tagErotic CouplingsAuto Erotica Ch. 01

Auto Erotica Ch. 01

bymadam_noe©

This story will have many chapters look for them to appear every 3-7 days (this is a novella broken down; each chapter will contain explicit sex).

***

The night was warm, clear; perfect for racing. The heat of summer was just weeks away and the stars were out. The underground racing scene had been good to me, my partner Cal and I had run our game three times that night.

My 1967 Mustang Shelby GT500E had 400 HP, 350 lb/ft of torque, and nothing in these modern rice burners could beat it, not even the Hemis. Still these cars were run by gangs and enthusiasts, and enthusiasts knew better than to try and race me.

So my partner and I had to race drug dealers for pink slips, and Cal always collected the cars and drove them to our impound lot. The gangs got one month to give us thirty grand or we kept their cars. It was neat, clean, and untraceable. The racing was the fun end.

I had gotten three in one night, and it wasn't even one a.m. yet, so the night was mine. Cal had taken a Supra weighed down with every piece of chrome the owner could get add to it into the night, and so I was cruising around looking for trouble.

It came to me the way trouble always does. Waiting at a stoplight was a suped up Saturn Sky, chromed out, neon- lined, painted a deep blue with ghost flames so there was no mistaking the gender of the owner.

I came abreast to it in my deep green car, my tinted windows looking mysterious enough that the seat cover in the car leered at my window. She was young, younger than me, blonde, wore a water bra and hot pants and she was willing to dump the Sky for a GT500.

I rolled the window down just as she finished the come on and smiled. "Sorry sweetie, I don't swing that way. Not bad, for a Sky," I said to the driver.

He looked around the girl and gave me a cool look that had withered many a better man, but had never gotten rid of any of us girls. "I ain't racing for the P," he told me.

The girl whined and stroked him but he kept his eyes on mine, and I could tell he didn't like my smile. "How about a simpler bet?"

I'd raced a few times for money in my other cars but I knew that wouldn't get him this time. He needed a sure thing and the girl was close enough. "Like what?"

"Loser goes down on the winner." I rolled my window up letting him know I meant it, and I'd race him if he wanted. Rumor said he had Nitrous on that thing and if I wasn't careful or steady he might just win. I revved the engine, pushed up the Tac, and he smiled.

The girl made some fuss as I turned back to the light. Hell, she could watch for all I cared, when I said I wanted trouble I meant it. A good fight was almost as good as a fuck.

The light turned and I slammed the gas down with the clutch, popped into first and burst forward. It was better than a six second car but Patrick had his tuned to the nth degree. If the girl was still in the added weight would help, but in the end his car was plastic, mine steel.

He was right there but I didn't look. I shifted into second, third, fourth, climbed towards eighty, then hit fifth and he was behind me. We swung onto LSD now and I had three lanes to block, laying rubber as I went.

He was good at feinting but I was a pro. Sure, he had six or seven years on me but I had been racing since I was nine, and it was never legal. I didn't just run those streets, I owned the fuckers.

The end was coming up and I had the pedal to the metal but he was slipping past. Any moment now and he'd hit the Nitrous and only a good block would save me. That and sixth gear.

He hit it and I blocked but he slipped to the left and came up alongside me. I popped the clutch and slid into sixth and ran to his nose. The end was racing up but I never looked at him, pressed the gas in and roared ahead by half a car length.

We hit the brakes to a stop light and I looked over. The girl stormed out of the car and flipped us both off, but Patrick kept his eyes on my window. He couldn't see me and I couldn't read him. All the time we'd run the streets I'd wondered about him, and tonight I'd know.

He had a garage over on Western, and what he tuned out was better than anybody else north of the loop. He was thirty three, white, dark haired, muscled, with a couple of prison tats. No one knew anything about him except that he charged fair and made money hand over fist, and he looked like a demon.

I led him to an empty lot off Wacker I knew for a fact was secure. It was surrounded by three warehouses, my impound "lot," and the front had a high wall. Cal had already dropped off our kills save the Supra so that meant he was off finding his own trouble.

I parked the 'Stang and stepped out, stretching. Racing culture demanded you dress like a 'ho' but I didn't want to look like a seat cover, so I dressed carefully. The boots were leather, black, came up over my knees and fit like a second skin. My skirt was short, but not indecent, plain black with a little flounce. My shirt was tight, black, with a little sparkle at the deep V. I'd get into any club but nobody would think I'd cost anything per hour.

Hard to tell if he liked what he saw, but he'd taken the bet so that meant something. Patrick himself was six four and built like a brick shithouse, muscles everywhere. He wore motorcycle boots, a white denim button up with the sleeves ripped off, and pants that let me know he dressed to the left and he was, it turned out, happy to see me.

His hair was pure black and long to his collar, his face all perfect angles save a nose that had been broken at least twice. He didn't smile at me, but I didn't think he ever did.

"What is this place?"

I looked around and smiled. "It's mine, that's all that matters."

He looked from car to car to concrete. "Aileen, none of this looks comfortable."

It surprised me he knew my name. I raced as Elle, short for Eleanor, what most people called the car since that damn Nicholas Cage movie. I just raised an eyebrow and smiled. "And here I was hoping you'd have imagination."

He closed the few feet and grabbed me, hauling me against his chest until I felt like I was smushed against a brick wall. His lips brushed fleetingly at mine as his hand hit the Beretta in the small of my back. "Babe, this brings new meaning to 'protection.' "

"I can lose it if you want."

He pulled it out and tossed it. I heard no noise so I assumed he'd gone through my open door and landed on the leather. I didn't want to kiss, that felt too intimate, so when he came closer I smiled and said "Gonna welch on the bet already, Patrick?"

I found myself whirled around, dragged a few feet, and dropped onto his hot hood like he was a cop about to frisk me.

He kicked my feet apart and then I felt his warm breath under my skirt. Two rough hands smoothed up my inner thighs and froze when he realized I was naked underneath.

"Jesus," he breathed out heavily. Then the skirt was up and I felt his tongue.

Jesus was an understatement. I hadn't really thought he'd go through with it, this was, after all, a fantasy, but he sank in with a vicious swipe of his tongue that let me know he was willing to do what it took.

We'd never raced, the only time we'd ever spoken had been when Cal and I lost our grease monkey for re-tunes. Cal had wanted Patrick but he wouldn't touch anything that even smelled illegal so we'd passed him over for another. I'd seen him on the streets but he raced enthusiasts, never touched the seamier games we played.

Jesus, he was good. He licked, back to front, fucked me with his tongue then flicked the clit. Hell, I was creaming, my legs tight and my knees weak, thank God I had the hood to lean on. Hell, it was happening too fast, I wanted it to last, but all I could do was clutch the hood scoops and whimper.

Just when I thought I was going to burst he jerked my legs up and over his shoulders, surprising the hell out of me. Then he stood up until I dangled there, face to exposed penis. He'd unzipped his pants while he'd been doing clever things with that demon's mouth and now he was holding me upside down.

"Glad to see you're creative," I purred and stroked his cock. It was slightly long and perfectly straight, and very, very wide. I fixed my mouth on it and felt his return.

The blood was rushing to my head but too much stayed in my pelvis and the novelty of the situation did me in. I sucked him in deep, felt him groan into my pussy, then shafted him three times, purring and moaning myself, and then I came. I was noisy but I had my mouth full, so the sound had nowhere to go.

I came down to feel him walking, and I had the good sense to let go of his cock as he bent down. I was lowered across his hood, which was cooler now but still hot against my skin. Hell, this was too fun to pull up stakes now so I grabbed his cock and slipped it back into my mouth. My head was hanging off the car so my throat was straight and he slammed in.

I'd been waiting for it and suppressed the gag reflex. I wished his pants were off, I really wanted to feel that ass, but he grabbed my hands before I could do any damage. He pinned them there, hunched over, and fucked my mouth.

God, he was huge, and it almost hurt, but it was a good pain. I felt his balls tighten up and expected him to unload but he pulled back and let go of my hands.

"I want to fuck you," he whispered, as if he were unsure.

I scrambled to sit up and face him, pulling the foil packet from my skirt. I tossed it to him with a smile and didn't bother to say anything. He ripped it with his teeth and sheathed his cock, stepping to me and jerking me to the edge of the car until only the barest fraction of an inch of skin was still on it.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and kept my hands on the car for balance as he held the tip of his cock from entering me. He rubbed my clit with it and my breath hitched. When he heard that he dipped his knees and slammed in.

Fuck. He realized his mistake but didn't bother to apologize, just smiled a Devil's smile in the moonlight. I hadn't had sex in a long while and I was too fucking tight for such an entrance. He pulled back and sank in and by now I had adjusted, but it was clear he was closer than I.

He shoved me back and I let go of the hood to grab his shoulders as he fucked me, driving it hard and good. He put one thick thumb on my clit the movement of our bodies rocked me against it. I tightened up with him and when I came I cried out. He was silent, but shuddered heavily in his own orgasm.

I felt heavy, sleepy, and he still felt thick. His body surrounded me, pure muscle, and I realized I recognized the tattoo on his left arm, but I couldn't place it. "Thanks for the ride, Patrick."

I'd hoped I'd sounded flip and he let me go, pulling out and stepping back while I hopped down. I smoothed my skirt and gave myself a moment to make sure my knees worked. My car was three short steps away but they felt like miles. At least my gun was in my car and I slipped it back into place.

"Aileen?"

"How do you know my name?"

He shrugged. "Don't know your last name, if it helps."

"So what did you want?"

"Why do you race thugs?"

I smiled at him and put my right foot inside. "Raced you, didn't I?" Then I sat, closed my door and revved the engine. He stared for a moment but got in his car and drove out. I followed behind, made sure the lot was closed, and blew past him onto Lower Wacker and left him in the dust.

Hell, that had been more fun than I had expected. If I was honest, the best soulless fuck I think I'd ever have.

So why did it feel like a mistake?

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