(M)echanic (f)ixing my desires

It was cold when I stepped outside and headed to my car. I felt alive and a bit warm from the few shots of alcohol I had and the excitement of my friends birthday dinner was still lingering. I walked to my car ready to go home and sleep. I quickly started my car and left hoping the car would warm up before I got home. I wasn’t five minutes into my drive when I noticed my engine light come on. My high mood quickly turned to panic and I pulled over and made a call to my friend who’s a mechanic. It was late and I was praying he would answer. On what seemed like the last ring he picked up. His deep yet soft voice on the other side of the phone greeting me instantly calmed me. I told him what was going on and he asked me if it was just an excuse to see him because I missed him. I chuckled and said “my car certainly does” I asked him if he’d look at it tonight and he replied “as long as you are in the car when it shows up”. I turned my car back on and started the 15 minute drive to him. It seemed like an hour drive. Time slowed down. I could feel my heart pounding. I’m not sure if it was because I was scared my car was going to break down on the way or the excitement of seeing him.

I pull up to his shop. The bay door open with a warm yellow light spilling out. Like a beacon on this cold dark autumn afternoon. It had been unseasonably warm earlier in the day and I had made the short sighted mistake of wearing a mid thigh skirt. I found my self tugging the skirt down at the hem to try to warm up while I walked towards the garage. I step out of the dark chilly night and into the bright warm garage and see him. He’s immersed in his work. His face concentrated on the task at hand. Strong arms flexing while he removes a wheel from a vehicle. Hands dirty, greasy, strong, tightly gripping the wheel. He moves to the side and that’s when he sees me. His face lights up with a smile and he comments about how I finally made it. My heart is pounding and I realize it was never about the check engine light. A warm feeling grows in my stomach and I know it isn’t the booze. My knees buckle a little as I walk to the nearest chair and take a seat to wait for him to finish with the car before mine.

As I’m sitting there he makes small chit chat with me. I sat there confused but engaged in the small talk. I wondered to myself why he was so flirty on the phone but now he’s so casual. He’s in the middle of talking aimlessly about the weather when some one steps out of the back room and into the garage. It’s one of his coworkers who is also working late. He sees me and says his greeting and so do I. My heart suddenly sinks. I thought we had the place alone and how I do crave being alone with him. It now made sense for his change in tone from flirty on the phone to casual, you can’t flirt with customers in front of coworkers, not as a married man anyway.

I felt my face go flush at the possibility of his coworker knowing my thoughts. Does he suspect anything? Can he tell I’m flustered and bothered? No, he can’t know. I’m hear under real pretenses. My car really does have an engine light. Ugh, what am I doing. I’m lusting after a married man. They are just thoughts. I have to pull myself together. I have to stop thinking about his strong, dark,seasoned hands grabbing at my soft flesh with passion, roughing up my white skin till it turns bright pink. Stop. Stop. I can’t think of him like this. It will never happen. He’s married for Christ’s sake. I have to put these thoughts out of my head at least until I’m by myself.

His voice brings me out of my thoughts. Shit, I can feel the heat of a blush across my face. He asks me if I’m ok. I say it’s just a little warm inside the garage and excuse myself to the cold air outside. The cold air on my skin calms me down a little bit I can feel my nipples harden under my shirt. Why didn’t I wear a bra? I pull myself together and walk back in praying my nipples aren’t obvious. When I get back in side he’s rooting around in his tool box. His muscles are gliding under his smooth black skin as he looks for some hidden tool and I can’t help but stand and stare for a moment. He finds what he needs and tells me to follow him. We walk over to my car and I give him the keys. He gets in the drivers side and I slide into the passenger side. The cold leather on my bare thighs feels good. He’s talking about something and I’m half listening half thinking about how he might have his way with me, what kind of lover he is….

He tells me to buckle up and puts a scanner in my lap. I look at the digital display and he explains to me that we are going to take the car for a spin and the display will read the “car vital signs”. My job is to let him know if anything gets too far out of range. I think to myself that this is a blessing as I’m nervous about being alone with him in such close proximity. What if he can tell what I’m thinking? We drive around for close to 30 mins. I never take my eyes off the screen scared that if I do I might miss something and he might see what I’m thinking.

I feel the car stop and look up. We are back at the garage. I notice his coworkers truck is gone He makes a comment it being late and his coworker having left. I agree. I feel my neck tighten up from having looked down at the screen for so long and hear myself saying something about the kink in my neck. Before I register that I said it out loud I feel his finger tips brush my hair away from my shoulders and his hand rest on my neck. His deep voice telling me he can fix that right quick. Before I can protest his hand is working it’s way into the flesh on my shoulder, working up to my neck. Any thought of protest leaves my head. His skills with his hands clearly transfers well from cars to other things. I feel my eye lids start to close and tension in my body starts to float away. His fingers tubing and moving along my neck and shoulders with intent make me forget any inhibitions I may have. I feel a tingle between my legs and a slight wetness start to grow.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/juibjk/mechanic_fixing_my_desires

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