Sexy Red Cars and Sex

The Ferrari came to a stop right next to me. I was pretty bad at telling cars apart, but I had no trouble identifying this one – particularly because it was cherry-red and buffed to a shine. The roof was down already, and the tinted window dropped to reveal a grinning face. Obviously this fellow was a fan; all those classic cars to choose from but this was the one he was tooling around in, driving it off the museum floor to the sunny outdoor courtyard.

I hadn’t visited Southward since I was a teenager. Back then it was the De Lorean and the bullet-riddled Cadillac which caught my attention. Now I was all about the shiny and the fast – and that applied to potential partners as well as vehicles.

“Hello there,” he said, looking up at my breasts. I was wearing a very low-cut pale patterned sunfrock, long on the leg and short on everything else.

“Well hello there,” I replied. “You work here?” I checked him out, frankly. Nice face, clean t-shirt bearing the Southward logo. Maybe a decade younger than me – but that was all right.

“You could say that. This place is in the family.” He smiled again, and I smiled back. There were possibilities here.

“Oh really? Show me around, then?”

“Hop in,” he said by way of reply.

In I hopped. Well, slid. The car was low-slung and smelled of polish and perfection. He smelled pretty fine too. I admired his hands as he helped put my seatbelt on, leaning into my cleavage as he did so. Yes, he was definitely fast. I liked it. “So, what will you show me?”

By way of reply he revved the car, turning it, and drove us around the back of the museum building into an open mechanical garage. “I could just show you the cars,” he said. “But I think you have something else in mind instead, yes?”

I smiled and put my right hand onto his crotch. “Yes. Let me help you off with that … seatbelt.” I felt him jump under my hand. A pleasing response.

We both exited the car, and the intense smell of grease and tyres and car hit me. It reminded me of the years I’d spent working at the petrol station after school – but this would be with more fun with any luck. “Come see this,” he said, taking my hand. He pulled me away from the Ferrari and deeper into the workshop. “This is where we work on new arrivals. Strip them back, check them out, get inside and make sure everything’s top shape.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh really? And what new arrivals do you have today?”

He looked me up and down, slowly. “Oh, a really nice piece. Classic lines, plenty beneath the hood. I think she’ll revv hard and drive fast. Might need to strip a bit back to check everything’s in working order, though.”

We stopped, back up against … well, some old car. It wasn’t as shiny as the Ferrari, but it stood higher, blocking some of the view from the entrance. “Guess you better check then, huh?” I lifted my dress, flashing my pale knickers. “Need to strip back further?”

“Not yet. Gotta check the engine first.” He dropped to his knees, hands pressing on my thighs. He sniffed, deeply. “Smells good. Like the oil is running cleanly. Still gotta check further though.” He pressed his chin, ever so slightly stubbly, up against the gusset of my knickers. His tongue pressed against the material. I groaned.

He moved back an inch, enough to murmur:”Ah, there’s that oil. Fresh. Doesn’t need changing.”

I gasped. “Perhaps. It might. Need a dipstick check?” I remembered something from those gas station hours, after all.

“Not quite yet,” he replied, before slipping his tongue back against me. The fabric pressed hard against my cunt, and I bucked against his face.

“Please?” I was ready to beg. For tongue, or cock, or hands, or anything but this underwear in the way. “Please, strip me down?”

He knelt back, tongue swiping his lips. A smile flashed and was gone again. “Oh, you are a fast one.” He nodded. “Okay. Take them off. Just the knickers though – leave on your dress.”

My turn to smile. “How about you?”

“Oh, I know I’m in working order. All I need to do is get out that dipstick and prep it for use.” As I stepped out of sandals and dropped my knickers to the concrete, he stood up again and lowered his zip. I gulped. No underwear, no pubic hair that I could see. Just a long cock that he coaxed out of his jeans leg so it poked free and firm.

We stood in contrast. I was holding my skirt up, half naked and rather bushy. He was fully clothed except for that lovely long …dipstick. I raised my eyebrows at him. “Prepping for use?”

“Oh yes!” He fished a foil packet out of his back pocket. “Care to do the honours?”

Ah. There was a trick I knew – always good for impressing. I took the packet from him. “Close your eyes.” He did so and stood there. He should have looked vulnerable, silly; instead he was like an elegant statue. I could see dust motes in the air, sunshine peeking down on us from the high windows. His cock shone.

Carefully kneeling on the ground, I opened the condom packet, checked which direction it was facing, and then placed against my mouth.  I leaned forward, putting my own hands on his thighs. It was the perfect time for another car double entendre, but all I could think was “Sauce for the goose…” My mouth covered the tip of his cock, and I began to use my lips to roll the condom down his length. Slowly, using my tongue, I ensured it reached the base. My hands remained on his thighs, and I could feel him quiver.

“Fuuuuuck,” was his response. Good encouragement. I applied pressure and sucked at him, swiping my tongue back up and across his frenulum. Latex wasn’t my favourite taste, but it was well worth it in this circumstance.

I sat back on my haunches. “All prepped.” His eyes opened.

“You are amazing,” he said. “And I can’t wait to ride you.” His hands lifted me back to my feet. “Turn around.”

He swung me about so I was leaning against the car. I was facing the garage doorway, and I could see the Ferrari, the outdoors, the hedges in the distance. “Hold your dress up.” I lifted my skirt above my arse, then bent further over the car using my shoulders for support. His hands caressed my arse cheeks, then grabbed firmly.

“Guh,” I said, intelligently. “Fuck me, please.”

He lifted me up a little, propped my legs apart with his knees. “Ready?”

“The ‘oil’ didn’t give it away? Just fuck me, now!” No gentle sliding home for this boy. He slid in firm and deep, bottoming out with an audible grunt. I was making noise too, as it felt great. “Fuck, yes!” I pushed back against him. “Revv that engine!”

We fucked. Or he fucked and I thoroughly enjoyed the ride. My shoulders banged against the car; my knees buckled as he rutted. His cock slammed in and out, and I moved with each gyration, trying to keep him deep in me.  I could feel my cunt juices running down my thighs, and wondered fleetingly if they were getting on his jeans. Not that I cared.

One of his hands grabbed my hair, pulling my head back. I turned toward him with the pull, looked at his face. He was glorious, sweaty and smiling and rough. We came together in a kiss; just as rough and probing as the fucking was. As he let my hair go, I felt the burn, knew my orgasm was imminent. “Harder!” I ordered. “I’m soclose.”

He took orders well, holding my shoulders and slamming into me. I lost my grip on my skirt and didn’t care. And then I was there. “Fuck!” I clenched hard and spasmed around him. “Fuck fuck FUCK.”

He didn’t stop for much more than a second, just until my grip released him. Didn’t slow and didn’t gentle. He kept on sliding in and out, crashing me hard into the car door. I went with it, glorying in the ride. The sounds he made were perfect: bestial and needy and full of lust. And then it was his turn. His hands clenched harder; his body shuddered; his cock pressed deep and deeper and then stayed, quivering. “God DAMN!” He shuddered again. “Fuck.”

I chuckled. He collapsed forward, covering me with his sweaty clothed body. “We’re both potty-mouths, I see.”

“If ever there was a time to swear…” I grinned. “So. How’s that new arrival?”

He blinked at me, lost. “Oh yes!” He laughed. “Damn, but she’s one hell of a ride. Definitely one to show off.”

“A shame she’s not for sale then,” I said. “I think you can probably take her out for a spin now and then, though.” I smiled at him. “Thanks for the test drive – it’s good to know everything’s in working order.”

And it was. I knew I’d be back the next weekend, just to check out the museum cars again. How better to spend a summer’s afternoon?

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