WILD PLEASURE {short erotic stories} Chapter 125: Blowjob(12)

I took her hand in mine and massaged it. She studied me with hope, no doubt expecting sympathy. Pretty girls in tears get sympathy, right? Wrong. "So you didn't borrow it. You stole it."

"No! I just--"

"Can I assume you passed your commercial law course?" I didn't wait for an answer. "And now you've caused an accident while committing a felony. I understand why you're concerned." I leaned over her. I put a hand on her thigh while placing her hand, still in mine, on my own thigh. "You're in a serious jam. But I'm happy to help you out."

A glimmer of optimism passed over those moist, very green eyes. She didn't know yet how happy my help was going to make me; nor did she seem to notice how physically close we were. "That's... great. Thanks." She lifted her head toward me. Big eyes like emeralds.

"My guess is that the body work will run at least three grand. Just make out a check to me now and I'll trust you for the rest later when I get the official estimate. Your ex doesn't need to know."

She fell back to the headrest. "I don't-- three thousand dollars? It was just a scratch!"

"New fender air freighted from Italy, paint match, skilled labor. It adds up." I removed my hand from her leg briefly to wave at my luxury interior. Then put it back on her higher up. She was showing a bit of camel toe. "Oh," I pretended to realize, "You mentioned that you're a little tight, aren't you?" Now it was my turn to hope: that her tightness wasn't just financial.

"Tuition. Taxes." She was staring at the roof, probably going over her impossible budget in her mind.

 "Perhaps," I said in as friendly a voice as possible, considering my growing lust, "We can make an arrangement."

She sat up immediately. "I'm an accountant! Experienced!" Like Dorothy discovering her shoes can fly her back home from Oz.

My laugh instantly demonstrated her naiveté. She did look a bit like a young Judy Garland. That wholesomeness just begging to be turned inside out. "I already have more accountants than I care to admit. What I don't have..." With that I brushed a finger along her trembling lips. I think they really were naturally strawberry. She could have worked her way through school modeling for a cosmetic company.

Finally she understood. Her hand moved to the door latch, retreated. I was counting on her, well, her ability to count. I moved her hand, still on my leg, further toward the resolution of her difficulty. She looked straight at me, into me, understanding me. I really was loving those green eyes in that pale face, those big black pupils. What if the Wizard had turned out to be real and Dorothy had just gone down on him first chance, stayed in Oz instead of going back to miserable Kansas? Much better ending, don't you think?

"You are wicked!" At last she cracked a real smile. "You actually think that I would--" tilting her head, a nice move that exposed more Carrera. She angled her seat back up, turned fully toward me. The smile turned predatory. "So if I, um, give you a, a, blow job, you'll just forget..." She motioned toward the damage.

"Oh, I don't think I'll ever forget a blow job that you give me."

Her smile remained, even softened slightly. I think she felt flattered in spite of herself. Her eyes scanned the garage, then me north and south. My cock jumped in my pants. Maybe my mind was also jumping-- to

 conclusions-- but why else would she be checking for observers? And checking me out?

She lounged like a cat in the passenger seat. "So maybe we can make a deal?"

Her instant transformation impressed me. I decided to enjoy the game. "That depends. How valuable are your blow jobs?"

"My blow jobs are priceless."

Good answer. I was really liking her more and more. Quick thinking, quick recovery from panic, able to switch modes in a second. I made a mental note to recommend her to a consultant I knew. After, of course. And not the service position I meant for her now.

"Oh, dear," I answered, "That's clearly out of my price range." Digging my phone out of a pocket, "So I'll call a friend at the local precinct to come over and help out." She wasn't the only quick thinker in this vehicle.

"Your bluffing."

"I'm negotiating."

She sat up. "Okay... what's the market rate for a call girl?"

"I wouldn't know. I have no need for them."

"Until now?"

We smiled together. "Call it a kink. Five hundred." Her eyes narrowed. "Dollars. Per blow job."

"You want me to blow you six times?"

 "I'm looking forward to it. Give me your phone number. Much as I would love to enjoy you multiple times right here and now, I'm not Superman."

After a few moments thought she gave it to me, which seemed to seal the deal for her. She sat up facing me, almost primly. "This is insane," she said. She fluffed up her hair and folded her hands in her lap. "So, what would you like me to do?"

"Anything I want. Everything I want."

"Just tell me what to do. Can we have some music?"

And so we began. You have to agree I'm a superb negotiator.

I retracted the steering wheel and tilted my seat comfortably back. I stretched, put my hands behind my head, and step by step led my new semi-pro fellatrix through the process. My pants down, her hands massaging my balls, about to put my cock between her strawberries, she said, "I can't believe it. An hour ago I was sitting out in the sun with an iced latte. And now..." she gave her first suck. "Here I am..." number two, "Giving a stranger a blow job in a car."

"Sometimes life is strange." I was thinking about that twitch that had led me down here at just the right moment. Or tried to think. Her pink tongue.

She raised her head. "Of course, he's a really well-dressed and good looking stranger, and his car is gorgeous. Cock's pretty nice too, and between you and me, I've always secretly liked giving head, you know?"

I knew, and somehow my superpower knew. Number four, or maybe five, I was losing track. "Your ex is an idiot as well as an asshole."

 Her agreement with my assessment of her ex was expressed enthusiastically in a universal language without words. "The only problem is I'm getting wet." And back down.

"Sssevvenn," I managed. She was very good at what she secretly liked. To meet my eyes she tilted that marble neck I longed to feel my cock slide into. "Hundred," I said. "Dollars. For your pussy."

"Too low," she mumbled when she next came up for air. "Way too low." Her sucking got stronger, a clever negotiating tactic. If I spent too long arguing about the price of her snatch I'd end up shooting too soon in her mouth. Not a horrible outcome by any means, and I planned to have her finish me that way, no question. Those lips, those eyes. But that glimpse of camel toe had seduced me.

"Thousand."

"Okay." She kissed my tip all around. It drove me crazy to see and feel those strawberry lips at the same time. "I'm still on the pill. But," she asked, examining the passenger compartment, "I don't see how we can do it here."

I hooked a thumb toward the SUV. "Your husband's back seat."

"Ex! And you, sir, whoever you are, are really, really bad." An evil glint shone from those emerald eyes. "You are a supervillain."

What can I say? You heard it from an eye witness, so to speak. We quickly switched vehicles and soon I was pulling down her pants and discovering the sweetest honeypot any teenage boy could fantasize between two perfect limbs not found outside a Renaissance painting. My well-prepared cock slipped into her and immediately we were going at it. The ex's back seat was a decent sized bench, but soon her head was pressed against the armrest as I pushed incessantly into her.