Fully Serviced


I could smell the grease and petrol fumes long before I got to the garage that day. It was a smell I’d always loved. I’d breathe it in, and it intoxicated me, the way expensive perfume and platinum plastic tended to intoxicate my moneyed college friends. I could smell the difference between WD40 and 20/50 oil at a dozen paces – some claim to fame, I know! They could distinguish Chanel from Yves St Laurent. Each to their own.

I’d dawdled by that yard so often that summer that I could describe how it looked better than I could my own bedroom. The couple of flash cars on the oil spattered concrete that was the forecourt, glittering expensively in the sun. The pile of old junkers hidden out of sight round the back, with tyres flattening themselves into the earth, looking for all the world like they’d grown there, freakish wrecks of metal, with torn seats sprouting springs and stuffing – exotic blooms indeed.

Back out front, the square whiteness of the wall surrounding the roll-over door made an innocent frame for the gaping black maw of the workshop within. Off to one side the faded paintwork on the customer door, and the dust-darkened glass of the office window bore testament to the fact that this outfit didn’t care too much about the look of the place.

Inside though, if you cared enough to look, ah, then you saw what the drivers who cared about their cars came here for, in preference to the big chains, with their Yessir! smiles, and their clean overalls and their pristine floors and gleaming spanners.

Same reason as I came here.


Of course, they came here for his skills as a mechanic, because there was nothing supposedly he couldn’t fix. He knew engines, gearboxes, suspensions and hydraulics the way politicians knew half-truths, avoidances, loopholes and statistics. They were in his blood, second nature to him. All he cared about. I smiled to myself. Till now that was!

Fact was, I wanted Stevie. Wanted him so bad I could think of little else. Trouble was, half the girls in college wanted him too. But none had had any success getting him so far. They’d begged for a ride in the flash sports cars he worked on, and they’d just been shown the door. They’d flirted and giggled, worn next to nothing, and still they’d been ignored. The sour grapes started then of course. Vanessa said maybe he’d show some interest if she grew wheels and soaked her nails in Waxoyl. Steph just shook her long blonde curls and said he just didn’t know what he was missing, and he was probably a retard anyway.

I carried on walking home the long way, and taking in the view. It was awesome. Blond hair, worn longer that was fashionable, with streaks of sun, and more often than not, streaks of oil where his long fingers had flipped it out of his eyes. His skin was tanned, so obviously he didn’t spend all his time cloistered away in the dim innards of the workshop. In fact, he was often outside, with his overalls pushed to his waist, bent over an engine, tweaking and tinkering. Those were good days to drink him all in. His muscles working, sweat beading down his back… I would have sponged him down in an instant. I fell to imagining him tuning me up, and often had to step hurriedly into the shower on arriving home, and give myself some relief with the shower spray and my fingers. Christ, some days I got so wet just thinking about him touching me that I made a puddle in my pants! I’d let the shower play over my aching boobs, and I’d rub a couple of fingers frantically between my legs, and then I’d be shaking so hard that I’d have to be sure and have the radio on loud to drown out my moaning. It never took me long to come, imagining all the things he’d do to me. I’d never come with a guy before – although I had had sex.

A friend of a friend, bit older, very flash, loads of money. We’d gone to the beach, a big group of us, and had had a barbeque to celebrate my 18th birthday, coming of age and all that, and I’d had way too much to drink. I’d felt very privileged to be seen with such a catch, and had let things go too far. My fault, not his. I hadn’t said no, then again, he hadn’t asked, but I bore him no grudge. He’d been very solicitous when he’d realised it had been my first time, and I thought that was kind of sweet really. It hadn’t hurt all that much, but then it hadn’t really done a lot for me either. It just seemed to be a bit messy, and very quick.

Since then I’d learnt a bit, and Mr Ideal Boyfriend Material had transpired to be unusually small in the important down below department, so I guess that’s why he drove such a big car – he obviously had to compensate somehow!

I knew things would be different with Stevie.

I could just picture him, taking me in his arms, kissing my face, murmuring how beautiful I was, then he’d sweep me off to a glamorous hotel room, and caress me softly, whispering words of passion, before making gentle love to me all night long. Oh yes, I was sure that was how I wanted it. All I had to do now was make it happen.

So, back to the day in question and there I was, sashaying my way towards the garage. Last year’s white blouse strained to contain my blooming flesh, clearly hampered by the black lacy push up bra that was giving me a cleavage nearly reaching my tuzla escort throat. I’d grown rather a lot in the last year, and the strength of the thread holding the buttons in place was being sorely tested. My skirt was even older, a relic from my school days, and while the waist fitted as easily as ever, the length would have left something to be desired in terms of school rules! But that’s ok; I was playing by my rules now. I was rather proud of my legs; long, smooth and tanned, the skirt barely reached mid-thigh, although my black lacy panties were discreetly covered – as long as I didn’t bend over too far. I thought my white ankle socks and sneakers a rather cute addition to my outfit, emphasising my innocence yet at the same time accenting the athletic muscle tone of my legs – plus making walking easy! I had toyed with a pair of high heels, but I didn’t really want to fall at his feet and make a fool of myself. Although – I quickened my pace as my brain went into overdrive – it wouldn’t be so bad… he’d pick me up, and cradle me in his arms, brush the hair from my face and hold me close…

I shook myself back to the present as the object of my desire came into view. Oh yeah, there he was, oily white t-shirt stretched tight across his back and wearing thin, faded and equally smeared jeans today, making a change from his usual overalls. He looked good, very male, surrounded by the big boys’ toys of cars and tools. I swallowed, suddenly conscious of being a little nervous despite my outward bravado. My heart stopped for a beat as he raised his head and looked at me, right in the eyes for a second, before letting his gaze travel the length of my tightly packaged body. Head up I smiled at him, unleashing a 1,000 watts of perfect dentistry.

“Hiya Stevie, great day!” I called, wondering to myself just where I should stand.

His non-committal grunt wasn’t the answer I’d been hoping for, so I went and stood by the front bumper, where I could see him at work, and he could see me. I tried again, trailing my finger lightly up the wing as I spoke, imagining skin rather than metal. “Nice car… are you taking it out for a test drive?” It was lame, but I was new to the art of verbal flirting, and was doing the best I could.

“Nope” came the brief reply.

I pouted, and bent to rest both elbows on the car, cupping my chin in my hands and sticking my ass out.

“Shame” I said, “I could do with some wind through my hair, it’s so hot today…”

There was no answer to this, so I sighed and ran my fingers through my long locks to emphasise my point. I was getting irritated at being so blatantly ignored, and tossed my head a couple of times. I saw him look sideways at me a couple of times so presumably he had at least registered the fact that I was female!

I jumped as his hand came towards me, fingers outstretched, and I stared at the calluses on the palm, and the dirty fingernails. The hands of a working man. I realised he’d spoken and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

He shook his head a little, and pointed to the toolbox a couple of feet away. “A socket, that’s that long metal bar with the hexagonal rings at either end, would you pass me one kid?” he said in a ‘let’s indulge the silly little girl’ voice.

“I know what a socket is, and I’m not a kid!” I retorted, marching smartly across to the open box. “For your information I’m 18, and I could service my own car if I wanted to!” I grinned to myself as a thought struck me, and keeping my back turned towards him I spread my legs a little, and firmly locking my knees I bent from the waist only. I felt the sun kissing my thighs as my skirt rose higher, and all my cheeks burned as I imagined the view I was giving him. “What size tool?” I asked with a giggle, looking back at him through the curtain of my hair, holding the pose despite the pulling in my calves. I was pleased to note that he was leant against the car, arms folded, seemingly liking what he saw.

“8/16ths” he answered, actually allowing himself a little smile. My palms were sweating as I picked the appropriate tool and straightened up. The few steps back to his side seemed as good as a mile, as I waited for his comments on my provocative stance. To my disgust he took the wrench and disappeared back under the bonnet.

I frowned, at somewhat of a loss as to what to do next. I figured I may as well carry on flirting, so I leant my bottom against the hot metal, slumped a little in order to rest my elbows on the wing, stuck my chest out and leant my head back, arching my back and stretching my legs out in front of me.

“So, is this your car then?” I asked, praying he’d strike up some kind of conversation soon.


Seems I was doomed to disappointment in the chatting stakes. Abruptly he surfaced and looked down at me. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” he frowned as he spoke, making me feel like a truant child.


I felt a surge of rebellion, and decided that Stevie didn’t have a monopoly on being mono-syllabic. I didn’t owe him an explanation; he didn’t need to know that I had a home study day. Who the hell did he think he was anyway, quizzing me!

I stretched one long leg out in front of me, studying my sneaker intently. I pendik escort felt him shrug, and turn back to his blasted engine. This was hard work. I turned and leant in close to him, my hip touching his, and peered at the competition. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing much, it just needs some fine tuning, a little tweaking here and there.” He carried on tweaking as he spoke.

I knew that feeling. With an exaggerated sigh I loosened my tie slightly, wishing I hadn’t worn it. I licked my lips, and my tongue felt a little furry. “It’s hot out here, could I get a drink at least, if you aren’t too busy?” I snapped, my voice sounding petulant even to my own ears.

He straightened and stared at me for the longest time. I fidgeted under his gaze, feeling the blood pounding in my head and the dampness growing between my legs as well as down my back.

“Sure kid” he said, turning and strolling into the darkness of the garage’s inner sanctum.

Kid!! Was that ALL he saw when he looked at me?

I stomped after him, my face blazing hotter than the sun. It’d serve him right if I fainted … with ……frustration….. Even as my mind acknowledged the thought my eyes fastened on the battered leather sofa, and my knees got the idea and buckled obligingly. I tried to arrange myself as I sank to the floor to show the maximum amount of leg, and to fan my chestnut hair seductively around my face.

I tried to slow my breathing, and to lie still. I heard him curse and then bang something, and then I felt him half running towards my prone form.

Through slightly open lids I saw him stand above me, and it was all I could do not to arch my back and thrust my tits up toward his reaching hands. I smiled a little to myself as I felt his strong arms slide around my back, pulling me up into a sitting position on the grimy floor.

He leant me against his chest and his fingers fumbled with my tie, pulling its knot loose, and then dragging it undone. Calloused fingers tried to undo my buttons but they were obviously tight in their holes as with a grunt of exasperation he just tugged at the collar, and the top three buttons gave up the fight, and pinged off to scatter to the dark and greasy concrete of the garage floor. A finger tilted my chin up, and my hair fell away from my face, making it harder to feign unconsciousness, so I fluttered my eyes like I’d seen in the movies, and managed in a little breathless whisper “What happened?”

“Just what I was wondering” he retorted, “It looks like you fainted.”

“Oh, well, I’ve never done that before,” I dipped my face, and peeked up at him through my lashes, hoping I was looking seductive and not short-sighted, “It must be the heat, maybe I should take something off?”

I smiled impishly at him, while the atmosphere seemed to grow thick and charged with tension.

“It looks as if you could do to loosen something, that’s for sure!” he snapped, dragging his gaze away from the remaining straining buttons across my chest. He grabbed me under my arms and hauled me to my feet, and with a quick shove I was pushed down onto the sofa. He turned on his heel and strode to the office area, returning with the glass of water he must have been pouring when I staged my little show. He stood in front of me, glass in hand, glowering.

Things weren’t going to plan here; Stevie was looking at me as if I was some kind of plague carrier, I felt rejected and incredibly angry, and yet I still wanted him so badly I could barely think straight.

I realised he wasn’t looking into my face any longer; his gaze had sunk lower, to where my skirt should be. But it wasn’t. As he’d thrust me away from him, I’d sat down hard on the leather seat, legs akimbo, and it’d ridden up, and I’d been too busy flirting to shift position. My legs were still apart, my skirt was barely a pelmet, and the damp patch on the crotch of my knickers must have been in plain view. I noticed the bulge in his jeans about then, plainly betraying his body’s interest, and my heart leaped.

I narrowed my eyes and quipped “Looks like you could do with some more room in your pants too Stevie, why don’t you loosen them? Or are you too busy taking in the view?”

I smirked at him as I leant forward, hand outstretched to take the glass of water, then squealed with shock as the water hit me full in the face. I was still spluttering and blinking when his hands grabbed my gaping blouse front, and pulled me forward to where he was crouching till we were nose to nose. I blinked and tried to lean back, but there was no room for manoeuvre, he had me firmly in his grasp.

“Just what the fuck is your game? Admit it, you didn’t faint, it was all acting. What exactly is it that you think you’re up to?”

His eyes bored into mine, and I tried to speak, but could only gasp. He shook me slightly, and I stuttered “I want you, and I want you to want me. I – I love you!”

“You love me?” His laugh was incredulous. “You’re a kid, what do you think you know about love? It’s not all roses and chocolate hearts on Valentine’s day!

But you’ve achieved one of your objectives sweetheart, I want you alright! Hanging round here, flashing yourself at me, surely you don’t expect me NOT to notice? aydınlı escort Course I notice, you make it blatant enough! But I don’t think you’d want what I have to give; I don’t think you’re up to it. Why don’t you go back and play kiss chase with the boys in the school yard honey, you’ve got no idea what you’re getting yourself into here!”

His final words were accompanied by a hard shove as he cast me from his grasp, and a finger jabbed at my face, emphasising his point.

With no conscious thought I moved quickly and wrapped my lips around the finger, drawing it deep into my mouth. I sucked it all the way in, swirling my tongue around it, tasting the acrid tang of industrial chemicals ingrained into the flesh. He didn’t pull away, and I raised my eyes, to see him watching my lips as they drew the digit in deeper. I moved my head back and forth as I imagined his cock in my mouth, filling me, and I moaned as I sucked, my breath ragged and my eyes still searching his face. He raised his gaze, looked deep into my eyes, and in a gentler tone said “I don’t want some ex-virgin crying to her parents that I made her do things, understand?”

I rested one hand on the front of his jeans, gave a last lingering lick to his finger with the very tip of my tongue, and with the bravado borne of innocence said “I’m not a virgin Stevie, and I’ll do whatever you want me to, willingly. That’s all I want.”

I dared to squeeze a little at the hardness under my fingers, and was rewarded with a twitch from beneath the faded fabric. My stomach lurched in sympathy and I must have jumped a little, because he laughed, and bending forward whispered in my ear “If you’re scared now, it’s too late…” and then he grabbed my hand, stood up and pulled me to my feet in one swift movement.

His other hand grabbed my hair, dragged my head back and held it firm, then his lips were on mine, and he was kissing me hard, our teeth clashing as he pressed his face ever harder onto mine. I kissed him back with equal vigour, mouth open, tongue flickering over his lips, and little mewling sounds of lust coming from deep within me. His tongue forced its way into my mouth, and I opened my mouth wider in compliance as it explored every surface, probing and tasting me. My own questing tongue was no match for his, and was knocked aside as the surveying continued. I was shaking when he finally withdrew, nipping my bottom lip as he went.

I felt hypnotised, my lips swollen, my mouth and cheeks stinging in a perversely exciting way from the friction of his stubble on my skin.

It was easy to obey him as he curtly ordered me not to move, and walked towards the open garage doors. My breathing slowed, and I felt heavy and curiously removed from reality. I could feel the blood pounding and every part of me felt extra sensitive. I felt the heat building in my groin and the dampness in my crotch where my knickers were sticking to me. I moved my hips a little, drawing my breath in sharply as the fabric caught on my hairs and rubbed against my inner lips. Time slowed down, and darkness enveloped me. Even the jarring clang of the big shuttered doors being closed and locked failed to jolt me from my trancelike state. I stood exactly where I’d been left, not thinking or wondering, just accepting.

A movement in the darkness ended my wait and unseen hands ran over my body, squeezing my breasts, running lightly through my hair, tracing the line of my throat and kneading the soft cheeks of my bottom. I shivered and whimpered quietly, not moving for fear of breaking the spell of passion that seemed to be being woven around me.

Then I was being led through the blackness, to some steps going upwards. Stevie pushed me in front of him then, and I obediently began climbing. I stopped short as I felt a hand slide up under my skirt, but a crisp slap and a stern “Keep moving!” started me upwards again. The hand made me jumpy, my skin sensitised and ticklish, as it stroked my thighs and buttocks, and then crept between my thighs to cup my mound. It was an effort to walk with his hand there, and he chuckled as I gasped and twitched while he rubbed against me.

When we finally reached the top of the steps he had me stop, spread my legs wide and place the palms of my hand on the closed door in front of me. My eyes had adjusted to the dark now, and I could see dim light showing around the door frame. Now two hands lifted my skirt and cupped my cheeks, pinching and slapping lightly. My face flushed as fingers tugged at my panties, pulling them up between my cheeks, exposing the white globes to the warm stale smelling air. The hands travelled across my hips, and down lower, finally reaching the front of my pussy. I trembled as rough denim pressed against my backside, and through it I could feel the column of Stevie’s thick erection pressing into my soft flesh. His hands stroked the lace covered triangle, and tugged at the curly hairs peeping from either side. Then they were moving again, digging into my thighs, splaying them further apart before one hand idly moved to my crotch, and began rubbing and stroking me there. My God, if he stopped now I’d die! Any modesty I might have had left was gone as I ground myself onto his probing fingers, frantic for release. I was coming, and I HAD to come, right now! My nails gouged into the soft wood of the door, and my knees buckled as I gave vent to my release in increasing volume, screaming that I was coming, oh my god I was coming, oh fuck please don’t stop, oh my god PLEASE don’t stop!