Jane Goes to Scotland

Continuing her journey of sexual surprises, Jane gets a full service at a roadside garage...

Cash? Like I carry loads of cash with me? Oh well, I'm sure there'll be a cash point in the village somewhere. I swung the now-unlocked door open, wondering if it were ever really locked last night. I was still sleepy, but the cold air of the dark morning was bracing and I pulled my down jacket tight around me and followed him to his Portakabin.

A greenish fluorescent light flickered overhead, doing little to dispel the damp gloom.

"So!" he beamed as he dropped himself into his patched-up office chair. "Miss...?"

"Oh, Jane," I blushed. "Do you need to see the car documents?"

"Don't be in such a rush, Jane. Certainly no Plain-Jane are you?"

"Oh please! Cut the nonsense Mr...?"

"Tom. Everyone knows me as Tom, but the full name's in two foot letters over the garage if you need to know more. Cuppa tea, Jane? I'm having one meself and it's a drech morning is it not?" he said leaning across to flick the kettle on his desk. "Please - sit yourself down. What's your brew? I have builders tea for the men folk and either Earl Grey or fruit for the ladies - what'll it be?"

I perched myself opposite him on the edge of my chair and kept my arms folded. He seemed raffish to me, maybe in his thirties and a bit too forward for me to feel at ease.

"Well, a fruit tea would be nice, thank you," I replied, casting my eyes around the standard garage décor.

"Where are you from, Jane? I detect a southern accent."

"Manchester. I'm on my way to Fort William to meet some friends."

Tom looked up with surprise.

"Manchester? I know it well. I did my masters at the university - was there for two years. Are you at the Uni yourself? Student are you?"

I was taken aback: I guess you can't judge a book by its cover.

"Really? What were you reading?"

"French literature. Ô lac! l'année à peine a fini sa carrière,

Et près des flots chéris qu'elle devait revoir... Fucking lot of use that is round here, so I fix cars in the day and write wistful poetry by night. Sugar?"

For just a moment, as he poured out no-doubt hot classics with the tea, I could indeed see the wistful Tom beneath the oily boiler suit. I began to warm to him a little.

"Sorry - wasted on me I'm afraid, Tom. I'm science. I work in the Geology department at the Uni. Go on then, half a spoon - for the cold."

"La vie est une fleur dont l'amour est le miel. Sorry, I'm showing off, but I'm sure Hugo sweetened more than tea with his words. Right! To more mundane matters. It's a Hertz isn't it? I need to contact them to see what cover they offer, but they won't be open till nine. Let me have the keys and I'll give it a once over. You stay in the warm and I'll see if I can seduce a Seat with some saucy French strophes."

I dropped the key into his open palm as he stood by the open door. He paused just so long for me to look up and meet his eyes and for a cheeky smile to lighten the corners of his lips. In a flash, he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and was gone, pulling the door to with a bang.

I glanced over to watch him stride over to the car: the bewitched car, and wondered why I had never been to Scotland before, if it was full of such surprises? I checked my phone - no signal, which was unsurprising since the village was in a narrow little valley. I shifted back into my seat, the warmth of the room making my eyes droop.

"All fixed Jane! My, you're a sound sleeper," Tom's voice boomed heartily.

"Why, what time is it?" I spluttered awake.

"Nearly nine o'clock. I hope you don't mind - I didn't want to wait for the office wallers at Hertz to wake up, so I just went ahead and sorted it out. Probably best not mention it to them 'cos they get sniffy about village idiots tinkering with their motors." Tom dropped the key onto the desk in front of me and slumped back into his chair, a pleased-with-himself smile on his face and smudge on his nose.

"Oh well, thanks. What was the problem, if you can put it terms I would understand? What do I owe you?" I replied, reaching into my purse.

"Very tricky stuff, Jane," said Tom staring at the ceiling and swinging his seat. "Loose connect is all it was: they just take a while to find without a computer. So, no expensive spares, just a bit of time. No - don't think to reach for money. Lets swap time for time. Care to join me at Maureen's over the road for breakfast? You can bring me up to date with the gossip from Manchester and I'm starving."

"Oh! Well the thing is Tom my -" I began.

"My friends will be worried about me and I've got no signal on my phone?" Tom interrupted. "I know, no signal here and I know you'll have checked. Very sensible. Here, phone ya friends from here and let them know where you are."

He pushed the phone across towards me.

"It would be a privilege for me, honestly. It's a nice enough village, but dull as dish water. I'll let you pay for breakfast - and we don't boil up young 'gurluz frae' Manchester. They don't fit in the pan. Whaddya say?" He gave me a theatrical big wink and that smile again.

I went to say something, but found myself torn between 'sensible' and 'what-the-hell'. Instead I reached for the phone and Tom stood to leave the room with a whispered "I'll let you talk." I spoke to Phil and explained the situation, without going into too much detail. I gave him the garage address and said I'd be with them near lunchtime.

Outside Tom was waiting, kicking his feet against the cold.

"All set? You've no changed your mind or let common sense prevail? No? Good, come on then - I'm ready for some black pudding and sausage. Do you like sausage, Jane?" he said body-nudging me as we walked.

"Stop that!" I laughed back at him. "This is a business breakfast, remember?"

"Oh yes! It's a serious business: breakfast. Especially with an appetite like mine."

"Always hungry then, Tom? Maybe you have worms."

"Ugh - you're disgusting! Ma mother warned me about girls like you. But you're right, I am hungry. Insatiable..."

I felt comfortable with Tom: he was funny and genuine. One of those people you almost feel you've seen before somewhere. We chatted our way through his mountainous 'decent fry up' while I kept to toast. I kept noticing his hands, too big somehow to be the stuff of French poetry. I liked the way he hooked an errant lock of black hair behind his ear when it threatened to fall into his food. He stood back as I paid, which pleased me instead of having to play that game of pretend politeness.

"So, we're all square, Jane," he announced, embracing an imaginary day with his out-stretched arms as we walked back. "Come and collect your things and you can be on your way."

He opened the office door with a cheerful flourish and let me in. He stepped to his side of the desk as I lingered at the door.

"Well I suppose I should be on my way..." I spoke quietly, pushing the door closed with my bottom and fixing him with my eyes.

He looked up from his desk with a double-take and then stepped over to me.

"Is it far to Fort William?" I ventured, looking up at him.

"No. No far. You're practically there," he replied softly, as his eyes searched my face for confirmation. "Would you, would you like another tea before ya go?"

"Something hot would be ... nice," I breathed as his lips brushed my hair. "Do you have anything hot just now, Tom?"

"I do, as it happens. I do."

Our lips met and his hungry tongue teased my mouth, while his leg pushed between mine and he pressed his weight against me. We broke our kiss and looked again at each other.

"Tom's garage is closed for a while!" he blurted, and he hurriedly flipped the sign on the glass door and closed the blind.

"Is this where you keep your tools, Tom?" I purred to him as he turned to face me.

"No, no, I do my best work at my desk!" He laughed and with a sweep, cleared the desk with his hand, sending papers and biros clattering to the floor.

"Oh Tom, are you always so manly?" I giggled. "Will you give me a thorough servicing?"

Tom moved towards me dramatically, making a moustache with a lock of his hair. "Oh your ladyship. Permit me to check your lubricants!"

With that he stood behind me and ran his hand along my waistband, as I pressed my bottom back into his hips. I could feel his cock, hard and free inside his boilersuit.

"Really my man, is it really a good idea to leave your tools so readily accessible? Why, anyone could walk in and do something drastic with your nuts." I slipped my hand through a gap in the buttons and feel the length of his cock right down to his big, hanging balls.

"I could say the same of you, me lady," his voice shaking a little as he nudged me towards the desk. He curled his fingers to cup my sex. "I do believe I found the root of your problem: I can feel a leaky gasket."

"Oh goodness!" I said, leaning myself forward and dragging his dick firmly by the shaft with me. "Can you fix it? Maybe plug it up with some tool or other? Really Tom, are you going to fuck me or what?"

With that, he pulled at my waistband, leaving my bottom cool in fresh air for a moment, before he guided his rock-hard prick under the cleft of my buttocks. I could feel the head of his cock ploughing a furrow through my peeling lips, past my waiting cunt and back again in a slow deliberate path. I've watched, fascinated and secretly horny at the British Science Museum (ground floor), where recreations of reciprocating steam engines, with thick greasy shafts, slip inexorably into waiting cylinders. Science is so sexy.

"Fuck, Tom! Have you got anything? I mean a condom. There's one in my purse!"

"There's one in my desk drawer too. Can you reach from there? Hang on, let me try!" grunted Tom, as he lent his full weight on me, making me grunt and I felt is dick on my thigh, already wet and slippery with my juices. He tiptoed his fingers across the desk in front of me and emptied my purse out. "Jesus, how much crap do you keep in there?"

"No, those are wet wipes. Yes - that's it," I gasped. "Here, let me: your hands are all mucky and you'll just split it. Better still, let me try this - I've read about it."

I pushed myself up on my elbows and examined the packet, then carefully removed the slithery contents. I turned to face Tom and sank to my knees.

"Holy fuck, Tom. We're gonna need a bigger one," I giggled, looking at his angry purpleness waggling at me.

"I bet you tell all the guys that, Jane. Now just hurry up with whatever it is. I really, really need to put all of that inside you - now!"

I put the teat end on my tongue and held the rest open with my lips before immediately spitting it back into my hand.

"Fuck they taste disgusting," I grimaced. "Next time I'm going for blackcurrant."

"Right, you've asked for this," growled Tom and taking my head in both hands, he pulled me towards him. It was an effort to open my jaw that wide and not entirely comfortable. Big hands, big cock - it was true! My mouth was well and truly stuffed and full of the taste of his sex. My vision was full of out-of-focus pubic hair one moment, then boilersuit the next, like a pornographic Halfords ad. The only thing was, I couldn't breathe and what Tom took to me groans of pleasure from me, were actually muffled cries of alarm. I managed to jerk my head out of his hands and left a snail-trail of gob hanging between his dick and my lips as I burst away for breath.

"Give the thing to me, for god's sake woman," grumbled Tom, unconcerned that I was ventilating hard. He slipped it on with accomplished ease. "You. Now. Turn around and show me that ass again!"

I felt one hand pressing down on the small of my back as I flattened myself onto the desk once more and meanwhile could feel his fist guiding his cock between my thighs. In a blink, he found my cunt and his prick plunged into me, every bit like the Science Museum; every bit like a butcher slicing steaks and my body the pale meat on the block. A splinter of wood dug into my skin and left a red bruise where the desk pressed against the front of my pelvis that I would find it later and smile. He kept pressing, only stopping when his dark hairy thighs squashed my buttocks flat against them. The moment of silence, a long one: his, the satisfaction of conquest; mine, tight mouthed against a scream. His cock was too much, too much at once. His hands, with grubby nails, encircled my waist and he receded, like a wave, gathering up to break on the beach. Again he pushed and my body opened up to him.

Faster now and mercifully not so deep, his rhythm shook us, making the desk thump against the wall. I tried to elbow up, but collapsed again, my face turned flat against the rings of cup-stains on the desk. Tom shifted, reaching a hand between my tummy and desk and two fingers explored my sex, making slippery circles round my clit. His face rested on mine, briefly lifting to bite gently on my ear so his hot breath reached into my head. Our jaws, were now uncomfortably aligned: his stubble rasping deliciously against me. So much man. I was so full of man.

His hard prick steamed wetly as it paused momentarily for the next stroke: dark, slick hairs glued to his veiny skin, silvery with my wetness. His mouth was full of shuddering animal gasps next to mine and I tasted the thick, sweet smell of his breakfast as we shared the same air.

"I'm going... to come...to come," he whispered hoarsely.

"Come Tom, yes, I want you to come. I'm close. I'm so close. Here let me," I whimpered back as he shifted a little to let me replace his too-hard fingers with my own. "Go on, Tom. Fuck me, Tom. I'm..."

I could feel his prick swelling inside me and knew what was to follow. The thought filled my head and I began to buck my hips against him, my wet fingers rubbing in unison with his slippery flesh.

"I'm coming," I squeaked and I felt my knees buckle and shake uncontrollably. I don't think he said anything, but he gripped harder on my hips, pulling me further onto his rearing cock. I felt the kicking pulse of his orgasm, the sudden extra heat inside me. I felt the burst of blind triumph and crowed an animal noise back at him.

We were still now, our shared ecstasy slipping away from us: brief ecstasy supplanted by the mundane once again. When he withdrew an inevitable dribble of my juices trickled out down my thigh. He was squatting behind me now, his hands resting on the roundness of my bottom, then lent in to place a stubbly kiss on each, which was sweet but really unnecessary. We were both still breathing hard and the beginnings of little laughs and whoops found voice.

"Could you reach one of my tissues, please?" I asked when I finally lifted myself up onto elbows again. "I daren't move."

"Here, I got it," he said, rising to his feet and letting the hanging, spent condom slap wetly on the back of my leg. "There ya go."

"Thanks...woo, that was..."

"Rampant? Desperate? Athletic? Passionné?" Tom offered.

"I was going to say wild, yes," I smiled back. "And good. Very good, Tom. C'mere."

I motioned him towards me and standing, slipped my arms round his huge chest while he cupped my naked bottom in his hands. I plucked a couple more buttons opened and planted a kiss on his hairy skin.

"Oh you men: you fix cars, write poems and fuck a girl's brains out," I beamed up at him, jutting my chin into his ribs.

"And all you have to do is feed us breakfast. It's no a poor exchange is it?" he smiled, leaning now to place a kiss on my forehead.

"Not bad at all, Tom. No bad at all! Am I free to go now?"

"And free to come back any time you're passing, Jane. It's been huge."

"You are huge, Tom. C'mon you big lummuck. Where are those keys - I ought to get going."

A few minutes later, I watched Tom's big hand held aloft in my rear view mirror as I turned onto the road once again. I wished I'd had something more for breakfast. Fort William 26 miles.