The Good Samaritan

Saturday is when I run around and take care of all the chores I can’t get done during the week. I pulled into the mall to drop off a pair of boots for resoling and check out the new sound systems at the stereo shop for a client – I make my living as an electronics and computer guru. I parked my truck (driving a pickup is wonderful cover for a transplanted Yankee in the South) and started toward the entrance when a blast from my past stopped me cold.

It was a 1959 Cadillac Coupe de Ville convertible. Everyone remembers this model; it’s the one with the huge tailfins that have the rocket-exhaust tail lights on them. It is arguably the most visually striking car ever built, and ranks high on everyone’s Top Ten list of memorable Detroit rolling iron.

My high school principal had inherited a white ’59 with a red leather interior from his father. It was nicknamed “The Pussy Wagon” because it was used to parade the Homecoming Queen and the winners of town beauty pageants down Main Street. This one was The Pussy Wagon’s mirror image, red with a white interior, just like the Cadillac used in the TV ads to promote the marque. I gave it a slow, respectful walk-around.

Whoever owned this Caddy took good care of it. There wasn’t a dent to be seen. The few chips and scratches had been carefully touched up and were almost invisible. If there was any filler on the body, I couldn’t find it. I leaned over the driver’s door and looked at the odometer: 295,869 miles. For a daily driver, this machine was nearly cherry.

“You like my car?”

I turned toward the voice and received a shock even greater than that caused by the convertible. A slender Asian woman was walking toward me.

Standing about 5’7” in the heels she was wearing, her real height was closer to 5’3”. Her beautifully shaped legs scissored in and out of the unusual full-length skirt she was wearing. Made up of a mass of thousands of layered green and black threads, at rest the skirt concealed her legs completely; but when she walked, the threads fell away and her bare legs flashed in and out of them up to mid-thigh. She was wearing a wraparound green top that tied at the back and simultaneously acted as brassiere and blouse, showcasing two breasts that were average in size but set close together. The result was they looked larger than they actually were on her petite frame.

Her face was striking rather than pretty, having the faintly simian cast around the eyes Asian women of a certain age acquire. Blue-black hair cut in a pageboy completed the package. The overall impact was remarkable. This was a woman that, once seen, would not be quickly forgotten.

“Yes, I do. You seldom see a classic car in as good shape as this one outside a car show. I was just admiring her.”

“My husban’ called it his big toy. He found it when we were stationed in California, an’ he spent three years bringing it back to showroom condition.” Her voice, low and mysterious, had a trace of an accent. Taking a closer look, I pegged her as a Filipina who had lived for years among English-speakers.

“I’d like to meet him,” I said. “He’s done a really great job on this car.”

She looked away. “That would be hard. He died las’ summer. This is th' firs' time I've taken it out since th' funeral”

Oops. Taking my foot out of my mouth, I stammered, “I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am. I didn’t mean to offend. I’ll just be on my way. Again, I apologize.”

She smiled a little. “You had no way to know. He’d be pleased that someone appreciates his big toy. I’ll accept your respects in th’ spirit they were meant. Have a nice day.”

I watched as the widowed Filipina climbed into the Caddy, backed out and headed for the mall exit. The coupe looked just as good today as The Pussy Wagon had looked back in the day, and had a better-looking driver.

Half an hour later, I was heading into the setting sun with the pickup cap sheltering groceries, a couple of new DVDs and some stereo components as well as my toolkits and whatnot. I had the road to myself and gave some thought to the driver of that Cadillac as I drove along.

I’d enlisted right out of high school, trading six years in the Air Force for training in computer and electronics repair and guaranteed qualification for the GI Bill. College would have been impossible otherwise. Although I’d been in while the Air Force still owned Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines, I’d never been stationed in the Far East.

Barracks gossip claimed Filipinas made the best wives. Supposedly they were devoted, obedient, fucked like minks with their tails on fire and were skilled at household management. I discounted the rumors, remembering the joke that said the only difference between a fairy tale and a soldier’s story was that fairy tales started out “Once upon a time,” and soldiers’ stories started out, “No shit…”

A car was pulled off the road up ahead. I slowed down. It was the Caddy, hood up and a white rag tied to its door handle. Its Asian owner frantically waved at me as I pulled behind the convertible and switched on my idiot blinkers. I got out and went to meet her.

“Hello again,” I said. “Do you need help?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Th’ car, th’ temperature gauge jus’ went off the top an’ then smoke came out from th’ engine. Can you help me?”

“Let’s see,” I said.

I looked under the engine in the fading light. A smelly puddle of coolant had formed there. It didn’t take long to find what was wrong.

“You have a split water hose,” I said, walking past her to get my Car Box out of my truck. She followed me.

“Can you fix that?” she asked.

“Maybe enough to let you limp to a garage,” I said. “Will you hold the light for me… I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name?”

We exchanged names. Hers was Elena. She held my big flashlight as I unloaded the Car Box and sorted out what I would need for the job. She looked dubiously at a coil of heavy gauge copper piping, a length of rubber hose, a spool of stiff electric wire, some clamps and a piece of gasket material as I fetched the tool kit.

“With that, you can fix th’ engine so I can drive?” she said doubtfully.

“I think so, Elena,” I said, and set to work.

A little more than half an hour later, my magnificent improvisation was in place. The broken thermostat that was the cause of the trouble had been removed. Gasket material replaced it, holes cut for the bolts and to let cooling water flow through. The split in the middle of the hose hadn’t reached the bends that led in and out of the engine block, so I’d clamped a piece of copper pipe into each end and bridged the gap with hose from the Car Box and two more clamps. The whole thing was anchored with lengths of twisted wire attached to whatever was handy so it wouldn’t flop around. Elena leaned in to look at the repair, bracing herself on my shoulders. I was aware of her breasts pressing against my back. We looked at each other. Her face was hard to read in the falling darkness.

I repacked my gear and poured the gallon of antifreeze mix I always carry into the radiator, and topped it up with 2 ½ gallons of water from my groceries. I closed the hood and walked to Elena, seated back behind the wheel.

I explained, “The garage I use is about four miles west and a mile south on County 356. You lead off. Watch for the turn. I’ll follow with my blinkers on in case someone comes along. Take it slow and easy and don’t tromp the gas. If she starts to act up again, pull over and we’ll figure out the next move. At the garage, we’ll drop off your keys and then I’ll take you home. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, and smiled with returning confidence.

She turned the key. The engine ground for a second, then caught. Running a little rough at first, the big V-8 smoothed out. I patted Elena’s shoulder and motioned her to move out. As she switched on her lights and pulled onto the empty country road, I ran back to my truck and followed her, the caution blinkers clicking in the cockpit as we went. We arrived at Gus’s Garage without meeting another car.

The place was deserted, which didn’t surprise me on a Saturday evening. Elena stopped in front of the service bays. I stopped alongside her.

“Bring her on around the back and park next to the building,” I shouted over the idling engines. Elena nodded, and moved ahead and around the side of the building. She parked in an open slot and I pulled up behind her, shutting off the engine and rummaging for an envelope and notepad as she rolled up the windows and put up the top.

I wrote a note saying what had happened and instructed Gus to flush the cooling system, replace the coolant hoses, install a new thermostat and bill the work to me. Finished locking up the Caddy, Elena walked to where I sat on the truck’s step in the light from the cab. She had already taken the car keys off her key ring. I held out the envelope to her and she dropped them in. I added the note and sealed it. When I closed the door, the only light was the starlight twinkling down on us. Elena was a lighter shade of dark in the stygian gloom to my unadjusted eyes.

“There’s a drop box in the back door,” I said. “I’ll just put these in and we can be on our way. You’ll probably get your car back on Tuesday.”

“I don’ like th’ dark,” she said. “Give me your hand, I’ll walk with you, okay?”

I reached out my hand. She took it and to my surprise reached it around her waist, her own arm wrapping around mine. So linked, we walked to the door. As I bent and put the envelope in the drop, she lost her balance. I just managed to catch her before she fell, swinging her back onto her feet. We stood there for a second.

“You can let go of my tit now,” she said calmly, with just a hint of amusement.

I was glad the night hid my flaming face. I let go of her. She found my hand again and replaced it on her waist. We moved back to my pickup. I was thankful she couldn’t read my mind.

I guided her to the passenger side door. She opened the door, paused and looked at me in the light from the cab.

“Tell me something. When I started to fall an’ you caught me by th' booby, what was on your mind?”

Bill Cosby once described his mouth running away with him as feeling like being a miniature of himself, standing in his mouth and trying to catch the words before they passed his lips - and having every one slip through his fingers while his brain chanted, “Dumb, dumb, dumb, diddledee DUMB dumb dodo!” I had the same feeling as I heard my id tell Elena the truth without consulting my superego first.

“I was thinking that I wanted to spread you out right here, get your skirt out of the way and eat your pussy until you squealed like a pig, then take you to your place and fuck your brains out!”

Dumb, dumb, dumb, diddledee DUMB dumb dodo. My face, still red from my earlier gaffe, burned crimson.

Elena stood stock still. I was sure I’d mortally offended her.

Then she flowed into my arms and kissed me, her tongue dancing in my mouth.

“I think that’s a great idea,” she said softly. “Don’ let me stop you.”

She ground her mound against my leg like a bitch in heat as I crushed her in my arms. My hands worked their way through the thread skirt and found her small buttocks. Her nails dug into my back as I squeezed her cheeks and listened to her moan, asking for more. In a woman like this one, dormant passion lies close to the surface, ready to reignite when she feels the urge. I guessed that for whatever reason, Elena had decided her period of mourning was over.

I picked Elena up and set her on the edge of the bench seat. Flicking the strands of silk that made up her skirt out of my way, I moved in and found her cunt concealed beneath a pair of thong panties. She raised her ass so I could slide them off, revealing a clean-shaven pudenda with ‘orchid flower’ pussy lips that urge a man to get between them to find the delights waiting inside. She parted her thighs, inviting me into her parlor. I knelt on the truck step and started to perform cunnilingus on my willing, cooperative Asian.

Her scent was tangy, with a hint of spice I could not pin down. The juices that were beginning to ooze into her slit to ease the passage of a tongue or prick had almost no taste at all, something that suited me. I’ve gone down on more than one woman, and a major turn-off is discovering that your partner’s essential oils smell bad or taste nasty. It always calls her health, personal habits and bodily hygiene into question and is generally off-putting no matter how beautiful the woman is. No problems that way with Elena!

She lay back on the seat, one hand running slowly through my hair as I worked on her pretty pussy, nibbling at the lips and listening to her sigh with enjoyment at what I was doing to her. I moved my head up and down, ticking her clit with my nose and teasing her with my tongue. I slipped my index finger into her and twisted to lube it well. I moved it to her clitoral shaft and slowly drew it back and forth, adding a touch of fingernail as her hips started to flex and her sighs turned to soft whimpers of lust. My other hand pulled her cunt lips wider and I burrowed happily between them, seeking her pink inner core.

She gasped as my stiff tongue entered her, swift as a striking snake. I swirled it around as far as I could reach and bobbed my head in and out, penetrating as far as it would go. After a couple of minutes I replaced my tongue with two fingers and moved up to her love button, flicking it with my tongue tip, pleased to hear her moan as a result. My fingers worked in and out of her as I nibbled on the clitoral shaft like a kid eating a cracker. Elena’s hips rose, pressing her twat into my face and asking wordlessly for more. I could feel her clitoris swelling as her gasps became deep groans of pleasure and her pelvis started to buck. She was getting close.

I redoubled my efforts and was rewarded by a steady flow of love-syrup from her cunt, soaking my fingers and glazing her body at the apex of her divine triangle. I changed hands and tickled my way down to the brown rosebud of her anus. I listened to her steady moaning and felt her bucking speed up. Almost there now.

I slid a third finger into her pussy, and at the same time sucked her clitoris and pressed hard on Elena’s asshole, adding frottage to the other stimuli she was receiving. The response was instant and gratifying.

Elena screamed as she reached orgasm. Her thighs locked on my head and her hands clenched in my hair hard enough to hurt. Her hips rocked back and forth, unable to decide which felt better, my mouth on her clit, the fingers probing her cunt or my fingers on her asshole. A second, stronger climax zapped through her as I continued what I was doing. Her hands fell away from my head and her thighs relaxed as she went with the pleasure. I stood up, breathing as if I’d just run the 400 meter dash, well pleased with myself.

As Elena’s breathing slowed, I climbed into the cab and pulled her into a sitting position. We kissed langorously and I slipped a hand inside her top. Without breaking the kiss, she reached behind her and undid it, loosing her breasts. She cupped them in her hands, offering her hard, umber pebbles to me.

“Suckle my tits,” she begged.

I bent to them and took a nipple between my teeth, lashing it with my tongue and biting down just a little while I squeezed the other breast and rubbed my thumb over the rigid tit-tip.

“More!” she demanded. “Harder! Ohhh…harder! Please!”

I sucked the nipple and aureola all the way into my mouth and bit down with my back teeth while I pinched the other nipple and gave it a twist.

“Yes!” she screamed. “Like that! I like that! Harder! More! I’m close! Make me!”

I’d heard of women who could cum simply from breast play and nipple stimulation, but Elena was the first woman I’d ever met who actually could reach orgasm that way. I twisted her tits cruelly and ground my teeth sideways without pressing any harder; I was afraid I’d tear her nip right off.

“Y-E-E-S-S-S!” she cried as climax overtook her.

I watched the sexual flush on her breasts fade as she gasped like a runner after a hard race and held her close, her head back, eyes closed, a satisfied smile creasing her -face. As her breathing slowed to normal, I reached past her and pulled the passenger door shut. I kissed her gently and she opened her eyes, looking at me for the first time with the eyes of a vibrant, sexual woman.

“Take your top off and slide next to me,” I suggested, “and the trip to your house won’t be wasted time.”

Her eyes lit up. Elena slipped out of the wrap top and dropped it onto the seat beyond her as I started the engine. Naked from the waist up, she snuggled under my right arm as I drove away from the garage and back to the crossroads that led toward Elena’s place.

As we headed west again, I traced my fingers lightly from her shoulders down her arm and on to her right breast. She closed her eyes and moaned as I brushed them around her aureola and then under the breast, the tickling of my fingertips a gentle torture. She leaned into me and her left hand sought my pants. Undoing the belt, she unbuttoned my jeans and pulled down my zipper before she worked her hand under the waistband of my boxers to find the stiff seven inches of my cock waiting for her. I cupped her tit and squeezed it gently as she rubbed my cockhead with her palm, smearing the pre-cum that had been oozing from it as I pleasured her over her hand and taking hold of my shaft, moving her hand up and down. Her other hand disappeared into her skirt. I couldn’t see it, but I had no doubt her fingers were deep in her cunt and her thumb was abusing her love button. Her eyes were half closed as she concentrated on the sensations we were giving each other.

We continued the foreplay and mutual masturbation all the way to her house. She lived on a large tract of rolling timber and grassland that once was a farm, in a rambling ranch house a long way from anywhere. I parked by the back door and trotted around to help her down. We kissed, her mouth hot and demanding under mine. I swept her off her feet, carrying her to the house, her exquisite body light in my arms, those perky breasts with their rock-hard nipples urging me to hurry. She directed me to the bedroom at the far end of a long hallway. I rubbed the lights on with my shoulder and kicked the door shut, setting her on her feet and reaching for the button that held up her skirt with eager fingers.

It fell away, leaving her naked in the light from her vanity table. I stripped as rapidly as I could. She climbed on the bed, kneeling, her ass elevated and her legs spread, two fingers opening her pussy lips so her cunt winked wetly at me. Looking over her shoulder, she watched me strip as quickly as I could, liberating my rigid cock from confinement, ready to give her what we both wanted.

“Mount me,” she whispered hoarsely. “Ride me, stud. Ride me hard! Oh God, it’s been so long…”

I approached her like a stallion about to service a mare in heat. Grabbing her by the hips, I positioned myself at the entrance to her dripping vagina. She didn’t wait for me to push into her. Elena thrust backward and eagerly impaled herself on my cock. She threw her head back and moaned ecstatically, eyes closed, savoring the feel of my ramrod shoving insistently into her, searching for her cervix.

Taking the cue from what she’d whispered, I didn’t attempt to be gentle with my little brood mare. I drove in and out of her roughly, setting a moderate fucking rhythm that I knew I could keep up forever if I had to. I shifted my grip from Elena’s hips to her waist, taking hold and squeezing hard with my hands. I had read somewhere that if you grabbed a woman just right at the waist and pressed hard, you could restrict the return of blood from the pelvis, thus forcing the vagina to engorge. After a minute, I heard a surprised groan from my lover and felt her pussy grab my shaft even harder, with increased resistance to my thrusts. Elena cried out, “Don’ stop! Whatever you’re doing, don’ stop! Cunny feels so tight… don’ stop!”