February 2021 (continued)

A Valve Job With Extras (continued)

My Porsche had been running rough, and my mechanic said it was about time I had the valves reground. It would take a couple of days, so I brought it in just before my husband and I left to spend a weekend in the Virgin Islands. We got back Sunday night, and I spent Monday morning unpacking and Monday afternoon having tea with my mother-in-law working on plans for one of her charity events. At four she dropped me off at the garage on her way home.

Eddie's garage is a pretty messy place. It's not one of those carpeted dealerships. But he is a genius with Porsches, and since mine is a classic 1956 Speedster, I wanted it in the best hands. That's Eddie.

When I arrived, I saw my car out front, apparently finished, so I made my way around to the back. Eddie was there, on his back, under a car.

He must have heard me come in, since he called out, "Hi, Sally, be with you in a minute."

"No hurry," I replied, as I looked at the clutter in the garage. I'm a neatness freak myself, but I don't mind messes if they are someone else's. My father's study was always messy, and it always had a warm, homey feeling for me. My mind was nostalgic for those days when I looked down at Eddie sticking out from under the car. His grubby jeans were worn, and they fit snugly over his strong legs. As my eyes moved up, they stopped at his crotch. There was a large bulge that extended down his leg. It must have been six inches long. I don't know what came over me, but I couldn't take my eyes off of that bulge. This is a different kind of homey feeling…

Eddie came sliding out from under the car. He stood up and reached for a rag to wipe off his hands.

"I'll get the bill and the keys for your car," he said. Then he looked at me. My eyes were still between his legs. I could feel myself blush.

Eddie is about thirty, tall, and well-built. He always wears a T-shirt that shows off his muscles, and tight work jeans. This was the first time I had noticed his bulge, and it was doing something to me. I felt goose bumps along my arms and dampness between my legs. My knees felt a little weak. What is happening to me?

"Are you okay, Sally?" Eddie asked as he stepped toward me. I didn't look him in the eye. My gaze was still downcast as I lurched forward. My breasts grazed his chest and my forehead leaned against his shoulder. Eddie responded immediately, his strong arms circling my waist and pulling me hard against him.

"That feels good, Sally," he said. "I've been waiting a long time for this."

I put my fingers over his mouth.

"Don't say anything," I said.

Then I dropped to my knees in front of him and ran my hands over the bulge that had been holding my gaze. I felt it lie against his leg as I undid the buttons of his fly one by one. Spreading open the top of his jeans and pulling up his T-shirt, I exposed the black hair at the base of his belly. He wasn't wearing any underwear.

Greedily, I pulled his tight jeans down enough to expose the top half of his large organ. I reached around it with my long, thin fingers and carefully pulled it out. It was thick and heavy, still soft but partially erect. Holding on to it with one hand, I reached into his jeans with my other and extracted his large balls. They were tight in their sack. The warm scent of sweat and sex was such a turn-on I thought I was going to come right there.

Still on my knees, I leaned back to inspect my work thus far, cupping his balls with both hands. His cock stirred, moving just slightly as it began to engorge.

He was growing firmer now, and it lifted slightly. I gripped it firmly. It was not rock hard, but retained a nice softness as it continued to swell. I moved my hand up and down the shaft, pulling the loose skin forward until it covered the tip, then pushing it back again. The tip was large and well formed. A clear droplet appeared at the opening.

I was transfixed, staring at his equipment, my hand lazily stroking back & forth. He was fully erect now, quite large, and impressive, both in length and diameter, but still with a softness over a hard interior.

The droplet grew, and I leaned forward with my mouth, touching the tip with my lips. I took in only about a half an inch of the tip, kissing it tenderly, then pulling back. A thread of viscous liquid connected him to my lips. I pressed forward in earnest, holding his shaft at the base with my hand and taking the rest greedily into my mouth. I can't explain my sense of satisfaction. It felt so good to suck on it. No matter what else was going to happen, I already had what I really wanted, that big, beautiful cock in my mouth and I was sucking the daylights out of it.

I alternated between giving him firm pressure with my lips and lightly rubbing the flat of my tongue over the tip. The secret of great fellatio, I think, is to always keep firm control. Never let his cock flop around. It should either be firmly in your hand or firmly in your mouth. When I withdrew my mouth, I moved my hand up and down the shaft.

Then, when I wanted to taste more, I removed my hand from his shaft, relaxed my throat, and took his full length all the way to the back of my mouth. It worked. I could feel his balls pull up between his legs. I pressed my fingers firmly into his crotch behind his balls so I could feel the contractions that were just beginning inside him. Wanting him to come, I again firmly gripped his shaft with my hand and held the tip in the center of my mouth, my tongue circling his tip, and my lips pressing around his shaft. I put all the skills I had learned in school into what I did with my tongue.

I felt the pumping build up inside him and then pulsate along the shaft as he exploded, his thighs convulsing. I held onto him as his movements died down, keeping my tongue still to avoid overstimulating the now supersensitive tip. My hand gently squeezed and relaxed on the shaft, milking the last bit.

Then I withdrew, releasing his organ. Savoring the salty taste, I watched his cock hang in a gentle curve. Standing up, I reached into the top of his jeans from the rear and placed a hand on each of his firm buttocks. Pulling him hard against me, I lifted my head upward and planted my lips against his. My mouth was wet from the blow-job as we pressed together, our tongues alternately exploring each other's mouth.

Catching his tongue in my mouth, I already had what I wanted, but I knew he wouldn't be fully satisfied until he had me the way he wanted. And I didn't want Eddie to be any less than fully satisfied, since the fate of my dear Porsche was in his hands.

I didn't object when his strong hand gripped me around the waist and lifted me up onto a workbench. I pulled my skirt up to my waist. Eddie didn't bother to take my panties off. He simply ripped them open at the crotch, leaving the tattered remains around my waist. With an elbow under each knee, he lifted my legs up and open, letting one shoe dangle from the tip of my foot as the other dropped to the floor. Pulling my sweater and bra up some more, he released my breasts.

Eddie's arms pulled upward on my knees, shifting my butt forward on the bench so my twat hung off the edge. Reaching down, I opened my lips with my fingers, and Eddie, again fully erect, slid into me. We were both pretty wet from our activities thus far, and he went in easily. His large cock felt good filling me up, but not as good as it had felt in my mouth.

I cradled his neck with my arms, pulling myself up against him. He thrust deeply into me, grunting as he drove toward his satisfaction. I had wanted to take him in my mouth, and not come myself, but now, as he built toward his second climax, I couldn't help myself. Pulling him tightly around the neck, I let out little yelps of release until I finally cut loose with a moan, and we came together.

Eddie was stuffing his equipment back into his jeans and buttoning his fly as I dusted off my blouse and pulled my bra and sweater back in place. I left my torn panties circling my waist, figuring it wouldn't do to leave them in the garage. Eddie was cool enough not to make anything out of what had happened. He was polite and friendly as always, and complimented my taste in vintage sports cars. I made out a check for the bill, got the keys, slipped into my Porsche, fired it up, and headed home, a very satisfied customer.

-- Sally C.