Auto Zone

“Can you help me?” I purred, leaning over the counter to catch the attention of the guy standing in the shelves full of auto parts. He turned with a touch of impatience which quickly turned to surprise as his gaze flicked down to my breasts. My low-cut clinging t-shirt worked its magic on the lone salesclerk in the auto store. It was a windy, rainy Sunday in late October. Not a big day for shade tree mechanics who I figured were all inside getting stoned or stupid on their six-packs in front of whatever professional sports event was on tv. I was soaked from my two-block walk and my nipples pressed hard through the thin fabric of my bra. Only I knew that their stiffness was only partially because of the chill.

“Uhh…” he cleared his raspy throat and jerked toward me, his feet not quite following his intentions at first. I smiled most winningly at him and crossed my arms under my breasts as he approached. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in… what can I… uh… do for… uh… you?” His eyes dragged reluctantly up to my eyes and a charming smile curled his lips.

“Brrr!” I laughed, shivering delicately and boldly taking in his uniformed body. Nice shoulders, slim waist, fabulous ass and an interesting bulge in the flat front of his dark gray chinos. “Cold as a witch’s… ummm… heart, out there,” I quipped, pulling my arms, and my neckline, slightly downward. “’Fraid I didn’t dress quite warmly enough for car trouble,” I dimpled up at him. “Just can’t seem to get it started.”

“That’s hard to believe,” he tossed back, a widening grin showing slightly crooked teeth that were, nonetheless, devastatingly cute. Oh, boy… I may have happened upon something more than I was expecting. I felt a hot rush of blood to my face and moisture to my pussy. He leaned up against the other side of the counter, maybe two feet from my blushing cleavage. His gaze slid purposefully down from my face to my nipples and his large hands slid across the counter, fingers spread, to stop mere inches from my waist. “So what can I do for you?” His fingers drummed lightly on the counter and his eyes returned to mine.

Should I give him the short list, or the long? I drew a deep breath that brought my nipples even closer to the edge of the t-shirt. “Well… I’m not quite sure… Can I describe what’s happening and maybe you can diagnose my… difficulty?” I unwrapped my arms from my midriff and placed my hands outside of his on the counter. “Golly, my hands are freezing,” I whispered, clenching and unclenching them, brushing his little fingers as I did so. He placed his hands over mine, covering them – and my wrists – completely.

“Oooh,” he murmured, “they’re like little icicles.” He smiled at me and clasped my fingers in his palms. “But tell me what seems to be the problem.”

“Well,” I shivered at the heat that coursed through his hands to mine, “when I turn it on, it just gives a little groan – “ I imitated the sound, which to my ears (and probably his) sounded like pure pleasure. He was massaging my hands in a most intimate manner, banishing the cold, but starting a heat wave in several other locations. “But it doesn’t really come to life. Can’t seem to get a spark out of the old girl.”

“Hmmm,” he muttered, watching my fingers as they passed between his. “Sounds fairly simple to me.” He looked up again and right into my eyes. “Just needs a little attention from a mechanic who knows how to get that spark started…” He brought my right hand up to his mouth and pressed his lips to the palm for a moment. Then he slipped my index finger between his lips and sucked. My knees buckled. He was around the counter in a heartbeat, never releasing my hands until his arm went around my waist. I sagged against him, my head thrown back to look up at him. He towered over me by a good 10 inches. “Come with me and we’ll find the right tools for the job.”

Firmly clenched in his grasp, I helplessly and willingly moved back into the shelving behind the counter with him. He led me to a counter on the back wall that served as a library of manuals and directories of parts for every car ever made.

“I think you need to sit down for a minute,” he grinned and lifted me to the counter. I was in a haze of sensual arousal and didn’t want his hands to leave me. I knew just what tool I needed to fix my troubles and it wasn’t on one of the shelves. I was powerless to speak or move, however. I was stuck in a weird, passive place in which I had never been. “Let’s see what we have for you,” he growled, his hands slipping up my thighs, moving over the tops of my opaque stockings and lightly brushing the bare skin on the outside, under my short stretchy skirt. “No wonder you’re chilled, poor thing,” he chuckled. “You’re naked under that thing.” I smiled stupidly at him, blushing even more than I had moments before.

He reached behind him to a pegboard of shiny new tools, his left hand retaining a hold on my upper right thigh. He turned back to me holding a 12 inch combination wrench with a box end that was perhaps two or three inches in diameter and a jaw on the other that made me shiver even more. He placed the circular end in his mouth, running his tongue over the shaft and breathing on the metal as he withdrew it. “Gotta warm these things up right,” he smiled and shifted my knees apart with his pelvis. He pushed my skirt up past the tops of my thighs, leaving my hairless pubis bare to his gaze. “Oh,” he breathed, “this is going to be even more challenging than I thought.”

He put the rounded end of the wrench at the top of my puffy lips and applied a light pressure, impressing the circle of metal into my outer labia. “Gonna have to open her up a little, I think,” he whispered, putting the wrench into his mouth again and gently wrapping his huge hands under my knees. He slid me back on the counter, bending my knees up so that my naked pussy was open to his ministrations. I sat there with my knees up and spread like a slut for anything he had in mind. All I could think was “what’s he going to do next?”

What he did next was to put the warm, wet rounded end of the wrench against my clit in such a way to make the hard little nub of flesh press right through the polygonal opening. He pressed it until I gasped and jerked my pelvis off of the countertop. Then he bent to place the very tip of his tongue to the flesh that protruded through the opening. He sucked my clit gently through the wrench – the cool metal and hot saliva creating an atmosphere for my clitoris that it had never enjoyed before. And boy, did it enjoy it! I was disappointed when the wrench moved, although it was replaced by his mouth, working the entire area around my most sensitive point. Then I felt the wrench at the opening of my now gushing slit. He rubbed the hard metal against the opening to my womanhood and slid its round end an inch or two into the gap. I clenched my muscles against the hardness. I felt his laugh on my singing clit and he stood up suddenly.

“This is a tight one,” he looked down at me from his great height, his face gleaming with my juices and his own arousal. He pushed the wrench just inside my tunnel and withdrew it, holding it up for us both to see. It was covered in milky fluid, collecting particularly in the polygonal opening. He put his tongue out to collect the juice from the tool, smacking his lips as he finished every visible drop. “Except for a slight metallic taste, you, my dear customer, are the most delicious vehicle I’ve ever tasted.”

With that I laughed, and the odd passive spell was broken. I reached toward him, grasping his belt and unzipping his chinos in one motion. He did not resist my insistent pull, but stood with pelvis thrust toward me, smugly awaiting my response. As his hard cock sprang forth from his work trousers (no underwear for him either, I noted), I gasped at the tool with which he was equipped by his very generous parents. My hand went round his heated rod and his head dropped back. I lined him up with my well-lubricated channel and he leaned forward… giving new meaning to the term “internal combustion.”

When we both were exhausted from orgasms which drew from us sounds never heard from manmade machines, he kissed my hard-used lips, both hither and thither. “Thanks for coming over,” he said.

“And thanks for cumming over me,” I grinned. An electronic “beep” announced the entrance of a customer out front. Our eyes never left the other’s as we replaced our clothes in a semblance of propriety. As I proceeded him down the aisle between the auto parts, his hot hand dipped into my pussy one last time from behind.

“Ok, honey,” I turned and pushed him gently in the chest as he slipped his finger in his mouth and grinned at me. “Don’t forget to pick up the wine for dinner after work,” I said, including the man who was browsing in the windshield wiper section. The new customer looked me up and down in a slightly bewildered but not unappreciative manner, taking in my slightly disheveled mini and askew t-shirt under my fleece jacket. “Remember, my mother will be there at 6PM…” I stopped in the opening of the front counter and turned to him. “And I’ll be ready for you, whenever you get home” I whispered up into his face. He grinned down at me for a moment and turned me around to face the door. His hand snaked around my right side to cup one breast as he lightly slapped my ass, much to the obvious enjoyment of the man with the windshield wiper.

“Thank you for your business ma’am,” he said heartily. “It’s been a pleasure serving you!”

I slipped out the door, pulling my jacket closer around me to walk the two blocks home with a much lighter step. Every woman needs a good mechanic, no doubt about it, I thought, and kicked a big pile of leaves in happiness as I strode through.

-end-