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Car/Body Sharing

When Jerry loans out his Tesla using a car sharing service he get more than he bargained for
When I was in my late teens there were three guiding principles that I thought would shape my life; #1, if I got married it would be forever; #2, I would never loan out my car unless it was a clunker; and #3, I would never get involved in anyone else’s male-female relationships. By the time I was twenty seven things were working out a little differently than I thought.

I had a hard time giving up on principle #1 but it ended up to be necessary. My wife Karen and I were compatible in college, but we didn’t realize that our relationship was one that would not likely flourish outside that cloistered environment. We had never lived together before marriage and didn’t realize how different some of our desires, important interests, and personality traits were. For example Karen liked pleasant sex once I week whereas I liked mind-blowing sex once a day. We were married for three years before we split, eighteen months before the events in this story started to unfold. We didn’t have an acrimonious split and we are still very good friends – really, we are, although we live on opposite sides of the country – but we just couldn’t make it.

I had a less hard time giving up on principle #2, although it was still agonizing. After my divorce I moved to a big city where I got my dream job, driving there in my dream car, a Tesla Model X, four doors, a 300 mile range between recharges, a top pick for the environment, and zero to sixty in about four seconds. The only problem was that I only used the car on weekends or for business trips and it is really, really expensive to own a car in the city given the outrageous parking fees at my condo, city insurance rates, etc.

A friend at work, who had the same problem that I did, put me on to a car sharing/renting service called CarQwik.

“I listed my car with them three months ago, Jerry, and I’ve had no problems. I charge fifteen dollars an hour for its use, they provide two million dollars liability insurance on top of my own, and zero deductible comprehensive insurance, and the deals are quickly and easily arranged by text message. They provide me with a basic renter profile and I also can refuse any renter that I want to.”

It sounded good to me, so I did my due diligence, including actually going to CarQwik’s local office and talking with the manager there. She was really intrigued that I had an all-electric car so that I wouldn’t have to pay for gas and that the electricity that I charged my Tesla with was included in my condo fees. She suggested that I charge twenty dollars an hour, the maximum fee allowed. CarQwik got 25% of that and paid me by direct deposit within ten days of a rental and was responsible for any deadbeats.

I was a little apprehensive when I rented to the first two customers and denied a third (an eighteen year old – I wasn’t trustworthy at that age and I didn’t think he was either), but I was less apprehensive for the next two renters. Since a couple of the renters used the car overnight I got some decent coin from the deals and nobody even so much as left any dirt on the floor mats.

The sixth potential customer wanted to use my car on a Saturday. Because it was one of the few times I didn’t need it on a Saturday since I was going by metro to a baseball game with a number of my friends, I agreed. Julie showed up at my condo about 9 a.m. I was surprised by her appearance. She had on a loose sweatshirt and sweatpants with paint stains on them. Her auburn hair was in a bun on top of her head with strands sticking out all over the place, and she had no makeup on. She also seemed nervous. She did have a melodious voice and a cute nose, though.

Just to be sure that she was who CarQwik said she was I checked her license. Two things stood out. She was thirty seven, although even given her basically disheveled appearance she looked less than thirty. For eye color it listed “DIC.” I looked at her eyes – they were green.

“Say, Julie, why is your eye color listed as ‘DIC’ on your license?”

“Oh, that’s kind of embarrassing, Jerry. It means ‘ dichromatic.’”

“OK,” I laughed, “then what does ‘dichromatic’ mean?”

“Oh, sorry; it means that my eyes are different color.”

“They look green to me,” I said staring into them.

“I have a colored contact in.” With that she put her fingers to her right eye and popped out a contact, then looked at me smiling.

“By God, it’s gray,” I said staring even more intently. Even though Julie was smiling suddenly I got uneasy. Her eyes were enchanting, hypnotizing, even bewitching. It took all my will power to stop staring as I nervously reached for my car keys, and stuttered out, ”OK, Julie, let me go down with you to the car and I’ll show you some unusual features.” I had no idea why I said that, because I hadn’t done it with any other renters but instead just relied on CarQwik to give them the information that they needed.

As Julie drove away she demurely waved, and I waved back. Why are there butterflies in my stomach? I asked myself as I rode up on the elevator.

Julie brought the car back early Sunday morning, just as agreed. Rather than merely placing the keys in the lock box next to my parking place, which was standard procedure, she brought them up to my condo. This time I was the one who was disheveled, having just gotten up about fifteen minutes before she arrived.

She looked much different. She was nicely, though casually, dressed, her hair was down and combed, she had light makeup on, and no green contact.

“Sorry, Jerry, I wasn’t sure whether I should leave the keys in the box or bring them to you, so I thought I’d bring them up. Is that OK?

I didn’t mind seeing those captivating eyes again even though I probably looked like shit. Also, I was totally impressed with her present appearance. Now that she had on clothes that flattered her figure rather than hid it there was no doubt that she had a killer body. Also her light makeup and shoulder length hair nicely complemented her cute nose and fascinating eyes.

“Sure, no problem,” I replied, “but I’m sorry that I look so scary.”

“Ha, ha, you look much better than I did the first time we met.”

“If you can stand the terrible view, would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Thank you, Jerry, that is so nice. I definitely would but my husband is waiting in our car double parked so I need to leave now.”

Why is that upsetting to me? I asked myself.

“But I hope that I can use your car again next week. It is a truly awesome vehicle.”

“Sure, just let me know.”

“Thanks, I’ll be in touch,” she smiled, while again giving me a demur wave.

I couldn’t figure out why I was unsettled the rest of the day. Maybe I knew, but didn’t want to admit it.

Julie did rent my car through CarQwik three more times, each time making the effort to return the keys personally. The third time was shortly after I got home from work and her husband wasn’t waiting for her. I invited her in for dinner. She accepted.

I’m only a decent cook but I make two dishes really well, including mushroom risotto. “Do you like mushroom risotto?” I asked.

“Can you really make that, Jerry; it’s one of my favorite meals.”

“I can, and I hope that it doesn’t disappoint you.”

“I would love to know how to make it because I only order it out. Can you show me?”

“Sure,” I replied, ushering her into my condo and offering her a glass of red wine.

Julie was exceptionally bubbly and chatty as she watched me make my specialty, asking lots of questions, constantly smiling, and telling a few slightly off-color but amusing jokes as certain subjects came up in conversation.

We had a thoroughly enjoyable meal. I realized about half way through it that I really missed having dinner at home with someone else, which my wife and I did all of the time but which I hadn’t done much since.

I made peach melba for desert, we had another glass of wine after dinner, and before I knew it my watch read 10:00 p.m.

“Oh, no, I can believe it’s that late,” Julie said when I told her what time it was. “John will be home in half an hour and I need to get there fast. Where is the nearest cab stand?”

“I’m not letting you go out by yourself this time of night, I’ll drive you home.”

“Would you really, that’s so nice Jerry.”

“It would be my pleasure,” I replied, picking up the car keys. “Did you gas it up?” I asked, smiling.

“Very funny, bozo,” Julie giggled.

On the way to her apartment, only about three miles away, I discussed her future use of my car.

“Look, instead of using CarQwik why don’t you just call me when you want to use my car. We can cut out their 25%, and I’ll give you a good-customer discount; how does ten dollars an hour sound.”

“That is so generous, Jerry. Thanks. We’ll need to exchange cell phone numbers.”

I gave her the version of my business card that included my personal cell number and email address, and she wrote her personal information on the back of another of my cards. Before giving it to me she pressed her lips to the front of it, leaving a lipstick kiss. “Just so you know who it’s from,” she giggled, “because I didn’t write my name on it.”

As I pulled up to her high rise apartment building she softly said “Thank you so much, Jerry, that was a truly delightful evening, and I learned so much, including how to make mushroom risotto.”

“I enjoyed it immensely,” I said as my voice cracked.

“I’ll call you about the car next week. Thanks again.” With that she gave me a very quick peck on the cheek, exited, and gave her characteristic demur wave as the doorman greeted her and she went into her building.

My mind was in a tizzy on the way back to my condo. Judging by the horns that honked at me I probably ran a couple of red lights or stop signs, but I did make it back without totaling my Tesla. As I tossed and turned during the night I had to admit to myself that I had developed a crush on Julie. She was so friendly, clever, cheerful, beautiful and sexy I couldn’t help myself. Plus those eyes were – well they were beyond my experience and had truly bewitched me.

I wondered if her willingness to dine with me, her lipstick imprint on my card, and her quick kiss on my cheek, meant that she had an attraction to me too. One thing that I was sure of was that after she noticed my fascination with her “dichromatic” eyes at least when she came to see me she never wore her green contact again.

I cautioned myself continuously over the next few days to remember my guiding principle #3, the only one I hadn’t violated so far. Don’t get involved in someone else’s relationship; Julie was married.

Julie borrowed my car again on Thursday. When she returned the keys I wished that either she hadn’t showed up in running shorts and a jog bra, or that I had a pair of mirrored sunglasses handy. She had to notice my embarrassed wide-eyed reaction to her killer thighs, ample chest, and trim waist. I was blubbering like a teenager when I talked to her and this time fortunately she couldn’t stay and didn’t need a ride.

Then the strangest thing happened. When I went to use my car Saturday morning a pair of used women’s underpants was in the driver’s seat. I couldn’t believe I did it but my first reaction was to sniff them. They smelled like the perfume Julie wore the night she stayed for dinner. There is no possible way that she could have left it there by accident, I thought to myself, concluding Now I have a problem if I’m to abide by principle #3.

The problem intensified when early Sunday morning I received a call on my cell from a frantic female.

“Hi, Jerry, this is Julie; I’m really, really, sorry to call you so early, but can I come talk to you, please? I really, sob, sob, choke, need to.”

“Sure,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, I’m already in a cab; I’ll be there in five minutes.”

I was worried and perplexed. What could be wrong that she would call someone so frantically, and why me?

I cleaned up myself and my condo, at least as much as I could in five minutes. When Julie arrived she had bruises on her face and arm, and had obviously been crying. As I ushered her in I asked the obvious question, “What happened to you?”

“I don’t want to bring you my problems I just needed to get out of my apartment for a while.”

“Hey, I’m happy to help but you’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”

I sat her down, she cried some more, and between her sobs she told me that her husband had dramatically changed recently and was getting increasingly more verbally abusive, culminating in a blowup that morning. She was uncomfortable in saying more, and I didn’t ask her to.

My voice of reason kept repeating “principle #3, principle #3,” but she looked so vulnerable, exposed, and so goddamn gorgeous it was clear that I was going to help her; all three principles have hit the dust fleetingly registered in my brain. Also, my pet peeve (actually it’s stronger than that but I can’t think of another expression) is men who don’t treat women right.

Julie had only a few clothes with her so after she cleaned herself up I took her shopping for some new ones. Her personal and join credit cards had been cancelled – obviously by her husband – so I advanced her the money. We went to lunch and then took a stroll in the park since it was a beautiful day. I didn’t want to pry so I refrained from asking too many questions. But I did have some very practical questions when we got back to my condo.

After she changed into, and showed off, her new clothes I sat her down, gave her a glass of wine, and started my interrogation.

“So, Julie, you’re not going back to your apartment tonight, are you?”

“No, Jerry. I’m scared.”

“Are you going to go to the police over his cancellation of your personal credit card – or maybe for some other things too?” She knew what I meant.

“I’m not sure…I have to think it over.”

“Do you have some friends or family to stay with tonight?”

“My two best female friends are out of town, and my family is hundreds of miles away. I’ll check into a hotel.”

“How are you going to do that without a credit card?” I asked.

“Well, I have some cash, I think enough for a cheap hotel.”

“Let me change the subject. I found a pair of panties in my car after you used it last. Do you know how they got there?”

She turned completely red. “I, uh, I, well… I’m sorry.” She offered no further explanation. Actually that made no difference to me because she looked better every second and I was going to help her any way I could.

“I don’t want to embarrass you Julie. Tell you what, why don’t you stay here tonight.”

“Would you mind? That would really help.”

“There is one condition,” I continued, with a pregnant pause for emphasis, “you need to decide by tomorrow at breakfast whether you’re going to report your husband to the police, or what else you’re going to do.”

“OK; I promise.”

“You can stay in the bedroom, Julie and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No way, Jerry. As desperate as I am I’m not going to take your bed. I’m staying on the couch; also, I’m making you mushroom risotto for dinner – if you have the ingredients.”

“I do,” I laughed.

I watched and talked with Julie as she made the dish I had taught her, only it turned out better than when I made it. As she prepared our meal and we then dined she got more and more relaxed, almost happy, including unveiling her keen sense of humor. By the time that we had a glass of wine after dinner I’d say that she was almost back to her old self.

I had only one bathroom so I let her shower first while I made up the couch for her. I almost split my pants when she returned with only a towel on. “Sorry, I don’t have any pajamas or suitable lingerie,” she gushed when she saw my wide-eyed reaction.

“No problem,” I unconsciously replied, although there was a real problem – namely a cock full of blood.

I thought of nothing but the goddess in the next room that night. I fantasized about fucking her senseless, eating her pussy, and then fucking her again. I couldn’t lie on my stomach because my dick had stayed hard since the towel incident.

I dreamed the most realistic dream of my life. I dreamt that as I lay on my back on my bed Julie was sucking my cock.

I woke up with a start. It wasn’t a dream. There were Julie’s perfect lips pursed on my cock while she stared at me with those enchanting eyes and fondled my balls.

“Julie, what the hell are you doing?” I asked, though hoping she wouldn’t stop.

She did stop, but I was pleased when she shinnied her sleek naked body up to me and in a whisper exuding sexuality said “I’ve made a decision. I’m going to the police and leaving John; our marriage has been on the rocks since before I met you and I can’t continue any more.”

“No shit,” was my profound reply.

“I also have a confession. I left those panties in your car as my shy way of hinting that I was hot for you and to tell you that if you felt the same way that I was available.”

It took me about two nanoseconds to put her on her back. I then placed kisses all over her fabulous boobs, rubbed her soaking wet shaved pussy and clit, and then shoved my rock hard dick into her channel. I put her calves on my shoulders and manipulated her clitoris with one hand as I mercilessly pounded her. She kept on yelling “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” as she undulated her entire body. It was the wildest fuck of my life, and just like my fantasy I did fuck her senseless.

Once Julie re-gained some awareness I continued to fulfill my fantasy by diving into her honey pot. I gently pinched her labia, flicked her clitoris with my tongue, penetrated her with two fingers to find and stimulate her G-spot, and ran my tongue up, down, and inside every part of her vagina. I’m sure that she climaxed at least three times, each time moaning louder and thrashing more wildly than the last.

When we woke up early the next morning I put her on her hands and knees, stimulated her pussy – it took only a few seconds to get her wet – then penetrated her vagina. As I pumped away she bucked back, and I put my thumbs on either side of her pucker hole while massaging her perfectly heart-shaped ass. As I grunted while ejaculating one cum grenade after another into her she screamed and spasmed.

I had enough presence of mind to call the office and tell them that I was taking the day off; fortunately I didn’t have any commitments that my secretary couldn’t easily reschedule.

As we sat naked, eating breakfast, we couldn’t take our eyes off each other.

At one point I earnestly blurted out “That was the best sex of my life, goddess.”

“If it wasn’t you’re the best actor in the world. You gotta know that it was my best experience ever too,” she replied sucking one of her fingers after she said it.

After gushing all over each other I finally asked a practical question.

“So when are we going to the cops?”

“You’ll go with me?”

“Of course, I took the day off.”

“First I need to go to my apartment and get my stuff.”

“I’ll rent a van and a storage unit,” I chirped, “Let’s get dressed.”

We drove the van to her apartment, I tipped the doorman and gave him the keys and asked him to watch it double parked in front of the building. We went up to Julie’s apartment, she opened it with her key and we went in. John was there.

“Where the fuck have you been, bitch, you never answered your phone,” he yelled, angrily moving toward her. He saw me for the first time when I stepped in front of her.

“John, I’m helping Julie get her belongings, and then we’re going to the cops. Get out of here until we’re done, otherwise they’ll be no reason for the cops to pick you up, just the coroner.”

After staring at me a few seconds he called Julie a bitch again and then left.

I guess there’s one thing I forgot to tell you that was irrelevant before but may be relevant to his response to my words. I’m 6’6”, 260 pounds with arms that look like I can curl 110 pound dumbbells (because I can).

Julie was giddy as we brought all of her personal possessions down to the van, drove to the storage facility to store everything except for her clothes and jewelry, and went back to my condo. When we got back to my condo Julie put her arms around my neck and glared at me with her hypnotizing “dichromatic” eyes.

“Thank you so much, Jerry. I can’t believe how nice and helpful you’ve been. However now I need a place to stay. Got any suggestions?”

“Let me think,” I deadpanned, getting me a playful pinch on my nose. “Tell you what, you call John up right now, tell him that if he gives you a quickie divorce you won’t press charges with the police, and then I’ll let you sleep on my couch.”

“You bastard,” she laughed. She immediately got out her phone, called the asshole, and after she hit the “End” button on her phone she smilingly said “He jumped at the chance. Now get into MY bedroom; I was rudely interrupted while I was sucking a cock last night and I’m finishing it off.”

Julie blew my mind that night, and almost every other day or night in the six months since then. We found out that we were compatible in every way in the real world, but especially sexually.

I dropped out of CarQwik and now only Julie and I use my Tesla. I consistently either walk away or decline to offer advice when friends or co-workers want to talk to me about their relationships. And at our wedding reception, as I was groping Julie out on the dance floor and she was looking up at me with her bewitching eyes, I thought to myself I’m back to my guiding principles – and this time there is no way I’m giving up on them, particularly #1, and especially since she’s going off of birth control tomorrow.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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