Total Woman Vignettes 04

A large beige ten-gallon cowboy hat floated through the door. Below it was a short young man in cowboy boots and the standard issue red leather overalls. Francine looked at the remaining two files: one was labeled 'Tom' and the other 'Big John'. Francine hesitated, not wanting to start the interview with a faux-pau. She threw it back on the cowboy.

"Please introduce yourself. And remove your hat in the presence of a lady."

"Yes, ma'am... sorry, ma'am. I'm John...everybody calls me 'Big John'."

Francine slid the 'Tom' file aside and opened 'Big John'. She quickly scanned the coversheet. Nothing struck her as negative; in fact, Harding had made a special notation of John's particular contributions to TWI car designs. Francine looked up and motioned John to sit.

"Why did you become a test track driver?"

"I grew up around the horse tracks. I liked the idea of speed. I wanted to be a race horse jockey but in my teens I got a growth spurt. When I asked to be a jockey, everyone said 'You're too BIG, John". And the name just kind of stuck. The next closest thing to a jockey is a jet pilot but for that I'm too small. I wandered into test car driving by default."

"Well, you seem to have found a home. Harding says you help with the car designs. Can you tell me how?'

"Well, yes, ma'am, I think he is talking about my small stature. Most test track and race car drivers are lanky and tall, better able to brace for tight turns and braking. That tends to disqualify me in most circles. But, as you know, Mr. Harding is a very smart man. He says if we design and adjust the cars only for lanky, tall people, we're shutting ourselves out of the rest of the market. He listens when I tell him how the car fits me.

"For instance, at police traffic stops, short people like me have to loosen the seat belt so we can open the glove box for the car papers. Cops get real nervous when people do that. There could be a gun in there or something. Mr. Harding moved the glove box latch to the far left side of the glove compartment door to alleviate that problem. I think I'm helping."

Francine nodded. She had to ask.

"Are you okay with the nickname?"

"It used to get under my skin around the guys but I discovered it was a useful tagline elsewhere. When I get itchy about the kidding, I just think on that."

Francine frowned. "I don't think I understand. You'll have to explain more."

Big John hesitated and then gave out a breath and caved in. "No disrespect intended, ma'am, but Slick was tittering when he left and couldn't hold back telling about your interview methods. That's good for me. I think I have a shot at winning first drive."

"How will you do that?" asked Francine.

John stood and unzipped his overalls. He rummaged in his groin and extracted his cock. It was very long and fat with a huge knob, and still flaccid. Francine's eyes popped wide as she leaned forward and mouthed a silent 'HOLY... SHIT!'

"Like I said, ma'am, when the guys get to me during the day, I just reminisce about my nights. I know I'm not arm candy for any women to parade in public and my relationships don't last very long. But I like it when my former dates call me 'Big John'. It means something distinctive to them."

Francine was a tallish woman with a proportional vaginal depth to match. She found satisfaction with the shallow stimulus provided by her average male companions. She could use something mechanical when she felt the need for something deeper. But John was offering her the rare opportunity for both in one hot package. Francine would take him up on it.

Francine came around her desk. Standing over John, she hefted his package; it completely filled her hand. Her finger tips touched his scrotum. The head, even flaccid, rubbed her wrist. She drew her fingers along the underside, skimming off the knob as John's cock fell almost to dangle. But her handling was having it effect and the rod stood away from John at a small angle, the beginning of its awakening for the task ahead.

"You're overdressed, John." Francine tugged at his leather overalls and John cooperated with her until he was standing naked in the middle of the office. There was a couch but it would sag too low and impede full penetration. She wanted John's body prone and his full erect cock wholly available. She spread his leathers on the floor. John ended up prone on his back with 'Big John' lying on his abdomen, straining to almost reach his bellybutton.

Francine saddled up her bare crotch over John's erection. 'Big John' was fat and long but not completely rigid. Francine fondled the engorged penis to work it firmer to little effect. She saw John staring at her cleavage confined by the stretch top. 'So' she thought 'maybe John's a tit-man.'

Francine lifted her top off and let her boobs bounce free. John's eyes widened and she knew she had guessed right. She placed John's hands on her breasts. For the next few minutes, she coached John on her preferred methods of thumbing nipples, cupping and kneading the masses and priming both sex mates through tit-play. John was entranced by the extended stiff nubs and rolled them provocatively with his fingertips. Francine was more than ready. When she fondled 'Big John' again, she found him hard as a ribbed steel bolt and ready to be screwed into her lubricated socket.

Francine leaned forward to maintain John's dexterous chest contact and raised her hips high, needing to go much higher than usual. She made room for the levered up shaft to tap her damp cunt lips. Alignment assured, she pressed down.

'Big John's journey to Francine's core took some time. She was wet enough but the knob strained to spread her interior flesh. Francine labored an inch in and then paused to allow her natural elasticity to accommodate the intruder before continuing onward. Many tries later, she felt 'Big John' bump her cervix.

After a short pause for conjoined size accommodation, Francine began a hip rock and roll that flicked 'Big John's tip on the cervical bulge, prompting a long moan from the pair, followed by little moans each time she repeated the action. Sometimes she shallowed up just a little so her soft tissue flicked the tip slit, other times she crushed down and swept firmly over the engorged knob. John's face was becoming flush; Francine assumed her own face was matching the rosy glow. She noted her breasts and chest were ruddier.

Francine wanted a different feel. She shifted to long strokes, scouring her jam-packed interior with his corona. John became animated, a bullhorn of grunts, moans and hard breaths. Francine joined his hoarse homily. Her core was a ball of nerves, glowing with sensations. Her enlivened cervix competed with her gleamed channel and enflamed cunt lips to see which would throw the switch first. It was a three way tie as Francine cried out her ecstasy. 'Big John' was second place, but only by a heartbeat. John felt Francine's cunt clamp down harder as 'Big John' erupted. Francine felt the hot shots spurt deep in her center, filling her chamber with thick gooey spunk. The fuck-mates never halted motions; they simply slowed down naturally as their fervor waned.

Francine fell forward, pressing her heated breasts against John's chest. 'Big John' was loathe to leave his warm abode but the inevitable slackening continued until he was only loosely held by Francine's stretched vagina. John wiggled and drew his cock out of her. Spunk dribbled on his groin and thighs, dripping farther onto his crumpled leathers, leaving a noticeable, wet cum stain.

Francine got up and sat again behind her desk. She re-encased her tits with the stretchy top and finger combed her disheveled hair. John examined the wet stain on the leg of his overalls. He slipped into them anyway, along with boots and hat.

"Well, ma'am, will I get to drive the car first?"

Francine pondered the question.

"I have more interviews but you're certainly in the running. You're dismissed for now and please close the door on your way out."

John tipped his ten-gallon hat to the boss lady and left the room. Francine slumped in her chair. She was tiring and was concerned about making it through the final interview.

Francine opened the last file, Tom. The coversheet listed a few particulars. Former Air Force pilot, middle aged, previously married but widowed, two grown children, similar excellent test track driving record.

There was a knock and she resumed her power position behind the desk. Tom entered. He was a tall, dusky man, very fit, clear blue eyes with his leather overalls neat, clean, tidy. He entered the room with his head erect, magnifying the effect of his 6'-2" frame. As he approached the desk, Francine stood and extended her hand in greeting before she realized what she was doing. She just naturally gave the man her polite respect. His hand shake was firm, his eyes fixed on her eyes and his light smile just enough to convey the balance between confidence and respect.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. My name's Tom."

"Oh, please, call me Francine." She almost hiccupped with the sudden realization that this man had melted her staid demeanor within seconds of their meeting.

"Yes, ma'am... or rather Ms. Francine."

Francine perused his file, not really noticing that Tom stood at easy attention in front of her desk.

"What was your rank when you left the Air Force?"

"I was a major, ma'am... err, Ms. Francine."

Francine almost giggled but caught herself. She sang the old familiar song in her head. She raised an eyebrow as she asked "You were Major Tom?"

"Yes... Ms. Francine. Me and all the other guys named Thomas that earned the rank." He said it in a way that conveyed the information, due respect and a polite disdain for the worn out joke.

Francine regretted her remark but moved on.

"Why did you leave the Air Force?"

"My flying days were over and I didn't like desk duty. When my wife passed, I wanted to spend more time with my kids and their kids. Total Women Industries offered me this job because of my skills in operating a complex piece of machinery at the exact precision of speed, RPMs, cornering, stuff like that. That's the performance data you need to design or improve a prototype. I took the job with the understanding that I would get extended leave between projects to be with my family. I was away from my kids and wife far too much in the service and I've got things to make up for. The job's been good so far."

Francine was warming to this man. This required a different kind of interview. She closed the file and stood. Before she could say anything, Tom spoke first.

"Ms. Francine, the other two are young and they were tittering about their interviews. With all due respect, ma'am, that's just not my way. If that's what driving the car first requires, then I am not your man."

Francine pondered that.

"Yes, Tom, I can see that's not your way. It's been a long day. I am a bit weary and will soon be hungry. Would you agree to have dinner with me and we will discuss this matter further then?"

Tom agreed and they shook hands. Tom turned briskly and left the office as Francine slumped in her chair to recover her befuddled wits

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Tom picked her up in a mid-sized sedan. They went to a small boutique restaurant with the predictable low twinkly lighting and soft non-descript house music. They asked for a side table where they could talk uninterrupted by wait staff traffic.

Francine pressed Tom for 'war stories' but he was reserved. He had flown many combat missions but his real love was being an advanced training instructor. He fought his nation's newest battles in classrooms and practice flights. He strived to instill in the hot young jockeys the fundamentals of planning, preparation, steadiness in tight situations, using the full capabilities of the aircraft but not abusing its remarkable strengths. With a jet fighter there are no mid-air pit-stops; you're either flying or falling.

Francine found herself leaning in, elbows on table, hands cradling her chin as she listened enthralled by the calm, assured voice, mesmerized as the blue hues in Tom's eyes danced in the candle light. Her heart quickened when he told a danger story. Her heart froze when he conveyed a tragedy, a friend lost in battle or a training accident. Her heart melted when he talked of his children and grandchildren. The wine bottle emptied as Francine brimmed over with admiration for Major Tom.

After that, it was only natural that they ended up in Francine's hotel room. A couple more drinks evolved to kissing, fondling. Tom was not forward or reserved, just confident in his actions. Francine was ready, nay...eager, when Tom carried her to stand beside the bed. He gently removed her blouse, and then loosened her skirt until it hit the floor. Francine waited serenely naked as Tom patiently removing his own clothes. He took time to neatly fold and deferentially stow both their wardrobes.

Tom returned to stand in front of the naked Francine, her arms hanging limply. He held her face as he drew her in for a smoldering kiss. She ran her arms about his neck and held him tight. His arms circled her back and pressed her wondrous fleshy globes into his muscled chest.

Tom's hands descended to cup Francine's ass cheeks. He lifted her as she encircled her thighs around his waist and locked her ankles behind him. He lay her gently down, tenderly ensconced in her pelvic saddle.

Francine wiggled her hips around until her cunt lips found his hard and swollen cock tip. Tom chivalrously cooperated with the alignment and they worked together easing Tom's cock inward. Francine's natural warmth, wetness and compression surrounded his buried erection. The lovers were loath to make any vigorous motions just yet. They reveled in the divine closeness of the other's body. They played tongue tag. Only an occasional hip jog or thigh twist interrupted the calm of their intimate juncture.

Slowly, the urge grew and small movements became larger movements. Time ticked on as the longing for more sensation caused them to increase the moves. Tom became more active with longer cock strokes. Francine was ensnared beneath Tom's lean bulk. He plowed gracefully deep inside her. Their sweat dampened skins slipped about between them, arousing them even more.

Francine was trying hard to regulate her rush to the peak but was unable to hold out. With a sudden cry of delight, her cunt rippled and pulsed as she jogged her trapped hips trying to draw Tom into her spiraling ascension. As she crossed the pinnacle, Tom slowed and waited for Francine's tense and vibrating body to calm and soften back into the mattress. Tom lay still and watched her face until he saw her eyes clear.

"Was it good?" he asked.

"Yes" she murmured with a dazed look in her eyes.

"That is what I taught the young pilots. Use her full capabilities but don't abuse them. Pull back until you regain full control, and then reengage the target with vigor. What to try for more?"

Francine just lay tingling. Tom began a slow sensual stroke that brought that contented look back to Francine's face.

"Ms. Francine, please don't hold anything in. Let's see what happens at full throttle."

Within minutes, Francine peaked again, then twice more over the next hour. After that, Tom was a thrusting machine. He pounded her relentlessly, bumping his pubic bone hard against hers. His breath quickened and he arched high with a muffled cry as he disgorged volumes of warm cum into her receptive core.

They lay quiescent, lightly conjoined until Tom deflated. Neither moved; content to catnap in that position until it was time to try again later that night. And later, if anything, the second endurance test was even better than the first.

The room was sunlit. Francine awoke in an empty bed. There was a note on the stand.

'Ms. Francine, you looked so lovely, sleeping so peacefully, that I couldn't disturb you and ruin the image. Whomever you choose this morning, I want them prepared to use the full capabilities of the car but not abuse it. I left early to give them final briefings and instructions. I will see you at the track. Major Tom."

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Francine left the control tower and approached the test car. The keys were dangling from her hand, jingling. The three test track drivers stood online, awaiting her decision. Francine silently strode past them and slid into the driver seat. She keyed the ignition and the engine started into a low powerful rumble. Pulling the door shut, she wheeled the car onto the test track, lined up on the straightaway and 'punched it'.

TWI's newest roadster model galloped forward, not with the crush-you-back-in-your-seat acceleration, but a controlled power able to get you out of a traffic difficulty. The ride was smooth and Francine approached the end of the straightaway at a good highway speed. She eased the car into the turn and the active suspension tilted slightly inward. It was just enough to hold the passengers in seated comfort despite the centrifugal forces. The car hugged the turn. On the next straight stretch Francine thumbed the cruise control. Into the next turn, the car adjusted speed automatically to give the optimum combination of power, speed and fuel efficiency for perfect performance and comfort. Francine was thrilled with this masterpiece of machinery that Harding had composed: an economical, sporty family roadster. She was going to book more sales orders than the factories could possibly produce.

Francine's joy was tempered by the three figures standing in line as she reentered the test track prep area. She idled down, parked the car where she found it and alighted.

Francine strode to John and tossed him the keys. She pointed to the distant side of the test track and firmly gave her command.

"See that halfway track marker? Slick will ride shotgun until you get there. John, you will stop exactly there and switch drivers; both of you can claim to be the first test track driver. That's an order. If I see any funny business, you're both through at TWI. Understand?"

Slick and John smiled wide and ran to the new test car. John pulled onto the track as Slick waved out the passenger side window. Harding watched with binoculars from the elevated control room. Francine waved and gave him a 'thumbs up'. She spoke to Tom as she hugged his arm.

"I'm sorry there can't be three first time test track drivers but I suspected that you didn't really care all that much."

Tom shrugged. "Yeah, it's a great car but there will be many more tests as the production models evolve".

"That's exactly right, Tom. And Harding and I have a proposition that you may find interesting. I can't spend a lot of time travelling here from headquarters and Harding won't leave his 'babies' in amateur hands. We want you to be our liaison. You will travel between here and headquarters regularly, briefing me on the latest problems and progress. The schedule should be flexible enough to give you family time and you can fly the corporate jet on the trips. How does that sound?"

"Yes, ma'am! That sounds good. Actually, my kids live near a city midpoint between here and headquarters. Could I stop in route occasionally for visits?"

"Yes, but only on two conditions. I will still come here a few times a year and you will fly me. So first: on one of the trips when you fly me out here, I want to stop by and meet your family. I hope you will let me get to know your kids and grandkids.

"Second: we're going to work some more on getting over that 'ma'am' thing. Do we have a deal?"

Tom gathered Francine into a bear hug, leaned in and planted a long passionate kiss on her lips that she eagerly returned. Keeping her face close to his, he smirked as he said "Yes, ma'am."