My Car

The trouble with being an acknowledged expert in your field is that sometimes you get tapped for duties that you don't particularly want to do. I'm an analyst/programmer, involved in the design and writing of quite complex systems. We'd just finished writing a large financial system, tested it to death, and finally installed it for the client.

Everything was sweet. The conversion to the new system had been seamless and we were going to have the first full scale run. The trouble was that the big run was just part of a larger schedule of other applications, some of which interface with the new system before, during, and after the system ran. The client was nervous because it was really a big deal for them. Guess who got tapped to go and sit with the IT boys until the night's processing was complete.

That's right. Yours truly. If anything went wrong I'd be right there on site, ready to fix it. I bitched. My boss pointed out it would count as double time overtime (because he was charging the client) and I muttered under my breath and went along with the plan, even if it was a Friday night.

From six in the evening until four in the morning I had to sit around like a lump, waiting for something to go wrong. I was almost hoping that something would go wrong just so that I'd have something to do. I was bored and I have this unfortunate tendency to let loose with my creative propensities in such a situation.

I should point out that I work for a very large corporation. The client on this occasion was the finance department for the corporation. I didn't know very much about the finance department or how they operated internally but I certainly knew a lot about the IT department and how they operated. I turned my creative skills upon the IT department.

Basically I wrote an analysis of the IT department, highlighting areas that were inefficient or just plain stupid and recommended changes that should be considered. Where the Job Scheduling section was concerned I was particularly scathing, as they were twenty years behind the times. I carefully reviewed my recommendations, found them good, and sent them off to the IT department head.

Before I could get into any more flights of fancy the schedule for the night completed and I was free to go home. At four AM I summoned a taxi (work was paying) and went home to sleep the sleep of the fair and the just.

Ten o'clock the next morning I was awakened by a thunderous knock on the door. I fell out of bed, climbed to my feet, and staggered towards the door. That's when I remembered sending that damned letter. I peeped through the spyhole to see a couple of cops standing there. Relieved that it wasn't a lynch mob of schedulers after my blood I opened the door.

"Good morning, officers," I said, smiling. "Or at least it was, until someone started hammering on my door. I do have a doorbell, you know."

"A doorbell that you did not answer," came the dry reply. "Are you James Gantry?"

"I am, but whatever happened it wasn't me."

"Yes, sir. Are you the owner of a ford with registration xxx999," and he recited my registration number.

"Yes," I admitted. "As a matter of fact if you look yonder you'll see it parked out the front."

"We did notice a ford out the front, sir, and thought it was probably the vehicle we were interested in."

"Didn't you check the rego? And why are you interested in my car?"

"Were you driving your car around one o'clock this morning?"

"No. At one o'clock this morning my car was parked right where it is now. I, on the other hand, was in the city, with half a dozen witnesses who will testify that I was working until four AM, which is why I was asleep when you came pounding on my door. Would you care to tell me what this is about?"

They would not care to tell me. Not yet, anyway. They wanted proof of my alibi and I gave them the number for the computer room as there would still be operators there, and the number for the security section who would have the time I was booked out.

Satisfied that I appeared to have an alibi they explained. At one AM my car had come around a corner, swinging wide, and clipping a truck waiting for the light. It bounced off the truck and hit a car parked by the side of the road, off the car and onto the truck again, off the truck to collect a second car, and then continuing on its way.

"I assume the truck driver took down the registration number?" I asked, hoping that it was a mistake.

"Not exactly, sir. The rear bumper was ripped off, complete with number plate. Also, when the car hit the second car it lost the front bumper, also complete with plate."

"Excuse me," I said, pushing past the cops and heading out towards the front. I didn't even care that I had no shoes on. My poor car. The front was mangled and missing the bumper bar. The back was mangled and missing the bumper bar. The driver's side had scrapes and dints on every single panel. Ditto the passenger's side.

I turned to regard the fine officers of the law who'd followed me out to the car.

"I'd hazard a guess and say that this is the car you're looking for," I admitted. Fortunately, as far as I'm concerned, I have a solid alibi, insurance on the vehicle, and the knowledge that it wasn't worth very much in the first place. It's also not my real car but an old banger I happen to have. Had, I suppose I should say. If I find out who borrowed it I'll let you know what hospital they'll be in."

"We'll have to check out your alibi but you seem to be in the clear. I trust you're not going to take the law into your own hands if you do find out who the driver is."

"Probably not," I admitted. "I'll just tell the insurance company. They'll bleed the idiot for every cent he had for the next ten years."

The cops wandered off and I went back to bed to get some more sleep. I'd contact the insurance people and worry about paperwork after that.

By two o'clock I'd caught up on some sleep, spoken to the cops and got an incident report number, spoken to the insurance company and got a promise to have an assessor look at the car, and a request to take the car to a local panel beaters. The car was surprisingly drivable as all the damage was cosmetic and I dropped the car off and they obligingly ran me home. The mechanic who signed for the car had laughed and told me no way would the insurers pay to have it restored. Too much damage. That agreed with my assessment and I mentally kissed the wreck goodbye.

About three o'clock young Nat showed up. I'd been teaching her to drive and she wasn't too bad.

"Hi, James," she called as she headed up the drive, waving to me. "Um, where's your car?"

"Come in while I explain," I told her, holding the door open. "Ah, isn't it your birthday today?"

"Uh-huh. Eighteen, and just dying to get my license."

"Yes, well I'm afraid my car was involved in a little accident last night. Some low life swiped it and ran it into the side of a truck."

"Oh no. Was anyone hurt?"

"Not that I know of, but the car's a write-off.'

"That's terrible. Did they catch the driver?"

"Not yet, but they will. The truck had a dash-cam and the driver's face will show up on that once they clean up the image a bit."

Nat turned a little pale on hearing that little tit-bit.

"Oh, uh, that's good," she muttered.

"Yeah, isn't it? Between the cops and the insurance companies she's going to be in real strife for years to come. Just paying for the damages will cost her a small fortune."

Nat was starting to look a little sick and I turned up the pressure.

"As a matter of curiosity, how did you start the car without the keys?"

"Me! What makes you think it was me?"

"The driver's seat was moved full forward to where you like it and the back of it was adjusted to your normal style. The rear vision mirror was set the way you like it. I don't know about the side mirrors because they were scraped off during the accident. And you left your lipstick in the side tray. It wasn't there before yesterday."

None of which proved that she was the driver but she was feeling too guilty to think of that. She just crumbled, bursting into tears.

Apparently she'd had Suzy stay overnight and come midnight they were bored but didn't want to go to sleep. Nat had made the idle comment that if she had the keys she'd borrow my old car and go for a drive. Suzy promptly offered to show her how to hot-wire a car. It might not work on a new model but on that old bomb, no problems. She'd taken the corner a little fast when her foot slipped off the brake and the rest was history.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Well for a start you should know that I lied about the dash-cam. Even if the driver had one it wouldn't have filmed a car coming at him from the side and if it did he would only have seen headlights, not people, so you're safe there. Now I don't want you to be mauled and devoured by the cops and the insurance companies so it means that any punishments will have to come from your parents or me. Your choice."

"My parents? My dad will kill me. Mom will ground me for a year at the very least. They'll confiscate my phone. My life will be D E D - dead."

"Actually, you spell dead D E A D. So you want me to punish you?"

"I know how to spell. Wh-what are you going to do?"

"I'll keep it simple. I'm simply going to put you over my knee and spank you. Oh, and you can tell Suzy that she needs to come around and collect her own spanking. She's just as guilty as you are."

"You're joking. You can't spank me."

"I can, you know. Quite easily. Eighteen, remember. An adult. Just think, if this was yesterday I wouldn't be able to as you would have been a minor and I'd have had to refer the whole mess to your father. What a difference a day makes."

"But - I don't want you to spank me."

"I didn't want you to pinch my car and write it off," I pointed out.

"Even if I let you spank me what makes you think Suzy will come around for a spanking. She'd be mad to even consider it."

"Maybe. Maybe not. All you have to do is tell her. It won't be your fault if she's too scared to come."

I sat down and patted my lap. Nat gave me a furious look but edged closer to me, looking more and more nervous the closer she got. When she was close enough I reached for her, taking her arm and helping her close the gap, guiding her until she was bent over my lap, hands behind her covering her bottom.

"Move your hands," I said gently and she did, albeit somewhat reluctantly. I lifted her dress away from her bottom and her hands were back covering her backside with a squeal.

"Stop that," I snapped, and once again her hands moved slowly away, leaving me free to spank her bottom if I wanted. I didn't want - not just yet. I very smoothly pushed her panties down, having them down around her knees before she could react.

An even louder squeal and her hands were once more covering the playing field. I sighed and explained.

"Nat, did you for one instant think that I wouldn't spank your bare bottom? Stop being silly and move your hands and keep them moved."

"B-but you can see everything," was her wailing cry.

"Nat, I've already seen everything so what does it matter? Would you like me to insist that you undress completely? I don't mind."

"What? No!"

She moved her hands away and I delivered her first spank. By reflex her hands started to protect her bottom again, but then they fell away, showing she was resigned to getting her bottom paddled. Her legs were pressed tightly together, presumably to stop me seeing more than I should. I wondered how long it would be before they drifted apart, showing everything.

Three spanks it turned out. By the time the third spank landed her legs were drifting apart. A few more spanks and they were fairly wide, silently offering me a temptation to stop the spanking. I was quite happy to just observe while I continued to spank and softly read her the riot act.

Her bottom was developing a nice flush as I spanked her. I noticed that her vulva was also developing a bit of a flush and I wasn't touching that. Her pudenda were swelling and parting slightly, her inner lips starting to peep through. I suspected that she was also breathing a bit harder now, and the little cries she was making as I spanked sounded rather excited.

Enough was enough, I decided, and brought my hand down for one last spank, leaving my hand resting on her bottom.

"You're not going to do something that stupid again, are you?" I said.

She vigorously shook her head.

"Uh-huh. You'll probably find something else silly to do instead."

She started to nod agreement, caught on to what I'd said and shook her head instead.

"I won't. Ah, what are you doing?"

I'd have thought she could tell. My hand had slipped between those invitingly parted thighs and I was rubbing her pussy, slowly but firmly.

"I'm just giving you a massage to make sure you're ready for what I'm going to do next," I said, a couple of fingers slipping inside her and teasing her internally.

"What? But I didn't say you could, ah, um, I didn't say. . ."

She broke off what she was trying to say, probably not sure of what she wanted to say. She sounded as though she wanted to be scandalised but had more of an air of anticipatory excitement.

I swung her to her feet, and as a continuation of that movement bent forward to push her panties down to her ankles. If she wanted to lose them all she had to do was shake a foot. Moving right along I stood up and dropped my trousers and undies, my intentions now writ large.

I pulled her up against me, letting her feel the hot hard length of me pressing against her tummy. The main reason it was pressing against her tummy was the little fact that I'd thoughtfully lifted her dress up, exposing her from the waist down. Her face was quite an interesting display of emotions, with her apparently not knowing how she was supposed to react.

My hands slid back and forth across her bottom, enjoying the feel of her, anticipating coming events. One hand moved between her legs, pressing against the softness there. This was met with a rather startled squeak and a furiously shaken head.

"Don't you touch me there," she protested, sounding quite sincere.

I simply moved a leg so that it was behind her. A bit of gentle pressure and she tried to back away from me, only to stumble over my leg and falling backwards. I couldn't allow that and did the gentlemanly thing, catching her and guiding her to the floor, just naturally sinking to the floor myself.

I moved my leg over her so that it rested between her legs, holding them apart. Now I started exploring more thoroughly. As a side effect, Nat started protesting more thoroughly, but didn't try to physically stop me.

After five minutes or so of this teasing I judged that she was ready for things to advance. When I say ready I mean physically, not necessarily emotionally. Time would tell on that.

I pushed her legs a lot further apart, moving to kneel between them. From the look of shock on her face she hadn't really thought things through to the obvious conclusion. Now that obvious conclusion was hovering above her in a meaningful way and she didn't know what to do.

"You wouldn't dare," she said, and I wasn't sure if she was telling me or trying to convince herself.

"If you hitch yourself up on your elbows you'll be able to watch better and see that I will dare," I advised her, brushing the head of my cock up and down her lips.

I was slightly surprised when she did just that, trying to see exactly what I was doing. She gasped when I stretched her lips apart and adjusted my cock so it was resting in the space provided.

"Don't you dare," she said with a gasp. "I said don't," she added as I started pressing home. This was followed by an, "Oh my god," as she hastily closed her eyes and turned her head away.

Funny thing curiosity. Girls, I find, are insatiably curious. I'd barely started pushing into her when her head turned back, her eyes popping open, wanting to see the train-wreck in action.

She started making a funny sound as I sank into her. I wouldn't say it was appreciation, but neither was it a blanket condemnation. More of a nervous anticipation than anything else. I was pretty sure she was a virgin up until this stage but it didn't seem to make any difference as I slipped into place just as smooth as you please. Perhaps her sports career had put paid to that little problem.

I didn't rush, taking care to enter her without unduly distressing her. She seemed a little confused over what was happening, which was understandable, I suppose. She also kept watching until our groins were pressed tightly together, and then turned to look at me, as if not really believing that I'd just done what I did.

I just winked at her, holding myself in position, and started pushing her dress higher.

"What are you doing?"

"Just pushing your dress out of the way," I told, watching as her bra came into view. "And this, of course." I pushed her bra up, her breasts spilling into view. Oddly enough she now blushed. Pulling her panties down and spanking her, no blush. Same with pressing my erection against her, petting her, entering her even. Expose her breasts and she blushes. Who the hell can understand women?

Seeing Nat seemed embarrassed to have her breasts on display I promptly covered them, with my hands. Then I started rubbing them. At the same time I started pumping into her, pulling slowly back and then driving back in with somewhat more gusto.

I doubt that there's a woman alive who doesn't know what to do when a man starts to have sex with her. I blame the internet and all that porn. On the plus side, it helps if a woman knows what she's supposed to do. It only took a couple of strokes and Nat was responding, pressing up to meet me, tentatively at first and then more firmly as she started to really feel what we were doing.

After a few minutes Nat was really into it, pushing to meet me urgently, starting to make demands. She wanted more. She wanted it faster. It was too much. Shouldn't I be finishing it? No, don't stop. Don't you dare!

I just kept going, slowly increasing the pace, Nat proving that she could keep up with me with no problems. I dragged it out as long as I could, that delightful heated friction doing wonderful things to me. Doing wonderful things to Nat as well, from her reactions.

It finally reached a point where I couldn't take any more and I simply cut loose. It was fortunate (for Nat) that my cutting loose was enough to drive her over the edge, giving her a climax, quite a nice one from the way she reacted. I say fortunate because if she hadn't managed to climax then she would have been right out of luck as I was now officially done.

After we were dressed again and Nat had finished giving me a piece of her mind I asked if she was willing to go for her driving lesson.

"But you don't have your car," she pointed out.

"I do have another car," I reminded her. "You should be able to handle it without any problems, as long as you remember where the brake is."

Nat spent the next hour proving to me that she could indeed drive very well. I made some approving comments as she went, building up her confidence. Having confidence in your ability to do something improves your performance, I find.

"Don't forget to tell Suzy that I expect her to come and see me," I reminded Nat after the lesson.

"Are you really going to spank her if she comes around?" she asked, giving me a dubious look.

"Why not? She's as much to blame as you are and she's also older than you."

"She won't come," Nat stated quite flatly. "Ah, if she did, would you, ah, um, after the spanking. . ."

"Why don't you come with her and see?" I suggested. "Better yet, tell her she has to come with you as I'm going to spank both of you. Then you'll really be in a position to find out if I'm going to, ah, um, as you put it, both of you."