The Car

Ha…runk runk runk runk runk. Haaa…runk runk runk runk runk. Haaaa….. runk……........... runk………………….. runk………………… wooo.

“Bloody thing. Rotten sodding rust bucket.” I turned the starter key one more time and got a dying whimper, then silence.

I could have cried. I knew it would cost me money I could ill afford to get the thing fixed. Like most people in our street I owned a clapped out old car simply because I and they couldn’t afford to get anything better. We were like dogs chasing our tails. We could never save enough money to get a decent car because we were always spending our money trying to keep the cars we had going.

I should explain. I’m a fifty year old widow, name of Belinda, living on government welfare money. I’d get a job if I could, but I have few if any skills, and at fifty employers don’t want you. I live in a street on an estate of government houses occupied mainly by people who, like me, are always strapped for money.

I got out of the car and lifted the bonnet. I had no idea what I was looking at and for.

Gloria next door looked over the low fence. “Got troubles?”

“Yes, bloody thing won’t start, and now I’ve run the battery down trying.”

Gloria was a widow like me, but she didn’t live alone. She had an unmarried son living with her, Alan by name. A bloody good looking fellow of about nineteen or twenty, and very bright. He’d get out of this area one day and go and live in one of those posh suburbs. Probably marry some well off bird.

Funny thing about Alan. I’d never seen him with a girl, and his mum said he wasn’t all that interested. Too busy “getting on”, as she put it. He’d got or won some sort of grant and was at university studying engineering.

“Hey,” said Gloria, “Alan’s at home today. Would you like him to have a look at it?”

“Would he?”

“Course he would. I’ll fetch him.”

Two minutes later out strode Alan, very purposeful.

“Trouble?” He asked.

“Won’t start.”

“Let’s have a look.”

He stuck his head under the bonnet and began to fiddle with things. After a while he looked up and said, “Turn it over, will you?”

“Can’t, battery’s flat.”

“Ah! I’ll get my charger and we’ll give it a quick burst. How about a cup of tea while we wait?”

“Right.”

He made off in the direction of his shed and I went indoors to make the tea.

Five minutes later he was tapping at the door and I yelled, “Come in.”

We drank our tea and chatted on about his studies and the street gossip, and so on. Then he said, “Should be able to turn it over now.”

We went out and he stuck his head under the bonnet again. “Turn it over now,” he called.

I turned the key and got the Ha…runk runks again.

He came out from under the bonnet and said, “Timing has slipped and the plugs are buggered. I can fix the timing, but can you afford new plugs?”

“Suppose I’ll have to if I want the thing to start.”

“Right. I’ll go off and buy the plugs and you can pay me when I get back. Okay?

“Yes.”

Off he went in his car. I’d been all dressed up to go out on a visit to an old friend, but as it looked like I wouldn’t be going now, I decided to change.

I stripped off down to my panties and being a warm day I put on a pair of shorts and a top. I hate bras and only wear them when I’m going out in company, and not counting Alan as company, I removed the lousy things and let myself swing free. Of course, the trouble is, I’ve got plenty to swing free. Joe used to enjoy himself enormously with what he called my “love lumps” before he got sick and died. God, I miss him.

Alan came back and got his head under the bonnet again and fiddled around for half an hour or more. I got down to some work around the house and let him get on with it.

I’d seen Gloria go out, so as it was approaching lunch time I went out and asked Alan if he’d like to have lunch with me.

“If it’s not too much trouble, Belinda,” he replied, “mum’s gone out for the afternoon, so I’d have to get my own. Er…just turn it over, will you?”

This time it ha runked, then fluttered into life.

Alan reappeared from under the bonnet and said, “Got it going, but she badly needs a service. Would you like me to do it for you some time?”

“Would you really, Alan? How much would it cost, and by the way, how much for the things you bought?

“Have them on me,” he said, smiling, “and I’m sure we can come to some arrangement about the service.”

“Well, if you’re sure, I mean, I don’t want to impose…”

“You won’t impose, Bel,” he replied. “Be my pleasure to do it for you. I can’t do it today because I’ve got a lecture to go to this afternoon, but how about tomorrow? Say, nine o’clock?”

“That is kind of you, Alan. Are you sure I can’t pay you?”

“You’re giving me lunch, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and by the way, it’s ready.”

“I’ll just give the battery a slow charge while we eat, and then you can probably use the car this afternoon.”

I went inside to put the meal out, and a couple of minutes later Alan came in.

Now I’m not one of those silly women who try to pretend they are not the age they are. I mean, at fifty I don’t try behaving as if I was a teenager. Yet I have to say that I had noticed Alan sort of eyeing me from time to time, even when Joe was alive.

Mind you, I’m not saying I’m beautiful or anything like that, but I am buxom…not fat you understand…I’ve got what Joe used to called, “Nice rounded curves.” We’d never managed to have kids, so I had no marks on my thighs and belly and things like that.

As for my face, it’s all right I suppose. Being a bit on the plump side it seemed to have kept most of the wrinkles at bay. Even when Joe was alive I had to send one or two of his mates packing when they tried it on with me, and since he’s died there have been quite a few just “dropping in” and then telling me we could have a “meaningful relationship.” One or two have been less polite and offered to console by “screwing me.”

Since they’ve all been married men I have rejected their offers of consolation and sent them home. Mostly I did this in a kindly but firm way, and I only had to black the eye of one of them.

Now regarding Alan; his apparent interest in me started when he was about fourteen. Joe still being alive, and keeping me well satisfied, sexually speaking, I gave no great weight to Alan’s trifling interest. After all, a lot of young fellows take an interest in older women. I think this is because they really fancy their mothers, but believing they can’t have them, they look for a substitute.

Well, I’m not about to be anyone’s substitute. If there was some unattached bloke who fancied me for my own sake, and I fancied him, I might give consideration to a joint celebration. I mean, I’m not “past it”, as some young ones seem to think. I could enjoy a “frenzied coupling” with the best of them. It’s just a matter of the right bloke.

During lunch we talked about my car and what might need doing to it. We went on from there to discuss the problems of widows, especially those like me living alone. Mainly this was about money and the sort of jobs that crop up round the house that people like me don’t know how to fix; like changing a tap washer or mending a fuse.

We didn’t get on to what might be called politely, “emotional problems”, but we did seem to be skirting round that aspect.

I prodded things along by asking Alan if he had a girl friend. He said he hadn’t, pointing out that he’d had to work so hard at his studies, and he’d hardly had the time to get to know any girls.

I could understand that. Any kid who intended to get off our estate and have a better life, had to really sweat at it. They couldn’t afford to take girls out. What’s more, they couldn’t afford to be saddled with a pregnant girl, or get a dose of something nasty.

I should point out that most marriages around here take place because the girl is pregnant, and there’s plenty of “nasties” going around.

But enough of our sordid goings on. I was having lunch with a nice looking young bloke who was doing me some really good turns, so, I thought to myself, “Enjoy Bel”, it won’t come round too often.

One of the things I liked about Alan was the fact that he wasn’t like most of the loud mouthed louts we have around here. He was quietly spoken and if he used foul language, I had never heard him.

I suppose that would have put him at a disadvantage with the local girls, even if he had time for them because they seemed to prefer the scruff bags. Me, I like them gentle, like my Joe, which is another reason why I hadn’t taken on anyone else so far.

Even when Alan had eyed me, it was in a shy sort of way. Not like most of them, young or old, who were always trying to look down the top of my dress or up my skirt.

So I basked in the company of a young man who I thought to be a “gentleman”.

All too soon Alan announced he had to go, and would see me tomorrow and service the car.

I must say his company had made me feel good. There was something invigorating about it, like a breath of fresh air blowing through my day. He kept popping into my mind until I went to bed, and even then he did not go away. Between you and me, I had one of “those dreams” that involved him.

When I got up next morning it was with a happy anticipation of the day ahead. “Alan will be coming”, kept singing through my head. Then I’d tell myself I was being a soppy old woman, and to stop thinking about him.

Promptly at nine he was knocking on my door. “Okay if I start?” he asked.

“Yes, go ahead.”

He had brought a lot of tools, a large can of oil and some other things, and I left him to get on with it.

About half past ten I usually have a cup of tea, so I went out to invite Alan to join me. He was lying on a sort of mat half way under the car. It was a hot day and he’d only got a pair of tight shorts on. Observing his nether regions, I noticed a very impressive male organ outlined against the cloth. I felt a lurch in my stomach and a vision of that member slipping sweetly into my female cleft rose up in my head.

There was a wet feeling between my upper thighs, and through the cloth of my top I could see my nipples had hardened.

I tried to stamp out this incipient fire, telling myself not to be so silly because a young buck like Alan wasn’t going to be interested in an old birdlike me. The only trouble was it didn’t stop me feeling sort of warm and tender about him.

We sat down in the kitchen to drink out tea. Alan had refused to come into the lounge because he said he was all mucky.

This time Alan got around to more personal things. Did I miss Joe? What did I miss? Does it take long to get over the death of someone you love? Would I ever take on anyone else?

I gave him honest answers without getting too detailed, especially about the last question, if you see what I mean. As I’m sure you’ll understand, I was feeling a somewhat vulnerable in the situation, having got a bit of a fancy for him, and I might have just said too much and made a fool of myself.

Alan went back to the car saying he’d finished the ordinary service, but wanted to have a look at a couple of other things.

He’d really got me going and around eleven o’clock I went out the front to watch him at work while I pretended to clean the front step. I saw Gloria all dressed up come out of her house, and coming to the dividing fence she called out, “Morning Bel,” then addressing Alan she said, “I’m off to gran’s now, Alan. You can get your own lunch, can’t you? I’ll be home about four.”

A muffled voice from under the bonnet called out, “Right mum,” and Gloria left.

I’d noticed Gloria often left the house at about eleven, and didn’t get back until about four in the afternoon.

I went over to Alan and said, “Your mum really is good to your gran, she goes there every day almost.”

Alan took his head out of the engine and looked at me giving a wry grin. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

“You can have lunch with me again if you like, Alan.”

“That’s decent of you Bel,” he said.

“Well, considering you’ve done all this work on the car it’s the least I can do.” My thought was that I’d like to do a lot more for him.

I left him to get on with it and went back into the house, but I spent a lot of the next hour or so looking at him out of the window. That healthy young body; the dark hair and blue eyes; my God, I really was starting to fancy him like mad.

I heard him start the car and heard the engine ticking over, if not like a Swiss watch, at least with far fewer noises than before. I went out to have a look, and Alan was standing beside the car wiping his hands on a piece of cloth.

“There she is,” he said, “Almost as good as new.”

“That’s wonderful, Alan. Lunch is about ready, so you’d better come in.”

“I can’t come in like this,” he said, pointing to his oily state, “My shorts are filthy.”

You’ve probably noticed that when you get all sexually worked up, you tend to get bold with it in relation to the one you’re worked up about. I was bold now as I said to him, “Come and have a shower in my place. I can chuck your shorts in the washing machine; I’ve got a few other things to wash. You can wrap a towel round you while we have lunch.”

“Right,” he said, “Just give me a couple on minutes to tidy up here, and I’ll come in.”

I went back in and finished off the preparations for lunch. I was in a hell of a state over that boy. I felt as if I had a lump in my throat and I was trembling. He came in and I took him to the bathroom and he handed me his shorts modestly hiding himself behind the door.

I set the washing machine going, and then noticed that my shorts had a big wet stain round the crotch. I took them off and chucked them in the machine and raced to the bedroom to get a fresh pair. All round my sex organ I was soaking wet with my lubricant, so I went to the kitchen and tried to clean myself up before putting the fresh shorts on. Then rushing back to the bedroom I looked in the mirror to see if I was looking okay.

Back in the kitchen I was just putting the food out and in came Alan wearing a bath towel.

We got down to eating, but I had a struggle to get the food down because of the lump in my throat. When we finished I suggested we go into the lounge and have coffee. Once there I tried to make conversation.

“Now, Alan, “I croaked, “You must let me pay you for the work you’ve done.”

“Wouldn’t hear of it, he said, it’s been my pleasure.”

I could see him keep looking at my breasts and trying not to. I could also see a lump rising under the towel. I took a big chance and asked, “Surely you can think of something I can do for you?”

“I…er…I…what did you…er… have in mind?” He said this in a voice that was just as ragged as my own.

It was one of those difficult situations where each of you has a good idea what the other wants, but don’t know how to take the final step. You can spar around endlessly and possibly end up doing nothing, to the profound frustration of both parties.

I was sitting on the sofa and Alan was in an armchair over the other side of the room. I took the big chance and tried to say seductively, “Why don’t you come and sit over here, and we can discuss it.” I thought I sounded as seductive as the engine of my car the previous day.

Never the less with surprising alacrity Alan joined me on the sofa, even sitting close.

I laid my hand on his bare chest and said, “I’m sure I’ve got something you would like to have, Alan. You’ve only got to ask, and it’s yours.”

“Well…it…I don’t…that is…if you would…er…”

“Was it something like this, you had in mind, Alan,” I asked. Then I grabbed him and kissed him full on the mouth.

He came up gasping, but his hand had reached for my breast.

I moved in for another kiss and this time tried for an open mouth tongue thrusting job. His response, or lack of it, made me realise that I was dealing with a novice in this business. “My God,” I thought, “Don’t tell me he’s a virgin.”

He soon confirmed that this is exactly what he was. I was amazed that in our day such a being could exist at twenty. His fumbling with my breasts gave every indication that he had never fumbled breasts before. How could it be that a good looking bloke like him hadn’t had some sexual experience?

I decided that the initiatives would all have to be mine, so I reached down and pulled his towel away. What was revealed made my stomach lurch again. He had a magnificent penis. It stood up erect, its purple crown shining with pre-cum and the light brown shaft hard, the whole organ engorged with blood and throbbing to every heart beat.

“My God,” I thought, “He may be a virgin but I’ll have that in me however awkward he might be.”

And awkward he was, but rather than it being an irritation, I found it rather touching. I was going to be his sexual mentor and whom better than an older woman to teach and pleasure a young man?

I stood up and stripped off my shorts and top. It was fairly obvious he had not seen a naked woman before. He sat staring at me, his gaze roaming over my body. I felt as if his eyes were eating me so intently they fixed on me.

“I didn’t know women were so beautiful,” he said in an awed voice.

“It would be more comfortable in the bedroom,” I said, extending my hand to him. He took it and I led him to the bed. We lay together and I pressed my body close to him as I kissed him, gradually getting his mouth open with my tongue. When I thrust it into his mouth I felt him urgently pushing against me as if trying to have my whole body in contact with his.

I moved slightly above him so one of my breasts was close to his mouth. I put a nipple to his lips and said, “Suck me there, darling.” He needed no second telling. It’s strange isn’t it, that men are so fascinated with a woman’s breasts?

Once started on my nipple, he did not seem to want to stop, and as I suckled him I experienced a wonderful wave of tender emotion possess me. I felt like a mother suckling her infant, the child I had never had, and now I had Alan at my breast. I stroked his face and hair, murmuring to him, “Enjoy me, my darling, just enjoy me.”

In the end I had to almost forcibly remove him from my nipple. I ordered him to lie on his back. I would have to take the dominant role. I wanted him to feel what it was like to be inside a woman, and for myself I wanted to feel his sperm shooting into me.

I sat astride him and carefully lowered myself on to his shaft, letting it slide into me slowly. On first entry he gave a long low groan of bliss. He then closed his eyes and whispered, “Oh Bel.”

I moved on him slowly at first. I was close to my orgasm but holding back until he was ready to ejaculate. I had not long to wait. He began to groan and try to thrust up into me and I released the orgasm I had held back letting it shudder through me as his sperm smashed against the top of my vagina.

Had I been capable of getting pregnant, in this moment that is what I would have prayed for. Sadly I was beyond such joy.

H e finished his ejaculation and began to relax. I continued to move on him as the after effects of my climax gradually diminished. When the last shudder had gone I still sat across him, holding his shaft in me.

He opened his eyes and groaned, “That was wonderful, Bel, I didn’t realise…”

“That’s nothing, sweetheart,” I replied, “just wait and see what I can do for you.”
I moved from him, and as the crown of his penis came out of me he gave a little grunt, as the still sensitive nerve endings were touched by my vaginal lips.

I thought he might find some reason for leaving me now, but he didn’t. He reached for my breasts, and to my surprise he began to suck my nipple again, while his hand began to fondle the other breast.

His fondling was a bit awkward, so I took his hand and placing it at the base of the breast, I slowly moved it up until reaching the nipple, I closed his fingers over it with a little pinch. He soon got the idea, and it was in the course of this activity something happened to me that had not happened ever before.