I see Aragorn chasing me in the woods. It is me, only with one of those beautiful filters applied. My hair is smoother. Eyes are wider, brighter. Lips are plumper and the perfect shade of pink. Not a line on my face. You know what those filters do. Oh, and I have pointy elfin ears.

He is almost upon me as I quiver with anticipation. The ruggedly handsome, long-haired, bearded ranger will fuck me when he gets his hands on me. How will he ravage me this time? Throw me on the ground? Pin me against a tree? Bend me over a dwarf?

Wait. Why is there an alarm sounding in Rivendell? Aragorn fades just as his hands reach for me. My eyes flutter open and I realize I was dreaming. My phone alarm is ringing and I can tell I was on the verge of cumming before I woke. Damn! I have an appointment and don’t have time to finish now. Damn you, Aragorn! Why didn’t you run faster?

I throw on my blue sundress, spruce up a little in the bathroom, and head out. My busy day starts with an appointment for my first-ever social distancing oil change and tune-up. I pull up and a man wearing a mask motions me into the garage. The garage door closes behind me, confining me inside with the three men. It is here my mind turns as dirty as their faces.

I don't care I am not the first to experience their nasty touches today. Because in my mind, their beads of sweat are caused by me. 

One lifts my hood, probing with dirty hands. Oh my goodness, that's the spot, I think as my fingers slip under my dress. The second sees I am leaking and his filthy fingers bring my fluids up to his nose for a sniff. You can taste me too, honey! The third withdraws his stiff rod, showing me the glistening lubrication covering his tip, before roughly plunging it back in my tight hole. My hips begin their gentle thrusting in my seat. 

I watch three sets of competent hands exploring underneath my hood. I slip down in my seat, so I can see more of them, and hide my roaming hands beneath the steering column. Probing hands. Stiff rods. Dirty sex. The engine becomes my body. 

Three work me to fulfill my needs. In my mind's eye, the filthy, dirty men unite between my legs to make me cum. I give myself over to my fantasy. My legs start to quiver, signaling my nearing orgasm. Oh my goodness!

"Ma'am. Ma'am," a voice says, while his fingers tap on my window, waking me from my erotic fantasy. "We finished your tune-up."

Fuck! Too soon! Jiffy Lube, indeed. Well, too jiffy for this horny bitch! Grrrrrrrr!

I drive away tugging my sticky panties out of my crotch.

I need food. It will calm me down. Driving to the nearest drive-thru, I order my favorite guilty pleasure. After receiving my food, I pull into one of the parking spots and slide the foot-long out of the bag. It is thick. It is long. My mind zooms back to a naughty place. Bad Kimmi. The ache between my legs returns with a vengeance. I feel my nipples struggling to protrude within the restrictive bra. My mouth craves the hot dog. You have figured out by now I view it as a cock - a fat, face-fucking cock.

My fingers pry its meat from the bun and dangle its length in front of my face. I try to resist, but I am weak. Opening my mouth, I push just the tip into my mouth. Of course, the tip doesn’t satisfy. One hand slides the hot dog in and out my mouth, while my other hand slides up my dress. My fingers trace my lips outside my damp panties. My lips up top purse around the porky cock, while my lips down below part for my needy fingers. Finally, I will get my needed release!

Then, it hits me - that feeling I am being watched. I glance to my left to see two elderly ladies gasping at me from within their car. Their mouths open wide enough to catch flies. Disgusted expressions tell me they think I am the devil. Abruptly dropping my hot dog, I fluff my hair trying to hide my horns. Throwing the car in reverse, I screech away in shame. They will pray for my unholy soul in church Sunday; I just know it.

The blue hairs scared my engorged clit back into hiding, so I head to the fruit market, my next errand. I notice him as soon as I reach the grapefruit stand. His strong hands carefully select the round fruits, and squeeze and massage. My tits tingle, thinking about his hands groping my plumpy breasts. Oh my, his hands are large, forecasting what lies below inside his baggy trousers. My nipples strain against my bra, begging to be pinched. We are wearing our required masks, and I fantasize about his hidden mouth, lips that would love to suck my nipples. Oh my goodness.  

I walk over to the neighboring oranges, and select my own to fondle, trying to catch his attention. I pretend they are his balls. A few moans escape my mouth, unheard through the mask. My clit awakens again as I fantasize about my fellow shopper. Our eyes finally lock. I flutter my lashes at him. Inching closer to where our shoulders almost touch, I crave to be the grapefruit he fondles. He says something I can't quite understand, his words muffled by his mask.

I lean in further, never breaking eyes contact, asking, "I didn't quite hear you."

"Ma'am, please step away, maintaining six feet between us." 

Fortunately, my mask covers most of my face, flushed with embarrassment. I drop his balls... err, I mean my oranges, and run back to my car. 

I should come with a warning label. I get angry when: hot and not cooled, hungry and not fed, tired and not put to bed, and horny and not satisfied. And horniness has a firm grip on me. I need to go home and take care of my aching pussy before I attempt to finish my errands. Decent folks are out and I am a menace to society until I cum.

I unlock my door and run to my bedroom, tripping over a cat or four. Frantically digging in my drawer, I finally find him - Viggo - my bullet vibrator. I slide my panties down to my knees and bend over the edge of my bed. Viggo quickly finds my special spot. Finally! I shall get my release! I push on his bottom and hear buzz buzz buzz. Oh my God, soooooooo good! Then, silence. Nooooooo! The fucking charge runs out.

Damn it!