Well, I loved my mini. For the next few weeks though, I really couldn't use it for work. It just didn't make sense because all the jobs I had were within walking distance of home, or, if they were further afield, they were near train stations: Lewes, East Grinstead, Littlehampton. Every day though, I'd try to find an excuse to take out the yellow peril in the evening, just for a run, just for the fun. And it was fun. I'd slide behind the wheel, slip off my heels; sling them in the back and take off.
It was best when it was just like that first time with Nigel--when I could wind down the window, and let the wind catch my hair on a warm evening and just go where the roads took me. Windy roads were best--taking me out into the country with lots of gear changes; nipping round corners and exploring the downs: wonderful.
I do get a thrill from driving: my thighs rubbing together as I change gear; my body (my boobs) getting thrown from side to side as I go around tight corners; the wind in my hair and across my chest. Anyway: one evening, having spent the working day in an office lusting after a lovely looking young man, I was feeling particularly... frustrated. I had been fantasizing about being a dominatrix: clad head to toe in latex standing over him, and lifting his chin with a riding crop. Snarling at him... God, it got me hot.
I decided to go for a drive. First though, I took a shower and tried to get over my... frustration. I worked the soap into my breasts and across my belly then rubbed my clit for a while as the scalding hot water cascaded across my body. My knees almost gave way when I came, and I felt better straight away. I wanted something a little more from this evening, but I wasn't quite sure what. Wrapped in a towel I went to my wardrobe to choose something fun to wear on my drive. When I saw my latex catsuit and corset, I realized that's what I wanted. To be out and about in a really sexy, seductive outfit, but in the sanctity of my own little bubble: my car.
So I made up my face, with dark eye shadow, a little rouge to accentuate my cheekbones, then dark red lipstick. Then I pulled on the catsuit (with nothing on underneath) and pulled the corset tight over the top. I checked that the zip at the crotch was done up (at least for the moment). With black patent high heels I looked like I was ready for an S and M nightclub, not a drive in the Sussex countryside.
Driving through traffic was fun. Every so often a pedestrian would walk past while I was at the lights and would glance in at me. They'd always do a double take, not quite expecting what they saw. People's reactions made me smile, and turned me on. By the time I got out into the country I was feeling very hot and horny. The feel of changing gear in latex was particularly sensuous, my thighs rubbing together and almost squeaking.
Well, dusk was coming on and I was having a wonderful time. But then I rounded a corner, tried to drop from third to second and nothing happened when I put my foot on the clutch. My foot went to the floor, but when I pulled the gear stick, I just got a terrible grinding sound. I coasted to a halt at the side of the road by a gate and cursed my luck. I turned the engine off and wondered what to do. I really was in the middle of nowhere, and, because of the nature of my outfit, I hadn't brought my phone with me (no pockets) so I was well and truly stranded.
After all the times I had been out and about in my little car with no problems at all, the time I am out and looking like some kind of Queen Bitch, that's when I break down miles from anywhere. Fuck. Well, I got out of the car, and went and opened the bonnet. I really don't know what I expected to see. I am totally hopeless with cars. I looked to see if there were any obviously loose wires or cables or anything, but there was nothing. I was bent at the waist trying to take a systematic look at the engine when I heard a voice behind me.
"Car trouble?"
It was some bloke out walking his dog (a cocker spaniel on a lead). He looked to be in his forties, and balding, but pleasant enough to look at, in his wellies and coat.
I smiled my best smile back at him and said, "Yes. I was just coming around this corner and tried to change gear, but there was something up with the clutch."
"Hmmm... Gears grinding were they?"
I nodded.
"Probably a broken clutch cable."
"Oh." I said. "Is that serious?"
He looked me up and down, taking in my outfit, my curves. I think he liked what he saw. He was preoccupied enough that he didn't realise that I had asked him a question. I said again, "Is that serious?"
"Mmmm? No. Not serious. But you'll need a new one. Either get a friend to come out here with a new cable, or get towed to a garage." He didn't even look me in the eye as he spoke, he was just taking in the spectacle of a latex clad woman standing there on a country road in the middle of Sussex.
"Shit." I said.
"What's up?"
"No phone."
"Oh dear," he said, with a smile.
"Do you have one I could borrow?"
"Mmm... I don't know." he said ponderously.
"You don't know if you have a phone?"
"Oh I have a phone all right. I am just not sure I will let you borrow it." he smirked.
"I would be very grateful," I said, returning his smile.
"How grateful?"
I could see where this was going. "Very." I said as I took a step towards him, hips swinging, "Very, very grateful."
"Oh well." he replied, "In that case." He fumbled around for his phone, extracted it from his pocket and handed it over.
"Shit." I said.
"What? Phone not good enough for you?"
"It's not that." I replied. I had realized. Not having a phone wasn't the problem. I needed my phone. I didn't know anyone's numbers. They're all programmed in. Who needs to remember a phone number if your phone remembers it? I was going to call Nigel--see if he knew a friendly mechanic. But how could I without my phone?
"I don't know the number--it's just programmed into my phone."
He nodded, smiling again. "So..." he said, "What are you going to do?"
I sat down on the mini's wing, "I don't know."
I couldn't think of a single number I knew off by heart. I was screwed. I looked at smiler with his dog. "Look," I said, "I couldn't ask you a favour, could I?"
"You could ask." He replied.
"Could you give me a lift into Brighton?" He laughed out loud. L.O.L. Bastard. "Please?"
"You'd be very grateful?" he asked.
"Very." I said.
He shrugged. "OK." When it came down to it, he was OK. Just a bit of a sod. "I'll go get my car and drop the dog at home. Back in ten minutes."
"Oh thank you so much. That's fantastic. Thanks!"
So I sat there in the mini and waited for smiler to come back. It took him more like fifteen minutes, but he turned up in an old green Landrover that smelt of chicken shit. He leaned over and opened the door for me, and I got in. I left the mini locked, and hoped it wouldn't be too long before I was back.
It was a pretty bouncy ride back into Brighton and smiler wasn't much of a conversationalist. But after a few minutes he broke the slience, "So."
"Nicki." I said.
"So, Nicki. What..."
"Mmmm?" I turned to him, eyebrows raised.
"What form will this... 'appreciation' take?"
I smiled: I had been waiting for this. I reached over and put my hand on his thigh, "Well, that's kind of up to you."
"I see," he replied, "Well, I'd say you're heading in the right direction."
I slid my hand up his leg towards his crotch, smiling at him as my fingers brushed against his cock. I gave it a squeeze and felt it twitch. "Mmm." I unzipped him, felt around inside his trousers for his member and fished it out. His cock was uncircumcised and fat. Big and fat. I started stroking it as he drove along, and felt it getting bigger and bigger in my hand. After a few minutes my fingers couldn't encircle it and it stood hard and proud and throbbing. Smiler just groaned and kept his eyes on the road.
I leaned over and kissed the tip of his cock, then flicked around the head with the tip of my tongue. He tasted of hand soap; I seriously think he gave himself a wash when he collected his Landrover. Nice touch. Anyway, I opened my mouth as best I could to take him in, but his cock was fat. I could only just manage to get the glans and the first few inches in my mouth before I was gagging. As I slid my lips up and down his cock, the back of my head hit the steering wheel--this was not the most comfortable I had ever been. I released his member from my mouth and licked along its length as my hand stroked it--I could only reach around two thirds of the thing.
Smiler reached over and ran his fingers through my hair--applying just a little pressure to my head, urging me on. I spat on his cock, and licked along its slick length. Even when he groaned he had a smile on his face. My stroking got more vigorous and he started groaning more; his cock twitching in my hand like it had a life of its own. The suspension in a Landrover lets you feel every bump in the road and we really did bounce along, which gave my ministrations a certain random quality. But I held on tight to his cock; one hand at the base and the other stroking up and down, tongue tip teasing at his helmet and his groaning getting louder until, almost without warning, he spurted--my God what a load! It went all over my face, and hands and into my hair; I was covered in it.
I licked the cum slowly from his cock, sucking at the tip to leave him dry, then licked my lips and fingers to get as much of it as I could into my mouth before swallowing it all down. We were in the outskirts of Brighton now, so I sat up and checked myself in the wing mirror (there was no mirror on the sun visor--actually, there was no sun visor). I could see that there was spunk in my hair, but there wasn't much I could do about it. I looked over at smiler and he just smiled back.
I directed him to my flat; he waited while I went upstairs to get my phone. I dabbed at my hair with a towel to get the worst of the mess out of my hair and brushed it through--maybe it would act like a conditioner! As I came back down the stairs I dialed Nigel's number.
"Hullo?"
"Hi Nigel, it's Nicki--who bought your mini?"
"Oh hi! How are you? How's the car?"
"I'm fine, thanks." I paused, "But there's something wrong with the car. I think the clutch cable's broken."
Nigel paused, and I got back into the Landrover. Smiler just looked over at me, hearing my half of the conversation.
"Well. I think I could probably help you." There were voices--or at least a voice--in the background. "Hold on." I could hear muffled mutterings going on, and then Nigel came back on, "Yea. Tell me where the car is and we'll be there in a couple of hours. OK?"
"Oh thanks, Nigel--you're a lifesaver--that's brilliant." I described where the car was as best I could.
"Let me guess," said smiler as I got off the phone, "You want a lift back to your car now."
I gave him my biggest smile, "Yes please."
As I may have mentioned, I am quite a big girl--well, hour glass curves really, but my chest is my... outstanding feature shall we say? The Landrover was old and knackered, and gave us a very bouncy ride--even with the support of my latex catsuit and the corset, my breasts were still bouncing up and down like a pair of excited rabbits. The return journey seemed longer without the distraction of a blow job, and conversation was near impossible because of the combination of engine and road noise. But, half an hour later, there we were back by my little yellow mini. He parked next to the mini and turned off the engine.
"Thanks so much." I said, then laughed, "You know--you never told me your name!"
"Alan."
"Well, thanks very much Alan.