Rush Job [MF] [fiction]

John was getting ready to close up the shop for the night–no point in staying late when the two cars he was working on were still days away from being ready. It was Friday night, but he didn’t have much to go home to, save for a few beers and maybe a dip in a kiddie pool to cool off from the recent heat wave.

He was surveying the shop when he first heard the squeals of a car in distress. He estimated it was just pulling into town, so about five blocks away. The town was only ten blocks, give or take, from end to end. It was getting closer, moving slowly, so John knew he wasn’t going home just yet.

He walked outside to wait for the car and its driver. Sure enough, right up Main came an old Buick burning oil under the hood and spewing smoke out the tail pipe. John pointed to the driveway where the car stopped, and out popped a bouncy, buxom blonde with hair frizzed out like she’d stuck her finger in an outlet.

She walked right up to John and said “Please don’t close yet, I’m desperate!” A second later she pointed at the car. “I’m desperate to have my car fixed, I mean,” she said, a little more demurely.

“Yes ma’am, that much is evident. But I’m quittin’ for the night. I don’t mind comin’ in on a Saturday to help you out, if you like.”

“No, I’m sorry, I NEED to get to Seattle, tonight. I have a credit card, I can pay to get it done now.”

“You have a credit card?”

“With a high limit,” she snapped back.

“Well it sure sounds important, but listen, let’s get ‘er in the shop and see if tonight is even doable.”

He pulled the car into the shop, got out and popped the hood. The woman, who had not told John her name yet, was lingering nearby–not too close but close enough so he could glance over at her every few minutes.

John guessed the A/C had gone out, because the little sundress was clinging to her every curve. Occasionally she’d pull the dress from her glistening skin; first she lifted the dress off the tops of her thighs, then she pulled at the front of her dress so her bosom jiggled enticingly. They weren’t huge, he thought, but pretty damn nice.

“How’s it looking in there?” she said to him, a little louder than necessary, and he knew she’d caught him.

“Well, uh, I think I can take care of your immediate problem, and probably patch it together to get you on your way. I don’t make any guarantees though–you could break down outside of town from something that just hasn’t broke yet.”

“But you can do it? You can fix whatever’s wrong with it now? I don’t care if it gets me one mile past where I need to go, I just need to get there, tonight.”

“Yeah, I can do ya. I can do it, the car.” She laughed a little at that, and John smiled right back at her.

“Thank you. How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Probably three, four hours,” John replied. She looked dejected and let out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry–I’ve just had a day.”

“You can wait in my office if you like,” John said. “There’s a diner down the street for food.”

John began his work and Cindy went into his office to make a phone call. She didn’t tell whoever was on the other end of the line about John, or his broad shoulders and barrel chest or the fact that he must have been a foot taller than her. But she really didn’t talk about how he looked powerful enough to pick her up and throw her ten feet in the air, but behaved like he would hold her like an egg.

By the time she finished her phone call John had tied the top of his coveralls around his waist and was wearing only a t-shirt, which looked mostly clean but for a few grease stains; he was now sweating a little. Now it was Cindy’s turn to get caught staring at him–her jaw a little slack, she immediately looked away and opened her phone.

John chuckled inwardly but admitted it was getting hard to work. He was getting hard, at work, when he should have been hard at work. Fuck! He thought. Do a different task, check your head. Yep, hard. Fuck.

John went in the back to the three cars on blocks, cars he was scavenging parts from. He’d been out there about twenty minutes when he heard her voice yell at him.

“I hope you’re not out here taking a smoke break!”

John simply lifted his head over the hood and stared at her. What a fucking bitch! he thought, taking advantage of his good nature like this then cracking the whip? Jesus Christ, dude, why is everything you’re thinking so sexual? Then he looked at her body again and remembered.

“I’m working on getting a part you need for your car, MISS,” John said. “I don’t smoke. Anymore.” That was pretty much true.

“Okay, well…”

“Well?”

“Well I just wanted to make sure, I…I guess.”

“Look, ain’t I doing you a favor here? Dire circumstances and whatnot? Also, you don’t see a whole lot of help around here, do ya? It’s just me.”

John was a little fired up now so he walked around the car he’d been working on. “And wouldn’t things go faster if you just let me work? Not watching over me, not staring at me while I work?”

“I wasn’t staring,” Cindy said, not even believing herself. “Besides, you’ve been eye-fucking me from the moment I walked into this dump, so I wouldn’t talk.”

“I beg your pardon, your highness, but I am a man if you hadn’t noticed, and when a beautiful woman walks in here lookin’ like you do, with your clothes all clingin’, I’m gonna stare. And frankly, if you want this done as quick as possible, best not to wave your tits in my face.”

John was pretty proud of his little rant and returned to the car as Cindy walked back into the shop. Twenty minutes later he was done, and when walking back into the shop he expected to find her gone, maybe down the street at the diner. But there she was, leaning up against the door jamb to his little office.

John looked at her from across the room but stopped to engage the lift so he could get under it. He worked in silence for a few minutes but John didn’t know what to do with uncomfortable silences, so he asked her, “Could you come here a minute?”

“Huh?” she replied.

“Just come over here, I need a hand.” She walked over to him, slowing her stride when under the car, a little less sure of herself.

“It’s ok, there’s no way this lift fails.”

“Promise?” she asked.

“Listen, I just need you to hold something for me, ok?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Just a minute,” John said. Both his hands were in the car and he struggled to get a part out which he lowered into her waiting hands before immediately putting his hands, both hold tools, back into the car from below.

“This is disgusting,” she said, holding it away from her dress. John didn’t think the dress was worth protecting so much, but then he was used to going home stained with grease.

“It’s just a second and I’ll take it back,” he said.

“It’s still WARM,” she said.

John laughed and said, “Well, yeah.”

“It’s gross, and–” she stopped talking then, but her tone gave away what she was about to say. Still, John figured what she probably thought of him.

“So what’s so important in Seattle? Job?” he asked her.

“Job,” she replied. “Start tomorrow, just couldn’t get there until now.

“So you’ll have a chance to settle in for a few hours before you start, at least.”

“Yeah,” she laughed a little, and seemed to John to relax a little as well. She was holding the part away from her body in a way that sort of pulled the straps away from the outside of her tits; John was turned on by the awkward pose in a way he didn’t exactly understand.

He snapped back to his work and asked for the part back. His hands were again stuck in the car, but she was still holding her hands out like they were covered in radioactive waste.

“What do I do with these?” she asked him. “I’m all gross.”

“I’m a little tied up here, if you hadn’t noticed. There’s shop towels somewhere.”

She looked and briefly wandered around the garage looking but finding nothing resembling even a paper towel. John had cleaned up a couple hours earlier, so nothing was obvious, but there were towels in a bin, should he want to tell her. But John, working her car almost on autopilot while he watched her ramble about, her hips swaying left and right.

Finally, she returned to John’s side and, lacking any other option, proceeded to wipe her hands on John himself. She first went for the bunched up coverall sleeves, but the material was rough and dirty already, so she moved her hands up to John’s t-shirt, which she used to wipe her hands of the warm oil covering her hands.

“Hey,” John said, still ratcheting above his head, “there’s shop towels–”

“Oh quit crying, it’s not like this shirt is clean,” she said. She’d chosen the sides of his shirt, not his chest, that would have been too obvious. She was still able to feel the muscles under his stomach, tensed in work, covered with a layer of fat, but underneath which was solid. She even managed to take one swipe around his front, to feel the lower part of his chest.

“Think you got it all?” John asked.

“No, I won’t feel clean until I get under a hot shower,” she replied. She didn’t realize her hands remained on his belly, just above his tied-off coveralls.

John lowered his hands and dropped his wrench to the ground with a loud clang. He spoke low, almost in a whisper, “are you gonna let me work?”

Looking annoyed, she untied his sleeves from around his waist and began pulling them down his body, when John realized what was happening and pulled her into a passionate kiss, pinning her into him with his arm.

She returned the kiss, but pulled his arms away from her body to say “You’re staining my dress.” John started to wipe his hands on his shirt as she had, but stopped and pulled the shirt over his body and cleaned his hands more thoroughly.

The woman looked a little uneasy, and glanced out the windows of the garage doors, but saw they were mostly blocked by the door and equipment. She walked back to John, put her hands on his bare chest and walked him backwards to the workbench at the far side of the garage, where he was stopped in his tracks.

She stepped back a half step and pulled her dress over her head, getting caught at her bust briefly, but urgently pulling past it. John couldn’t move then, or look away, for her tits were freed. She was wearing no bra, he realized, and he kicked himself retroactively for not ogling her more carefully before (the mind of a man is not always a sensible thing).

They were great tits, to John, fitting her body so perfectly. She wore only her panties at this point, maybe not the sexiest pair he could have imagined her wearing, but given her recent arrival and even more recent undressing, they were the sexy guardians of the goods.

John pulled her close, kissed her again and reached down with one hand to rub her pussy over her panties. He turned her around so her back was to the bench, and rubbed her clit enough to lift her on her tiptoes, but when he tried to slide her drawers to the side, she stopped him.

“Don’t,” she said softly, but firmly, “put your dirty, disgusting hands in my pussy.” Moving his hand away, she proceeded to lower his pants the rest of the way, and took his boxers with them. She was kneeling before his hard cock (not bad, she thought), and started jerking it with one hand. “I’m also not putting this in my mouth,” she said.

“Christ, woman, just how gross am I to you?” John said. She simply stood up, turned around, then lowered her panties to ground. “Fuck,” John said. She thrust her round ass back at his naked body, making contact for the first time. “Fuck,” he said again.

“Yeah,” she said, “FUCK,” she emphasized, rubbing her ass side to side, up and down his rigid pole.

John finally woke from his daze and grabbed her hips, firmly–firmly enough to make her squeal a little bit. Her light-hearted laughter stopped when she reached below and between her legs to place the head of his cock at the entrance to her already wet cunt, the instant after which he plunged in halfway in one thrust, then back out and all the way in on the second.

“Ah!” she cried out, straight ahead to the wall. “Yes–yes!” John thrust in and out against her ass, and she pushed back with her leverage against the workbench. John grabbed one tit and squeezed, then pinched her nipple; with the opposite hand she pulled him closer to her body from around his back.

“Turn around,” John said, and put her up on the workbench on her elbows, her lower half hanging free. John put her legs up on his shoulders and held her up from her ass, then made long strokes, from tip to balls, slowly, then faster, then faster.

“Oh God,” she cried out at the apex of one of his thrusts, then again a few thrusts later, oddly, not in any pattern. It was what she was feeling, odd and arrhythmic, like she couldn’t tell what was coming next despite the regular rhythm of his fucking.

And then, sure enough, as soon as he had a hitch in his pace, she popped and squeezed his cock with her pussy, dripping her juices over his cock. She sighed at the end a little, not wanting to show any fatigue, to keep up her energy for him.

John didn’t notice her orgasm nor her efforts on his behalf, he was concentrating, of course, as a craftsman does on his craft, when he’s about to finish the craftwork too quickly. She felt good around him, and in his hands, so good, and her naked body in his shop was like a nudie calendar come to life, not that these were among his fantasies.

It was when he quickly recalled a few of his fantasies, including the one he was living, that he felt the familiar feeling.

“I’m gonna–”

“Yeah baby–”

“Oh shit–”

“Wait–wait–ah!” she cried out, and wrangled her body from his grip, pushing him away enough to crawl down his body and take his thick cock in her mouth, just in time for him to erupt.

“Oh my goooood,” John said, reaching for the workbench to steady himself. She held the base of his cock in one hand and sucked him down, not down her throat, but enough to take his cum, four, five, six spurts, in her mouth and down her throat.

“Oh my god,” John said again, “that was amazing.” She licked the rest of his cum and her juices off his dick before standing up between his strong arms. “I thought,” John continued, out of breath, “I thought my dick was gross and disgusting?”

“Yeah, but once it went inside me it got better,” she said, kissing him nicely, gently, like they’d known each other a little while. “You’re still gross, it’s just that I have a magic pussy!”

“Mmmm,” he groaned at her, going in for another kiss. But she was quick, already going after her dress on the ground below her car.

“I’ll get you a burger, okay?” John stood naked against the workbench. “Put your clothes back on and see what you can do to get me out of here tonight.”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/grnooz/rush_job_mf_fiction