In the Car Repair Shop

The central locking clicks. Bridget opens the door of the mini convertible and elegantly swings into her dark green city car. She quickly checked the makeup and the fit of the police sunglasses, then opened the convertible top. Out of the underground car park and into the bright sunlight of a hot July evening. The slender hands with mother-of-pearl painted fingernails skilfully operate the instruments of the high-horsepower car. Bridget maneuvers quickly through the moderate city traffic. On these hot summer days, people are on vacation or swimming.

Bridget isn’t going home. She has an appointment at the auto repair shop. Nothing is missing from her Mini Cooper: it purrs quietly and reliably through the urban canyons of the city.“Fancy a technical review? I got brand new spark plugs!” Timo reported in a short message.

Of course, Bridget wanted to. Bridget fancies Timo’s skillful hands. And she has lust for his unbridled sexual determination. There were no games with Timo. He didn’t do any antics. He didn’t ask for long, but got to the point.

“Are you still accepting repair orders at this time?” Bridget had replied cheekily. A pleasant warmth immediately began to spread in her lap. She shut down her PC.

The smartphone beeped again: “Always for regular customers!” Bridget smiled.

Bridget was the uptown girl in Billy Joel’s music video. Well-off upper-class lady has an affair with a muscular car mechanic. A cliché? Of course. But it’s fun to make clichés become reality! She would have to write off her Raffaelo Rossi pantsuit and the Robert Friedman satin blouse: Timo’s oil-smeared hands would ruin her business fashion. They always did. A few hundred euros were spent this way for a good fuck. But it was worth it. Bridget sighs. With anticipation.

Bridget drives her car onto the workshop premises. The roller shutter rattles up and Bridget parks her convertible in the tidy hall. Timo stands at the control panel from where he operates the roller shutter.He enjoys examining the long-legged blonde as she climbs out of her car in high heels. This woman has curves. She’s vain, she’s wealthy and she’s a good fuck.

Timo actually had resentments. Resentments towards people who strutted around the world in their designer clothes. Showed off their cars, smartphones and watches. Sitting in the executive floors of their office buildings, negotiating bonuses for themselves and sipping champagne, they laid off a few dozen workers with the click of a mouse just because the share price had lost a little momentum.

It was only fair if he fucked Bridget’s soul out of her body.

“Come here, my beautiful one!” Bridget quickly puts her sunglasses in the car. Swinging her hips and smiling lasciviously, she heads towards the man. She is amazed to see how weak her knees are and how fast her heart is racing. She has nothing to counteract this masculinity.

With a grip on her bottom, Timo presses her hips against his lap. His magnificent erection is still well packed in his torn jeans. Bridget lustfully places her hands on the man’s well-defined chest muscles. Without further ado, he puts his other hand around her neck and begins to kiss her. It’s not a sophisticated kiss, but a demanding one. And Bridget knows what Timo wants from her. He takes off her blazer. The bright top falls carelessly onto the workshop floor.

Timo doesn’t care. When he sees the blouse and its buttons, Timo makes short work of it. He doesn’t spend long on fiddly fine motor skills, but tears the fabric off Bridget with playful ease. Bridget can’t impress him with her designer fashion, he wants bare facts.

Bridget moans as Timo starts stimulating her breasts. With his other hand he pushes up his skirt to get to the juicy flesh of that manager’s ass.This first-class bottom is well-shaped and well-trained. Bridget probably spends a mechanic’s monthly salary at the gym. Let’s see if the investment was worth it.

Timo makes sure that Bridget shows him her backside. He pushes her against the Ford Mustang, which is standing there waiting for an oil change. “Did you have a good day at the office?” Timo asks as he pushes his cock into Bridget’s wet slit. Bridget makes an inarticulate sound. For Timo, this moan sounds like relief, satisfaction, horny contentment.

“New sales record!” gasps Bridget. She turns her head to catch a glimpse of the rhythmically thrusting male body that is currently giving her such wonderful pleasure.

“Soon you won’t be thinking about your sales anymore!” Timo growls and thrusts even harder. Bridget takes her breath away. Even the Ford Mustang bounces to the rhythm of the copulating bodies.

Bridget is breathing, panting, moaning. She’s busy dealing with the ecstatic pleasure that Timo’s hard, throbbing cock triggers in her crotch. Evenly, rhythmically, like the piston of an engine, his cock rammed into her core.

“Great chassis!” Bridget hears Timo whisper. Bridget doesn’t mind his whimsy of comparing her to a sports car. On the contrary. She doesn’t want noble restraint in sex, or respect. Nothing is more annoying than constantly asking if she likes it.

Timo doesn’t bother with things like that anyway. His big, strong hands rest on her hips. They impose their rhythm on Bridget’s bottom. Graceful shoulders, narrow waist, curvy pelvis. The skin is velvety-soft. Perfect design, thinks Timo. Meanwhile, Bridget forces herself to open her eyes. She is a little afraid to completely surrender to what is going on inside her. An exhausted look into the workshop should briefly remind her of the here and now. Bridget’s attention falls on an old, metal Valvoline advertising sign in a 1950s design: “High Performance Lubricant,” the slogan praises the qualities of the lubricant. How true, Bridget thinks to herself and closes her eyes again. Her lubricant runs down the insides of her thighs.

Timo increases the speed. Bridget’s staying skills never cease to amaze him. There she stands in front of him on her wobbly heels, bent over, propped up on the Mustang, with her butt sticking out demandingly - and no sign of exhaustion or tiredness. With this device you can climb the steepest peaks, thinks Timo. The next moment he erupts into the woman’s lap. The joyride with Bridget is over.

The roller shutter goes up. Bridget checks her appearance in the mirror. There’s nothing that can be done: the hair is disheveled, the makeup is destroyed. The sexual excitement has conjured up a rosy glow on her cheeks. Her hands are still shaking a little as she steers the Mini onto the road. Did she hear a grinding noise on the rear axle or was she just imagining it? She would make a new workshop appointment. Better safe than sorry.