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Nicki's Mini (Part 2)

What does Nicki do when she breaks down in the middle of nowhere?
This story follows on immediately from "Nicki's Mini".

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. I really am very grateful."

"You're welcome." he smiled, then paused. "You look very hot in that outfit."

I smiled, "Thanks."

"I particularly like the look of that zip." He nodded down between my legs.

"Oh really?"

Alan nodded again. He did have a nice cock; and Nigel was going to be a little while yet... "I can show you how it works if you like."

He smiled. I turned towards, him, lifting my right leg up onto the seat beside me. my left leg I lifted up onto the dashboard. Then I slowly undid the zip at my crotch and let him see me. Giving him that blowjob had really turned me on--especially when he had ejaculated so much spunk all over the place. It had left me really quite... damp and now he could see my glistening pussy. "See?" I said.

"Mmm. Lovely." He leaned forward--right forward until he was nuzzling my exposed pussy with his nose; well, that just made me gasp. Then I felt his tongue tip trace my labia and my gasping turned to groaning. Up and down he went, his nose nuzzling my clit as his tongue teased my lips. Oh God he was good. I put my hands on the back of his head; it didn't seem like he would stop any time soon, but I wasn't taking any chances. I felt his lips pucker around my clit and he sucked; I arched my back, trying to push him on to me. He had my clit trapped between his teeth and started flicking it with the tip of his tongue--it drove me absolutely wild. I squealed the first time and started writhing, but somehow he managed to keep hold of me.

I was holding his head hard now, urging him on, pressing his face against me. He switched, and stabbed at my cunny with his tongue; I felt like he was fucking me with it, and God it felt good. I was biting my lip, eyes closed shaking my head back and forth as his tongue pushed deep inside me. I knew I wouldn't last long. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him in to me, I felt his breath against my clit as he tongue fucked me and I wanted more. Well, something happened and I swear I almost lost consciousness--I squealed and screamed and my whole body jerked with the force of my orgasm. As I came down, Alan kissed my puffy pussy and gave it a last lick before sitting up and smirking. Jesus.

It took me a few minutes to compose myself (and zip myself up) but then I got out of the Landrover and thanked him again. He gave me a last smile and drove away. There I was, alone again by the side of the road, but now with my phone and with the promise that Nigel would be here soon, to help me with my car.

Well, it had been early evening when this whole adventure started and now it was getting dark. I had given Nigel directions as best I could, but it might take him a while to find me. I looked at my phone and realized that although I now had my phone, I didn't have any reception.

It got darker and darker; at least two hours had passed since I had spoken to Nigel and not a single car had gone by since Alan left. According to my phone it was getting on for ten o'clock and it was starting to get a bit cold. I was sure that Nigel would have called by now if only I could get some signal.

At last I heard an engine in the distance and apparently approaching. I could see headlights and decided that this must be Nigel, arriving at last. I stood out in the road next to my car, realizing I had no idea how Nigel would get out here--I had bought his car. Then it came back to me: he had said, "We'll be there in a couple of hours." Who was "We"? I suspected he'd probably get a lift from his step-dad and of course I had no idea what Keith drove.

Anyway, when the headlights approached I saw that it was a van, not a car. And although it stopped, I had never seen the driver before in my life. And it wasn't a van at all, it was a minibus. A full minibus.

The driver wound down the window, "Hello gorgeous." he said.

I smiled, "Hi."

"You all right?"

"Yea--fine. Waiting for a friend."

"Here?"

"Yup. He's going to help me with my car."

"What's the problem?"

"Clutch."

"Bugger."

I nodded. It was.

Someone was shouting from behind the driver, wanting to know what was going on.

"Calm down, will you. I am just helping this nice... dominatrix who's car seems to have broken down."

Well, that caused an uproar in the back of the bus. Someone opened the sliding door and then there were lots of blokes shouting and wolf whistling and leering at me; I was illuminated like a Christmas tree in the headlights. Or maybe more like a rabbit. Judging by the response that my presence evoked, I guess that they were a rugby team and it seems that's exactly what they were.

The driver said (over the roar of the other players), "Do you want a lift?"

"Well, I think my friend must be lost. He was due to be here a while ago, but I can't get any signal so I can't call him to find out what's happened."

"Is that a yes?"

"It depends. Where are you going?"

"Back to the club."

"Can I get reception there?"

"You'll get a hell of a reception." He quipped.

I smiled and said, "You know what I mean."

"And you know what I mean."

"OK. Will I get any signal?"

"Sure."

"Then I'd love a lift."

"Hop in." There was a huge roar from the assembled throng as I climbed into the back of the minibus. Two blokes tried to grab me around the waist and sit me on their laps, and I thought I was going to be rent asunder. Eventually, when I squealed, one of the two let go and I was pulled onto the other bloke's lap. What the hell had I let myself in for?

"Hi," said the bloke who's knee I was sitting on, "I'm Kev."

"And I am Nicki."

"Very nice to meet you Nicki." He held out his hand and when I went to shake it he raised it to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. That elicited another roar from the team. I smiled and relaxed a little. If he was only going to kiss my hand I could cope with that. And it was fun to be the centre of attention.

But then the kiss of the hand turned into kissing a finger tip--one and the next and the next; when he got to my little finger he was suddenly sucking it. Now on the one hand it was sort of unexpected, on the other hand it was quite a turn on. It was such a turn on, in fact that I didn't realize what his other hand was doing. The cheeky sod was surreptitiously unzipping the crotch of my catsuit. If I hadn't been so turned on, I'd have felt the draft or at least realized that the rest of the bus had gone quiet. They all seemed to have worked out what was going on. The first I knew was when I felt two fingers teasing at my already soaking pussy. I didn't just flinch, I leaped about a mile--or at least tried to, but this bloke was big and had his other arm tight around my waist.

He just chuckled and slipped his fingers inside me--that made me gasp. I must have seemed ready for it because Alan had left me so... lubricated. When I threw my head back and groaned, I suppose the rest of the team took that as a signal that I was... up for it. I felt hands on my boobs--kneading them, grabbing them; two others grabbed my ankles and pulled my legs up and apart, leaving my pussy totally exposed (albeit with a couple of Kev's fingers deep inside me). It was at about this stage that Kev withdrew his fingers and offered them back to me. "What the fuck?" I thought to myself and started sucking his fingers. Somehow, this tiny act seemed to be a trigger for the whole of the rest of the minibus to go mental. Unseen hands grabbed my arms and directed my fingers to erections--suddenly I was wanking a couple of cocks. Someone else knelt in front of me and started rubbing my pussy with the tip of his cock. When he plunged in, I gasped, and somehow, when my mouth opened, someone else jammed their cock into my mouth.

Holy crap--the whole thing had happened in less that five minutes from me seeing the headlights in the distance to me getting fucked by God knows how many blokes in the back of a rugby club minibus. I felt a hand reach under my arse--it found the zip and pulled it open even more. Kev lifted me up and I felt his cock pressing at the tight bud of my arsehole. How could I say no when I already had a mouthful of cock? I tried my best to relax, but with another--not insignificant--member deep in my pussy, that was hard. Kev felt some resistance, but with his hands encircling my waist he lowered me slowly onto his dick and I felt the pressure ease once his glans was inside me.

I have never felt anything like it. If it hadn't been for Alan earlier I don't think I would have survived the fucking I got. After Kev had bounced me on his knee for a few miles (somehow the driver was managing to concentrate on the road) he shot his spunk-load deep in my arse. Not long after, the cock in my cunt pulled out and splattered spunk all over my crotch. Kev unceremoniously hoisted me off his rod and I was made to bend over. My mouth was fed one cock and someone else grabbed my waist and started fucking me from behind.

Hands still on my breasts, someone started undoing my corset. Then they could unzip my catsuit from the top and my tits were swinging around as member after member fucked me--pussy, arse, pussy, arse one after the other; while others fucked my face and slapped my tits. I have never felt so used, and so exhilarated. How big was this fucking team? It just went on and on. Three or four blokes managed to spurt their cum all over my face, and I don't know how many loads ended up in my cunt and arse. The last five or so had me in the parking lot at the rugby club and by then I was beyond caring. What an absolutely spectacular fucking--but I was a total mess.

When every last one of the fifteen had fucked me, they literally carried me into the club house. They sat me on the bar, with my legs spread wide and took pictures of me with their phones. They knelt me down and slapped my face with their cocks; they laid me down and crouched over my mouth while I licked their balls. I have never met such a depraved bunch of sex-crazed men in my life. Some of them were ready for a second round and laid me spreadeagled on a pool table. One after another they fucked my red-raw pussy and spunked over my belly or deep into my cunt.

Eventually they were spent, and that was long after I had gone into a kind of half-conscious daze. I hardly knew where I was, and I had come countless times myself. I felt strong arms lifting and carrying me out of the bar. They took me into the changing rooms and put me under the shower. I was still partially dressed, with my tits hanging out and the corset mostly undone. I started to come to under the shower and zipped myself back into the catsuit before doing up the corset again.

My heart was still pumping like there was no tomorrow, and it must have been midnight. When I'd dried myself off, you'd hardly know what had happened, looking at me, but I ached all over. I tried calling Nigel but just got his voicemail. Shit. Now what?

Eventually, Kev offered to give me a lift home. I agreed, but asked him to swing by the mini first. When we got there, I found a note on the window. "Hi Nicki. Found your car eventually but you weren't here. Fixed the clutch, but gone home now. Speak soon, Nigel."

Fantastic. I don't think Kev was overjoyed--he expected to be invited back to my flat. But instead I was able to get home under my own steam. I do love my mini, but that drive home was difficult; I ached so much. I had really enjoyed those gear changes and my thighs rubbing together, but one rugby team later, the thrill was gone. Every gear change, every bend in the road reminded me of just how sore I was. I did eventually get home, peeled off my catsuit and fell into bed. I slept like a log, but dreamed of... well, I am sure you can guess.

Lessons learned: always take your phone; join the RAC.

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