Spare Me

Spare Me

The summer had been excessively hot. Each morning starting warm and only growing sweltering by days end. It felt like weeks since there had been rain. I’m wearing a denim skirt that barely covers my ass, a tank top, and the tiniest pair of panties I own. It’s just too hot. Everything is sticky and sweaty, and clothes are the definition of evil in this heat.

I’m driving down the highway, the setting sun to my left, shining a vibrant orange glow. I push down on the accelerator, pulling out into the left lane to pass a blue minivan covered in bumper stickers from all over North America it seems. Just as I as pulling past the van front bumper, I hear a deafening bang. I lose traction and start to fishtail. Putting the car in neutral I pull off the highway onto a side gravel road, between a thicket of trees.

Grabbing my phone, I get out and go see what the damage is. The rear driver’s tire’s blown, only a ragged piece of rubber remaining. I push the home button on my phone, bring the screen to life and realize there’s no service. I’m in a dead zone. There’s probably half a billion cellular phones in North America, yet we still have dead zones. Argh, Technology is great, until it isn’t.

I walk around, holding my phone above my head, trying to get even one bar to appear on the tiny screen, but it’s hopeless. Letting out a sigh, I walk back to the car. I know how to change a tire., in theory.

“It’s not the end of the world”, I say to myself. “It only feel like it is right now.”  I use this mantra when I’m in situations that I have no control. This seems to be one of those times.

Popping the trunk, I pull out the jack that’s tucked behind the rear tire well. The spare is in a hidden compartment under the carpet. Pulling it out, it bounces a bit when landing on the ground and rolls a small distance away. Grumbling under my breath, I retrieve the tire and roll it up to the car, resting it against the rear fender.

As I’m positioning the jack, I hear a vehicle approach from behind me. I continue adjusting the jack’s placement and insert the crowbar. I pump the jack two, three times and realize this is going to be harder than I thought. I stand up, spread my legs shoulder width apart and bending my knees, put my weight into it, giving myself some leverage. I pump a few more times when I hear a deep voice inquire, “Ahem, excuse me Miss. Do you need a hand?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll get it…. eventually.” I reply, stubbornly continuing in my efforts.

A muscular arm reaches over my right shoulder and plucks the crowbar from my hand. “You’ll be on your way faster if you just let me do it, sweetheart.” The deep unembodied voice says. This voice is deep and demanding. I turn around, speaking before I’ve even finished spinning.

“Is that supposed to mean that because I’m a woman that I can’t change a tire?” I say indignantly. My face turning from fury to shock as I get my first look at my courteous adversary. His voice makes him sounds older than he must be. I’d guess he’s in his mid-thirties, but his voice sounds of years of grit and smoke. His face is lightly lined, more expressive than stoic. Blue eyes are outlined by a heavy brow. His nose is straight and his lips a deep pink. Somehow in this heat, they look moist, and I wonder what they taste like.

“No Miss, I’m sure that you can, it means that you looked like you could use a hand.” He replies, startling me out of my revelry. He stares at me, waiting for me to acquiesce. To my chagrin, I do.

Stepping back, I give him room to work. His fore arms are lined with muscle. The cords rolling like rope as he pumps the jack up. A picture of his hands circling around the back of my neck has me shaking me head. What is going on with me? He makes quick work of undoing the bolts, making it look like a toddler tightened them. While he changes the tires around, I take the opportunity to study him.

He’s handsome in a rugged sort of way. He looks like he spends a lot of time outdoors, his exposed skin a golden hue from long days in the sun. His shirt bunches around a muscular frame, highlighting his build. While not overly tall, he looks powerful. His shoulders are wide, his waist narrow. His legs look strong and I find myself wondering what his cock looks like. I shake the thought away. It must be the heat.

He tightens the bolts as deftly as he loosened them. In a matter of minutes, he has all four wheels back on the ground. I follow as he walks to the truck. After placing the blown tire into the trunk compartment, he stands back wiping his hands on a handkerchief that was tucked in his back pocket. Who even knew people still used handkerchiefs anymore?

 I stand in front of him, picking at my fingernails, avoiding eye contact, worried he’ll see my attraction to him if I make eye contact.

“Is there something I can do to repay you? I don’t have a lot of cash on me, but what I have I could give you.” I ask warily.

“How far do you have to go? You’ll need to get another tire; this one isn’t made for a long distance.”

“Um,” I stall, not sure how much to tell him. “I could get one in the next town.”

“Well, that’s only thirty kilometers, if you go slow, you’ll be fine. But it’s a small town, you’ll probably need to pay in cash. So, keep what cash you have, in case, but there is something you could do.  To repay me that is.”

“Oh, okay, what is that?” I ask before I can think better of it. He gives me a look that makes me suddenly aware of my nudity under what little clothing I’m wearing. I feel moisture pool in my belly, threatening to spill out.

He reaches for his pants zipper, slowly pulling it down, allowing me to hear the tick of each tooth as it is lowered. “You can say no, and I’ll leave you be,” He continues, opening his fly to expose his uncovered cock. He goes commando. That’s so hot!

Understanding dawning on me, I slowly lower to my knees. Groaning, he grabs me by the upper arms, pulling me up to full height. “As much as I’d love to watch you stretch that pretty mouth around my cock, I want that pussy. It looked delicious peeking out of that tiny skirt when I pulled up.” I flush knowing that I was so exposed without being aware, then feel arousal stir deep inside me.

He spins me around, placing a hand on my back, pressing my top half down. I place my hands on the edge of the trunk to brace myself. My heart is beating erratically, and I think I’ve stopped breathing. This is totally dirty and slutty, but fuck is it sexy.

I hear the tear of foil, and my skirt lifts. He folds it gently, exposing my ass to the sultry air. His hand runs over my bare skin, as if he’s memorizing every curve and crevice. His hands roam down to my thighs, pulling my G-string down as he goes. After having me step out of my panties he places a hand on either thigh, spreading them farther apart. He traces his way back up to my rear, parting my cheeks slightly. I feel the tip of his sheathed cock press against my entrance.

“Brace yourself.” He says, then immediately thrusts deep into me. I let out a squeak at the intrusion. He’s big, or at least he feels like he is. He holds still for a moment, letting me adjust to his size, then places both hands on my hips and starts thrusting in earnest. With each thrust he pulls me back against him. The air is full of the sound of our bodies colliding and his grunts.

One hand reaches around to grab my thigh. Standing, he spreads my legs apart and places my foot on the bumper. My pussy is exposed to the air and his wandering hands. He presses his fingers against my clit, pushing hard and rubbing in small tight circles. “Ladies first,” he whispers coarsely.

He speeds his relentless onslaught, pulling me up to press my back against his front. The angle of his cock pushing hard against my g-spot. It feels amazing and I let the moans I’d been holding in slip out from between my lips.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” He asks, his voice husky and full of arousal. His other hand comes up to grab my breast through my shirt. Twisting my nipple, and tugging. I moan louder, my eyes rolling. A drop of sweat is rolling down my spine, a thin sheen covering both of us. The heat is intoxicating, and it’s almost unbearable being this close together, but it feels too good to stop.

“Yes. There. Please.” I reply

His fingers press harder against my button, as his thrusts become more controlled and focused. He’s pushing into me so hard; my knee is about to buckle. My legs are shaking. His hand leaves my breast and he wraps his arm around me, giving me extra support. His fingers stop their grinding on my clit, and he whispers in my ear, “Are you ready to come, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please, Yes.” I groan. “Please don’t stop.”

His hand returns to my center, but instead of rubbing my clit, he grabs it between his thumb and two fingers, pulling and twisting in a firm rhythm.  He thrusts into me hard and deep. My arousal reaches a plateau and I gasp. His fingers pinch my clit hard and he say gruffly spits out, “Come then.”

And I do. My body convulsing. I scream in my ecstasy. Wetness coats my thighs as he rides me hard, pushing himself to climax too. He stiffens and stills, releasing a long groan as my pussy milks his come from his cock.

The sounds of our ragged breaths mix with the sound of the evening insects starting their night-time melody. He slowly slips his softening cock from me and pulls my skirt down in a fruitless attempt to cover my bare ass. After assisting me to stand and straightening my shirt he places his hand in his pocket and pulls out my panties. “I’m keeping these,” he says, returning them to their place.

“Oh, okay.” I say dumbfounded. I’m still a little out of it from having an orgasm. “Thanks for your help.”

He smirks at me with the same look he gave me when I asked him what I could do for him. “The pleasure was all mine, Sweetheart.” I blush under his gaze, even though what just happened between us was mush more indecent than his innuendo. “Remember to drive slow, and get that tire fixed. Best be on your way, it’s almost completely dark.” Saying nothing else, he tilts his head to me, turns and walks to his truck. Once inside he waits until I’m in my car, seat belt and headlights on, before he turns around and drives away.

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For more smutty stories, see Fiction By MrsK. For something to inspire your own creativity, see Photography.

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