Repairs

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Trip for repairs holds many sexy surprises.
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Eagle1
Eagle1
194 Followers

I checked my watch again for the third time that half hour. As if mocking me, it read only 9:24. The minute hand had crawled only ten minutes further from the last time I'd checked. I had one of those feelings that this was going to be a long morning, although I couldn't have guessed at that moment that it would be for all the right reasons.

I was sitting in the waiting room of a glass and auto body shop.

'Waiting room' was probably a generous term in the extreme. The shop itself was one of the many warehouses in that neighborhood having been crudely converted into some semblance of civilized space for the benefit of customers. From the outside the building looked derelict, even though located in an up and coming district. Most of the businesses around that side of town were known only to the tradesman and lowbrows who frequented the area and none were visited very often by the everyday Joes like me who happened to find their way down here to get some sort of work done.

And the nondescript door looked more like the entrance to a speakeasy than a business.

When I had arrived at 8:30 that morning, I had been found it open and askew on unsure hinges. The entrance opened to a short rectangular room, with a counter at the far end, and the waiting room going off to the side forming an L shape. Every square inch of the place was covered in clippings, posters and other assorted papers. Here and there was the odd picture of a scantily clad woman or girlie calendar, you know mostly women posing on hot rods and motorcycles, right next to a poster advertising some exciting new feature for the ghetto gangbangers to add to their supped up, gold chrome rides.

It was a thoroughly masculine environment: from the décor, to the banter.

Speaking for no one but myself, I especially appreciated the sexy Miss Chinatown calendar that still hung next to the cash register, even though it was several years out of date.

Notwithstanding my current state of affairs, I had managed to maintain my usual good nature throughout the morning. Considering everything, I thought that was pretty good. Normally I would have been pretty pissed off, and I had been yesterday morning when I had awoken from a great night spent screwing my girlfriend at her apartment across the bay. In the best of moods I had gotten into my car to drive to my office when I discovered that some dumb fuck had smashed out the rear passenger side window on my car. This in and of itself wouldn't have been such a bloody crisis, except the winter rains had just started.

What really ticked me off was that whoever it was had stolen my pair of two hundred dollar sunglasses.

I'd really loved those sunglasses.

So here I was in the waiting room, taking the morning off, canceling important client meetings, all so I could get a damn window fixed before the rain ruined my interior.

I glanced around the room, located through a doorway from the main entrance. It was small, about seven foot by five. It's a good thing I wasn't claustrophobic, 'cause I'd been in bigger closets. The walls were bare sheetrock. No one had bothered to finish off the drywall with mud or tape, let alone paint.

I think the Geneva Conventions mandate cleaner prison cells.

My ass had been parked for the last hour on one of three chairs that were arrayed around a coffee table that looked like it came from the eighties. There was some newspaper that was permanently stuck to part of its surface. The ratty chairs were definitely older than I was. To my immediate right was one of those old red candy machines, where you put in change and get a gumball. All it held now was what looked to be a mix of peanut M&Ms and salted almonds.

The chair across from me, sitting at a grotesque angle, was vacant.

A surly looking young punk who couldn't have been much older than nineteen or twenty occupied the last chair in the far corner of the room. He had arrived about twenty minutes ago with a friend of his, and after the friend had taken off the punk had set up shop in the corner waiting for his car to be finished.

The kid had on a hooded jacket, the hood being pulled up over his baseball cap. The rest of the outfit was typical slacker: t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. He was one of those sloppy looking white boys, with a half-goatee thing growing under his lip that looked more like unwashed dirt than facial hair. A silver eyebrow ring completed the ensemble, which I admit (never having had one myself) was kinda cool looking.

His parents were probably stockbrokers or something.

With the Italian suit and leather shoes I was wearing, we probably couldn't have made a bigger contrast if we tried.

And, no doubt, I looked completely out of place.

The punk glanced up from reading his Playboy magazine and nodded at me, giving me this nervous look, like if I glanced in his direction I might try to make a pass at him or something.

I couldn't quite bring myself to examine the depositions that were sitting in the briefcase I'd brought with me so that I'd have something to do. Instead I just lounged in my chair, half-paying attention to the shit talking going on between the employees and their various customers. I had a pretty good view of the goings on in the other room, since my chair was near the waiting room door.

The employees were a motley crew fit to match their surroundings.

The two main honchos were both young Hispanic dudes: Andy and Carlos. Each of whom spoke better Spanish than English and their hair was greased back with whatever crap it was they put in it. If you were to hold a lit match up to their heads I expect the resulting fire would be something like a blowtorch. The rest of the crew was a mixture of dirty Asian and Caucasian greasers who were running back and forth between the cars with the auto parts and repair glass.

Carlos was the guy who had written down my repair estimate. I started paying attention to something he was saying something to his compatriot Andy.

"Dude, you know it's my birthday," he told the other guy, who couldn't appear more disinterested.

"Yeah, man?" said Andy, and then there was this pause as he filled in paperwork.

Suddenly out of the blue, Andy sang off key, "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday mother-fucker, happy birthday to you."

There was a loud peel of laughter from one of the guys in the back, followed by general sniggering.

"Dude that was harsh," someone else said laughing.

"So what you getting for your birthday, man?" asked Andy.

"I'm gonna party all night, man," replied Carlos, accent thick, "I'm gonna get all fucked up and shit."

Then the phones started ringing and the conversation died off for a bit.

"My girl's coming by," said Andy, after hanging up his last call, "She called me up on her cell phone. Said she was gonna give me a treat."

"Andy, dude," asked a voice from the back, "She new?"

"Yeah, man," he replied to no one in particular, although adding a wink in my direction when he caught me glancing his way, "Can you believe I haven't been dating for like six months?"

"You?" someone asked disbelieving, "You a player, man!"

"Whatever, dude," said Andy, making some pretty grotesque hand gestures as he spoke, "I almost forgot how my dick worked till I met this bitch. She got all the pussy you want, bro. She all tight and fine, and mmmmm.... I blow before I get it inside, man, it's that good."

There were murmurs of understanding from the guys.

"I wish some girl'd come sit on my dick for awhile," Carlos, interjected, "Everyone should get laid on their birthday. It's like a rule or something."

The punk with the Playboy finally perked up a bit at the conversation.

"Dude," I asked him, "Can I get a look at that magazine?"

I figured if I had to be here I might as well enjoy myself.

He seemed amused by this, "Yeah, man, I got another."

He tossed me the Playboy and took out a copy of some other skin rag. Nothing like some pussy pics to inspire male bonding.

For the next twenty minutes I glanced through some of the porn filled pages and, hell, if I didn't even read some of the articles.

"Mmmm," said someone hungrily, "Damn, baby you looking good!"

This brought me back to the real world and I looked up.

"Good enough to eat," added someone else.

"I hear that man," came another comment from one of the herd, "You hot for me, baby?"

The object of their running commentary was a tall slinky looking girl. She strode on in through the dilapidated door like she hadn't heard a thing they said. No doubt she was used to that sort of remark, especially the way she was dressed.

Her ass was covered in a short black leather skirt, which showed off most of her two fine looking long legs. Glancing down I saw that she was wearing some real shit kickers, probably designer knockoffs, that rode up to her knees. As for the rest of the ensemble, she wore a tight fitting Tweety Bird shirt that struggled to cover her big titties and a purple jacket. The tight ringlets of her jet-black hair were held up in a freaky sort of style that suited her well.

Now she was definitely pretty, no doubt about that.

She looked to be a mix of Latino and something else. She had that hard sort of beauty, streetwise, that comes from too much knowing and too much make-up. But she was way too classy to be confused with a common streetwalker, except maybe by the stuffed shirt set I worked with that is.

"Andy, baby," she whined, going up to the counter and pounding on it with her two-inch long nails, "You kept me waiting, baby...you know how I don't like to wait!"

The guys in the back made jeering noises, joshing around with him. I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but all the same I liked the way her ass moved when she shifted her weight.

"Trisha, how'd you know Tweety Bird was my favorite?" asked Carlos from somewhere back there.

"I didn't," she said, suddenly noticing him, "Guess you was just lucky."

"He wishes he'd get lucky," hollered someone from the back.

There was more general laughter from the crowd.

"It's my birthday," said Carlos, "Did you get me a present?"

This girl was on overdrive. Trisha leaned over the counter and it looked like she was now flirting with Carlos. He would've been getting a great shot of her cleavage if she hadn't been wearing that t-shirt. Her breasts made a nice swell underneath it.

"Dude," said Andy, coming round the counter to take her in his arms and planting a kiss on her lips, as if marking his territory, "Everyone knows it's your fucking birthday, already. Would you give it a fucking rest, dude?"

"Man, I just want a present is all," he pleaded, whining, "Just a little kiss. Baby you want to give me a kiss?"

"I don't think Andy would like it," Trisha said, pouty, leaning in to Andy to give him another kiss, longer this time.

But Carlos would not give up, and after much begging on his part, Andy relented with permission for her to give Carlos a kiss. Carlos came out from behind the counter and she pecked him on the cheek.

"Is that it, baby," he begged, "Can't I get some more?"

She glanced at Andy for guidance, but he'd gone back to whatever he'd been doing at his desk behind the counter. So a little unsure of herself, Trisha turned to Carlos and kissed his lips lightly. Carlos wasn't having any coy shit this time though, he moved in for some real action and soon they were Frenching like nobody was there.

"Dude get a room, already," said one of the guys as he walked past.

"Hey, man!" said Andy roughly, "Leave my woman alone!"

Carlos and Trisha broke apart suddenly as if they'd been caught unawares.

"Baby," said Trisha, trying another tack in that high pitched sort of voice, "I'm hungry. Let's go."

I got something she could eat, I thought to myself, or at least suck on. And I had to adjust my package a little at the thought.

"Okay, baby. Wait here," Andy told her, paying no attention to the rest of us, "I gotta go see to some cars and I'll be right back."

Trisha looked a little pissed at being made to wait.

Andy took off out to the back of the garage.

Carlos decided to seize the opportunity and came up and started whispering stuff in her ear. She laughed. He moved in closer to her, and as she relaxed she eased into his body. He made another suggestion in her ear and she looked reluctant at first, but then her expression changed and she nodded. With her hand in tow he headed for a door on the other side of the room that was labeled 'ladies/gentlemen' in permanent black marker on a cardboard sign.

"Step into my office," he told her, holding open the door.

She went into the john and he followed after, closing the door behind him.

"Dude, what's going on?" the punk asked me, not being able to see anything from where he sat.

"I think she's giving him head in the john while her boyfriend is out back," I said.

"Cool," he replied with a light in his eye.

Glancing at my watch, I could see they were in there for about ten minutes before Carlos came out. I must have been looking at him expectantly, 'cause when he saw me he was just grinning from ear to ear, and zipping up his fly as he came out. Trisha followed after a few minutes. She was clearly in another world. The blowjob must have got her motor running. I glanced at her and she looked at me for the first time, and then she walked over to where I was sitting.

Maybe she was attracted by the way I was dressed.

"Hey, baby," she said to me, all kinds of sassy, "You lookin good. Ain't seen you 'round here before."

I said nothing I did nothing.

I just cocked my head and grinned invitingly at her. Much too my surprise, and that of Carlos standing by the counter, in seconds she had dropped to her knees in front of me and reached for my zipper.

No fucking shit! Just like that. I get lucky all the time, but rarely that lucky. It was the weirdest thing.

Helping her out, I fumbled and hurriedly undid my belt. After undoing my pants, I pulled down my boxer shorts. Between the Playboy and the bathroom incident, I was already half hard. And at that point I was already bigger than an average dude.

"Oh, damn, baby," she said, ogling my cock, "You a big boy baby. Gotta get me a taste of that!"

She lifted my thickening shaft and took me inside her moist mouth.

My boner hardened up real fast, and soon it was far too big to fit entirely within her mouth. Undaunted she licked and sucked around shaft, taking my balls in her mouth, and the tip of my dick as far as it would go down her throat.

The punk had not been able to take his eyes off this whole scene from the start. He had the look of a guy who maybe didn't get laid often enough. (I know I certainly don't, morning and night just isn't often enough if you know what I mean.)

I leaned my head back and relaxed into the rickety chair, savoring her tongue running up and down my dick.

I had a clear view of her tongue snaking out and licking from the bottom of my shaft up to the top. It twitched in her hand as her tongue left a trail of saliva around my mushroom head. I watched her open her mouth and slip the top of my dick inside, and I groaned softly as I watched her lips slide gently down my pole as far as she could go.

She was a pro.

Her mouth felt so warm around my cock as she took as much of my nearly ten inch length as far into her mouth as she could. Trisha's head began to bob up and down on my lap quickly, expertly. Her mouth was slurping loudly around my dick as she gave me amazing head; her lips were gliding up and down my rod with a purpose

Finally, the punk couldn't take it anymore.

The real thing is always better than a magazine. He stood up and unzipped his pants, letting his woody out into his hand so that he could jack himself off. We both rested like that for a few minutes. I let my head fall back against the wall as I held her head in place over my expectant dick. Her lipstick was so thick she left smudges of red on my flesh, and her mouth was so warm and wet I was in heaven. The punk was really enjoying the show, jacking off so fast I thought he might fire right in the open air.

Carlos stood off to the side, jealously looking on.

With sudden inspiration the punk seemed to realize that Trisha's ass was sticking up and waving in the air in front of him invitingly. He grinned at me and knelt down behind her, pushing up her skirt. He looked like he might have been too young to appreciate the pleasure of eating out a fine, sweet looking pussy.

Or maybe he was just in too big a hurry. Whatever the case, instead of sucking her warm, wet cunt, he pushed aside her panties as we watched. He leaned in to her ass and rubbed her pussy with his dick. The sensation caused her to shiver and suck more urgently on my cock.

Satisfied that she was wet enough, the punk got to his knees and positioned his rod at her entrance. She looked back at him momentarily, but made no comment about his familiarity, and meeting no resistance he allowed his shaft to slide on into her empty hole.

He closed his eyes as he savored the moment.

"Oh, yeah..." he groaned.

He was on one knee as he tried to keep himself in a position level and in line with her ass. She sucked harder on me with every one of his thrusts.

"God!" the punk said as he forced himself yet again between her legs, nailing her deep and hard, "What a nice tight, wet cunt."

His thrusts became more and more uneven, his youth appeared to be a real impediment to his staying power.

"Hurry up and cum, man!" I groaned to him, "I wanna get some of that pussy."

As if the words were the trigger, he screwed up his face and sucked in his breath as he pumped his volley of cum up her cunt. He pulled out and collapsed back against the wall, momentarily spent.

Always one to enjoy sloppy seconds, I pulled her head up off my cock and pulled her forward to help her to straddle my lap. My slick cock was wedged between us, but our desire didn't leave it there. She was so horned up with all the action, she groped to undo my clothes and I hers. The Tweety Bird t-shirt and lacy bra presented no real challenge for me. For that matter neither did my suit coat, button down shirt or undershirt. They were all off like lightening.

Soon the two of us were groping each other's bodies with nothing on above the waist.

I loved the feel of her tits in my hands, and even better the taste of her nipples in my mouth, as I felt her hand grope the big, hard muscles of my arms and chest enthusiastically. Our lips were locked and her mouth was on fire. I couldn't get enough of her taste.

And by this time we had a real audience.

Carlos had been joined by some co-workers and maybe even a couple customers, I'm not sure. The punk and I had been so engrossed in Trisha that we hadn't been paying any attention to the arrival of anyone else.

I didn't really care anyway. There wasn't any point in being all shy now. Her titties had been shaking in the squalid breeze for awhile, and I'd been hung, hauled out and rock hard for some time. My nearly ten inches of rock hard cock was aching for her.

I brought my hand down to her crotch, this time shoving her panties to the side as the punk had done. As I held them out of the way, I was able to gently caress her naked pussy lips up and down with my finger. She was soaked!

Trisha moaned into my mouth as my finger teased her sensitive pussy. Her hand grabbed my stiff cock and she began to stroke it lovingly. It was throbbing a little in her hand, and the need to have it inside her was overwhelming me.

I could feel the hot wetness of her cunt touch the top of my dick, and I knew I was close. Impatiently, I tried to push up and into her, but the angle wasn't quite right yet. Our kisses grew sloppy, lips smacking loudly.

I pulled her back onto my lap. She rubbed up against me, crushing her heaving breasts against me and leaving lipstick marks on my face and chest as she kissed me. I could feel her moist pussy touch my rod; the warm wet fluids of her juices and the punk's cum making the underside of my cock all slick and ready to penetrate into her tight, hot cavity.

Eagle1
Eagle1
194 Followers