Joyride

Satisfied, Timo dried his hands. He slowly walked around the 1965 MG convertible. The classic car, painted in British racing green, gleamed in the neon light of the small workshop. Countless hours of work had gone into the restoration and now the vehicle looked like new. In the next few days, a specialist company would deliver the newly constructed top and then he would take Bridget on a tour.

Timo was a mechanic and owner of a small, independent car workshop. And when Timo was not dealing with soulless mass products from the vehicle factories of the large corporations, but with treasures like this one, he had to think of Bridget. Beautiful cars triggered pleasant thoughts of Bridget. Which was no wonder, because Bridget was as exotic a woman as this artfully designed car. Her hands were not smeared with oil, but perfectly cared for, including first-class manicured nails. She expressed herself in a sophisticated way, was confident in every social setting, incredibly self-confident and extraordinarily attractive. This Bridget knew how she affected men - oh yes, and how she knew it! There could be no doubt about that. Her pronounced pride, her confidence bordering on arrogance, the flirtatious play with her physical assets, the skilful staging of the luxury items she wore and surrounded herself with - all of this fascinated and irritated Timo. In a certain way, Bridget represented a provocation for Timo. He was from the working class. He got dirty at work and did not smell of La Vie est Belle. He did not wear boots worth several thousand euros. Bridget was actually the class enemy: too decadent, too wealthy, too successful - untouchable.

No, Bridget was not untouchable. After all, he had already fucked this blonde capitalist several times. And every time he fucked Bridget, he felt this strange satisfaction. He would never get a woman like Bridget, nor would he ever rise into the social circles in which Bridget moved: But when he fucked Bridget, he always had the satisfying feeling of getting a tiny piece of the pie in this way.

Timo sighed and used a soft cloth to polish away a small stain that he thought he had seen above the gas cap. Now and then, three or four times a year, Timo met with Bridget. Bridget was actually his customer, but her various vehicles were usually in good condition. They only met to fuck. When it came to sex, Bridget was very uncomplicated. A short text message was enough - "Want to fuck?" - and usually a few hours later he had the pleasure of ramming his proletarian cock into the lap of this upper-class lady. Bridget didn't need to be asked twice - she had a strong weakness for well-built men with a hearty sexual appetite.

Timo sighed again. The idea of a trip in a vintage car was a risky one. Sex in the workshop was uncomplicated. But taking part in a vintage car rally together over a whole weekend - that seemed as if he had intentions that went beyond quick, animalistic sex. And Timo didn't have them. This lady should be fucked and that was that. And yet - he would be happy if he could impress Bridget with a joyride in a vintage car.

Timo hated it when complicated mental constructs obscured his view of the essentials. So he reached for his cell phone: "Want to go on a vintage car rally in a 1965 MG convertible?" He put the smartphone in his pocket, locked the roller doors and turned off the lights. It was time to say goodbye to the little speedster and drive home. Before Timo had even reached the office, his phone buzzed.

"If the car has enough displacement, I'm in! You know that!" Bridget loved to make erotic insinuations. Did this woman have nothing in her pretty head other than sex?

Before he could answer, his cell phone buzzed again. "Details?" was another short and sweet message.

Timo sat down at his PC. A customer who was good with computers had installed a WhatsApp application on his PC and linked it to his cell phone. It was light years easier for Timo to type messages on the keyboard rather than on the touch screen - especially after a long day in the workshop.

Timo sent Bridget a photo of the MG convertible and a link to the organizers' website. Vintage car rally on the coast. Exquisite participants, rare vehicles, a motorcade through the prettiest towns on Saturday and Sunday and the jury's evaluation on Sunday. Hotels and restaurants were exquisite. Timo had the feeling that the program would meet Bridget's high standards.

"I'm in!" Bridget replied immediately. "But only if the chauffeur also takes care of the lady in the passenger seat and not just the spark plugs!"

Satisfied, Timo put the device away. In his daydreams he was fucking Bridget on the hood of the MG, somewhere on the coast, maybe at sunset...

________________________________________

"Do you see the dark clouds up ahead?" Bridget enjoyed the brisk ride in the passenger seat of the MG. Timo looked great, not at all like a mechanic, Bridget thought. He was wearing beige trousers, a light shirt, classic sunglasses. She had styled herself in the style of the 80s. Of course, the car was from the 60s. But Bridget had no desire for petticoats, hippie patchwork or sheath dresses in the style of Twiggy. She preferred the 80s fashion: tight jeans, figure-hugging white T-shirt, denim jacket. Simple, but effective: Timo couldn't take his eyes off her tits, which forced her shirt into such seductive shapes.

"Oh, come on, they're going by!" Timo dismissed Bridget's warning. As it turned out, meteorology was not Timo's specialty. The sky was getting darker and darker, then the wind started to pick up.

"How long is it until we reach the country hotel at our stopover point?" asked Bridget.

"Too far. We won't make it there!" Timo now realized the seriousness of the situation. He stopped the vehicle to close the roof. The first drops of rain fell from the sky. "Damn!" cursed Timo.

A few seconds later, the situation had escalated further. There were problems with the roof's mechanism. Timo tried to stay calm, but the few single drops soon turned into rain. Now Bridget also jumped out of the car. "Can I help you?" she asked. She suffered with Timo, after all, the lovingly and carefully renovated interior of the car was not designed to be exposed to a downpour.

But Timo remained calm. He tried to identify the problem without rushing. Then he gave up. "We have to park the vehicle somewhere." Meanwhile, the rain had gotten heavier. The first raindrops had been soaked up by the cotton of her jeans and t-shirt, but Bridget's clothes were now completely soaked. Whereas there had previously been air between the fabric and her skin, the wet fabric now stuck to Bridget's skin.

"Shit, you look great!" declared Timo as he started the car's engine - also completely soaked. Bridget had just consulted her smartphone. They were stranded in a pretty lonely area. The only building nearby was a road maintenance post. This was two kilometers away.

"Do I?" Bridget asked, irritated.

"Your breasts, of course! With this look, you'll win every wet T-shirt competition!" Timo grinned lasciviously. The water dripped from his nose.

Bridget looked down at herself. She was practically naked - the thin, wet fabric of her T-shirt stuck to her round, wet breasts. Since she hadn't worn a bra today for Timo's sake, her charms were shown off in an extremely delicate way.

"Do you like my look?" Bridget asked cheekily. She had to shout to make herself heard: the rain, the wind and the engine created a huge soundscape. "10 out of 10!" Timo was enthusiastic.

"Don't you think the T-shirt should be a lot wetter?" Bridget asked cheekily.

"Wet is always better!" Timo decided. The sky seemed to take this as a challenge and opened its floodgates completely: it was pouring with rain. But Bridget unbuckled her seatbelt, grabbed a lever under the passenger seat and pushed it all the way back. Then she grabbed the upper frame of the windshield with her hands and stood up. At first she couldn't breathe: when the wind and rain hit her at over 60 km/h, breathing was anything but easy. The individual raindrops felt almost like pinpricks and the Balenciaga shades no longer protected her from the sun, but from H2O. Bridget let the rain splash against her face and upper body. Her makeup was ruined, as was her hairstyle. The T-shirt had instantly become completely transparent from all the wetness.

"You are the object of my wet dreams!" Timo exclaimed. He watched with delight as the wind pressed the fabric against Bridget's wet breasts. The engine of the MG purred like a kitten, but Bridget's juicy breasts trembled in sync with the vibration of the vehicle. Given this uplifting visual stimulation, it was no surprise that Timo now gave Bridget a juicy slap on the bottom with his right hand. Bridget's ass and her sensual thighs also benefited from the wet look - which, by the way, was caused by a storm over the North Sea.

On the right-hand side of the road, the road maintenance building had appeared in a kind of lay-by. The first thing Bridget noticed was the building's spacious canopy. Presumably the road maintenance vehicles could be loaded here without being exposed to the weather - e.g. with grit in winter. "Ideal!" Timo exclaimed. He seemed somewhat relieved - he probably hoped that the damage would be limited.

Timo jumped out of the car and marched to the building without comment. He pressed the handle of a somewhat battered-looking metal door. The door was locked, of course. "We'll get that in a minute!" he explained and got his tools out of the car. He also heaved his small rolling suitcase out of the tiny trunk of the vehicle.

"What are you planning?" asked Bridget, who was now also climbing out of the car. The wetness and the cool air were getting to her.

"Three things, darling: First I'll get us into this building!" Timo pointed to his toolbox. "Then I'll shove my cock under your wet shirt and between your boobs and I'll treat myself to a tit-fuck. After that we'll put on dry clothes and get picked up here. We can't go any further with the MG. The seats are completely wet and I can't repair the top with the simple tools here." There was a short pause and Bridget heard the rain pattering on the corrugated iron roof. "What was the second point in your plan again?" she asked innocently. "Titty fuck with the winner of the wet T-shirt competition?" Timo answered with a rhetorical question. "Do you have any complaints about this part of the program?"

"But what about my pussy? It could use a well-tempered heating element after this cooling down!" Bridget underlined her explicit announcement by letting the middle finger of her right hand slide over the wet jeans between her thighs.

"That's negotiable, of course!" grinned Timo. Bridget pursed her lips and blew a smacking kiss in the direction of the man. Timo responded by winking meaningfully at the blonde. Timo was torn by the sight of Bridget. She looked as if she had been pushed into the pool at a pool party. There was something wickedly dramatic about the runny makeup. The white T-shirt stuck to her breasts like a second skin. The cold and wetness had caused her nipples to protrude like rocket launchers. The jeans, which were already super-skinny and stretchy when dry and hugged her curves, now looked as if they had been sprayed onto the skin of this classy woman by a body paint artist. Timo felt that his heating element - that was how Bridget had put it - had already reached operating temperature.

Bridget was amazed at how quickly Timo had managed to open the door lock. The room was bare but clean. A small makeshift kitchen, an old table with various chairs. An old TV hung on the wall. A huge street map was stuck to another wall, as well as a telephone and a list of important phone numbers. There were several large cupboards. But Bridget's attention was drawn to what had already risen up between Timo's legs. Timo was already sitting naked on one of the chairs and indicated to Bridget that there was still room for her on his lap.

"Not so fast!" giggled Bridget. She quickly opened her suitcase and pulled out a relatively large, satin black bag. The next moment she had tipped the contents of the bag onto the table: A metal dildo appeared, three anal plugs, a vibrating egg, a huge magic wand vibrator, a large tube of lubricant, an assortment of condoms, handcuffs and two paddles. "My little travel assortment!" Bridget explained to the astonished man.

"You're perverted and that's exactly why you're my type!" explained Timo. Bridget laughed and began to wriggle out of her wet jeans. The fabric stuck to her damp skin and it wasn't easy to peel herself off her pants. "Leave the T-shirt on for a bit longer!" suggested Timo. Bridget had long since realized that her breasts had made a powerful impression on Timo in that wet top.

"As the Lord wishes!" Bridget replied coquettishly. Then Bridget grabbed Timo by the shoulders and swung herself onto the man's lap with an elegant movement. Her pleasure slit noisily received Timo's erect cock. "Is there ever a moment when you're not ready to go?" Timo asked appreciatively. He felt the woman's wet vagina greedily clinging to his cock. But Bridget put her index finger on Timo's lips and shook her head in denial. "Stop talking so much!"

Timo grabbed Bridget's fleshy buttocks with his large hands and pressed himself even deeper into her. Bridget's facial expression relaxed, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Her hips slowly began to move. The initially cautious, almost tender riding quickly gained momentum, becoming more impulsive and rhythmic. Timo adapted to the woman's sexual rhythm. Step by step he made Bridget's rhythm his own. Without Bridget really noticing, Timo took control a little more with each penetration. His grip on her ass became more dominant, more demanding. Instinctively, Bridget increased the movements of her pelvis in order to regain control. But Timo's workshop-hardened muscles no longer allowed this: the man had the blonde lightweight under control, and the spirited ride of his cheeky passenger on his erection did very little to change that.

Bridget appreciated that Timo didn't beat around the bush. He was the same when it came to sex. There were no games or shenanigans, no either/or. Tactical banter was foreign to Timo. "You're a woman who deserves to be fucked!" announced Timo, groaning. "I'm going to switch to fifth gear now!" Timo actually increased the pace again.

When her orgasm washed her away, her world had once again shrunk to a singularity. Her senses failed, her breathing stopped. She didn't want to breathe out at that moment either, because that would allow her lust to escape. But Bridget didn't want that. It was as if her entire existence consisted only of her all-consuming horniness.

"Breathe Bridget, breathe!" she heard Timo's voice. Bridget breathed, then she felt a loving embrace. Suddenly she was back in the here and now.