Car Trouble

My next-door neighbor and I have only one thing in common: we both have "garage cars". This shouldn't be taken to mean that we both have garage queens. There's an important difference.

A garage queen is a car that is seldom or never driven and whose purpose is to be a possession--something that one can talk about at cocktail parties or to confer a certain status on oneself. I just don't see the point of a car like that.

My car is a 1959 Austin Sprite--called a "bugeye" for its friendly googly-eyed appearance. It's a sports car, a small two-seater. It would be a convertible, but I don't have a top or side curtains for it, and it's painted a jolly red. I've done a host of upgrades, most recently dropping in a modern five speed gearbox. It has the original motor, with an added supercharger. This makes it sound like a fire-breathing Corvette killer, but the setup doesn't produce even a hundred horsepower. My wife once remarked that it could go zero-to-sixty "by next Thursday". But I love it because it's a jaunty car that puts a smile on everyone's face.

This particular Saturday, Krista, my wife, was out with our two boys, so I had the morning and afternoon to myself. I had the game on the radio and was puttering around the car. The neighbor's daughter, Tess, was playing in the front yard, when I heard the garage door go up and Tess's mother, Nathalie, came out.

Nathalie is maybe five foot six, thin as a rail, tanned brown. She wears her brownish hair short and she had on aviator sunglasses. Her wardrobe is various shades of black: today she had on a black leather jacket that seemed perfectly new and carefully maintained over a black tank top. Below that her narrow hips were hugged by black jeans over biker boots. Her flat lips were decorated with lilac lipstick.

My neighbor's car is the exact opposite of my little Sprite. She has a Dodge Charger "Hellcat", metallic black with darkly tinted windows and blackout trim. The huge V8 produces over seven hundred horsepower. She stepped into the car and fired it up. The massive roar probably rattled windows three blocks away. She carefully backed the car into the driveway, lowering the window to shout at me.

"Hey, neighbor, I need to run to the store. Can you watch Tess for ten minutes? I'll make it up to you."

"Sure, no problem," I replied. She hardly waited for my assent before backing out into our cul-de-sac, put the monster in gear, and launched it towards the end of the block. The car was an unchained beast and she barely slowed for the stop sign on the cross street. I could hear the roar of the engine as she accelerated through the neighborhood.

"Mr. Bun and I are hosting a tea party," Tess informed me, hardly noticing the disturbance her mother's departure that produced. She had a tiny blue plastic table and tiny tot chairs set up on the lawn. "Mister Bun" must be her well-loved white stuffed bunny. It was impossible not to smile at Tess in her pink dress with white polka dots, hair ribbon, and white patent leather shoes. She was pouring pretend tea into tiny tea cups.

"That's wonderful, Tess," I replied. I was finishing up my project while watching her play. She seemed completely unlike her mother--I'd never seen her dirty, never seen grass stains on her knees. She was the most girly girl I think I'd ever known.

Forty minutes later, I was starting to worry when I heard the return of the roaring Hellcat coming along blocks away. The car slowed when it reached our street and practically coasted into the driveway. Nathalie eased the car into the garage and switched it off. I could hear the clicking and ticking of heated metal cooling as she stepped out to check on Tess.

"Thanks," she said to me. "Took longer than I thought. I'll stop by later to thank you properly," she said, before going inside. I switched off the radio and closed up my garage. I figured I would make myself some lunch and watch the remainder of the game on TV.

It was maybe one o'clock when there came a firm rap on my front door. I peered out the peep hole and saw Nathalie and Tess standing there.

"Hey, neighbor," she started. "I appreciate your watching Tess for me. I wanted to thank you... properly." She invited herself and Tess in.

"It's a nice place you've got here. Tess, why don't you play in here while we talk in the other room?"

"Okay, mommy," she replied.

Nathalie dragged me back into the kitchen.

"Your wife and I don't get on," she noted, "but there's no reason you and I can't be good neighbors."

"I was glad to watch Tess. It must be tough being a single mom," I replied.

"Sometimes. There's no one to watch her if I'm not there. And no one to take care of my needs. I thought I could thank you and scratch that itch," she said. She stepped into my space a bit. Was she coming on to me?

She was. She put her hand on my arm and looked up into my eyes. "What do you say, neighbor? Would you like me to thank you... properly?"

"Uh... I don't think this is maybe a good idea. I mean, we're next-door neighbors..."

"Yeah, we are," she said. "Look, you're a good-looking guy. You're conveniently located. I have needs. Maybe you do too. Little miss Krista doesn't need to know."

"This is a bad idea. You and Krista don't exactly get along. She'd kill me if I got involved with you."

"So, you're going to let her make that decision?" She had reached down and was groping my butt. "You don't even know what I've got to offer."

I laughed. "A chance to sleep in the doghouse for the rest of my life?"

"I suck a mean cock and I'd give you unfettered access." She took my hand and pressed it between her thighs, right on her mound. I realized that she had grey eyes just then: I'd never seen them without the aviators before, but now they were gazing earnestly at me.

I pulled my hand away. I suppose that was supposed to mean "no thank you", but I hadn't sent her packing yet. My fingers had enjoyed feeling her hot radiator. I felt a stirring in my jeans: it's kind of a turn on to have a gal come on to you, even if you don't want it.

She wasn't done with me either. She opened her belt.

"What are you doing?" I inquired, still keeping my tone mild. Her daughter was just in the other room.

She unbuttoned her jeans. "Popping my hood so you can get at my engine bay, Mr. Mechanic," she replied. She pushed her jeans down, exposing her tiny black panties. Then, turning away, she coquettishly pushed the panties down to her knees as well.

She put her hands on the kitchen counter and thrust her ass at me. Her face and chest were darkly tanned, but her body hadn't seen the sun. She had hardly any ass, just a pair of creamy muscular bulges. Nothing blocked my view of her furry peach and puckered brown hole.

"There it is, man. Take me in the ass! You know you want to." I swallowed hard. Her daughter was right there. My wife would kill me if she knew. I reached out and touched her, feeling the join of her body work. The finger came away sticky.

"Yeah, that's right. You know you want it," she said.

"This is a one-time thing," I said. I let my pants down and pushed off my underwear. I was getting hard in a hurry. I waddled up to her and tapped my tip against her ass. Was I willing to do this? Become a cheater with the next-door neighbor? It was clearly a terrible idea. But how else would I get her out of my kitchen? I hadn't been with another woman in ten years. Now my cock was poking Nathalie's brown hole. Krista never let me touch her there.

Nathalie reached back between her legs and cupped my balls one-handed. "Put it in me. I need it, baby."

I licked my fingers and greased myself up to enter her. She felt me coming and pushed back towards me. I missed the mark and instead sank into her wet love canal.

"Yeahhh..." she sighed. "Fuck me, man. Fuck me hard." So I grabbed her hips and pounded her from behind. The two of us grunted as I pushed in deep. She moaned, her volume ascending as we gained momentum. We were like her car: fast and barely controlled.

"I'm close," I announced.

"Shoot it in my ass," she begged. "Put it in me."

I didn't do the first one. I did the second. I pulled her pelvis close and shot a thick heavy load deep into her.

Then we were standing there, panting. I felt her rubbing her clit as she waggled her ass around my softening manhood. "Mm... a little dangerous there. But so good..."

I slipped out and we both were pulling up our pants. I felt embarrassed and guilty for what I had just done. She looked like the cat who ate the canary.

"Did you like it?" she asked. "I like feeling a man's jizz all up inside me. Don't worry, it's probably safe. You're just going to have to use protection if we're going to keep this up. Or maybe you like the risk?"

"I don't think there will be any repeat performances," I said. "You're..." I searched for the right word... "a real fireball, but I can't do this to Krista."

"We'll see. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. But I think you're going to want more. Although... I have needs too, you know."

With that, she gathered up Tess and left me in my misery.

But then life seemed to return to normal. I took a shower. Krista and the boys came home. I didn't see Nathalie again for a few days. I heard her loud car a few times, of course. But otherwise, it was like it hadn't happened.

That changed on Thursday night. Nathalie cranked up her stereo, blasting Metallica, prompting Krista to shout over the fence at her. There was no response. Krista was fuming, furious with Nathalie's behavior. It was a common topic. My wife was constantly wanting to report her to the homeowner's association for not trimming her lawn or not bringing her garbage cans up or not turning out the porch light. She harped on Nathalie's loud car and late hours and disreputable appearance.

"Go tell her to turn it down," my wife wheedled.

"It'll be alright."

"She needs to know she can't be disturbing everyone all the time. Her stupid car and now this. It's too much. Go tell her off."

I tried to avoid it, telling her "It's not good to bug neighbors like this. It just leads to feuds and bad blood."

"She started it. Go tell her." The music wasn't abating, and neither was my wife's desire for me to intervene.

With a sigh, I gave in. I went next door and rapped the knocker. No response. I rang the doorbell. I could hear the tinkly chime inside the house. Then footsteps. The door opened. Nathalie grinned up at me. She was barefoot, had a beer bottle in one hand and was wearing a tank top and yoga pants.

"Hey, neighbor. Came to get some more?"

"My wife is upset about the music."

"If you come in and have a beer with me, I'll turn it down." I went into her house while she got a long neck Bud from the fridge. All the while the stereo was blasting out "Wasting My Hate". I could feel the bass in the pit of my stomach. She handed me the beer, waltzed over to the amp. She turned the volume even higher, waiting for the song to end. Then she cut it off.

The silence was deafening.

I sipped the beer. At least it was cold.

"Tess is at my momma's tonight. That means I can party a bit."

"So I hear."

"You think about me any?"

"What about you?"

"That explosion inside me. It tells me you want to go sniffing around for more of that."

"I told you it has to stay a one-time thing." I took another swig of the beer.

"I know I'm a hard-edged gal. I don't have wifey's voluptuous titties. I'm only soft and squishy in one place," she said, pointing at her pubis. "But I know I make you feel alive."

"We have different priorities. Sort of like our cars: the Hellcat is an impressive machine, but I prefer my fun little car."

"I see the appeal of yours, but when I see you wrenching on your cute little car, I know you are missing what a real sports car can give you. You like to stir your own gears, and you don't mind getting your hands dirty." She sat on the sofa, sipped her beer, and put her other hand on her thigh. Her thumb pulled on the material so that it made a camel toe indentation. Like her car, she wasn't subtle.

"No, I don't. But I also don't have anything to prove--at the stoplight or in the bedroom. I'm happy with what I have." I sipped my beer and glanced at her. Although she was flat-chested, her nipples were prominent in her tank top.

"Keep telling yourself that. Sooner or later, you're going to find that you want to know what real power and acceleration feels like. Just think of the throb of all that horsepower. Then you'll want to be balls deep in this again." Her thumb tapped her pussy. "Just don't wait too long. Momma has needs too."

"You told me that before." I finished the beer and made to depart. "Try to keep the music quiet enough that Krista doesn't kill me."

"I'll leave it off tonight, if you promise to have a beer with me Saturday." She stuck out her hand to shake on the deal.

I shook her hand. She had a strong grip. It would only be a beer, right?

Krista was pleased that I had obtained results, and the rest of the evening was pleasant. I put Sam and Aaron to bed and then joined Krista in our bedroom.

"It took you a while over there tonight," she observed.

"I had to have a beer with her before she would turn it down. Only, she has terrible taste in beer." I didn't tell Krista about the follow-on deal. It felt... wrong.

"She's an awful neighbor," Krista said, pulling me close. Unlike Nathalie, Krista is almost six feet tall and curvy. Her heavy breasts rubbed up against my chest as I pulled her wide hips toward me. Our kisses turned hotter and wetter. It looked like we might have a rare weekday roll in the hay, but then she pulled away.

"Let's save it for the weekend. I'm a little tired tonight." Not long after, we switched off the light.

The next day I thought about picking up some decent beer at the package store next to the office. I don't drink that much beer, really, but I know what I like. There was no reason why I should drink Budweiser when I could bring something nicer. So, I picked up a couple of cans of a good-looking locally brewed milk stout. While I was checking out, I noticed a small display of condoms next to the cash register. Recalling my previous conversation with Nathalie, on an impulse I added them to my purchase.

What was I thinking? It was crazy to have them, even hidden away in the bottom of the brown paper bag the beer was in. I could never explain them to Krista if she happened to find them. I didn't plan to do anything that would require them with Nathalie. I was taking a terrible risk for no reason. I disposed of the packet and the receipt before stepping into my car for the drive home.

When I got home, I parked my long-in-the-tooth Mazda sedan and poked the button to raise the garage door. Krista's minivan was already in the garage, next to the Sprite. I carried the beers in and parked them in the old fridge we keep in the garage, lowered the garage door, and went into the house to greet my wife and sons.

"What did you get?" Krista asked.

"Just some beers. I thought they might taste good after I work on the Sprite some this weekend." I went upstairs to switch into more comfortable clothes and then went outside to play with the boys until dinner.

That night as we lay in bed, I could hear the thumping bass of Nathalie's stereo next door--loud enough to set Krista's teeth on edge, but not enough to engender an actual complaint.

Thinking of Nathalie, though, made me mildly aroused, wondering what would happen tomorrow. I reached over for Krista and slipped a hand under her nightgown. A handful of sweet curvy ass made me snuggle closer. She turned to greet me, and we spent a couple of minutes kissing, getting warmed up. My thumb brushing the tip of her breast, causing it to crinkle with want. Her hand in my hair, each a move as we renewed our physical acquaintance.

I felt her parting her thighs and let my fingers trail down through her bush and then slid over her moistening lips, her breath whistling into her. I pushed my middle finger against her slit to find her entrance, as the bedroom door rattled. Our son, Sam, needed attention. I dried my finger on the sheet and went to help him get settled.

When I returned, Krista was asleep.

Saturday dawned clear and bright. Krista wanted to go out with some friends and asked me to watch the boys.

"Sure, no problem. I'll probably just be puttering with the Bugeye. See you around dinnertime?" Off she went. I made sure the boys had eaten and were clean and sent them out to play, reminding them that they had to stay on our block and to come home for lunch.

A few minutes after they'd gone, I opened the garage to find Nathalie standing there.

"You didn't forget our beer date, did you?"

"No. I even bought quality beers for it."

"Did you? Too hoity to drink Bud?"

"It's not my favorite, but I'm happy to drink it. Isn't it a bit early in the day for beer, though?"

"It is for hipster beer, but it's never too early for domestic lager. Besides, I splurged and got us some MGD."

"Nice."

"And, well, we might be too busy to drink very much."

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, fearing the answer. "You need your clutch rebuilt or something?" I hefted my trusty socket wrench at her.

"What I had in mind is that I have some needs. You'll recall my mentioning them. You could take me upstairs to my bedroom and take care of them."

"Not gonna happen. I told you, it has to be a one-time thing. If I 'took care' of your needs today, that'd be starting down a road that ends in a crash."

"Not ready to bet the pink slip on the drag race, eh? You've been thinking about it, though, haven't you?" I laughed and told her about the aborted purchase of condoms.

"See? You know it's only a matter of time before you give in."

"It was a moment of weakness, but... but I can't. I've got to watch for the boys anyway and you probably have to watch Tess."

"She'll be alright. She knows about mommies and daddies having adult time. She has plenty to keep her busy while we... drain your transmission fluid."

"Look, I'll come over after lunch and we can drink those beers. Why are you doing this, anyway? Why don't you get yourself a guy?"

"Because the first time I saw you, my heart skipped a beat. Don't know why. Because you're wasted with her and I like crossing over the double-yellow. And, well, you're available and I need it."

"I'm not available available."

"You're going to be mine, though. Bring your designer beers over after lunch. Tess has naptime around two. Don't ring the bell."

The boys came back not long after and we fooled around in the backyard. I could feel Nathalie's eyes on me as I was throwing the football. I was feeding them lunch, when the phone rang. Could Sam and Aaron come over to Jackson's house? Sure.

I piled the two kids into the Sprite, fired up the tiny engine and we bounced out of the cul-de-sac. The two of them were gleeful to ride in the itty-bitty car normally off limits to them: the seat belts were theoretical and there was no chance of child car seats. But our neighborhood is quiet and it was a delicious treat for them. I drove the half a block, dropped them off, and zipped a u-turn back to the house. I thought about what I'd do when I got there. I had no excuse for not knocking on the neighbor's door. To my chagrin, I was getting a boner thinking about it.

Nathalie was waiting for me.

I backed the car into its spot and retrieved the beers from the fridge. We hadn't spoken. She just stood there with a half smirk on her face. She stepped into the garage while I was fussing with the beers, coming up directly behind me. I gasped as she thrust her hands up under my t-shirt, hugging her body to my back while feeling my pecs and abs. Then one hand darted lower to find my arousal fully developed.