The shop door creaked open, swinging against the cinderblock wall.
Marla stepped in--sun on her chest, dress clinging to every curve, sweat already collecting at the crease of her tits. Her flip-flops stuck to the garage tile with each step.
Derick looked up from behind the scuffed desk. Grease smeared across his forearms, a stub of a cigarette stuck to his lip. His heart didn't just skip--it lurched. That was her. Big Red. Still thick. Still mean. Still the one that never let him get close enough to wreck her.
She dropped her keys on the counter with a loud clack.
"Got a nail in the back tire. Hit hard. Probably fucked. Can you fix it?"
Derick didn't answer right away. His eyes crawled up her thighs, over the swell of her hips, the dress glued to her ass from the heat. No bra. Her nipples pressed sharp under the tank.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I'll take care of it myself."
She smirked. "Didn't know you got your hands dirty these days."
"For you? Always."
She raised an eyebrow, leaned in. Her tits rested on the edge of the counter. He could smell her sweat. Her heat.
"You flirting or just trying to stare down my top?"
"Both."
Marla snorted. "You always had a mouth on you. Still do, from what I hear."
"You still send your husband all the details after you let strangers wreck you?"
That froze the air. She didn't pull back. Just blinked slow. Her lips curled, but not into a smile.
"He likes stories. Doesn't mean I owe you a starring role."
"I've been in the credits too long," Derick said, stepping out from behind the counter. "Time for a scene."
He stood close now. She didn't move.
"You've been dying for this since tenth grade," he said.
"No," she said. "You've been dying for me since tenth grade. There's a difference."
Derick leaned in, mouth by her ear.
"Still got that same scent. Thick. Feral. I'd eat you right now if this desk wasn't between us."
Her thighs flexed. Bare beneath the dress. She didn't deny it.
"What is it with you and pussy eating? You got a whole fetish?"
"I got a short dick and a big mouth. I know what I'm good at."
That made her exhale through her nose. A soft, involuntary laugh. She turned, slow, looking toward the office door. No one else was in sight--just the back hallway leading toward the bays and racks.
"You want it that bad?"
"I've wanted it longer than your marriage."
"And what, you think I just came in here wet and ready?"
He reached out. Touched her wrist. Light. Testing.
"No. I think you came in here knowing I'd be the one touching that tire. Knowing I'd offer more than a patch job."
Her legs didn't move.
Outside, a compressor kicked on and hissed. Inside, silence.
She bit her lip.
"You really think you can handle it?"
"I'll grip your thighs until they shake. I'll lick you until the words don't come out right. I'll fill you 'til I break."
That landed. She inhaled through her nose, hard. Her cheeks flushed.
"You've got two minutes to convince me before I walk."
Derick turned, locked the office door, and took her hand.
"We're not doing this on paperwork."
He led her through the side hallway, into the heat and dark of the back bay. The air changed--thicker, louder. Tire smell. Rubber. Metal. Sweat.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To where I jerk off thinking about you."
They passed two younger tire techs leaning near the shop sink. One looked up, eyes wide. The other turned fast, suddenly busy.
Marla smiled without joy. "You got an audience?"
"Let 'em watch. Just like you used to let me."
They disappeared behind the stacks. She saw the racks--waist-high steel, stacked tires, bars strong enough to brace on.
Derick turned. Eyes wild. Breath heavy.
"Hands on the bar."
She stared at him. Her chest rose. Her nipples showed. Her thighs already glistened.
"Thirty seconds," she whispered. "Show me what you can do."
He dropped to his knees like a man begging God.
Derick buried his face between her thighs before she could say another word.
She gripped the bar of the tire rack, back arched, dress flipped up to her waist. Her cunt pulsed against his tongue, slick, hot, already opened up from nothing more than the walk back here. His hands gripped her thighs tight, fingers digging into her meat.
She hissed. Then growled. Then pushed back into his face harder than he expected.
"You're not here to taste. You're here to serve. Don't make me say it again."
Derick groaned into her folds and started eating like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He twisted two fingers inside her, pumping while sucking hard, moaning with every flick of her clit. Her hips started moving, controlled at first, then twitchy, stuttering, riding his mouth.
"Fuck," she snapped, panting. "That's it--just like that. Deeper."
Her thighs shook. Sweat rolled down her back. She slammed one hand on the bar, hard.
The tire techs nearby didn't even pretend not to watch. One had a rag stuffed in his mouth to keep from moaning. The other had his cock out, hand working fast and quiet in the shadows.
Derick's short cock throbbed untouched between his knees, leaking like it knew it would never make it in--but he didn't care. His mouth was where he won. His fingers were thick, fast, perfect. And he worked her harder now, hand slapping into her soaked cunt with each pump.
"You dreamed of this?" she gasped, looking down at him. "This sloppy? This messy? You think I'm your fantasy?"
He pulled back just enough to speak, lips wet and chin shining.
"No. I want worse."
She grinned and shoved his face back into it.
He gave her worse.
Tongue flat, fingers twisting, palm grinding into her clit until she lost her balance and collapsed into the rack. Tires wobbled. Bars groaned. Her ass bucked in the air as she came, loud and cracked, face flushed, drool on her chin.
She reached under herself and rubbed her cum off her thigh with two fingers--then stuck them into Derick's mouth.
"Get your reward."
He sucked hard, eyes rolling.
Then--
"Shit. You finally cracked her open?"
Bubba's voice boomed from behind.
Derick turned just in time to see Bubba walking up, shirtless now, belly heavy, pants unzipped. Behind him, Pooter dragged a folding chair and dropped it near the wall. Both of them hard. Both of them laughing.
"Was about time you let the boys take a turn," Bubba growled. "You ain't the only one that's been dreamin'."
Marla didn't move to stop them.
She just looked back, cheeks flushed, cunt glistening.
"One at a time. But make it mean something."
Bubba stepped up first. He didn't ask. He just shoved Derick aside, grabbed Marla's ass in both hands, and drove in.
