Clare woke quite early the day after her sexual encounter with Chris, the salesman from the car showroom where she worked. She thought back on the evening before. What had happened?

She'd worked with Chris for a couple of years but had never thought before about having sex with him. He'd flirted with her a few times but neither of them had thought it would lead anywhere.

But, last evening, they hadn't even talked. They'd just fucked, almost as soon as they had entered her flat. And she'd come while he was fucking her. And then he'd come all over her stomach. And then she'd sucked him until he came in her mouth.

And what about the day before that at the spa? She'd been fucked from behind by a stranger while another stranger shot his load into her mouth.

Until two days earlier, Clare had only had sex with one man and that had been nowhere near as exciting or satisfactory as the last couple of days.

What had she turned into? Clare didn't know the answer to that. But thinking about the recent events had caused her hand to slip down her belly and, without thinking, had slipped two fingers into her wet cunt. She moved her fingers in and out then used her other hand to stroke her clitoris. She was moaning quietly and her breath was coming in short gasps. She thought about Chris's long cock pumping away inside her and then she thought of the stranger of the day before holding her by the hips while he pounded at her from behind. Finally, she came as she remembered both Chris and the second stranger filling her mouth with their sperm.

Clare lay on her bed, spent. But it was time to get ready for work. She wondered about the day ahead. She knew that Chris would not be able to keep their encounter to himself, even though she had asked him to. Would the other salesmen think she was a slut? Would they treat her differently? Would they expect to get what Chris had?

Old Clare would have been horrified by any of this. But this was New Clare. This was the Clare who fucked strangers and her coworkers. This was the Clare who, let's face it, was behaving like a man.

"Fuck them," she thought. "Literally, if I feel like it."

She showered and dressed and had some breakfast cereal and a cup of tea before walking to work.

When she got there, it was obvious that Chris had blabbed. Harry, Jocky and Jim didn't say anything, but there was something in the way they avoided eye contact with Clare that made it obvious what they were thinking. As for Chris, he made sure that he was busy with customers or paperwork whenever she was around.

By lunchtime, things were almost back to normal, although Chris was still being evasive. The other three all took their breaks to coincide with Clare's in the staff room. They asked her if she'd done anything interesting the previous evening. Clare knew that they knew exactly what she had done but also knew that they were not going to say that Chris had told them all about it.

Old Clare would have been embarrassed and would have lied and said something about just having had an evening in front of the TV. But New Clare was having none of this.

"Oh, Chris took me home, and we fucked for an hour or so. It was great."

Harry, Jim, and Jocky could not believe what they had just heard from their normally demure receptionist. None of them knew what to say. Clare filled the silence.

"I'm sure Chris must have told you about it."

The three men were still dumbstruck.

Eventually, Harry said, "Well, I don't think we were ready for you to admit it."

"I'm not admitting anything. You make it sound like it's something I should be ashamed of. I'm not. I wanted sex. There was someone around to provide it. So I took it. I'm sure any one of you would have done the same. Should it be different for me because I'm a woman? Listen, I'm not going to tell you every time I have a shag, but I'm not going to lie about it either. You asked me if I did anything interesting—when you already knew the answer—and so I gave you an honest reply."

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "It was just a bit of a surprise coming from you. You're normally so..."

He broke off, unable to find the right word.

"Dull? Boring?" challenged Clare.

"Innocent," said Harry.

"Well, I'm not innocent anymore. In the last couple of days I've had some great sex, and I've discovered that I love it. In future, if I want sex, I'm going to reach out and grab it. Just like you men. And now, can we please change the subject?"

The men gratefully resumed their normal conversations about flash cars while Clare finished her sandwich and returned to her reception desk.

At the back of the showrooms, there were some workshops. New cars had their final preparations here before being collected by customers. Used cars would have minor repairs and valeting before going on sale. The workshops were staffed by a small team of, mainly young, men who were overseen by Pete, a man in his late fifties.

One of Clare's duties was to take the used cars from the workshop on a short test drive, just to check what a customer would experience before they went on sale. She received a call from the workshop that afternoon to say that there was a large Volvo ready for a test run.

Clare walked to the workshop where she was greeted by Pete. He was a short, wiry man. A habitual smoker, he smelt of a mixture of tobacco and oil from working on engines all day. He was wearing a blue overall. As he handed Clare the keys, he said he'd come with her as he wanted to make sure that he had finally cured the persistent problem with the gear change.

This was unusual. Clare would normally do the test drives alone. She was not a mechanic. She was there simply to represent what a customer might notice and would report back any faults she found. She wondered why Pete had suddenly decided to come too.

She watched as he slipped off his overall, revealing a blue t-shirt and jeans underneath. They approached the car.

"I think I'd better drive," said Pete. "I need to feel the gear change."

Clare wondered why she was here if Pete was going to do the driving and if he wasn't sure if he had fixed the problem. She would not normally be called in until the car was ready to be sold. But it got her away from the reception desk. And Pete could be good company.

They drove out of the yard and around the local streets. The car seemed to be going well, and there was no problem with the gear change.

"I suppose we'd better head back," she said.

Pete didn’t answer immediately but pulled into the empty car park of a local beauty spot. He switched off the engine and turned to Clare.

"We won't be missed for a while. I think we need to check out the rest of the car. Did you know these seats fold right down?"

Clare realised exactly where Pete wanted this to go. Word of her evening with Chris had obviously reached the workshop. She looked at Pete. He wasn't exactly handsome, but he wasn't without charm, even if he did smell a bit. But he was so old. She was only 23. He was old enough to be her dad. In fact, he was older than her dad.

She heard a voice say "What a good idea," and realised it was hers.

Pete reached across from the driver's seat and pulled her face towards his. As he kissed her, she could taste the tobacco he had recently smoked. His other hand cupped her breast through her blouse.

And then suddenly he was out of the car and opening her door. He guided her into the back of the car and laid her down across the back seat.

There were no preliminaries. He hoiked her skirt up to her hips and pulled her knickers off. He opened his belt and fly and lowered his pants. His six-inch cock stood at attention. Clare had never seen one that old, but it looked like it could do the job. Pete climbed on top of her, pulled her legs apart, and thrust himself into her. Clare was sufficiently aroused (how had that happened?) for him to meet no resistance.

Pete moved in and out at his own pace. This was slower and more deliberate than Chris had been. Clare warned him not to come inside her as she felt the waves of orgasm building up. She told herself that she needed to be on the pill if she was going to have sex regularly.

Without warning, she came, crying out. Pete felt her tighten around his cock. With great self control, he pulled out and grasped his cock in his hand. He needed to come, but where? He couldn't shoot onto Clare's blouse and definitely couldn't get spunk on the car seat. He grabbed Clare's knickers from the seatwell and shot his load into them. There was a lot of it and the knickers were soaked when had finished.

"Wow!" said Clare.

"We'd better get back," said Pete.

He tucked his softening prick away and did up his jeans. Clare pulled her skirt down and tucked her sodden knickers into her handbag. It gave her a thrill to know that she was naked under her skirt.

Clare drove back. They didn't speak on the journey, and she dropped Pete off at the workshop before parking the car in the used-car section of the forecourt.

She walked back into reception past the four salesmen. They looked at her, and she wondered if they'd guessed what she'd been up to. She could feel the air on her naked cunt and was fluttering a bit nervously inside. Who cared if they'd guessed? They probably had. But she'd had good sex during the working day, and they hadn't.

"Go, Clare," she thought.

The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. At the end of the day, Clare walked home alone. She spent the evening relaxing in a warm bath with a large glass of wine. She planned to go to a pharmacy to get the contraceptive pill the following day. She was absolutely loving her new sex life but couldn't risk getting pregnant. She decided to wait however long it took for the pill to make her safe from conception. She'd had enough sex in the last few days to keep her going.

A few weeks later, she was ready to start having sex again. She'd filled the interim period with regular masturbation. She'd bought a vibrator and also some sexier underwear than her normal Marks and Spencer knickers.

The evening before her next day off, she dressed in a low cut top, tight jeans and slightly higher heels than she was used to. She set out for her local pub. She ordered a white wine and sat at a table.

She attracted the attention of a few men and didn't fail to spot their furtive glances in her direction. But they were in groups and so it would have been awkward for them to approach her.

And then Harry walked in. She had known he sometimes drank in this pub. Had she subconsciously wanted him to come in? He bought a drink and then spotted Clare.

"Hi. Can I join you?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied.

"Are you out on your own or expecting someone?"

"Both," she replied.

"Both?" he asked, confused.

"I'm on my own, but I'm expecting not to be by the end of the evening."

Harry smiled. He had an idea what she meant.

He was about 35. He was slim and about 5ft 8ins. He had short blond hair, with a neat parting. His deep blue eyes were his most attractive feature, and Clare was looking straight into them.

"Are you meeting anyone?" Clare asked.

"I think I have," he said, smiling.

He bought drinks for the pair of them and they chatted amicably, laughing about their colleagues. Clare was having a good time. She knew Harry was married and casually asked what his wife was up to that evening.

"She's out with her girlfriends. They'll be downing wine and shots. She'll come home pissed in the early hours. I'll be in the spare room. I can't stand it when she's that drunk. It doesn't happen often but, when it does, I like to be out of the way."

They had a few more drinks. Clare began to feel the effects.

"I'd better head for home," she said.

"I'd better make sure you get there safely," said Harry.

They walked the short distance to her flat. She put her arm through his. When they got there, she asked if he wanted to come in.

"Oh yes," he replied.

They went in. Clare made coffee, and they sat side-by-side on the sofa. They chatted away, quite relaxed. And then Harry put a hand on her knee. The effect on Clare was electrifying. She turned to face him. And then she threw her arms round him and kissed him deeply.

They kissed for a few minutes. Harry stroked her arms, her legs, her hair. She began to undo his shirt buttons. It had been weeks since she had been fucked. She wanted him. Now.

Harry pulled her t-shirt over her head, revealing her white, lacy bra. She helped him out of his shirt. He had a hairless chest and no beer belly.

They both kicked off their shoes. Harry undid Clare's tight jeans and, with a bit of work, got them over her ankles and off. She sat next to him in just her bra and very sexy, lacy white pants.

She helped him off with his jeans. She'd expected boxers or trunks, but he was wearing a small pair of white briefs. She could see his cock straining to escape. It looked big. Probably the biggest she had yet encountered.

He reached behind her and undid her bra. Her breasts tumbled out. Her nipples were as erect as they had ever been. He fell upon them, sucking each of them in turn.

She reached for the waistband of his briefs and pulled it down. His cock sprang free. It was huge. It must have been eight inches long, but what really struck Clare was its girth. She'd heard people describe cocks as Coke cans, and this can't have been far off. Would she fit that in?

She pulled his briefs completely off, together with his socks, and turned her attention to that cock. She held it in her hand and could barely get her fingers round it. He was uncircumcised, and she worked the foreskin back to reveal the purple head. She tentatively licked the bulbous end, watching it twitch enthusiastically in response.

Meanwhile, Harry had pulled her knickers off, revealing her small patch of auburn hair. His hands sought out her cunt lips and then, using her own lubrication, stroked her clit gently, sending ripples of pleasure through her body.

She opened her mouth as wide as she could and just managed to get the tip of his penis into it. His fingers were still working her cunt. She was so wet. She wanted him inside her.

He was still sitting beside her on the sofa. Abandoning his cock for a moment, she threw a leg over him so that she was astride and facing him.

She reached down, took his enormous tool in her hand and guided it between her cunt lips. She felt herself stretch to accommodate him as she slid down his huge pole.

"Aaaaagh!" she sighed happily.

She began to move up and down. He held the cheeks of her arse and sucked on her nipples while she fucked him. She went faster and faster, savouring the huge shape inside her, feeling more stretched than she had ever been.

Without a word, Harry stood up. Supporting her with his hands under her bum, he carried her, still impaled on his prick into the bedroom.

He laid her down on the bed without pulling out and fucked her hard in the missionary position. She came twice while he pounded his magnificent weapon inside her. Eventually, he groaned and released his torrent of spunk inside her vagina.

He rolled off her. She felt the loss of his penis inside her and then felt the warm sperm running down between her thighs. It was a relief not to have had to make him pull out like the others.

They lay there for a while until Harry said he'd have to go to make sure his drunken wife was home safely. Clare didn't mind. She'd been well fucked and wasn't sure she could take any more of something that big again so soon.

And so Harry left, and Clare slept. Until her next sexual adventure.