I may be a slutty fuck, but Johnny was an amazing lover, dedicated to bestowing multiple orgasms upon me. He was also quite kinky, roughly pounding me as I called myself a slut and other vile things. My immaculate home looked like ground zero after a tornado struck. In our horny zeal, furniture had been overturned, couch cushions flying willy-nilly. A chair was broken during our impassioned tryst, too frail to hold both our weights as he followed my urging to “fuck this slut as hard and deep as you can.”
Our meandering, frenzied union took a course through the house, into the hot tub, and finally onto the lawn, still muddy from the recent rain. I awoke to dirt-soiled sheets, further stained by his impressive ejaculations and my soaked, dripping pussy. Happy to wake up to somebody beside me in bed, I skipped into the kitchen and prepared a breakfast feast.
Covered in mud and cum, wearing my silky robe that Mike loved so much, I gleefully served my lover.
“I could get used to your cooking every day, Mary Anne,” Johnny mentioned, his words muddled through his overstuffed mouth.
I smiled at that, realizing that I wanted more than just his cock. I could settle for just his hard, long, thick cock pounding into my wetness, giving me vaginal orgasms, something Mike could rarely, if ever, do. However, his company and companionship were things that I craved more, or equally. Unbidden, I felt tender and loving emotions because of Johnny.
“Well, Mr. Rock,” I said instead, “eat up, and maybe we’ll do dinner soon. I need to clean up this disaster zone, and I have some errands to run, some work to do, and...”
“I’ll help you clean up,” he interrupted.
“No, that’s fine. I’ll do it. I have a certain way I need things to be. A woman is only as perfect as the way she keeps her house.” Then, my boiling lust for him gave me another idea. “But, why don’t you stop by this evening, um, for dinner? You can help me wreck the place again.”
He grew pensive, his face distant, then disappointed. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have business.” He stopped momentarily, staring at me. His face lit up. “I know! Come with me. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“For business?”
“Yes. Then dinner. I’ll take you out for a nice meal at someplace fancy. What do you think?”
“I think you just asked me out on a date. I’m a widow, Johnny. Widows buy cats and hide in their house; they don’t date.”
He laughed. “Bring your cats along, then. Seven.”
“I don’t own a cat, let alone seven of them.”
“O'clock,” he guffawed, “seven o’clock.”
We conversed over breakfast and coffee, and, for a moment, it felt like old times. He wasn’t my Michael, quite different, in fact. It was all of those warm, serene feelings, the emotional tranquility of having somebody in my life, if even for a brief moment, that soothed my soul.
My housewife instincts suddenly kicked in, and I sent him to the bathroom to shower, deciding to give his rumpled clothing a quick washing and ironing. Humming and singing to myself, I instinctively packed him a hearty lunch and even tossed in the scarf I’d used the previous evening to tie his hands to the headboard.
“Thank you for the wonderful evening, your hospitality, and everything else,” Johnny said as he turned to leave.
As if the traditional housewife role was seared into my genes, I followed him to my front door, spun him around, and kissed him passionately. Our lips locked, and he moaned into my mouth with delighted surprise. Unlike my late husband, Johnny’s hands immediately grabbed my butt and squeezed my cheeks. The feeling of being desired by a flesh and blood man overtook and consumed me, and I reciprocated by shrugging off my robe and dropping to my knees as I thrust his lunch into his hand.
“Mary Anne, wha-what are you doing?”
I just smiled up at him, an expression of hunger on my face. “Making sure your day starts perfect, tiger.”
I fished out his cock, already swollen to half-mast, and deeply breathed in his clean, manly aroma. One hand went straight to my clit, fingering and rubbing my clit as I stroked his manhood to full hardness. Hearing no resistance, only Johnny’s moans, I took the shaft into my mouth, sliding my moist, hot lips up and down the length. Fondling his balls and moaning on his man meat, I fucked him with my mouth, going deeper and faster until I had his cock buried so far down my throat that I was gagging on it.
Within minutes, I could feel his hardness swell in my mouth. Johnny’s breath was coming in ragged gasps, and he’d collapsed back against the door. When his taut, muscular stomach began undulating, I pulled my mouth off his cock, little tendrils of spittle flying off of it as I vigorously stroked him.
“Cum on your slut’s face, Johnny. Show me how much I turn you on. Make me your fucking whore and cum on my slutty face.”
“Oh, fuck,” was all he managed to groan before I was rewarded with geyser-like spurts of hot, sticky cum, coating my face. By then, I was moaning as well, and the dirty filthiness of what I was doing triggered a powerful orgasm that shot through my body in torturous waves as if I were being whipped by pleasure itself.
“Have a great day, you sexy stud. Keep that cock hard for me.”
I threw the door open and sent him out my front door, hanging cock and all. As soon as his car left my driveway, I threw myself onto the floor and fingered my aching cunt to another orgasm. I finally felt complete, once more, and the feeling was liberating.
“Mrs. Mary Anne Rock,” I mused to the ether as I walked to the bathroom to shower.
I’d dreamed up a very busy schedule and further complicated it by deciding to shop for a new dress. It had been several years since I’d had anything remotely resembling a date, and I wanted to look perfect. That required a new dress, new makeup, and matching undergarments for when he undressed me.
In any event, keeping my forebrain occupied with daily trifles prevented me from ruminating over my slutty, nasty mouth being exposed to thousands of online perverts. Rather than dwell on the myriad comments, such as, “You women are fucking hot, but hearing Mary A masturbate made me cum in my pants,” or fixate on how aroused it had made me, I concentrated on choosing the perfect clothing for my day.
Finally accepting that I was still a desirable, single woman, I dressed for my own pleasure, barely noting that my wardrobe choices would also appeal to onlookers. The dark, sultry skirt, plain and billowy, coupled with a boob-hugging, simple top with a cleavage-showing scooped neck, made me look effortlessly sexy. Of course, seeing how I looked made me pause to do my hair and makeup in a vixen-like, sexy fashion.
A few seconds were spent debating whether I should wear any underwear, but I decided that since I was finally enjoying my freedom, my naughty bits should, likewise, be free. Sensible sandals finished off my outfit; the weather was beginning to turn colder, so I didn’t have much time left to wear just sandals.
As if I hadn’t already crammed enough menial chores into my day, my car decided to have a flat tire not long after I’d hit the city. Luckily, I was on the outskirts, and a service center was right up the road, conveniently situated at the precise spot where my thumping, deflating tire popped off the rim. Leaving the lurching jalopy in the parking lot, I sauntered inside, surprised to see a young, handsome man staffing the small service center.
His stitchwork name patch, in typical mechanic-shirt blue thread, read “Glen,” and he was cute and sexy in a grease-monkey way. Obviously a leg-man, his pale, green eyes took in my exposed calves and thighs as a smile sprouted on his thin lips, growing into a white, teeth-revealing grin.
“What can I do for you?” he asked. His voice was slightly high-pitched and had a sing-song quality.
My mind conjured images of his dirty hands staining my feminine flesh, my clothes being torn off my body, and his hard cock pounding into me as he forced me over the fender of a dirty car, making my horny pussy cum. His mouth looked perfect for gnawing at my hard nipples, those lips perfect for sucking on my clit.
“I’m flat,” I stammered when his eyes grew wide at my firm nipples poking through my top. “I mean, I have a flat. Can you fix me up?”
“Where’s your car?”
My extended thumb shot backward, over my shoulder, which made my tits bounce more than a little. Maybe he was a boob-man because his eyes didn’t follow my gesture.
“The one in the middle of your parking lot with the flat tire.”
“Let’s go have a look.”
His manly, grease-stained blue pants hugged his tight butt as he emerged from behind the counter and headed outside. I followed, coyly admiring the view. The warm day suddenly felt sweltering. Glen worked out, quite a lot, and it showed. His broad shoulders tapered sharply downward toward a tiny waist, one I could easily wrap my overheated thighs around. Every arm movement strained his rolled-up sleeves to the point of bursting, and, despite the homogeneous cut of his pants, his muscular thighs filled them out, nicely.
His hair was dark, almost black, and tied back into a little ponytail. He was neither clean nor clean-cut, and that was part of his appeal. He whistled when he saw the car.
“So,” he smirked, “which tire is it?”
I just shook my head.
“Well, you take 235/60-18s. No worries, they’re very common. We stock them. Just the one, or do you want new rubber all around?”
“I think that just…”
“Oh wait!” Glen interrupted me. “I have a full set, barely used, that I can give you a deep discount on.”
“Really? How deep can you go?” My words dripped with suggestive connotations.
“Well, the customer had them for about a week, then decided to go with different ones. We’re supposed to dispose of them, and I get paid ten bucks per rubber,” he paused, calculating things in his head, “add in labor... let's say one hundred, and I’ll balance and mount for free.”
“You’ll mount me for free?”
Finally, he realized that I was flirting. The cruel universe has wired men so the ones you’re interested in don’t get the hint, and the ones you don’t think everything you say is an invitation for sex. Getting the hint, he looked me up and down.
“I just need to jack you up to make sure your rim is fine.”
His strong biceps pumped along with the jack, and he raised the car, inspected the rim, and then put some wheeled cart under the tire.
“Okay, get in and steer it into that open bay while I push.”
I’d barely gotten the door open and hadn’t even swung my legs inside before he grabbed the door frame and pushed. His sinewy muscles strained, making delightful ripples in his shirt, and Glen, staring at my legs, pushed the car toward the opened overhead door. I felt my sandals scraping on the pavement, so I swung them inside, casually flashing him my now-soaked pussy.
“This won’t take long,” he said.
Glen extended his hand, helping me get out of my wounded vehicle. There are times for subtlety and occasions for brazenness. Opting for the latter, my blood boiling in my veins, I swung one leg out wide, letting him see my nude cunt, then slowly swung my other around, letting him help me up.
“You can sit over there and wait,” he gestured toward a row of three plastic chairs. “I’ll be quick.”
I watched for a few moments as he went to work. While I am not usually a fan of man-watching, I was impressed. He wrangled the tires off my car, bouncing them and rolling them toward some rugged, dirty contraption. I just spread my legs enough to let him stare up my skirt—not so wide as to seem intentional, but wide enough—and busied myself on my phone.
The reviews of the Princess Conclave interview were astounding. Not only were my girls a huge, sexy hit, but the mysterious Mary A, not imprisoned in a roadside service center, was getting a lot of sexy chatter. The requests to include my audio in the next show were only surpassed by masturbating perverts’ desire to see me. Part of me felt offended, but most of me was elated and threatened to be overcome with arousal.
My friends had been blowing up my phone all morning. There were two common themes. They apologized for outing me, giving the excuse that it was unplanned, and that they just got caught up in the moment. Secondly, nobody knew where Johnny Rock was. The head office was abuzz, trying to figure out what had happened to him. As far as they knew, he went AWOL about halfway through the merger event last night. I smiled to myself, swinging my outstretched leg back and forth, as I responded.
‘John’s fine. He was occupied and will be back in action later, today,’ I group-texted.
Ginger texted her response almost immediately, ‘Mary and Johnny sitting in a tree?’
‘Mind your own business, Allison.’
‘Details.’
‘Tomorrow. I’m busy.’
Seeing that my voyeur victim was focused more on my car than my dripping pussy, I checked out RubHub’s new videos to see if we’d made the video section. We had. Even better, Keaton Sinn was doing a reaction to the interviews and the girls’ reactions to our shows. I soon became lost in the “suggested videos,” and time passed quickly.
“All done, ma’am,” Glen said.
“Is this your shop?”
“No. It’s my dad’s. I mostly run it, now, though. Anything else you need?”
Multiple orgasms! My lusty mind screamed. “No. That will do it, for now.”
I basked in the warm glow of his lecherous leers as I paid. It was a struggle to not seduce Glen, but I was on a tight schedule. I’d lost enough time, already. Back on the road and seeing the time, I had to truncate my tasks. More than an hour and a half had passed.
I shopped like a madwoman, attempting to break time records for the quickest selection of the perfect dress. Luckily, I knew the place and found a demure, sky-blue one that would highlight my brassy, blond hair and smooth complexion. Undergarments would have to wait. Either old ones or none at all would suffice.
Heading back home, I noticed that it was barely three. It was too late to turn back and finish my errands, but I saw the service center up ahead. Mentally shrugging, I gave into my libido and turned into the parking lot.
“Miss Mary Anne,” a trepidation-filled Glen said when I barged into the empty building. “Something wrong with the tires?”
“Oh, I have a problem,” I purred. “A big, hard problem.”
He looked stunned, worried that I was a dissatisfied customer.
“I’m not satisfied with the level of service you gave me.”
“I’m sorry,” he stuttered, his voice warbling under my sexy tone and lusty advances. “What can I do to make it right?”
“Take off those pants and give me your dipstick!”
Glen’s jaw dropped as I walked behind the counter and began undoing his weathered belt. I was more than pleasantly surprised when my urgent fingers pulled out a huge cock. Even flaccid, I couldn’t close my fingers around its girth. In my stroking hand, the weight of it was massive. I stroked him to hardness, kissing his lips with all the horny lust I could muster.
Turning toward the service area entrance, I peeled off my top and ran through the door.
“Need to be bent over a car and taken from behind like a cheap slut. Why are you standing there? Come fuck me.” To pontificate my desires, I pulled down my skirt and stepped out of it. My fingers thrust inside my aching hole and withdrew a sopping mass of liquid heat.
“Um, ahh.”
“What the matter? Are you afraid of a horny woman? You didn’t get the hint when I was flashing you and inviting you to mount me. I thought you might be the type that needs a more direct approach.”
“Wow!” Glen grew exuberant and began undressing.
“Leave that grubby shirt on. I want to feel the dirt and grease slamming against my ass as you fuck me.”
Not waiting for an answer, I bent over a nearby sporty car and spread my legs. Forgetting everything but my lusty desire, I reached between my legs and began fingering my cunt.
“Come on and fuck me, Glen. Fuck me hard! Give me a lube job.”
Turning my head, I saw him approach. That huge cock wagged in the air, bobbing with each step. His humorous, casual demeanor had fled; his face was a mask of passion.
“Don’t be gentle. I need to be fucked, not made love to. Slam that monster deep inside me and brutalize my slutty cunt.”
I heard my phone buzzing with another text message, but my wail of satisfaction as that long, thick shaft invaded my velvety hole drowned it out. His girth stretched my pussy wide, and it hurt, at first, but the mild pain soon gave way to thrusting pleasure.
“Fuck your slut. Fuck me hard. You’re a fucking caveman! Take me! Yes, yes, yes!”
My fingers were flying over my clit, pummeling it as hard as his cock was fucking me. Soon, all I could do was moan. I felt the orgasmic fires of bliss consume me. My legs gave out from the brutal savagery, and all I could do was rest my weight on the rocking car.
“You’re such a tease. I was going to jack off over you, but this is a dream come true.”
“Shut up and fuck me. Take my pussy; it’s yours. Fuck your slut. I’m fucking cumming.”
My words devolved into primal grunts and growls as an intense orgasm overtook me. That mammoth cock hammered in and out of me, making my orgasm grow ten times in intensity. As my flailing body lost all control, I felt the ruggedly handsome man’s arms scoop me up and spin me around, my quivering flesh still impaled on his massive shaft.
“Fuck your whore. Cum for me. I want you to shoot your load all over my freshly fucked cunt. Cum for me. I need your cum.”
“Unngh, aaah, arrgh!” the mechanic grunted.
He deposited me on the fender of the car as he pulled out. His hand was a blur over his wet, slick cock as he stroked it. The gargantuan head was aimed right at my swollen clit. Spreading my overheated thighs wide, I reached between my legs and parted my sexual petals. My free hand began rubbing and flicking my clit as I watched him stroke for me.
“Coat my slutty cunt. Show me how much I turn you on.”
I moaned when his orgasm erupted. The first stream pounded into my clit, soaking my hand and fingers. He spewed milky heat on my thighs, my pussy, and all over my waist. As his cock deflated, I drew my cum-coated finger to my mouth and tasted his salty seed.
“I think I’ll drop by next week,” I said as I gathered my clothes and threw them over my flesh. “How much do you charge?”
“You can have it for free.”
“Oh no,” I disagreed. “I might call myself a whore in the heat of passion, but I’m not. I’ll pay.”
“Sure. Drop by any time. I can get your oil changed in about twenty minutes.”
“It will take at least two hours,” I intoned. “Nice to meet you, Glen.”
The new tires gave my car a completely different ride. I felt more like I was gliding than rumbling over the tarmac. As soon as I left the city, my fingers played in his cum. I rubbed it into my clit, nearly having an orgasm in the process, and smoothed it over my stomach. As soon as I turned into my driveway, I finger-fucked myself, sitting in my car, quickly erupting in that glorious post-sex explosion.
I had just enough time to clean up both the house and myself and get ready for my date. I’ve never been a businessman’s arm candy before, but I thought I could work it out as I went along.
To be continued...
