Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: Northeast US
|Introduction: Sometimes a bad day can turn out very, very good|
This is our Calling All Writers Challenge Chapter 3 entry.
Now, I’m the first one to admit that there are times when I get distracted, and there is just a chance I wasn’t walking close enough to the parked cars in the lot of the supermarket. But Jesus, you’d think anyone driving a bright red sports car wouldn’t want to mess it up by using me as a hood ornament. I damn near had to jump out of the way as she made a wide swing into a parking space. Of course it was a woman driver. Before you jump my shit, not all women are bad drivers, but there’s something about one being behind the wheel of a machine like that that just torques my butt.
I grabbed a cart and began my methodical journey through the store. I always start with produce, then meat, around the perimeter of the building, before going up and down the aisles. I know, creature of habit.
First, I heard “Shit!” Then, I heard the sound of someone’s shopping cart crashing into mine and the sound of my canned goods being tossed around.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, sounding sincerely apologetic.
I chuckled and told her it was no problem, as she sped down the aisle. She looked vaguely familiar, but I didn’t know from where.
There was hardly anyone in the market at six o’clock at night, since everyone else was home eating dinner, instead of shopping for it. It was my favorite time to stop, after a long day at the garage. I could get around the store and be home within an hour.
I had no warning as I was almost knocked down by someone’s cart, while inspecting a carton of eggs. Twelve eggs when flying through the air – splattering into the cooler, onto the floor, and all over my new Nikes.
“Son of a bitch,” I growled and turned to face my attacker.
There she was again, red-faced with tears brimming in her eyes. It was then I realized she was also the woman who almost ran me down in the parking lot. Try as I might to be angry, seeing that pouting, mortified face caused me to do only one thing – laugh.
“Honest to God, I’m not normally this klutzy. Please forgive me. Let me reimburse you for your sneakers. They’re ruined,” she begged.
“Look lady,” I had a hard time controlling my laughter, “did I do something to you in another life? Are you my punishment for some unforgivable deed?”
The look she gave me stopped me dead. I put my hand on her arm, trying to make her feel better.
“Really, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it. Now, I’m going to the checkout area. Let’s make a deal. Why don’t you wait about fifteen minutes before you come anywhere near the cashiers. Okay?”
On my way out of the store, one of my bowling buddies stopped to invite me over for a cookout, the next weekend. I saw her leave the store and head out to the parking lot. The early evening breeze played with her skirt, lifting it. I have to say, that was a fine looking ass walking away from me.
My mind was on watching the game, a cold beer and the deli sandwich I just bought. I checked my mirrors before backing my truck out of the parking spot.
S-C-R-E-E-C-H! I heard the sound of brakes and waited for the BANG that normally followed. I stopped so that maybe I could avoid getting in the middle of anything. What I didn’t expect was to feel my truck lurch a little as someone hit my back end.
“Fuck!” was the most appropriate thing I could say.
It’s bad enough that I make a living fixing the cars that idiots smash, but do I have to be the victim in an accident? Fucking insurance papers, adjusters, police reports, waiting to get paid – I needed this like a fucking hole in the head.
I got out of the truck, ready to rip someone a new asshole. Come on, I’m in a big black Chevy truck – I’m kind of hard to miss, if you know what I mean. When I looked at the driver getting out of the little red Miata, I just shook my head. I should have known. My truck was fine, and her car really wasn’t in too bad a shape. I could knock that dent out in no time.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she stammered. “I am so dead. That’s it – I just shouldn’t ever go home.”
She stopped and looked at me and then the tears started. Oh Christ, I thought, not tears, please not tears. Nothing can reduce me to a pile of mush faster than tears.
“Lady, do you want me to call the police to take the report? You do have insurance, don’t you?” I asked trying not to look at the runny-nosed mess she was becoming.
Her words came out in hiccups. “Please. Please don’t. My husband will kill me when he gets home from his trip. He already threatened to take my car away. One more accident and my insurance company is going to cancel me. Oh God, what am I going to do?”
She put her face in her hands and began to sob. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably. That’s it – it was all over for me, and I knew it. I took her into my arms and let her cry. There was no sense in trying to talk over her sobs.
People walked by and stared at the scene we were making. I was glad it was a slow time in the evening so she wouldn’t be blocking a lot of traffic. I was praying she would begin to calm down, first so I could speak with her, and second so my shirt had a chance to dry out.
She must have realized how it looked and backed away from me. Her breathing came out in gasps and she looked like a wet dish rag.
“I’m sorry. This isn’t your problem, I know,” she admitted. “Go ahead and call the police. I’m going to have to face the firing squad at some point, so it might as well be sooner than later.”
Hello world, my name is Sucker. I should have walked away. I should have kept my mouth shut, but no – I have a hero complex and I was determined to save this distressed damsel.
“Look, let’s make a deal. I own a body shop just a few blocks from here. Your damage is minimal and I’m pretty sure I can get this car looking as good as new, within a couple of hours. Follow me over, let me do the work and your husband will be none the wiser,” I offered.
A look of concern crossed her face, but when she glanced down at her dent, it quickly disappeared.
“O… okay,” she stammered. “And I promise I’ll stay at least four car lengths behind you so that I don’t do any more damage.”
I argued with myself all the way back to the shop. Why did I have to be such a nice guy? Why couldn’t I have just let the insurance companies settle it? So what if she loses her car – she obviously is a bad driver. Still, I couldn’t let that happen. What if her husband was a real dick? Just call me Superman.
True to her word, she pulled in as I was opening the garage door. Carefully, she followed my directions and parked the car without any more incidents. I showed her where she could sit and where the vending machines were. I thought she’d stay out of my hair, but she came back into the shop and sat down on one of the stools near my bench.
After taking a good look, I knew it was going to be an easy job. I turned to talk to her about what I needed to do and almost dropped my mallet. She sat there, head back, swallowing her Diet Pepsi, legs crossed and skirt slid up to a place that I shouldn’t have been looking. I wasn’t sure if I should tell her that I was partial to pink panties, but I soon decided that may be a little out of line.
I kept my mind on my work, just wanting to get it done and get home to salvage what might be left of my evening. My growling stomach reminded me of the sandwich that probably wasn’t any good, sitting in my truck. She mumbled something about finding the Little Girl’s Room and disappeared for a while.
I was sliding out from under the car when she walked by. I almost fell back into the car. Obviously, she didn’t feel the cool air on her ass, because her skirt was stuck in the waistband of her tiny pink bikini panties. When she plopped onto the stool again, that’s when she realized what had happened. I quickly turned my head, so she wouldn’t see me stare. I didn’t have to – that vision was permanently burned into my mind.
When I turned back to tell her about buffing up the finish, to get rid of any telltale marks, she was leaning over, adjusting the strap on her sandal, giving me a view right down the front of her top. Fuck – a matching pink bra. That was it – I just couldn’t take any more. I may play the hero, but I’m only human, you know?
“Okay, I’m just about done here, then I’ll write up your bill,” I told her.
“What? What bill? I thought you’d just fix it. I didn’t know I was going to have to pay for it. I don’t have any money to pay you,” she whined.
“Lady, look – I’m a nice guy, but I’m also a business man. I gave up my whole night for you. What the hell made you think it would be free? I did you a favor by not reporting the accident. I think the least you can do is pay me for my time and supplies,” I said with as much authority as I could muster.
She stood up and walked towards me, head down, but looking up at me with a very pouty look.
She ran her finger down my arm and said, “Please. Pretty please, don’t you think we can work something out?”
So, she wanted to play that game, did she? Okay lady, but I intend to play to win.
I wiped my hands off on my rag and then brushed her hair back.
“Let’s make a deal,” I said.
She grabbed a clean shop rag off my workbench and spread it on the floor, kneeling in front of me. “Okay,” she said.
As I said, I'm a businessman. I have bills to pay, the mortgage on the shop and my house, insurance, taxes, materials, all the things a small businessman has to deal with every day. But I also have needs. Looking down at her, seeing her looking up at me, licking her lips only inches from the bulge growing in my pants... well, what else do you think I could have done?
Before my hands reached my zipper, hers were there. She opened my fly, unbuttoned the waist button on my pants, and dug her hand into my boxers. I could feel my cock hardening under her fingers. She pulled my pants and underwear down and began stroking me, moistening her lips with her tongue.
“My husband says I'm pretty good at this,” she said, just before her lovely pink tongue licked a drop of pre-cum from my slit. She pulled her tongue back, and I could see her working my taste around in her mouth. “I'm going to enjoy this,” she said. She bathed my entire shaft and my balls with her tongue, and followed that by kissing and sucking everything, working her way up from my scrotum, along my shaft, and finally to my crown.
I knew I was going to enjoy this too. It had been too long since I had had a woman. It had been WAY to long since I had felt a woman as talented as this one.
If you had watched her pleasuring me, you might have called her clinical, since she was so methodically stimulating every bit of my manhood. I didn't see it that way at the time. I just knew that I was going to cum very hard if she kept it up.
She did. This was a business deal, so I decided not to warn her. But she knew. My hips started thrusting, driving my cock into her face. As I swelled up in preparation for shooting my load, she began moaning, twisting her head back and forth, searching for new angles to give me pleasure. When I began to cum, she looked at me, a lusty smile in her eyes. Not a drop was spilled. She swallowed everything and then licked me clean.
Immediately after I came, I thought her bill had been paid in full, but she kept licking and stroking me. I never really went soft. And I began to think about her tits in that pink bra and her ass in those pink panties. I needed to see her naked.
Pulling her to her feet, I began unbuttoning her blouse. When I had it and her lacy bra off, I tossed them onto the hood of her Miata. She pulled my shirt up over my head, and I kicked off my shoes and freed myself of the clothes wrapped around my ankles. Then I grabbed her and crushed her to me. Her bare breasts felt good against my chest, and I realized that her nipples were very hard. Our mouths met in a fierce kiss. I could taste myself on her tongue.
She pushed herself away from me. I wondered if I had assumed too much, done too much. She answered my unasked question by unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the shop floor. Her pink panties followed.
“Do you like me?” she asked, half-heartedly covering her pussy with one hand and her breasts with the other.
“Yes,” I answered. Speaking was redundant. My bobbing cock gave her eyes the answer she needed.
“That was the down payment on my bill,” she said. “Here's the balance due.” She walked over to a step stool and rested her hands on it, waving her ass at me. I could see her juicy lips pouting at me beneath her tight puckered hole. “Take the rest of your payment, mister.”
She was probably wet enough that I wouldn't have needed to do it, but I wanted to taste her. I walked over to her, stroked both asscheeks, and then gave her a few light smacks. She cringed, then cooed, then shuddered.
I knelt behind her and kissed the slightly reddened skin of her ass.
“Lick me?” she asked.
“I'm getting to that,” I answered gruffly, pushing my one index finger into her sex while rubbing the thumb of my other hand over her asshole. When I pulled my index finger out, juice ran down it onto my hand. This woman was ready.
I forced her legs apart and dove in. Her taste was sweet, musky, a little salty, all rolled into one. I've eaten my share of pussy, but I couldn't remember one that tasted this good, or was this wet. I actually had to swallow to keep her moisture from dripping down my chin. I lapped at her for awhile, and then ran my drooling tongue up over her little brown star.
She groaned. “My husband won't touch me there. He says it's dirty. In fact, he barely touches me at all any more. He's too caught up in his business.”
I mumbled, “He's an idiot,” but I'm not sure she heard me with the way she was whimpering her need.
By this time, I had her entire nether regions so sloppy wet that I was able to bury my thumb completely into her ass. She began to convulse. I pulled my face away to look at her. I could see the opening to her sex pulsing, and I could feel the powerful muscles of her ass squeezing my thumb.
“Take me, please! Oh God, fuck me! My pussy, my ass, both, I don't care! Just do it!”
There was no need to ask me twice. Keeping my thumb embedded in her ass, I rose to my feet and plunged my cock into her cunt. As soon as I bottomed out, she came again. When her muscles relaxed enough to allow me to move, I began powerful strokes, plunging deep, then retreating to the point where I almost popped out, and ramming into her hard again. Because of the blowjob she had finished only a short time before; it took me a nice long time until I knew I was nearing another climax.
By this time, she was supporting her head on her hands on the stool. “Take your thumb out of my ass and put your big cock in there,” she gasped. “I've never had a man cum in my ass, but I need you to.”
Obviously, I didn't have any “personal lubricant” on my workbench. I hoped her juices would be enough, but just in case, I spit into my hand and slathered my dick with saliva. Then I moved my thumb around forcefully, stretching her as she groaned with passion. I grabbed her hips with both hands and began to force my aching cock into her bowel. I could feel her wincing with the pressure, but she came anyway. Hard. The contractions of her sphincter made my cock rage, straining for release.
She moved so her one shoulder was supporting her upper body on the step stool, freeing her hands. When she reached back, I thought she was going to push me away, but instead, she grabbed my buttocks, drawing me deeper into her ass.
We were both sweating profusely now. The smack of my groin against her wet buttocks was loud enough to be heard over our ragged breathing.
“Cum for me, cum for me, cum in my hot ass,” she moaned. I did.
I held myself inside her for a while after that, savoring the feeling of her weakening contractions on my shrinking meat. Eventually, I pulled out of her, and staggered back, exhausted from my release. Slowly, she stood up and turned to me. She was a mess, damp hair matted against her reddened face, sweat dripping down her nose, cum running down her legs.
I found some clean shop rags and handed a few to her so she could mop up. I took one for myself and wiped my brow and my wet cock.
She started to get dressed. Her bra went on first, the pink lace hiding those still very-erect nipples. Then she put on her shirt, struggling with weak fingers to fasten the buttons. She picked up her pink panties and looked at the wetness in the crotch. “You can keep these,” she said, smiling, and she handed them to me. Then she pulled her skirt on and put on her sandals.
“Is my bill settled?” she asked.
“Paid in full.”
“I'm almost sorry to hear that,” she said. She walked over to me and hugged me. “I must admit, I enjoyed running into you.” Then she kissed me, hard at first, but then more gently, almost as though she were trying to calm herself down.
She opened the door of her car and got in. I quickly pulled on my pants and shirt and opened the garage door. She fired up her little car, shifted into reverse, gave me a little wave, and backed slowly out the door.
I was closing the overhead door when I heard a small crunch and her voice yelling, “Fuck!”
I looked outside to see her standing outside her car, looking at my crushed mailbox.
She looked at me, her bottom lip quivering again. “Can we make a deal?” she asked.
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