Brit Cars Are FunbyPappageno©
My name’s Mikie. Not a great name for a girl, but there you go.
I have been a British car nut for a long time. I’ve always been a gear head. I’m a small girl, not quite 5’2”, barely 100 lbs., but I can twist a wrench and figure out mechanical stuff. I got so enthusiastic about Brit cars that I suggested the local car club host a Brit car event. They said sure, as long as I was in charge. That’s the way it goes in a small town; you come up with an idea and they make it your job.
It was Memorial weekend and about 75 cars showed up. Not bad for a first time event. There were tons of details to see to and I was busy the whole weekend. All in all, it was quite a success.
Most of the cars pulled out of town Monday afternoon. We had a big send off for them, a final parade as they left town. Pulling away from the line, one 70s vintage MGB popped an exhaust manifold gasket. The loud roar and the hissing sound were unmistakable. The driver, James, a Brit living outside Chicago, had to pull off to the side. I was also in charge of tech, so I went over to help out.
He explained that he had just put the car back together, hadn’t been able to come up with the “proper” gasket set and had made do with the old one and some gasket compound.
“I knew it was a bit dicey, but I thought it would hold,” he said with that charming accent.
One of the rally sponsors was a local auto parts store. The owner was present, and said that he thought he has the gasket set in stock. His service guys were all off for the weekend, but he had the part. I asked him to go get it. I offered the use of my garage to James to make the repair. He had no other way to get home. Besides, sports car guys don’t often like to turn their repairs over to an unknown mechanic.
James gladly accepted. I finished up my duties while the part was fetched. Gasket set in hand, I hopped in my little car and James followed in his crippled car. When we got to my house, we got his car in the garage and up on jack stands. I showed him where the tools were and excused myself to change into my garage clothes.
“You needn’t do that,” he said. “I can handle it. And you have already been too kind.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I love these things. I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to help work on one. I just don’t want to get my nice clothes dirty. I’ll be right back.
Now, I had dressed quite conservatively the entire weekend. After all, I didn’t know these people and I had a public role to play. Sex, for once, was the last thing on my mind. Generally, sex occupies my mind more than a man’s…and I have a little bit of the exhibitionist in me. If someone exhorts me to show my tits, I generally will. This weekend, I had been quite conservative.
I changed into my garage clothes. I didn’t really think about it. Garage clothes aren’t sexy. Garage clothes for me is any one of a number of old jean cut offs, most have holes in them and grease stains and epoxy on them. T-shirts are similarly stained. I’ve cut the bottom half and the sleeves off of most of them so they don’t get caught on stuff. Of course, no bra or panties. I’m just going to the garage, after all.
James looked up when I came into the garage. For some reason, he just stared at me. He was already getting dirty, grease on his hands and a spot on his nose. I suddenly noticed that he was kind of cute. Probably in his mid 30s, sandy blonde hair, not much bigger than me, maybe 5’5”, well built, no flab I could see. Brown eyes. No wedding ring.
“So, where are we with this thing?” I asked.
“Oh, sorry,” he stammered. “Well, of course one must remove half of the parts in the engine compartment to get at the component one needs to repair.” I just love British accents. “I’m having a hard time with this one nut. Could you help?”
“Sure, what do you need?”
“Well, if you come at it from above and hold this spanner on the stud, I think I can get at it from below.”
He got on the creeper under the car and I leaned over the fender. With much grunting and a little swearing, the nut came loose.
“Well, done chap!” he said as he rolled out from under the car, right between my legs. He looked up at me. “Sorry, of course you’re not a chap. I uh well, uh sorry.”
I laughed. “No, it’s kind of a compliment in a way,” I said as he stood. Idly, I wondered what kind of a view he had gotten from the floor. The shorts were pretty short, and my legs had been spread pretty wide. I wondered if he had seen up my shorts. I didn’t care, I just wondered.
We continued to work together companionably. It was hard, dirty work but satisfying in its own way. As we worked, he seemed to accidently touch me from time to time in some private places. At one point, I was on the creeper and he was leaning into the car when I needed a wrench. Without looking, he leaned down to give it to me, and poked me right in the pussy. He didn’t see that he had done it, but looked when I yelped. Profuse apologies followed. He kept brushing up against my ass or my boobs. At first it was irritating, then it got kind of exciting. I couldn’t figure out if it was intentional or not. I started to bump into him subtly. Just a touch here or there. I looked, but couldn’t get much of an idea of his package. This went on for almost two hours while we worked. I was getting worked up, and I still couldn’t tell if he meant to do it.
Finally, we were finished. As we wiped our greasy hands on rags, he said “Well done, luv. You are really quite good. You know your way around an engine, that’s for sure. And I must say, I have never met anyone so good with tools who had such a nice arse,” upon which he promptly patted me. His hand touched me right where there was a big hole I had not realized was there. A chill ran through me.
“Well, your ‘arse’ isn’t too bad either,” and I grabbed a handful of it. He turned to me and kissed me, touching my face with his dirty hands. It was electrifying. Before I knew it, his tongue was in my mouth and his hands were all over my body, up my shirt, down my shorts, on my thighs. He grabbed a wrench and started to massage my pussy with it through my jeans. That was incredible.
I broke the embrace, walked over to the workbench, shoved all the tools off onto the floor, pulled off my shorts and sat on the bench. I put my heels on the edge of the bench and spread my knees wide. The invitation was unmistakable. I looked down at my thighs. They were covered in grease and dirt. It made me even hotter. He walked over to me, stopped and picked up a wratchet wrench. I couldn’t figure out what he was doing until he turned it around and stuck the handle right up my cunt. That really sent me off. The cold metal sliding in and out of my hot pussy was incredible. He worked it in and out, up and down. I got so wet, my pussy made slurping sounds.
“Oh fuck me with it, fuck me hard! Shove it in there!” I was shouting. “I’m coming, I’m coming…” and the wave came over me as he worked the tool in and out of me.
I leaned back against the wall, my knees still far apart, breathing hard as he pulled the wrench out of my pussy.
“Not bad with a tool yourself, there guv,” I said with my best fake British accent. “Got any other tool you’d like to show me?”
“As a matter of fact luv, I do.” With that, he pulled off his shirt and jeans. His package was busting out of his bikini briefs. When he whipped his dick out, I was impressed. I had never seen such a big cock on such a small man. His chest fairly rippled with muscles. This was going to be interesting. Already had been.
I held my pussy lips wide open and he shoved his big dick in my waiting hole. As cold and slender as the wrench had been, his cock was hot and fat. It was a good thing I was dripping wet, because it was a tight fit. I felt his cock ram all the way up inside me, then pull almost all the way out. Slowly at first, then harder and faster. I grunted with each thrust. I wrapped my legs around his waist so that I could squeeze him against me each time he rammed it in. I needed to feel my tits, so I tried to pull off my t-shirt. It just tangled, so I ripped it off. I began to pull on my nipples really hard. Somehow I needed it to almost hurt. As I pulled, he grabbed my tits at their base and squeezed hard. It was incredible.
“Keep fucking me hard, really hard,” I begged. “And suck on my tits, they really need to be sucked hard.” I released my nipples and he bent to suck, not missing a stroke. He sucked my nipples so hard that they ached. Oh, it felt so good. I started to have little orgasms, one after another just from his sucking. Then the big one started, first as a tingle in my clit, then as a throbbing in my pussy, then an overwhelming rush through my whole body.
“Shit, I’m coming! I’m coming. Don’t stop fucking me. Fuck me hard. Ram that big dick up in there! Hard! Come on, give it to me hard! Fuck me, fuck me fuck me! I’m coming! Shoot your wad you damned limey, shoot it up in me.” And he obliged. He lifted my ass up off the workbench and pushed his dick up into me as far as it would go. I felt a shudder go through him as his cock began to pulse and his hot jizz spewed inside me. He shot and shot. It felt like I had a quart of cum inside me, and it felt so good. Hot, gooey and nasty. Sometimes I really like to feel nasty. I was dirty, sweaty and full of man goo. Good and nasty.
He pulled his now soft cock out of me. Even soft, it was still big. I released my leg hold on him and he stepped back. Unsteadily, I stood. I could feel his jizz dripping out of my pussy and down my thighs. I stood, feet apart, and looked down at myself. There were greasy hand prints all over me. Dirt from the garage floor and the workbench was on my knees and my ass. Sweat trickled down between my breasts. I was really dirty and I was loving it.
We stood, naked, facing each other, breathing heavily. I wanted more dirty and nasty, but I didn’t know just what it was I wanted. I reached down and stroked my pussy. It was still throbbing and it ached. I inserted a finger and wiggled it around. Having a pussy sure is great. I pulled my finger out and licked the combined juices off it. Then I knew what I wanted to do.
“Just stand there and watch,” I commanded. I pulled the grease gun off its spot on the wall, gave it a few pumps and squeezed a line of axle grease onto my tits, my tummy, and my thighs. I rubbed it all over myself so that I shone. Now I was dirty, nasty and covered with a fresh layer of grease. I walked over to him and put my arms around his neck. I rubbed my gooey body all over him. I straddled his leg and rubbed my cunt up and down it. I covered him with the grease. We were slippery. I took his slowly hardening dick between my legs and tightened my muscles. I could feel his cock harden between my thighs. I pushed it up against my pussy. I wanted it inside me again. I put one foot up on the bumper of his car and pushed his semi-hard dick up inside me. It was fabulous to feel that big dick get hard while it was in my pussy. I haven’t fucked standing up very often, you have to have a partner almost your size. This was working out great.
His dick was big and hard inside me now and he began to pump up and down. Our bodies slid against one another. The sensation of my tits rubbing up and down on the rippled chest was almost as good as the cock sliding in and out of me. After several minutes of this, I leaned back so that I could see his dick moving in and out of me. I don’t know why, but the visual of a man pumping his meat into my pussy has always fascinated me. I love to see it appear and disappear and feel the corresponding rush as it disappears. This is one sure way for me to get off, and it was working now. Between just being plain old nasty, and being very slippery, and watching myself get reamed from below, I was working up to another monster orgasm. The spasms started and just did not quit. And he did not quit working my pussy with his fat dick. I couldn’t even talk dirty. I just made feral sounds, alternately whining, whimpering, growling and screaming. It seemed like it would go on forever. Then I felt the shudder run through him, and I knew he was going to spew inside me.
It felt like he was coming in slow motion. I could literally feel the head of his cock swell inside me, and the hot cum shoot out, then his dick would pulse again and fill me again. My orgasm simply did not subside. It kept on full power even after his was long past. Even the slightest move made me gasp in ecastacy. Finally, I wrapped my arms around him tightly and said, “Don’t move. I can’t stop coming. It’s going to drive me crazy.” He laughed which sent me over the edge again. Slowly it abated, and I could breathe again. His dick was soft again, but still stuck in me like a cork. I wasn’t ready to take it out yet. It felt just fine where it was.
“My god, luv, you’re a damned sex machine, aren’t you?” He asked after a while.
“I guess I am when I have an operator that knows the right buttons to push and the right levers to pull. I am here to tell you that this has been some of the best sex I’ve ever had.” I reached down and stroked the base of his penis, just where it entered me.
“If you start again, we will both go insane. Besides, we’re a mess.”
He was right. We were pretty disgusting, covered in dirt, oil, grease and cum. We reeked of sex and petroleum products. It was fabulous.
“Come on bloke,” I said. “Let’s hit the shower. We’ll get clean, and I’ll let you give me a back rub and feel me up.”
“How could a fellow pass up that kind of an invitation?”
My limey didn’t leave until the next day, and my pussy was sore for a week. Sometimes, life is sweet.