished. Ryan was ready — stripped, sheathed, swapping in fast. He slammed into me, fierce and unrelenting, a brutal contrast to Nate’s measured pace. My nails dug into the seat, body trembling as he drove me higher, every thrust a jolt of raw need.

The truck was a pressure cooker, rules dissolving in the heat. Nate’s hands kneaded my tits, pinching my nipples hard, while Ryan fucked me senseless. I shattered, screaming their names, thighs quaking as I came, each thrust from Ryan dragging out the bliss until I was begging — wordless, desperate — for more. The music thumped low, a distant pulse under our gasps and groans.

“She’s a fucking machine,” Ryan rasped, sweat beading on his brow. “Too damn hot in here — let’s move.”

“Was thinking the same,” Nate said, smirking. “Outside’s calling.”

I nodded, dizzy but insatiable — the cab was a furnace, and I needed air. Ryan pulled me out, hand firm around mine, and guided me to the truck’s open window. I bent forward, half inside, ass up, the cool metal biting my skin as he pressed behind me. He teased my hole with the tip, slick with lube from the condom, then eased in — slow, deliberate, stretching me until I whimpered, the burn melting into pleasure.

“Think you can take it?” he murmured, breath hot on my neck.