Ball Joint

Art squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the smell of sweat and camel cigarettes coming off the tow truck driver. The cold rain outside wasn't helping. His mud soaked pants weren't helping. The only thing that could help right now would be a time machine to take him back to two weeks ago so he could slap his uncle across the face when he offered to sell him his old Sorento. "She's in great shape, Art," he'd said. "Only two grand, since you're family."

"Fuck you, uncle Mac," Art mumbled to himself.

"You say sum'im?" the driver asked. Art glanced at the other man who had plucked out his airpod to listen. He had an ill-advised mustache, roughly 150 pounds on Art's not insignificant size, and a trucker cap that advertised his opinion on fat chicks, a bolded yellow and red "No."

"Just cursing the guy who sold me the car," Art said.

The driver shrugged dismissively, turning back to the anime on his phone, then indicated the front door of the garage with his chin. "That's Jake." He handed Art a stack of papers. "Maybe if you're lucky his wife'll be here today."

Art's eyebrows shot up. "She cute?"

The driver vainly tried to hold back a smile, but lost his composure almost immediately. A gutteral chuckle followed, then he shook his head. "Oh, man, I hope she's here today. You could fuckin' use it."

Art hopped out of truck, sighing as he landed in a puddle, the fresh, cold, dirty water jumping up his pant leg. He was already soaked almost to the crotch, and his shirt and pull-over sweatshirt were both immediately re-soaked by the falling rain. He checked for his keys, phone and wallet, waved to the driver, and then found his way into the garage's lobby. The sun had just started rising in the south-east, and he couldn't wait to get a cup of coffee.

Jake, the apparent owner, held the door open for Art as he came up. "That your SUV I see in my bay?" he asked, a slightly patronizing smile on his face.

"Yeah. I was on my way to visit my cousin in Grand Ledge and, well." Art shrugged, rolled his eyes, and shrugged toward the bay, which was just starting to come to life with techs and old rock and roll. "Is that Dire Straits?"

Jake nodded. "I think? A bit before my time."

Art nodded. "Mine, too. This day just keeps getting worse. Could have at least been the Eagles."

Jake laughed companionably and patted Art on the shoulder, telling him to follow him to the bay. He was younger than Art expected, maybe 30, and in pretty good shape. With a buzz cut and diamond stud, he exuded an air of confidence and blue-collar refinement. The tech who was getting Art's SUV onto the lift looked more like Jesus Christ if he sold MDMA to kids at a roller skating rink, and had been for thirty years.

"What's the good word, Ollie?" Jake asked.

The bearded tech shook his head. "Ball joint. Musta snapped when you hit a pothole or something. Love those Michigan roads."

Jake shook his head. "What am I even paying taxes for?" As he tucked his head down to look at the undercarriage as the car rose up, Jake let out a whistle. "Oh, yeah, it was a bad one. How fast were you going?"

Art squinted. "Like, eighty?"

"Ho ho ho, you're lucky you didn't roll," said Ollie scrubbing at his mustache with a hand permanently discolored from his work. Then he perked up, looking toward the lobby. "Oh, shit! Hey, Allie!"

Jake and Art both perked up and turned around. Jake with a huge smile and Art with mild interest that quickly turned to near disbelief at what he was seeing. She was short, there was no doubt about that. If she was 5'3" he'd be shocked. But she was lean without being skinny. Her ass bounced side to side with a rhythmic sway, and her chest jiggled enticingly. She had the nut brown skin of a latina, and her dark, glossy hair was just long enough to brush her shoulders. While Art had been kicking himself for only wearing a hoodie, this lady seemed impervious to the cold. She wore a blue miniskirt with calf-high white boots, a black and white halter top that looked like it was painted on, and a white winter coat with a pomeranian's worth of fur around the collar and cuffs hanging off her elbows. Her makeup was striking without being over the top, and a silver stud in her nose and silver studs in her ears sparkeld under the shop lights.

"Hey, babe," she said, walking up to Jake and giving him a wet kiss on the lips. She half-turned to Ollie and slapped him full on the ass with a mischievous smile. "Ollie."

"Allie," he said, his eyes sliding down her once in appreciation.

Allie turned to Art, and his entire world was consumed by her crescent moon smile. "This your ride?" she asked, pointing at the mangled underbelly of Art's truck.

"Ah, yeah. It, uh-"

"It got fucked hard," said Ollie, hanging a light on the chasis.

"Oh. Jealous," Allie said, her lips puckered into a grin. She then just seemed to notice Art's clothes. "Jakie, are you just gonna let this guy catch a cold?! He's soaked."

Jake raised his hands. "We just got to looking at the truck, babe," Jake said. "Relax. We gotta make sure he wants the work done before anything else."

"Why wouldn't he want the work done?" Allie asked.

Ollie blew his breath out in a faint raspberry. "I mean, with parts and labor, we're probably not looking at less than three grand," the tech said, fingering a loose piece of metal. "Insurance?"

Art gritted his teeth. "Just enough to drive it."

Jake perked up. "Oh, well, that's probably for the best."

Art frowned. "It is?"

Jake smiled. "Yeah. We can knock a little off, especially since we don't have to deal with your insurance company. We an get it started this morning, have you out of here before noon. Can you cover three grand? Do you need financing?"

Art sighed. "No, I have a credit card. Guess I'll be getting some frequent flier miles."

Allie smiled. "Awesome! Now, let's get you into some clean clothes."

Art blinked. "I'm- what?"

Allie grabbed his hand and started dragging him away. "Come on. We put in a washer and dryer in the back room so we can just wash coveralls and shop towels and stuff. Shower, too."

Art frowned. What the hell kind of garage had a shower? "What the hell kind of garage has a shower?" Allie said nothing, just smiled back at him. She led him through the shop and the storage area to a door marked "EMPLOYEES ONLY" with a keycard lock on it. She produced a card from her coat pocket and pulled him through the door.

"Wait, do you work here?"

Allie let out one loud laugh. "The only part of a car I'm familiar with is the back seat," she said, giving him a wink over her shoulder. The room she led him into was nicer than he expected. It had decent carpet from wall to wall with an overstuffed brown couch sat against one wall next to a standing wardrobe. The opposite wall had an undersize fridge next to a counter with a kitchen sink, microwave, toaster oven, and coffee pot. There was a double door cupboard hanging above it. And next to the counter was, indeed, a basic washer and dryer stack. Next to that was an empty clothes hamper. On the wall opposite the door was an open bathroom door with toilet, sink and single shower stall.

Art was nonplussed. "Huh. This garage has a shower."

Allie had dropped his hand and gone to the wardrobe. "Aren't you glad it does? You've got to be freezing. At least you'll be able to warm up while you wait." Allie pulled a pair of athletic shorts and a tee shirt with the shop's logo on it out of the wardrobe, along with a towel. "This will probably fit. Just toss your clothes out here when you're getting in the shower and I'll get them started."

Art could feel all the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Part of him felt like he was going to be robbed. Part of him thought he was going to be humiliated. Part of him wondered if he'd be writing a letter to Penthouse after this. Did they even still publish Penthouse?

Art realized he was being ridiculous. The lady was being nice. He really could use a shower and a clean set of clothes. So what if it was a little odd? This was a great. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Thanks," Art mumbled. He wondered if she knew she was making such intense eye contact. He grabbed up the spare clothes and towel and stepped into the bathroom. It looked barely used and smelled really clean. He got the water started, seeing that there was a bottle of basic shampoo and a blue bar of soap. The water took a moment to heat up, but he stripped out of his clothes and tried to figure out how he was going to negotiate tossing them out the door. He could probably just wait until he was done. Looking at the door, he saw there was no lock on it. Awkward. He left his clothes in a pile, sticking his boxers on the edge of the sink so he could slip them on after his shower and his clean clothes next to them. He hopped in the shower stall, sliding the opaque curtain closed, and felt his whole body release built up tension as the warm water sluiced over him. He closed his eyes. He'd gotten up so damn early in an attempt to get to Ethan's apartment to help him move, he wondered if his fatigue had something to do with messing up his car? Nah, it was that the car was a twenty-year-old POS that landed him in this spot.

Art took his damn time soaping up. What else did he have to do while they were fixing his truck? He considered having a quick jerk. That Allie chick was sex in boots. But that felt a little weird. Better to just go have a cold glass of water and watch Court TV.

When he opened the curtain, he saw that his clothes, including his boxers, were gone. He hadn't heard the door open, but then again, he'd been pretty zoned out. Art toweled off, getting a look at himself in the mirror. Sure, Jake was slightly older than him, and in slightly better shape, but he figured with a haircut and a better job he might be able to get a hot chick like Allie.

Sure, that's what he needed to be thinking about right now. Not the three grand he wouldn't get to save or spend. Looked like he wouldn't even be able to afford a first date for a while.

The shorts were a little loose and a little short. They were missing their drawstring, too. Ah, well, beggers/choosers. The shirt fit him just fine, a little loose, the way he liked it. Out in the break room, Allie was watching that week's RAW. Must have had it on DVR or something. She bit her lip as two muscled men chucked each other across the ring. Art didn't keep up with wrestling.

"Hey, feeling better?" Allie asked, holding up a water bottle and patting the seat next to her on the couch. She was, of course, situated right in the middle, her boots and coat over by the door. She had her legs crossed under her, and he could clearly see her white panties under her barely there skirt.

Art cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah," he said, walking over and standing by the couch. He had to hold his shorts up on one side, and he was distinctly aware of the half-chub he'd started to grow.

Allie looked at the half chub, not acknowledging it out loud, but running her tongue around inside her mouth while attempting to restrain a smile. "Gonna get tired standing there." She patted the couch again. "Take a load off."

Art cleared his throat again. He was confident that his entire upper body had turned red, and he could feel the heat of it running down from his scalp to his sternum. "You, uh, a wrestling fan?"

Allie watched the match with a critical eye. "Yeah. I like watching big sweaty men in their undies." She smiled and looked over at him. "The ladies are fuckin' hot, too."

Art didn't know where to look after that statement. "Ha, uh, yeah. I, uh, I don't really follow it."

Allie shrugged. "I could probably win every match." She smiled conspiratorially at him. "I have a really effective secret technique that I'd use to win."

Was that an innocuous statement? "What, uh, what would that be?"

Allie leaned over toward him. "I'd just blow the guy." Art felt his dick leap to full attention. He didn't know if Allie had noticed, but she sat back up and ignored it if she did. "Figure no guy is gonna throw me off him if I've got his dick in my mouth. I'm really good at sucking dick. I eat pretty good pussy, too. Or so I'm told."

What do you say to that? Oh? That's so interesting? Art scrambled. "How, uh, how would you pin them?"

Allie smiled as the show went to commercial. "We'd just 69. It takes me longer than three seconds to cum, usually. What about you?"

Art started to sweat. What the fuck. She was just teasing him. Surely. "I've never, uh, timed it."

Allie tilted her head in mock-consideration. "Well, you're gonna be here a while. Maybe we should find out?"

Art was one loaded statement away from hyperventilation. This lady! It was hot, but her husband was right there, and he had a whole garage full of blunt instruments. "Hey, uh, your husband-"

"Knows exactly who he married," Allie finished for him, leaning in. "Don't worry about Jake, Art. He's out there figuring out how much money you owe him. How much did he say it would be?"

Art found himself looking her in the eyes. They were a rich brown, like fresh turned, fertile soil. Little flecks of gold floated in them. Her cute little nose turned up at the end, and her pink lips were plump and desperate to be chewed on.

"How much are you spending, Art?" she asked him, and he could feel her hand creeping up his leg, just a pair of fingertips on the bare skin of his inner thigh.

"Um, maybe three th-thousand?"

"Seems like a lot of money," she said, leaning even more into his space. Art leaned back a little, and she was practically on top of him. "If I were to spend three grand unexpectedly, I'd at least hope to get laid in the deal."

And with that she pounced on him. Art didn't know where to put his hands at first. Allie had no such issues, her right hand coming up behind his head to grab his hair and pull him into the kiss, her left grabbing his own right hand and putting it square on her breast. Art moaned. The animal part of him knew he had at least eighty pounds on this woman. He could toss her off him and storm out of the break room. He wasn't even that big a guy, but he could probably trounce this lady. But the animal part of him also wasn't interested in pushing her away. And he let the animal part drive for a while.

She pulled his shirt up over his head. He didn't even have time to feel self-conscious as she started biting her way with half-gentle attacks down his chest, taking a nipple into her mouth and sucking it while running her tongue around it. Art felt that all down his spine, and he clenched up for a moment, but she was soon licking her way back up his chest while maneuvering her way onto his lap, straddling him while sucking on his lower lip, then pulling his head to the side and nibbling on his earlobe.

Art realized he was being as passive as a virgin and quickly brought his hands to her ass, giving it a double-handed squeeze. She moaned approvingly and rocked forward on him, her breasts pressing against his chest and her thin white panties rubbing against the thin, soft, slick material of his shorts along his length. She scratched down his arms, then guided his hands from her ass to the bottom hem of her halter top. It took no more encouragement than that for him to lift the shirt, whih stretched and blocked his vision as he got it above her head. Then his hands were on her tits. They were a little more than a handful, and her dark nipples stood up like Hershey's Kisses. He leaned forward, holding her up with one hand so he could suckle at her nipple while squeezing her ass again with the other. She let out a gasping moan and ground against him even more. Art indulged in her nipple, sucking on it like a Tootsie Pop. He'd always been too impatient to suck on one of those without biting it, and her tit was no exception. She let out a gasp and an even louder groan when he did, grabbing onto his hair again with one hand and her other bare breast with the other.

"Fuck, Art. I should be paying you for that," Allie said as Art leaned back, taking her with him. She pushed off of him then, landing softly on her feet and leaning over him. She had the tiniest, sultry smile on her face as she slowly knelt down, keeping intense eye contact with him all the while. When she got to her knees she ran her hands up his thighs and inside his shorts, her fingers and thumbs gently scraping the sides of his sack and shaft. "Look what I've found," she said, and with that she grabbed the waistband of his shorts from inside and pulled them down. Art's cock popped up like a jack-in-the-box, and Allie's face lit up. "Oh, Art. You're just too generous with me." And with that, she took him all the way to the base, her tongue massaging the underside of his cock. He felt the head of his cock just pass through her throat as she slurped and she looked up at him with her great big, brown eyes.

Art wasn't proud, then, as he erupted in her mouth. He made an unmanly noise and exploded. That was all there was to it. Allie looked surprised, but she drank it all down. Her tongue and throat coaxed what they could, and it felt like she was sucking his soul out. In his defense, she'd been riling him up for a while, and it'd been a while for him. He wasn't one for self-flagellation, which left him with a hair trigger.

As she slipped his still hard cock out of her mouth, Allie let it stand up against her face, his balls resting on her chin and the tip coming up just past her cute little nose. "Arty, baby," she said, smiling. "You gotta work that muscle out more. With any other girl it might be embarrassing to come so quick."

Art put his face in his hands. "Oh my God! I'm sorry. It's just been a while."

He felt her climb up on his lap, her panties rubbing up against his still sensitive prick. She pulled his hands away from his face, still smiling. "I'm not mad, baby," she told him, putting his hands on her chest. "I like to start with a BJ to make sure you've got some endurance for round two."

Art's eyebrows shot up. "Round two?"

Allie's smile was almost manic. "You're gonna be here for hours. I can tell you right now, Court TV is not that interesting." With that she leaned down and gave him a full kiss on the lips. A small part of Art wanted to recoil, since he had no intention of tasting his own cum, but the better part of him just rolled with it. "So," she said, barely drawing her lips away from his, her eyes focused on his mouth, "how are you at eating pussy?"

Art couldn't remember getting down on his knees, but he soon found himself worshiping at the alter of her box, doing penance with lips and tongue. He held her thighs as her legs draped over his shoulders, and he suckled on her little pearl, biting ever so slightly and lightly licking it with her tongue, and then he'd back off and use a wide flat lick to lap at her lips and clit all at once. Above him, Allie tweaked her nipples and hefted her breasts. She grabbed her hair and his hair, ran her hands across her face and body, and writhed. She moaned and squirmed and pushed her snatch up into his face. A litany of, "Uh, uh, fuck baby, yes," poured out of her. After a solid ten minutes of his ministrations, Allie squeezed his head with her legs, arched her back and squealed, collapsing back down afterward and panting, pushing his head away ever so roughly. "Fuck, baby, that's good eatin'," she said with a smile.

"I was a little worried," he said. "It's been a little while since I've had the opportunity to, uh-"

She laughed from her belly. "I. Am. Glad to be the one who got your return to form. Fuck. You've got some fucking lung capacity."

Art smiled and kissed her inner thigh. "Well, I had to make up for cumming so quick."

She laughed again. "I mean, I thought it would take longer for me, though. I came just this morning."