Easy Access Fast Fill

Easy Access, Fast Fill

© Bad Hobbit - 2023

Having to refuel has always been a pain for haulage drivers. It takes quite a while, and often even getting close enough to a pump with a big artic can be a pain. Some filling stations used to have signs saying "Easy access, fast fill" to encourage drivers to fill up there. If you weren't limited by where your firm's credit card would be accepted, it was usually better to seek out these places when fuel was running low. I'd finally managed to fill up at a place in Sevenoaks and arrived at my last destination for the day, a seriously big house near the village of Wrotham - pronounced, oddly, as 'Root-um' - in Kent.

Delivery lorries have become quite sophisticated in the last twenty or thirty years. Mine was fitted with a crane jib and a small forklift truck, so I could unload the pallets of bricks, breezeblocks, sand and cement on my own.

But, see, that meant I had to do it

on my own

. In days gone by, the driver would have had a 'mate' to help with all that stuff. Instead, I not only had to drive the lorry but I also had to work the crane and then use the forklift to stack the building materials. Sure, I made a good job of it, but it was hard, hot work. It didn't help that it was a seriously warm day in July, and I'd already done three drops. Fortunately, this was my last call of the day, and when I'd finished, the truck would be empty.

It seems the guy who'd bought the materials wanted to build a garage for his three - yes three - vintage Jaguars, parked beside the drive. So part of the problem was making sure I kept well away from the cars while I was unloading. The other problem was that he wasn't there to supervise, so his wife was giving me instructions, and I'm not sure her heart was in it.

"Yes, over there somewhere," she said, waving vaguely toward the side of the drive when I asked for the best place to deposit all those pallets. She didn't seem particularly interested; she was dressed in scruffy clothes and wore gardening gloves, so I assumed she had different hobbies from her husband. Fortunately, the area in front of their substantial house was huge, so I was able to stack the materials neatly without trashing a flower bed or scratching a Jag.

I retracted the crane jib, stowed the forklift at the back of the truck and then went to get the wife to sign the docket.

"Off back to the depot now?" she asked as she signed.

"No. I've got another load to pick up in Maidstone in the morning, so I'll drive over there, find a Travelodge or something and get a meal."

She looked me up and down. "Oh. Well, if you're not in a rush, I'll be cooking a paella in about half an hour. My husband called to say that he's staying in Town tonight." Her face took on a strange expression. "I have the ingredients for a meal for two. I'd be happy to share."

"That's very kind of you, missus, but I'm absolutely minging." I sniffed my armpit. It wasn't nice. "I need a shower and a change of clothes pretty soon."

"Well, that's easy. Why not use the bathroom upstairs? I'll get you a towel. And while you're at it, if you leave your sweaty clothes outside, I can pop them in the washer-dryer, and they'll be clean for you to wear tomorrow. I'm pretty filthy myself - I was at the gym this morning and I've been gardening all afternoon - so I was going to shower in our en-suite, then come down and cook supper. If you're finished before me, help yourself to a beer from the fridge. Would that suit?"

So I was standing in this amazing kitchen in this enormous house, and I was just being offered a shower, laundry services, a free home-cooked meal and a beer. Sounded good to me.

She got me a huge fluffy towel, and I went into the big bathroom - bigger than my bedroom at home - undressed and left my dirty clothes outside the door. (I'd brought my overnight bag from the cab so I had clean stuff to put on). The big, walk-in shower was amazing; the water flow was much better than I'd have got in a crappy Travelodge, and I felt much better by the time I'd finished, dressed in a clean t-shirt and jeans. When I returned to the kitchen, she wasn't there, but I could hear the washing machine in the adjacent utility room. I opened the enormous fridge and saw a selection of beers. I chose a lager, opened the can and sat on a stool.

The wife arrived about five minutes later. She'd clearly washed her short, blonde-ish hair and put on a dress, rather than the shapeless outfit she'd been wearing before. I guessed she could have been anywhere between forty and fifty-five - bear in mind I was twenty-one then, so no great judge of women's ages - but she was clearly in good shape. She smiled at me and reached out her hand.

"We haven't been introduced. I'm Penny." She had what I would've called a 'posh' voice, which wasn't surprising, given that the house must've been worth well over a million - and this was fifteen years ago. I noticed she was wearing lipstick.

"I'm Dean," I replied, shaking her hand and smiling back. "I really appreciate this, you know. I was expecting to eat at a Wetherspoons tonight."

"I'm hoping that I can cook something a bit better than what you'd get there," she replied, going to the fridge. I looked down, noticing she had a nice arse and good legs, if a bit muscular.

"You said you'd been to the gym this morning. What was that about."

"Exercise, of course. I like to keep fit. There's a class they do there, with weights. I find it helps me keep in shape. What about you? You look like you work out."

"Yeah, when I can. Mostly circuits and machines in the gym."

"Seems to be working for you." She smiled again. "Could you get the paella rice out of that cupboard above your head, please?"

I was astonished that there were four kinds of rice, in special jars. I found the right one and passed it to her.

We chatted as she cooked. I was fascinated by the care she took with the meal. She had it ready in about fifteen minutes, and then we were sat at the table with two dishes of paella, salad, warm bread - and a glass of Sauvignon.

"Just a small one, please. I need to drive later."

"That's fine," she said, pouring herself a larger measure.

The food was delicious. As we ate, I asked about the garden, which she said was her pride and joy. "I trained as a horticulturalist. I've always been fascinated by plants - and animals. I went on to get qualified in garden design. It just seemed natural I should design my own when Jeremy bought us this place. I still spend an inordinate amount of time in it."

"What does your husband do?"

"For a living? He's something in the City. I believe it involves hedge funds, but I'm more interested in hedges than funds. Whatever he does, it pays for this." She indicated the house.

I finished my meal. "That was delicious, Penny. Where'd you learn to cook like that?"

"Oh, we spent some time abroad. It could be quite boring, so I took cookery lessons. I qualified as a chef and tried my hand at running a restaurant, but the work was gruelling, so I sold up and went back to just catering dinner parties."

"Wow! You've done quite a lot."

She smiled back. I noticed for the first time that she was quite pretty. A few wrinkles here and there, but warm brown eyes, a nice, heart-shaped face and a slightly turned-up nose.

"Yes, I guess I have. But I was very fortunate. I went to a good school - my parents paid for me to be educated privately - and then I met Jeremy. He had independent wealth and was going places. I guess I was a bit of a trophy wife for him. Here, give me your plate."

As she cleared and then loaded the dishwasher, squatting down low, I could see what she meant. She was fit and in very good shape. The muscles in her legs and arms showed that she worked out and I realised that she was bra-less under the summer dress, and nothing appeared to sag. I was twenty-one, and I'd had girlfriends around my own age since I was about sixteen, so I'd never really looked at older women. Yes, she was old enough to be my mother but, as I appraised her properly for the first time, I realised she was much more attractive than my mum or her friends. And the way she smiled at me...

"So what's keeping your husband?" I asked, trying to move onto safer ground.

"Oh, he says he has a meal with a client in Town this evening, and then a very early video call with a Japanese financial institution in the morning. He has to fit in with their time zone. Or that's what he says. Frankly, my guess is that he's halfway up his secretary by now."

"What?" She'd said it as if it were completely normal, and I was speechless for a moment.

"Oh yes. I know he's having an affair. He hasn't even bothered trying to cover his tracks that well. No, the overnight stays are becoming more frequent. I asked you to join me for dinner because I'm rather sick of being stuck here on my own every night."

"Oh," was about all I could say. "Well, thanks for the meal. It was delicious." I didn't want to get drawn into a conversation about her marital woes. I could be here all night, and I'm not much of a listener.

"A pleasure. Actually, you might have a way of paying me back. Are you good at fixing things?"

"Well, yes. I'm pretty good with my hands," I said, smiling back at her.

"With your hands..." She seemed to be musing on that thought. Then she poured herself another glass of wine and said "Well, there's something I'd like you to take a look at. Follow me."

She led me into a lounge that was big enough for a decent game of badminton. It was huge, and even though there was quite a lot of furniture - all excellent quality, from what I could tell - there still seemed to be masses of space. She sat down on a large, L-shaped sofa.

"So what is it you'd like me to look at?" I asked.

"It's this," she said, nonchalantly opening her legs wide. She wasn't wearing panties. "You see this pussy? It's slightly moist at the moment. I think it needs a lot more lubrication. And it's become very tight; unsurprising, as it hasn't been used for weeks. I was wondering whether you might have the right tool to loosen it up."

I must've looked like an idiot, just staring at that smooth, wet pussy, spread out in front of me. Shit! At the firm's summer barbecue, two years earlier, Glynnis Taylor from accounts, who was very drunk, whispered in my ear that she wanted to suck me off - she did, behind the sports hut, and it felt really good - but that's the only other time I'd ever had such a blatant sexual invitation. And as I watched, Penny slipped the thin shoulder straps of her dress down to reveal a pair of very nice-sized, firm-looking tits. I mean, what's a guy to do?

"You do have the right tool, don't you?" she asked, inclining her head a little to one side. "Would you mind showing me, so I can - er - satisfy myself?" And then her hand slipped between her legs and she started rubbing her pussy. I was gobsmacked. In a daze, I just unzipped my jeans, unfastened the waistband and pulled my todger out.

She grinned. "Oh yes, you seem to be suitably equipped. It looks like, with a little encouragement, it could be the correct gauge to fit the necessary socket. But just one thing; I'm assuming you carry condoms with you?"

"Er, yes. In my bag."

"Well, do be a sweetie and go and get some. We may need more than one."

I dashed out into the hall and retrieved a pack of rubbers from my overnight bag. There were three left inside. If Penny was as sex-starved as she said, would they be enough?

When I returned, she'd removed the dress completely and was standing, naked except for her shoes, and looking, I had to admit, extremely fuckable. I pulled my t-shirt off and shimmied out of my jeans, pants, socks and trainers in about fifteen seconds. My cock was getting harder by the moment, and I wanted to grab her, but I thought it best to let her make the moves. She came closer and put both hands on my chest.

"Oh yes. The last time I had a really fit boy was - on my God, nearly seven years ago. It seems you really do work out, don't you? I hope this muscle's in good shape." She slid a hand down and took hold of my cock. "Definitely an interesting size."

Then she leaned in and kissed me. She kept holding, and gently stroking, my cock, while the other arm reached behind my neck. She was a good thirty centimetres shorter than me, so I had to bend to kiss her. My arms went around her back, and I felt her tits press on my chest. They were surprisingly firm; firmer than a few belonging to girls my own age that I'd enjoyed playing with.

We kissed for quite a while, and then she pulled back, squatted down and took the head of my cock in her mouth. If someone had suggested that, after a hard day's work, I'd get a shower, dinner, wine and a blowjob, I'd have said they were mad. But this was actually happening!

Fortunately, she didn't suck me for too long, or I'd probably have come in her mouth. She stood up and said "Sorry, Dean, I'm not in the mood for you to come in my mouth, and I'm sure we can find somewhere else it'll fit much better. Now, you said you were good with your hands. I hope you're also good with your mouth. She sat back down on the sofa, laid back and spread her legs. "Over to you, big boy."

At twenty-one, I was hardly a virgin. I'd fucked maybe a dozen girls by then. I'd learned some technique and quite decent control. But Penny was a lot classier than most of the working-class girls I was used to fucking. Some of them were downright dirty, a few were shy, but all of them were up for it. I could see that Penny was gagging for it, but I guessed I should take it slowly until she signalled she wanted me to move to the main event. So I knelt between her legs, kissed her some more and moved my hands to her very nice tits. After a while, I started licking my way down, starting at her neck, then her tits and nipples. She guided my hand to her pussy, so I slid a finger inside - she was seriously wet and surprisingly tight - and stirred it around. She let out some encouraging moans, so I continued.

I let my fingers wander around her pussy, while palming one breast and sucking on the other nipple. This seemed to work pretty well. By the time I felt ready to move on down and 'dine at the Y', she was soaking wet and moaning softly. Now Sharon, my second - no, third - girlfriend, taught me how to eat pussy. Up until then, I'd been pretty crap at it, but the girls didn't seem to mind. I think they were probably as inexperienced and clueless about sex as I was. Sharon had 'been around a bit', and had a reputation as a nymphomaniac, or as we boys called her, a slut. That was unfair. Sharon enjoyed sex. She knew who she wanted, what she wanted and how she wanted it. She also chose the where and when; in her flat, after her regular boyfriend had left for his night shift. Yes, she was a naughty girl. She could suck cock better than almost any woman I've had before or since, and she loved to get fucked hard from behind. But her favourite pastime was face-sitting, and she showed me exactly what to do with my lips and tongue to make sure she enjoyed it to the max.

So I was able to use the skills I'd learned from Sharon, and practiced on a few girls since, on Penny. And she really did seem to appreciate it, at times grabbing my head and pressing it down into her pussy, writhing her legs around, and then sometimes pressing her fingers into her hair and moaning loudly as I gave her a particularly strong bout of pleasure. When she started moaning "Yes! Yes! YESSSS!" I knew I'd hit the jackpot. I had two fingers inside her at the time, and there was suddenly a lot more liquid around than there had been before.

"Stop! Please - please stop!" she panted. I lifted my face and gazed up at her body. And it was a very good body. One that I wanted to...

"Fuck! That was - that was the best I've had - in - in a long time," she gasped. It was the first time I'd heard her use anything approaching 'dirty' talk. My previous girlfriends had been keen to practice their filthy vocabularies on me; something I liked, and responded to in kind. Penny seemed somehow different, classier.

"Glad you enjoyed it. I certainly did."

She still seemed a bit breathless. "Well, I think you know what to do next. As your reward. And, hopefully, mine. I think the lubrication is sufficient. Just take it slowly. It'll be a tight fit. Don't want to damage anything." She smiled up at me, then lifted her legs higher and spread them wider, with her palms on the inside of her thighs. I don't think I'd ever had a woman flaunt her pussy at me like that before, even my dirtiest girlfriends, and my cock was hard and throbbing as I hurried to roll the condom on.

"Easy. Slow. Oh my, you're big. Oh! Oh yes. Yes, that'll - that'll do nicely. Oh yes. OH! Slow, please. I'm still tight. Aren't I?"

And yes, she was surprisingly tight. And also very wet. Now yes, I'm a bit above average size, but I've explored roomier pussies than Penny's. Kelly, a girl I'd fucked after a party at a mate's house a couple of weeks earlier - was pretty slack. Turns out she'd had two kids, though she was only twenty. Penny's pussy, on the other hand, took a bit of getting into. And when I finally got balls-deep, she squeezed me. Fuck, that felt amazing! I could tell this was going to be one hell of a ride.

Soon, we were moving together, and she was looking into my eyes, and she looked beautiful. Like I said, old enough to be my mum, but horny enough to be a porn star. The way she moved her body, wriggling and twisting under me, was very sexy. And every now and then, her pussy would grip me hard. I thought at one stage that she might pull the condom off my cock, she was holding me so tightly as I withdrew.

Then she said, "Dean. Pull out. Then stick it back in. All the way. Please?"

I did as she asked. "Yes! Yes! Harder! Yes, deep!" she moaned, when I pulled out, then drove in, balls-deep, each time a bit more forcefully. She'd arched up to meet me, and her head went back, her eyelids fluttering. Her ankles were hooked behind me, making it tricky to complete the action, but I managed. She would relax the grip of her legs as I pulled out, then spread her thighs and dig in with her heels each time I thrust in deep.

"Get your - your thumb - on my - my clit. So close. Make me - make me come, Dean. Make me..."

My back was beginning to ache from being bent over her, so I moved my weight onto one elbow, got the other hand between us, cupped that smooth, fleshy mound and slipped my thumb into her wide-open slit. She let out a long, throaty moan. I rubbed, gently. She started pulling with her legs, thrusting her pussy up to meet me.

"You like - my big cock," I whispered in her ear. My breathing was as ragged as hers.

"Oh God yes!" she moaned back.

"You like - like to - get fucked - hard?" I realised, after I'd said it, that I was on dangerous ground. She hadn't used the level of dirty talk I was used to. Maybe she didn't like it.

But I needn't have worried. "Oh yes. Fuck me. Fuck me harder. Stick your cock right up me. Now! Do it! Harder! Yes, yes, yes YESSSSSS!"

I could feel her coming. With most girls I've fucked, if I'm inside them when they come, I can hear it. Often their legs flail around. Sometimes they squirt. But only rarely do I feel the squeeze and release that I got when Penny hit her second orgasm. I kept on pounding away, but I was close to coming. And then - and then she just gripped me tightly with her pussy. I've fucked a couple of girls up the arse, which was amazing, but getting squeezed like that by Penny's muscular pussy was as tight as any arse I've ever fucked.

And I came. God, it was glorious, my cock trapped in that tight tube, pulsing like crazy, her smooth thighs pulling me in deep. And she was kissing me.

"How was that, big boy?" she said, grinning up at me after our mouths had parted.