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Mrs. Rhea was the type of client you take particular care of. I recall the first time I met her.
Her automobile, an ancient model of the Toyota limousine, tumbled into the driveway. It was the middle of the morning, and I was working on the transmission repair for another client. I saw the automobile come up and block the garage entry, and then she appeared again. She was small, perhaps 6 feet tall, wearing yoga leggings and a light pink t-shirt. Very powerful the hourglass form, top-heavy in the bulging shirt and the yoga trousers, which are tightened with a small V at the front. For a guy who dealt with the stench of oil and antifreeze, she was a vision at exactly the perfect time.
“Hello?” Her girlish voice.
“One moment.” I got a cloth and wiped my oiled hands. The cloth was greasy, so whatever. I went over to her.
“Hello, well, my car broke down.” She stated her dark eyes staring up at me, a little teary-eyed and terrified.
“Oh, okay, what’s the problem?” I responded… she probably hasn’t checked the oil in years.
“Oh, there’s a flashing light and the engine is making funny noises,” she remarked, without really having an idea.
“Let’s have a look, sweetie.” My tone of speech is just a touch condescending. She would forgive me later.
I went over to her car and had a peek at her gloriously larger bottom. She bent down to point at the caution light. Shit! Leaning forward like that gives a man thoughts. She turned her head towards me, lowered her gaze for a second, and then returned to me. Did she just inspect me?
“Let’s have a look,” I said. She stepped up to them and bent over them. My head and my shoulders over her, she leaned back. The oil warning light, for sure. But I took the opportunity to inspect her hand, clearly a wedding band.
“Let’s pop the hood and check.” I bent down, my hand reached beneath the dashboard, pushed the lever, and lightly caressed her leg on the way up. I could hear her breathing in.
I grinned at myself and looked at the engine. First I checked the dipstick, which I’m sure was empty. I started to inspect the other parts when she stuck her head beneath the dipstick.
“Can you fix it?” she asked me humbly.
I ignored her for a moment and glanced beneath my arms to cover my face from her, but I continued to observe her.
“Please,” she whispered, “I felt her hand softly on my arm. I gazed across into those dark eyes. Damn, did she realize what those eyes were doing?
“Well, I’m already working on another automobile.” And I said.
“Oh, please, sir. I’d be extremely appreciative.” This time she didn’t simply grasp my arm, she pressed her full body against mine. I could feel her soft body and I could feel my manhood hardening. “Very thankful.” Her hand was instantly on my hip and proceeded south. Before I knew it, her hand was fumbling for me and grasping me in my jumpsuit. I could feel her hand swell up even more when she stroked me.
I turned to her and she stood on her toes and stared up at me. Her hand continued stroking, unzipping my zipper, and pulled out my huge firm cock. She looked down, smiled, and peered back into my eyes while her hand continued its manipulations flawlessly.
“So, big boy, do we have a deal?” She purred, but before I could speak, she sank to her knees and I felt her warm lips grip around my furious redhead. It was not her first time, despite her naive face. My God, her lips, moist velvet engulfed me, sucked my thick erection deeper, her tongue was whirling, teasing me.
“Holy crap.” I said, “Hold her head. She started nodding her head faster and sucking and fucking on her mouth. These incredible gagging noises. She walked into town with my dick and I couldn’t do anything but enjoy myself.
“Mmm, now it’s my time,” I replied my hand grabbed her hand and pulled her up, relishing it as she sucked deep on her cock one final time. I hoisted her up by placing my arms around her ass. She shrieked as I put her on the hood. I reached down and tore her yoga pants down to her crotch.
Her eyes were suddenly wide open, her mouth gaping, and she groaned. “Fuck me,” she moaned eagerly as I gripped my thick, firm manhood and pushed it against her.
“Oh, I mean to,” I responded, my sticky hands grasping her hips as I entered her. My belt strained her, but the experienced lady that she was raised her butt a bit to permit me in. There she was, seated on the hood of the car, legs wide, my blue, oil-covered overalls, the cock within her, fucking.
Maybe all the strain, the scenario, simply because she felt and smelled so nice, but it felt fantastic, she felt incredible. I grasped her hips pretty tight and I squeezed. The automobile started swaying on the wheels, the metal was screeching. She whimpered and inhaled heavily. I growled and thrust myself deep into her. Her hands supported her and her eyes supported mine. We both rocked to the rhythm, fucked, and relished the passion.
“Fill me up.” She demanded, no longer the innocent voice. I meant to. I felt myself expand as I reached the climax. I stiffened up, aching, then I let go. She shouted with ecstasy and felt my sperm enter her. I felt her gripping me, milking me, holding me until I was done.
I drew back and wiped my wet cock on my soiled overalls. She got out of her automobile. Set up her clothing. There was semen on the ripped yoga pants. Grease marks from my hands on her hips.
“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” I responded, pointing at her damaged yoga bottoms. A girlish chuckle, her hand on my arm.
Her automobile was fixed in thirty minutes A farewell kiss. I didn’t believe I’d ever see her again. But Mrs. Rhea comes once a month now. Apparently, we have a regular agreement. I oil and grease her, she has my dirty hands all over her.
In the next story, I will share with you another story named “LIFE OF SEX”
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