Husband:

My wife has been talking about getting a new car for a while now. Her new job brings in enough to afford one without any contribution from me. That's exactly how she wants it. She can choose exactly what car to buy and negotiate the deal for herself. After all, her job entails delicate negotiations with high-powered business guys. As she keeps telling me that car salesmen should be easy after the intense, hard bargains she has to deliver on all week.

Perhaps she is right, buying a car has her holding all the cards. I try to offer my assistance, but she doesn't want it. My advice on makes and models is not taken seriously. She tells me that the shape of the bonnet is her critical factor. It seems that her search for a car is taking over her early evenings. Three or four times a week, she tells me she will be having a test ride. She says that there is no time wasted in the showroom, it's straight for the open road.

The salesman, she says, whitters on as she drives, but by the end of the ride she knows whether she likes it or not. After she checks out the bonnet. I don't understand its importance, but I know my wife gets what she wants. After around six weeks of test ride after test ride, she now tells me that she has chosen the make and model. I've not heard of it, but the car seems too sexy for her when I looked it up online. I've always thought my wife a bit of a prude, especially with sex.

We have so little, but hopefully this car may get her in the mood for more. I can only hope so. The next step is to get the best price and a superior service contract. Her friend at work says there is one that all you need is to fill with petrol. The garage does the rest. So for the last three weeks, my wife has visited every garage and every salesman who sells the car she wants. She is negotiating the best price, but more importantly, the service level that will keep her satisfied.

Wife:

My husband has been annoying me lately, asking me for sex. I'm never going to be satisfied with his small dick, but a female friend suggested that car salesmen were a good bet for a quickie if you were feeling horny. I got my Uber to drop me off at a garage on my way home, and I asked for a test drive. It probably helped that I was wearing my work skirt, which was shorter than my stockings. As normal, I wasn't wearing underwear either, and the blouse was fairly transparent.

There was a little bit of jostling between the salesmen to help me, but the guy who was responsible for the car brand I was looking at claimed responsibility. I asked for a test drive, and he wasn't worried about my licence, such was his haste to drive away. He drove quickly, taking the first country road, and it wasn't long before we were in a quiet car park. I think it was a dogging site later on, but I didn't care. He showed me round the car and then lay me over the bonnet.

He told me the story that a car bonnet was the shape it was because women's skirts were so big then, the ridge and curve allowed them to rise when they lay on it. I didn't care about the story, but the ridge did press against my clit nicely as he fucked me from behind. It was great, but I was on tiptoes to get the spot right. After a great fuck, we drove back, and I arranged for a drive in another car where the bonnet was lower. Over the next week, I got fucked over every car they had.

Word quickly spread, and as soon as I entered a garage, the samelmen were quick to whisk me away and fuck me hard until I was satisfied. I found the perfect bonnet eventually and then had to arrange a price. There were two garages in the running, and I offered them my personal services for a whole evening for as many employees as they liked as a down payment. I got forty per cent off the list price from the winning garage. I could hardly walk when they had finished.

Husband:

The deed is done, she tells me, there is a purchase, I'm shocked at the price, it's so low. I'm not sure how she got that price, and my wife tells me something about a trade-in and a demonstration. I'm still not sure what that entails, but she said she drove a hard bargain, and the sales team was happy with it. She can also drop by the garage and get filled up any time she likes. Just her, though, they won't give me any petrol

The service contract is better than platinum, it seems to me. Each Wednesday, when she works from home, the garage sends someone around to keep their side up. The car is cleaned, buffed up, and polished by hand. Then the engine is checked out both manually and electronically. The engine is hooked up to the van, and the checks take a while. Whilst they are waiting, the guy comes in for a coffee and something to eat.

My wife explains the list of things they do. Her lubrication levels are checked. Her suspension is made sure it's perfect. She says she makes sure she is fully satisfied before they return to the garage. On the plus side, the mechanic always brings her one of those protein shakes she loves so much. Every service, she gets to drop the car off at the garage, and they will finish the work whilst she waits.

My wife explained that the services are not all free. She has agreed that after the first service and the sales guy has worked out his commission in full, my wife has agreed that the mechanic can bring along two young apprentices so that he can demonstrate how to deliver the perfect home service. That's starting next Wednesday, and my wife said she had arranged with work for a longer lunch break, so the lessons are not cut short

Wife:

I have loved the car since the day I took it over. It's a joy to drive, but the guys from the garage have managed to keep my sexual urges in check. My husband is useless to me since my slutty past reappeared; he has a small penis, no oral skills, and only lasts a few minutes. Now I can pop into the garage on my way home, and one of the guys on the forecourt will fill it up with petrol and clean the windscreen. Meanwhile, I pop into the sales offices and whoever is there will give me a good seeing to, so that I'm not horny all evening.

The sales guys seem to think that I'm paying off my forty per cent deposit contribution, but I know that was completed in the memorable evening I took possession of the car. They fucked me silly, then fucked me all again. Fortunately, my stupid husband was at a drinks do at work, so he was none the wiser that I could barely walk from the Uber to the front door. I was sore for the whole weekend, but that wonderful sort of sore.

I have arranged for a weekly tune-up on Wednesdays when I work from home. The engineer arrives in his overalls, lifts the bonnet, and puts in the wires to make sure it's all tuned correctly. Then he comes inside the house for an hour, which takes care of me. He lifts up my skirt with the same ease, licks me out until I'm screaming out my second orgasm, and fucks me hard until the diagnostics are finished. The fact that he has dirty hands and makes me dirty all over just makes it better.

Each week, the mechanics take it in turn to see to me and my car. I've agreed that I will help train the apprentices when they start in July. The mechanic will show him how to set it up, then show him just how I like to be fucked. The two apprentices are young lads, and although they are still learning, their energy and enthusiasm are limitless. The mechanic takes his first turn, then as the young lad starts, I suck him hard. They spitroast me, then double-team me until I am fully sated. Although I'm horny all the time now, Wednesday night is the one evening the itch disappears