Used Cars

Each day the bus passed by that used car dealership, and each day I ogled the red 1994 RX7 in the lot. I had owned my own car as a teenager, a gift from my grandparents when I turned 16, but I sold it when I went away to college, and now, in my twenties, all of my money went towards paying off student loans and rent on my great apartment. I was happy with the choices I had made, but I had to admit I was tired of taking the bus everywhere, and longed to see myself in that cute red sportscar, windows rolled down, letting the wind blow through my long blonde hair as I hit the gas on the open highway. Today's the day, I told myself, that I would get off the bus a few stops early and visit the dealership.

It was your typical used car dealership - a wide range of cars on the lot, from junkers to expensive imports. Prices painted on the windshields, balloons tied to rear-view mirrors. And not a salesman in sight, until I actually walked inside, was assaulted with the smell of old coffee and cigarettes, and found a middle-aged guy sitting with his feet up on his desk, watching a TV that was older than most of the cars on his lot.

My heart sank as I quickly realized that this guy saw me as an easy target for a quick buck at a high interest rate. I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes as he looked me up and down, obviously savoring the sight of an attractive young woman in his showroom. He stood up, revealing an impressive beer belly, and moved his hands through his greasy comb-over as he walked towards me, as if that's all it took to make him look sharp.

"Well, hello, young lady. What can I do for you today?" I reluctantly shook his outstretched hand, knowing it would still be wet with who knows what product he used in his aforementioned greasy hair.

"Well, I've had my eye on that RX7 you have on the lot, and I'm curious if there's any room to bargain on the price? Also, what terms you can offer for financing?"

He started to respond directly to me, but soon shifted to talking at my chest, obviously finding my 36C tits quite engaging. First, he blathered on about low mileage, how the car might as well have been owned by his grandmother, for the lack of wear and tear. I knew he was full of it then, but he dug an even deeper hole when he started talking about how the price he had on it was as low as he could possibly go (I had done my research, and knew he was a couple thousand over Blue Book). Yet even though I knew he was about as honest as my uncle Charlie, who was presently residing in the county jail, I didn't feel confident enough in my knowledge of the car business to call him on his bullshit.

After he was done lecturing about the car itself and its saintly history, he shifted over to his financing terms. By this point, I was tuning him out, hoping he would shut up soon so I could make my exit and catch the bus ride home. As he wound down, I caught his last few sentences, "so, I'd be pleased to make you a special offer with just 20% interest. But, if I may be so bold, it'll all be worth it, to see such a lovely young lady as yourself drive away in this stunning vehicle."

Dejected, I left as quickly as I could. Back in my apartment that evening, I poured myself a glass of wine, turned on some quiet music, and sat down on the couch to ponder the whole fiasco. Was it really that impossible for a young woman like myself to be taken seriously by this sleasy used car dealer? What was it about me that made him think he could take such advantage? How did he know I didn't come from a long line of mechanics or something?

I felt silly, worrying about this so much. After all, I was a successful young professional with a good life. And if I wanted to buy a car, there were many ways I could make a deal without feeling like such a chump. I could secure my own financing first and then buy from a new-car dealership. Or, I had a few male friends I'm sure would be willing to pose as a boyfriend or husband to protect me from chauvinistic dealers like the one I had encountered today.

But somehow, I really had my heart set on that particular car. I had always wanted a red RX7, and to find that year with that mileage was unusual. And part of me also wanted to somehow put this sleasy old guy in his place. But how? I couldn't use the bring-a-guy plan, since this dealer had already figured out I was single. As I kicked off my shoes and put my feet up on my coffee table, the brilliant idea struck me.

I stood up, set down my glass of wine, and walked into my bedroom, where I stood in front of the full-length mirror on my closet door. Why not turn the tables, and take advantage of exactly that which seemed like a weakness as this lowlife was treating me like an object earlier that day? After studying my extremely hot body in the mirror for a few moments, I opened the closet door and studied my wardrobe, looking for an outfit that might achieve my plan.

I flung a few things onto my bed, shut the closet door again, and stripped down to my bra and panties. I again studied my body for a moment, running one hand slowly from my neck past my breasts to my hips, and then tracing my panty line. Yes, this plan would most certainly work, if only I had the courage to follow through. After playing a little dress-up, I settled on a fitted red sweater, short black suit skirt with a slit up one leg, and black heels.

Even though I wasn't sure I'd be able to follow through the next day, my plan had left me thoroughly turned on. It had always been a fantasy of mine to use my sexuality to have my way with a man - although usually the man in my fantasy wasn't a sweaty, middle-aged used car dealer. As I chuckled to myself about that, I quickly pushed his specific image out of my mind and reached for my vibrator, which I tossed onto my bed.

Still watching myself in the mirror, I undressed and carefully laid out the clothes I had chosen. Once I was naked, I again let my hands run over my body, my skin now tingling with desire. When I couldn't take it any longer, I climbed into my bed, grabbed the vibrator, and twisted it on as I pressed the moving tip to my left breast. It was just seconds before both nipples were fully erect and I could no longer resist moving my toy lower. I writhed in pleasure as I first brought it into contact with my clit, and then began stroking it against my pussy lips, wetting it in my juices in preparation for a quick fucking.

I continued stroking my clit as I slowly pressed the vibrating faux cock into my pussy. Once I had inserted all 7 inches of my beloved toy, I reached for the end and turned up the speed of the vibration. For a few moments, I left the cock fully inserted, pulsating inside of me. Before long, though, I couldn't resist any longer and began thrusting it in and out, all the while stroking my clit with my other hand. It never took me long to cum with this toy, and after just a few minutes I was crying out as my orgasm overtook me.

I must have fallen asleep soon after, as I woke up the next morning with my favorite toy still in my hand. Chuckling to myself again - next time I had a guy spend the night, I'd probably have to let go of his cock at some point! - I made my way to the shower and thought over my plan once more. Nothing to lose - might as well go for it.

A few hours later, I was walking through the doors of the dealership once again. Actually, strutting might have been a better word. I was wearing the aforementioned outfit, which highlighted each of my curves and left very little to the imagination. I had picked out red lipstick which matched my tight-fitting sweater, and had curled my hair and pinned it gently back, so that the long tresses bounced against my shoulders and breasts as I walked. And I brought with me the confidence that such an outfit should solicit, if there's any point in wearing it out of the house.

I couldn't imagine my luck as I spotted the unsuspecting car salesman. He was in the same position as I'd found him yesterday, but had dozed off, his head dropped down to his chest, balancing on his double chins. I managed to approach him on my high heels without waking him, and, positioning myself between his chair and desk and taking a deep breath, grabbed his crotch. Needless to say, this woke him with a start, and he looked up at me first with shock and then with intrigue.

"Hello there, remember me?" I asked flirtateously, beginning to massage his growing cock through his cheap polyester slacks.

"Uh, yes, of course. Um, you were here yesterday, right?"

"That's right, and I was hoping we could discuss that RX7 again."

"Well, um, I would say we can discuss anything you'd like at this particular juncture."

"Good. Here's my proposal. I will get down on my knees and suck your cock right now if you'll drop that bullshit 20% interest rate you offered me yesterday to the 8% I'd be able to get from any legit dealer in town."

"Oh, god, missy - you've got a deal."

Figuring it'd be best to get it over with, I immediately dropped to my knees in front of him and waited as he stood up, fumbled with his belt and zipper, and pushed his slacks and boxers down to his ankles. Before I could reach for his cock - which was already half-erect, I had to push up his huge belly, which he then graciously held up for me. Gee, what a gentleman. Taking his hairy balls in one hand and his shaft in the other, I set to work, wrapping my lips around the tip of his cock and then beginning to bob up and down.

He moaned and grunted and squirmed like a guy who hadn't had a woman's mouth around his cock in quite some time - which I'm sure was true, given his appearance, sense of fashion, and general demeanor. To keep myself on task, I replaced the image of this chubby, sweaty guy thrusting his cock into my mouth with the image of the sexy car that would soon be mine, imagining how sexy I would look in it. With that motivation, I plunged onto him until his cock was buried in my throat, and then began moving quickly back and forth on his entire length.

As I felt him approach his climax, I realized that my plan was working even better than I had hoped, and that I could likely take it one step further. Timing my motions perfectly to leave him in a delightful state of frustration, I pulled my hands and mouth away from him and abruptly stood up so that we were facing each other.

"I bet you'd like to fuck me, too, right?"

"Oh my god, yes. Will you let me?"

"Just one condition. You knock down that inflated price on the RX7 by $1,000."

"Uh, hmm, I don't know... oh, of course - what am I thinking. It's not everyday a hottie like you offers me up her pussy. You've got a deal - now, bend over."

Delighted that he went for it, and even more delighted that he wanted to take me from behind - I wouldn't have to look at the fat pig as he fucked me - I quickly turned away from him, bent over his desk, and spread my legs for him. He hiked up my already short skirt, pushed my panties to the side, and pulled me to him, stroking his cock against my pussy lips just a few times before he could no longer resist and thrust fully into me.

I knew he wouldn't last long, knew I wouldn't have to keep my elbows next to his coffee cup and ashtray much longer. Again, I replaced bad images with good ones: his comb-over and double-chins disappeared as I imagined revving the engine for the first time; his jiggling belly as he pounded me was already a distant memory compared to the pleasure of a long road trip in my beautiful red sportscar. And I counted my lucky stars that his dealership was so unpopular that nobody walked in on us doing the ugly deed.

After just a few minutes, his grunts and moans pulled me back to reality. As soon as he had finished, shooting his load all over my ass and then kindly cleaning it up with tissues, I straightened myself up and asked him for the keys.

"Gladly. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

Any guilt I may have felt, any lingering displeasure at having prostituted myself for a better deal on a used car, quickly disappeared as I sped off the lot. I spent the rest of the day driving around town, going nowhere in particular on the highway, and ending up at my favorite watering hole that evening. My friends were all shocked that I had taken the plunge and finally bought a car; they were probably also pleased that they wouldn't have to keep giving me rides! A few people asked where I bought it, or what price I had paid. I just smiled, and, sparing them the details, said I thought I got a pretty good deal.