Hot Mechanic/Hot Impala SS

I always had a teenage boy crush thing for this one mechanic who my Dad always went to. His garage was a couple of blocks away from where we lived in our small Canadian town (I grew up there and left for college when I was 21). He was in his late twenties and had dark hair. unshaven frequently and was kinda tall and lanky. Looking back now, he was pretty homophobic and a bit of a red-neck. Typical for a small town though. Sexy and raw I guess.

He had a "63 Chevy Impala SS coupe that had seen better days - faded flat black paint with well-worn red fabric upholstery. His car had special wire rims fitted - I remember this very well - it made the old car look really long and low and mean - ready for action at a moment's notice. A definite male go machine.

He used to park his old ride behind the gas station in a small parking lot that was part of the property - you had to go down a ramp behind the station that was shielded from the main street. Very private. Very tempting.

Once I knew his baby was left there unattended every night, I couldn't resist going to look at it.

Those triple rear tail lights, dual tailpipes and chrome angled rear deck-mounted radio aerial caught my eye and kept telling me to get closer and look inside where this guy used to sit when he cranked it to bring it to life. Unconsciously, I guess I thought about him sitting there with that great tight hairy man butt of his - his mashing that chrome aftermarket gas pedal down with his old work boots, spreading his long legs and slouching down to give his balls some breathing space and driving it around town.

It was so black and low to the ground and such a hot-looking power wagon to a teenager without wheels. A pure sex machine tooling down the road - a pure male rolling hard-on for this guy for sure.

After the first time, I would go out after dark and go sit in it where I knew he had been earlier.

I wonder now if he ever went commando in that car. I hope he had more than his share of stiff cock, hard dick times in that driver's seat with his right foot firmly planted on the gas pedal and feeling those throaty, low-pitched growling dual mufflers idling away and beating roughly beneath him - the guy always looked to me like he could get a hard on in five seconds or less. Pure male. Hot man. Wonder if he ever left any cum on the seats. Did he ever jack off in his old beater when he was alone and horny and wanted to masturbate - getting off to whatever turned his crank. Guess I can only fantasize and imagine whether he ever did.

Me sitting in his seat with possibly his cum right under my ass makes me horny to think about now. Cum on the steering wheel too for sure. Me experiencing what I would never willingly have from this 100% straight male mechanic any other way.

He never locked his old Impala - small town thing I guess from the seventies. I was too young to really understand the sexual aspect of what I was doing. Bascially I had a young teen crush on the guy and wanted to be close to him - being in his car was as close as I would ever likely get to the guy. It was enough for a young teenager.

I loved sitting in his old car. The driver's seat was well worn down from where he sat. Indented from his butt cheeks over time - the upholstery was still good but a bit worn - it always felt warm to me from his body whenever I climbed into the driver's side of his very personal and somewhat sexually charged intimate car interior - sort of like an old stained pair of his jeans when I sat there - his jeans - covering his cock. I think I have a thing for front seats and certain types of uphostery. No doubt we all have our own unique takes on our fetishes - this is part of mine for sure.

The interesting thing about these cars was that they had a four position ignition switch. ACC, LOCK, OFF and START. Most guys just turned the switch to the OFF position and removed the key. The thing was that you could turn the switch without inserting a key to START and hopefully the car would start.

This guy also had a one-piece Chevy car mat and he took his ignition key and tucked it under the mat on the hump between the driver's and the front passenger's seats. I guess he figured no one would ever steal his old ride or take any interest in it.

I found the key one time and from that moment on, life in a small town became a new and more exciting adventure.

This got to be a nightly thing for me. I'd wait until after nine o'clock when it was dark and walk a couple of blocks to the lot and then hop in and get the key from under the mat and try to start my mechanic man's old beater. I can still hear the creaking sound his driver's side door made when I opened it - the interior light coming on and showing off that well-used and hopefully abused bench style driver's seat.

The old black Chevy was not an easy beast to start. It was a typical carb'd early sixties piece of classic Detriot iron and if it was cold outside, you would have to pump it a bit, without hopefully flooding it. You would have to turn the key and crank it four or five times before it would turn over for you in cold or even damp weather. Definitely a poorly tuned big V8 that had seen better days.

For a mechanic, this guy never took time or put much into trying to keep his old ride in top running order. Odd thing this. Maybe he abused the Impala whenever he got frustrated and was horny himself - guess I'll never know for sure.

The noise of the starter - it would hesitate, then come to life slowly and then crank faster until it kicked over . . . if it was in the mood to. Funny how some cars almost talk to you - this one seemed to say to me, "I'm old but try hard enough and long enough I'll turn over for you, baby!"

I remember the uneven, hesitant cold engine vibration and low throated idling coming from the dual exhausts when it would finally sputter, turn over, come to life and rumble away - makes me hard right now to think about it.

The old SS always stalled out if you didn't give it a couple of minutes to warm up before shifting it into reverse or drive. Then you would have to repeat the cranking exercise all over again.

I never had the nerve to take his old car out of the parking lot. But I would drive it a bit back and forth, it was like stepping on the gas and feeling it hesitate, then react and eventually, hopefully respond to what I wanted (all very sexual and erotic now that I think about it).

When his old black SS Impala coughed, missed, hesitated and stalled out with the red GEN light coming on, so much the better for me.

He never kept any gas in the car. It was always on empty. I guess I was sort of hoping on an unconscious level it would run out of gas in the lot and not start for him when he came to get it the next day. Knowing how some guys equate their cocks and sexual performance with their cars - I guess I was unconsciously hoping I could somehow piss him off and frustrate him. Then what would he do to relieve his frustration? Him wanting to get somewhere - come on man start for me - come one baby let's start now - what the Hell is wrong with you cocksucker - come on man fuckin start for me - full hard on, stiff cock in the front seat - initial disovery and surprise - then pleading and coaxing his faded black old Impala to start - look of concern, anger. impatience, possible cursing and begging - who knows - possibly his strong left hand on his big cock stroking to the rythym of his reluctant old beater cranking away . . . . battery slowly dying. Stranded, alone, this hot guy all by himself, frustrated and going nowhere.

Thoughts and fantasy today from me above - but maybe those on a subminal level by a cute gay horny teenager in a small town back in the mid-seventies.

If I knew back then what I know now, I would have cranked away in that old beater and pumped and stomped on that well-worn down gas pedal and drained his battery down to nothing and jacked off and cum inside all over his seat where he sat - if I had thought of it at the time, I would have - sort of like draining his cock while he groans with pleasure and comes and comes during one long, strong, hot sex session with stream after stream of cum blasting out of his hard cock, making the inside of his car smell of real man, 100% masculine sex, pure male on male sexual need and desire. Me in his hot old Impala with that smell of him wrapping around me completely - me between his legs and enjoying every second of this with him.

Yep - back as a teenageer - getting in his old car, experiencing him by testing the old Impala's power and daring it to stall out while feeling his maleness around me, cranking this hot man's big personal, intimate ride and feeling it vibrate and rumble was very exciting. The closest thing I guess to unzipping this guy's pants and taking his cock out, sucking it - feeling it swell up, tasting his precum and making him shoot his load.

Cranking away and starting up an old poorly tuned "63 Impala SS and making it vibrate and idle roughly = sucking a resistant straight guy and making him moan with pleasure, feeling him respond and cumming . . . . . . such pleasureable and dirty thoughts.

I could amost feel close enough to smell him whenever I got in his car - defnite hot male sex, testosterone and real masculinity - what a hot memory for me.

The guy eventually met some girl and they cruised around in his old car while they dated. After a while he parked the old Impala SS down in that lot behind the garage and left it to sit for an entire winter. Forgotten.

I went a few times times to go sit in it - but it wasn't the same for me after he met that girl. I think knowing she sat in it ruined the whole thing for me.

Also - after three or four times in the cold weather, the battery drained down completely. All it would do was click over if I turned the key.

After the battery drained down, I always felt sorry for the car. A hot piece of General Motors metal and to end its life abandoned for some small town young fake blonde girlfriend who wanted something newer and shinier.

I bet that guy is still married to her and they drive a nondescript silver grey minivan now.

Oh well - better him than me.

Fast forward to today - I would love to have one of these cars now. I would relive some of my youth and crank the bastard and flood it and this time jerk off every chance I got. Better yet, with someone beside me to share in whatever fantasy I come up with . . . . . .

I never did jerk off in his car. Had I been older and more sexually aware - I certainly would have.

A great fantasy for me - maybe best that I didn't cum in it.

To this day, I have a special thing for "63 full size Chevs and Pontiacs.

Guess you can sort of understand why.