0 comments/ 17515 views/ 4 favorites Cars By: Zombiecest "Fuck this shit, man." I drop my wrench, laying completely prone under the car I'm trying to fix; I honestly have no fucking idea what I'm doing. One of the mechanics should be taking care of this, not me. I'm the fucking thief, the guy who should be running around collecting shit for us to use to get our base up and running properly. Instead, I'm covered in grease, my already black skin even darker from the stuff and a steady stream of oil dripping into my hot pink hair. Pressing my hands to my face for a few seconds, I run my fingers back through my jerry curls and drag myself out from under the car, getting up and spitting some grease-laced saliva onto the floor of the heavily-barricaded garage, looking at the goddamn car frame that I managed to drag back here. It's hardly rusted and really sturdy, with most of the parts in it; a bit of operation on the bitch and it'll be good to go. Unfortunately, I know absolutely nothing about cars or engines or anything going on with this mess of a vehicle, if it can even be called that in this state. I sigh, tilting my head back and mentally cursing our group leader, Elliot, for leaving me in such a predicament, all because I grabbed that sweet ass of his last week. It totally wasn't my fault that he was bending over in front of me. He should at least come help me fix this sh- "Are you nearly done in here? Fuck, Cam, I know you've got less than normal brain capacity but you should at least have gotten more than just this fucking frame fixed up." I exhale patiently and turn around, looking at Elliot, who happens to be the single sexiest guy I think I've ever seen but also the biggest asshole I've ever met. He gives me an exasperated look, arching an eyebrow and eyeing me like I'm retarded. "I'm not a mechanic. I told you I wasn't a mechanic, dude. Like, honest to god, you telling me to fix this car is like telling a child to fix the radioactivity problem around here." "So you're admitting you're an idiot who has the mental capacity of a three year old." El cocks his head to the side, giving me a really fucking dickish look, and I chew on my lower lip, shaking my head in disagreement. "No, I'm saying I can't fix the damn car." "Too bad we'll have to throw it out then." He pats my shoulder, walking past me to the caving shelf that we keep most of our tools on and running a calloused hand through his dirty blonde hair. I lean against the frame, watching him move around without bothering to keep the lust out of my expression; Elliot is fine as hell, I'm fine as hell, so I don't see why we can't just be fine as hell together. He whips around finally, staring at me as I ogle him, a little disappointed that I don't get a full-view of his jean-clad ass now, and Elliot sighs angrily before glaring at me. "Cam, I don't know what the fuck your problem is but I don't love you now and I'm never, ever going to be attracted to you. I'm fucking straight, so give the fuck up, you stupid son of a bitch." I'm usually a really, really easy-going guy. I don't get angry over most things. I do, however, get fucking pissed off when my intelligence is insulted and the guy I've repeatedly confessed my love for is treating me like a slave. Elliot looks at me, an eyebrow still cocked like he's goddamn god, and I grab him by the hair before slamming him down on the barely attached hood of the car, keeping him pinned there; we're about the same size but I've been fighting for my life a lot longer than he has. Elliot tenses up, turning his head to the side and staring up at me, eyes wide. "Holy fuck, Cam, what's your problem?" "I'm sick of you acting like I'm a piece of shit on the bottom of your shoe." I grab his neck, flipping him over and slamming him against the hood, spreading his legs. "I'm sick of you ignoring me, I'm sick of you pretending like I'm a retard. I know you want me as bad as I fucking want you, you're just being a goddamn cocktease." Elliot stares up at me, a glimmer of fear flickering in his eyes but most of it confusion and anxiety, like he doesn't know what he wants to think about this entire scenario. I keep him pinned down, sliding a hand up his wifebeater and feeling up his chest as I lean down, forcing my lips onto his. El fights me for a few seconds before, surprisingly, he kisses back, eyes slipping closed as he goes rather limp against the hood of the car. I pull back after a moment, eyeing him to make sure he doesn't try to get away from me, and all Elliot does is turn his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut as his face heats up a little. I smirk, leaning down and biting at his neck lightly, sucking on it as I move his arms so they're pinned above his head. He makes a noise that's almost a whimper, struggling a little bit as I leave a hickey on his tan skin. His voice comes, little more than a breathy pant as he pushes at my stomach with his foot. "Cam, honestly, get off of me. Fuck, man, I've told you so many fucking times that I don't want it from you- Oh, god!" I bite right over the vein in his neck and he goes super tense, staring at me for a few moments before shaking his head. "God damn it, Cam, this is rape!" "No, it's not. Shut up, will you?" I press my lips to his again and he kisses back reluctantly but like he wants it at the same time, and I pinch one of his nipples roughly, my other hand keeping his arms pinned above his head. He arches off the car, a leg slipping around my waist, and that small gesture tells me everything I need to know. I let go of his wrists, backing off him slightly, and his arms go around my neck as he doesn't break the kiss. My hands move to the front of his jeans and I undo them swiftly, slipping my hand in the front of his jeans and stroking him through his boxers slowly. He makes a quiet noise, breaking away from me and arching his back. "Fuck this, Cam, I d-don't want to!" I grab his hair, dragging him forward and beckoning for him to get on his knees on the worn-down hood of the car. He shifts, pulling his legs under him and looking up at me, my hand still in his short hair. I undo my jeans, fishing around for my sizable cock and finally pushing my boxers down, licking my lips and looking at Elliot expectantly. "You better suck it, bitch, or I'm fucking you dry." El arches an eyebrow and for all his show of not wanting this shit he grips my hip with one hand, his other one gripping my dick and jacking me off slowly, keeping his eyes to the side. I grab his hair tighter, jerking his head back and licking my lips as his blue eyes snap to my face unexpectedly. I pat his cheek with my free hand as he keeps jacking me off, a smirk playing across my face. "Come on, Elliot, keep your eyes on me while we do this. I like seeing that pretty face of yours." He swallows, nodding before looking at my dick; he seems more than willing to jack it off but getting it in his mouth looks like it's gonna be something of a challenge. I touch his lips lightly, arching an eyebrow. "Come on, man, I promise that if you just suck it a little it's not gonna kill your white ass." El looks put out and then lets go of my cock, shaking his head as he leans back. "No. No, I'm not putting that in my mouth, I'm not having sex with you, I'm not doing this shit. I hate you, Cam; you're disgusting and you're a goddamn rapist." "I love you." He looks at me uncertainly and starts to slide off the hood of the car, huffing slightly. "Dude, no. You don't. You want my ass. Maybe if you actually loved me I'd consider it but... No, even then, I don't like dick." I roll my eyes, grabbing his hand and dragging him back towards me as I kiss his cheek lightly. "If I just wanted your fucking ass I wouldn't say it to you, Elliot. Fucking hell, I've been saying 'I love you' since we first met. I don't know why you don't believe me." El pushes at my chest lightly, shaking his head before looking at me desperately. "Cam, just leave me the fuck alone." "No. Do it with me this one time and if you don't like it, we'll never fuck ever again." I'm totally lying but I don't think Elliot realizes it. He eyes me and then nods, a blush tinting his cheeks pink. I smirk, grabbing his shoulder and shoving him to his knees. "Then suck my fucking cock, El." Rolling his eyes, El starts jacking me off slowly, tongue darting out to lick the tip of my cock experimentally as I tilt his head back, making him keep eye contact with me as he kisses the head of my dick lightly. A few seconds later he lowers his head, lips wrapping around the top of my hard cock as he rolls his tongue over the slit, slowly going deeper. He gets about half of it in his mouth before stopping, jacking off the rest with his hand as I watch him, his blue eyes searching my face. He tries to go down deeper and I take the momentary openness of his throat to slam my cock right down, pressing his face against my hot pink pubes as he practically gags on my dick. His hands fly up to grab at my thighs, nails digging into my skin as he chokes, eyes starting to water. I let him off for a split second of air and he coughs, spitting on the ground and then looking back up at me before willingly going back down, sucking steadily as he continues holding onto my thighs, bobbing his head obediently and slicking my cock up nice and good. I can tell he's choking but I honestly don't care, finally pulling him off only to bend him over the hood of the broken car and stick my fingers in his mouth, leaning over and biting his neck. "Suck." He does as he's told, spreading his legs a little bit and looking at me while he sucks on my fingers like a little whore. I pull them out, running my hand down his back to his ass and sliding a finger in him, smirking slightly. "Fuck, you're tight." "I don't usually have dick up my ass, Cam." "We should do this more often, then." "I don't think so-oh!" He thuds his hand down on the hood as my finger brushes over his prostate, grabbing onto the rim below where the windshield should be. I slip another finger in his tight ass, scissoring slightly and loosening him up for my cock. El takes it all in stride, keeping his legs spread and not complaining, even though I can tell that not only am I hurting him, but also the slight rusty and sharp hood of the car is being quite abrasive on his front. I finally pull my fingers out, lining up my cock and slamming into him with one even thrust forward. Elliot's eyes widen and he cries out, body going tense as I bury myself in him completely, his ass so fucking tight around my cock. "F-fuck, Cam! That feels so weird!" "Good." I strike up a pace; the guy has had his face and chest sliced open and has the scars to prove it so I'm pretty sure he can take a cock up the ass. I pound into him, some blood from his chest dripping down the front of car and onto the ground with only his saliva as lube. Elliot is fucking loud when he's being rammed, hands scrabbling for purchase on the car as he arches his back, moaning like a little whore as I angle my thrusts to slam into his sweet spot. The pleasure from everything combined goes straight up my spine and leaves me heady and a little dizzy; I'm totally fucking the guy I've been in love with for so long and it's the best feeling in the world, especially since it isn't rape like I thought it was going to be. He looks over his shoulder at me, blue eyes hazy with lust as I lean over and kiss him hard, my hand on his cheek to keep him in the liplock. El kisses back, one hand leaving the car to grab at my short pink curls as he twists his body, full-on making out with me and moaning into my mouth every few moments as I thrust particularly deep. Needless to say, he doesn't last all that much longer, hitting release and screaming into my mouth as his seed drips down the front of the vehicle. I let go of him, letting him go limp against the hood as I continue slamming him, riding out his orgasm and finally hitting my own minutes later, moaning his name as I release deep into his core. I pull out, collapsing on top of El and resting one of my hands over his, kissing his neck lightly as he pants, a thin sheen of sweat covering his tan skin. I rest my head against his, looking at him steadily and arching an eyebrow. "So I'm gonna go ahead and guess we'll be doing this more often now?" Elliot swallows, looking away for a moment before leaning in and kissing me hard on the lips. I kiss back, rolling my eyes; I know that as soon as I move, he's going to be acting like regular old dickhead El to me, but I can deal with that as long as there are more moments like this. Cars Katie walked along the street, trailing her fingers along the sides of car after car. She marked them off in her mind in a business-like fashion as she walked, keeping her ears pricked up for the sound of police sirens. The only ones she heard were distant, which didn't surprise her. The cops didn't come to this area. Nobody cared about anyone here, especially not some little black girl like her. Going to a bad neighborhood meant pickings were a little slim, but she could usually find something that H-Dawg would buy from her, no questions asked. She strummed her fingers along the roof of a worn-looking '72 Chevy Impala...nobody would buy that one, but she considered taking it for a joyride just to feel the thrum of the engine around her...the big cars always had a certain mystique to them, she thought. She passed a '67 Beetle that someone was driving far past its sell-by date, and she idly flashed her penlight over the odometer. 72 thousand, she thought. Sure, maybe after it had rolled over once or twice. Still, the little bugs were durable as all hell...had to admire that. She slipped by an Oldsmobile--'84 or '85, she wasn't sure which--and admired the curve of its bumpers in the same way some women might look at a nice tight ass on a construction worker. She loved cars. It was just that simple. Then she spotted it. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a flash of red in a nearby vacant lot, spotlighted by an old streetlight as it sputtered and died. She blinked, unable to believe that she'd actually seen what she thought she'd seen, and ran over to the lot like she was trying out for a track team. She couldn't believe it...she actually pinched herself, just like in the stories, to be certain she wasn't dreaming. There, in the shadows of the vacant lot, was a brand-spanking new 2001 Porsche convertible, cherry-red, with nobody inside. She stroked its glossy door idly, staring at it as though lost...H-Dawg would give her more money than she'd ever made in a night before for this one car...and that was after giving it a spin, putting it through its paces, seeing it run, feeling it all around her... She pulled out a few simple tools, and popped the lock in five seconds. With practiced ease, she slipped inside the car (no, she thought. Car was too simple a word for this one; something this beautiful had to be called a Porsche...) and took a moment to look around. Inside, it was a little tacky...the seats weren't coated with leather, but with some sort of slick vinyl. Still, H-Dawg wouldn't mind that; the car itself would be worth the money. He could use seats from another car. She noticed, with a measure of distaste, that the owner had replaced the standard gear shift with one of his own--a stylized representation of a man's penis. Probably some rich guy's pussy magnet, she thought as she pulled off the driveshaft cover, feeling underneath for the ignition wires...he's off looking for some hooker or something, and he's gonna come back and find his ride gone. That's life, baby... The door slammed shut beside her, and suddenly she could hear a loud wailing, first ascending, then descending, then ascending again. Shit, she thought as the dome light flickered on and off and the dashboard started flashing red and green, there must have been a car alarm in there. Still, in this neighborhood, who's gonna listen? She reached back into the workings, feeling for the wires... After a moment, she stopped. She took her penlight and flashed it down into the area she'd opened up, and a chill crept up her spine. There were no wires. There was no ignition circuit for her to hotwire. The driveshaft was fake. Suddenly, she decided to get out of the car. She wasn't sure what she'd stepped into, but it wasn't what it was supposed to be...and she didn't want to stick around to find out. She reached for the door handle, but when she pulled it, nothing happened. Shit, she moaned again in the privacy of her head, the doors lock up when the alarm is triggered. When did they start doing that? And how am I gonna get out of here? It occurred to her that all of her skills in popping a car lock were designed to be used from the outside. She could break the window, but...this car was still a work of art; there was no sense in panicking. She just needed to think for a moment. The alarm made it difficult, though. It bored into her skull like a drill bit, despite the fact that it wasn't nearly as loud as the other car alarms she'd had to handle in the past. It just kept getting higher, then lower, then higher, then lower, and the flickering of the dome and the flashing of the dash was giving her a headache. She rubbed her temples, trying to think of a way out of the car before it got any hotter... Hotter. It was getting hotter in the car. Oh, God, what if that was the point of the thing? What if someone put it here to fry would be car thieves? She imagined it getting too hot to breathe, stifling...she could already feel a trickle of sweat running down between her breasts...She had to get out of her clothes. That was the best way to handle it. If she had her clothes off, she'd feel cooler...she'd be able to think better with her clothes off, and then she'd be able to figure out how to get out of the car. She just had to get her clothes off, and everything would be alright...Frantically, she scrambled at her zipper, pulling her pants down, kicking off her panties, slipping her shirt over her head, yanking her bra off... That was better. She leaned back in the seat, feeling the sweat dry on her breasts and her arms, spreading her legs to let air in onto her pussy...she didn't feel hot anymore, she just felt...warm. She could feel warmth seeping into her body, like it was a liquid, seeping in through her skin and leaving it so...warm...idly, she flicked her nipples, watching the red and green lights as they flashed on the dashboard. The dome light was still flickering, but she didn't notice it anymore, because she was blinking in time with the flickering of the lights so that it seemed that they were always off, and all she saw was the flashing lights, and she still heard the sound of the car alarm, but it didn't bother her anymore. It was so easy to think now, with the sound of the tone going up...and down...and up...and down...and her nipples kept getting harder...she rubbed them now, letting her thumbs circle them, and idly, she felt her pussy getting so wet. But that was alright, she thought. The seat was vinyl, not leather. She could let it get as wet as she wanted...she let a hand drift down there and rub, making it even wetter...the dome light was slowing down in its flickering, now, it was off more often than it was on, but she still didn't notice, because she was still blinking in time with the flickering, and her eyes were closed more often than they were open, but that was alright, because she was so warm and so wet and suddenly she knew she wanted something inside of her, and the gearshift was right there and it was shaped just right and she slipped herself onto it and then the engine THRUMMED and it THRUMMED and she felt it all through her body as it THRUMMED and her eyes were closed almost all the time now but she wasn't sure if it was because the dome light was flickering less or because she just wanted to give into the THRUMM THRUMM THRUMM THRUMM and she felt so good all over because the person whose car it was was so good to her to let her feel this way and now her eyes were all the way closed and all she had to do was listen to the tone as it went up and down and she went up and down and it THRUMMED AND THRUMMED AND THRUMMMMM........ * * * * * The door opened. Katie was sitting on the seat once again, her legs spread wide, her eyes closed, a dreamy smile on her face. H-Dawg looked down at her appraisingly. Slim, he thought. Athletic build. Not very sporty, but she handled well, he could tell that. There'd be a market for her. And as for the cars, well...he could always find someone else to get him more of those. He felt his cock rise in his pants as he said, "Wake up, girl." Katie's eyes opened, but they still had a slight glaze to them, as though she was half-asleep. She said, "Hi," in a throaty purr, and H-Dawg's smile widened. "Let's see how you handle a stick," he said to her, and she unzipped his pants without a moment's hesitation. She pulled his cock out of his boxers and slipped it into her mouth with her left hand, bobbing up and down on the thick shaft as her right hand slipped down to her pussy once again. She slid her tongue around the head over and over again, taking it deep into her mouth, all the way down her throat, and in her mind all she heard, all she felt was that THRUMM... H-Dawg rolled his head back and shot his cum down her throat. Idly, he thought about how much he loved taking the new models for a test drive. THE END Cars, Haircare, and Kink Oddly, it started with a haircut. I'd taken a job in Florida working for a car dealership. We had a little of everything, foreign and American, nothing more than ten years old. I had a house two long blocks down from the dealership, so I walked back and forth most days. I did own a 2011 Dodge Durango, with a V-6 and eight-speed automatic transmission. With this day of work done, I decided I was due for a haircut. Two blocks from my house was a small haircare place, and it being close, I decided to give it a try. So I left work, got in the Dodge, and drove two blocks. I needed the A/C to cool off a bit, and it wouldn't have been very cool to walk in dripping sweat. So I took the vehicle. The place was called Simple. They had a flat rate of $15, and a sign in the front window said "Walk-Ins Welcome." So I parked and went in. The place had a total of four seating stations, with a small waiting area to the right of the door. Also on the right, further back in the deep room, was the check-in / payment desk. I walked over and gave my name. There was one customer just leaving, and only this woman at the counter working in the shop. I told the woman that I normally got a buzz cut, to about a quarter inch. "Hard to mess that up," she told me. She set to work. As she moved around, leaning this way and that, she checked her watch several times. At one point, bent over working close to my right ear, she loosed what I could only assume was gas. It came out as a long, noticeable rumble, not overly loud. Eventually I caught a foul smell that hung around for a bit. She moved to the other side and went to work. She bent and passed gas again. I could tell she was uncomfortable. She finished and asked if I wanted a wash. I said that would be fine. The chair went around, and she dropped the back toward the sink at the station. I positioned my head carefully. She wet it, and lathered shampoo. She worked down to my scalp carefully with her fingernails. Oddly, her hands working my hair and my head felt really good. For the few minutes she continued, I felt myself becoming aroused. The woman finished my rinse, killed the water, and leaned over. "Sorry," she said, "but I gotta get this out. Sit tight.." She toweled my head, then pinched my nose gently. Then she proceeded to uncork a loud, crackling racket from her ass. She sighed, clearly relieved. She held my nose a bit longer, letting any bad odor pass. "It's been a couple days since I pooped," she said quietly. "I have trouble relaxing too, but sometimes I relax when I don't expect to, and that happens," she admitted. "I guess I feel pretty relaxed around you, for whatever reason." "All right. That's a little weird," I said. "But I'll go with it. Try this on, though. While you were washing my hair, I started to get hard." "Really," the woman said. "Something about letting a woman wash your hair is a little erotic, then?" "Must be," I acknowledged. I went over and settled the bill. "Hey, I noticed you checked your watch a few times, working on my hair," I said. "Well, yours truly needs a new car, and there's that dealer not far from here. I don't know their hours, but after work and some weekends would be the only time I could get there, and I want to check them out," she said. "I happen to work down there," I said. We're open till 6 on weekdays, eight on Saturday, ten till four on Sundays." The woman was already jotting on a scratchpad. I said, "If you really needed something different, I'm not a manager, but I could talk to the boss. He, me and one other guy do sales. Then we have two guys in financing and one more for parts and service." She made a couple more notes. She buttoned up the shop and we walked out together. "If I wanted to go down now," she said, "would you have some time?" "Yeah, let me give the boss a heads-up." I withdrew and dialed my phone, and spoke for a couple minutes, and hung up. "We're good," I told her. "I'm going to have to stop home and see if I can clear my insides," she said quietly. I asked if she had her car, and she said her house was a block down, behind the shop. She had walked. I pointed out my vehicle. "Really?" she asked. "Yeah," I said. I popped the locks and we got in. "What are you driving now? Have you narrowed your options for new stuff?" I asked as I pulled out carefully, hit the corner, and made a left. "Well, I want an SUV or crossover, not ungodly huge, but I want some room. I was thinking either a newer Durango or a Nissan Murano," she said. Right now, I have a 2002 Pontiac Grand AM with 200,000 on it. Six years of co-owning the hair shop, I've put away over 10k toward new wheels," she said. "I'd like to get by under 20k on the new vehicle," she offered. I proceeded to tell her that could be done. We didn't have a Durango on the lot, but if it came down to it, we could round one up and make the sale at the agreed price. I offered to let her drive mine. I told her it was fully insured. She now directed me into her driveway. We walked up together and she unlocked and entered. I continued, telling her we had a used Murano on the lot we could put out the door for eighteen thousand plus tax. Less than 40,000 miles, 2010 model, burgundy exterior with gray cloth interior, V-6, automatic CVT. She said she would like to go down shortly and at least look at the Murano. She said the asking price suited her okay. She asked if it was the bottom line. It was, I said. Nissans generally retained strong resale value. Lastly, she told me her name was Claire. She owned the haircare place with one other woman. She excused herself to the bath. I mentioned that my name was Rob. I gave her time and privacy. While I waited, I also assessed her physical self. She looked to be thirty or so, and unless my eyes really fooled me, a natural redhead. She had green eyes. She wore her hair in a kind of tomboyish bowl cut, with the top longer than the sides and a bit longer than the back. At the front, a lock of hair drooped across her forehead. She was just leaning toward an ample figure, maybe 'good curves' was the way to put it. Her chest was probably a large C-cup. Her butt wasn't 'junk in the trunk' territory, just a bit broader than her waist and very rounded out. Better than five minutes passed. Eventually I wandered to the closed door and gently asked if things were all right. I heard her start to answer me, then she paused and sighed, and said, "Rob...would you step in here, please?" I heard the lock click on the other side of the door. "You're sure you want me to do that," I stated more than questioned. "I think I am," came her reply. I took a breath, turned the knob on the door, and entered. Her bath was actually fairly large, and in the corner behind the door was a barstool, which I promptly put to use. Very shortly, there were two long, loud hissing notes sounded into the commode. I expected Claire would blush, but she simply sighed with some degree of relief. She sat for two or three minutes more. Nothing yet, I assumed. "This is fucking up the game plan," Claire stated with annoyance. "Hey, whatever it takes. Don't rush it," I advised. "It pisses me off," she pointed out. "If I leave here, in five or ten minutes I'll feel like I have to shit, and if I stay, nothing will happen." "So you called me in here to vent," I decided. She laughed, a sexy sound that was neither too high or too low. She turned to look at me, her eyes serious, and then soft. "Rob, would you...sit here with me?" She splayed her legs open. "There probably isn't room for both of us," I joked. I stood. "Humor me," she said, with a straight face. "I want to visit the dealership in just a bit, and start getting the new car thing figured out." She held a hand out. I took it. She guided me over in front of her, backed me up, and slowly lowered me to the spot between her legs. Her hands slid to rest on my knees. She leaned forward, and her ample chest pressed gently into my back; she rested her chin on my right shoulder. It felt odd to be sitting on the toilet with my pants up, but what the hell. Claire sighed and relaxed some more. We sat for three minutes more. Claire remained still, breathing gently; I felt it on my face. "Here it comes," she said with a groan. I thought she might push right away, wanting it out. She didn't. She stayed still and let the waste ease out further. Then she took a deep breath, and I felt her belly draw in. Claire exhaled hard. Her hands clamped my middle. More muscles tensed, and she was pushing; I heard things sliding out of her. She groaned, then slumped some more. I heard her dump land in the toilet. "Fuck. God, that felt good," she said quietly near my ear. "Too much information," I declared. She landed a closed fist on my other shoulder, and I registered dull pain. "Oh, that's going to leave a mark," I said, reaching to rub it. I now noticed two things; one, the smell of sulfur in the air. Two, I was hard. Again. What the fuck? I thought briefly. She was good-looking, yes, and I was in close proximity to all the proper physical assets she had, but I'd just sat here while she took a shit. Huh. Claire moved her hands and leaned back. I stood carefully. I asked if I could leave the room, and she nodded. I departed. Three minutes and a toilet flush later, she joined me, and we stepped out of the house and locked up. I gave Claire my keys. "You know where the dealership is, right? Might as well be you who drives there," I said. We got in, and she looked dumbstruck as she started the Dodge and clicked the seatbelt. "You trust me to drive your car, after one haircut," she said doubtfully. "One haircut, a wash that made me hard, and a kinky pit stop you requested," I corrected. "Besides, it's fully insured." A matter of a few minutes, and we rolled into the dealer lot. The showroom interior showed enough lights for us to take a good look at the Murano, which my boss had apparently moved inside to my lady friend to take as long a look as she chose to. I directed her to park right in front of the door. My boss, Troy, was at the front desk, and as we entered, I heard one other guy working the computer in his office, down a narrow corridor set well back off the show floor along the right-hand wall. "Hey, Troy. This is Claire. Thanks for making time for us at the end of the day." I pointed. Claire was wandering slowly toward the burgundy Nissan, and she reached out and opened the driver door. She stuck her head in and looked all the way to the rear cargo area. "It seems bigger on the inside than the outside makes you think," she said. "Nissans especially will do that. It's well packaged, and surprisingly, the body shape lends itself to a roomy interior," I said. She stepped up and slid into the driver seat. She took hold of the wheel, and found the tilt/telescope controls. She looked over both shoulders out the rear window. She used and adjusted the rear-view mirror. "It feels right," she noted. I went behind the front desk and unlocked the cabinet containing the keys for about 60 vehicles we had on the lot. I pushed a button, and the rear hatch rose open. Claire walked back and took a look at the cargo area directly. "The second set of seats folds close to flat," I said. I showed her. She tried it successfully and noted, "Even with them up, there's a fair amount of space. Probably would do everything I'd ever need." She seated herself in the second row, finding it pretty adequate. She told me she wanted to drive it, but felt she should give my Dodge a chance to stack up. I suggested we go to dinner in the Dodge, and she agreed. She liked the Nissan. She thought all the stuff a person touches had a quality feel. The seats felt comfortable. While Troy was out of earshot, she asked, "Can you let him know the money situation? It's not nice, but maybe ask him not to push hard to sell it?" I could, and I said I would. She wanted to go out and wait in the Durango. I gave her the keys. She went out, and I stepped over to talk to Troy, back behind the front desk. "This lady is very serious about new wheels. She has a successful haircare shop not far from here. She has five figures tucked away. It's come down to looking hard at this and the Dodge. She's driving a tired early-2k Pontiac Grand-Am with high mileage," I said. "There hasn't been a ton of interest. A few questions, but the askers I think feel it's overpriced. None have ever owned a Nissan previously, because I asked," Troy said to me. I asked him not to sell it out from under us, saying I felt there was a 75 to 80 percent chance Claire would buy after driving it. We shook on it, and I thanked Troy and returned the keys to their spot. I wandered out and joined Claire. She suggested Italian for dining, and I didn't disagree. She drove ten minutes to a place both of us knew. She ordered spaghetti. I chose lasagna, and we ordered a medium Chicago-style pizza to go, split between the two of us, for another night's dining. Claire looked at me nervously and posed a question. "Hey, it might be stupid of me to ask, but what are the odds I could borrow that Nissan off the lot for a weekend, long enough to get a feel for if I really would like it?" "We generally don't do that kinda thing. But I could maybe make a deal with Tony, tell him I'd leave the Dodge as collateral, and take the dealer loaner car for a couple days. Can't tell you what he might say to the offer," I finished. "How big a pain in the ass would it be for you to be without the Durango?" she questioned. "Not that bad. Our prime loaner is a 2010 Lincoln MKZ," I stated. "So can I have the Durango all day tomorrow, run out to a movie with my shop co-owner?" she pressed. Very deliberately and completely smoothly, I stared at her and let my mouth go slack. "Well, I guess I'm the genie, then," I said. "I didn't mean it like that---" she started, and I saw color creep into her face. "You need some drive time anyway," I admitted. "More than just a tool around the block." I didn't play any more sarcastic than that. Besides, she had ammunition with me, getting hard while she shit a brick; I was surprised she hadn't fired that across my bow yet. We finished dinner. Driving being necessary, neither of us touched wine. We slid into the vehicle after settling the tab and getting outside. "You okay if we just drive around for a bit?" Claire asked. Gas was pricey, but I liked Claire, and I liked the idea of just us for a bit longer, at the moment. So I obliged. She drove out of the city to the network of two-laners and laid into the right pedal just a little. She used the mirrors and rear window, turn signals, and drove smoothly. She noted the rear window wasn't quite as big as it seemed from the outside; rear visibility was just a little hampered. The Nissan window was no bigger, but its different shape lent itself to pretty good sightlines. I mentioned this. Silence reigned for a few minutes. Then Claire dropped the other shoe. "So, I noticed your soldier was about ready for battle while we were in the bathroom. Something about ladies doing the deed turn you on, too? You haven't gone kinky peeping tom in your spare time?" "No," I answered immediate;y. "But, the relief process does touch an erotic note. Since I'm straight it's ladies only. The biggest thing I've been known to do is dream about it. Circumstances get created, and I manufacture women of my choice, and things get kinky. "In reality, if I personally think a woman is attractive, she pops into my dreams sometimes. A woman taking a shit is particularly appealing. Why it started being a turn-on, I don't know. But the act of her emptying herself in my presence, and feeling physical relief, is erotic. Seeing the shit come out, or seeing it after she finishes, is appealing. Big loads get me hard. I imagine the lady pushing that out of her, and my dick goes to work." "On the surface, if you look at that activity being a turn-on, that's weird," Claire decided. "But then, you were there at my request. But I'm not a bombshell," she noted. "You just have a little meat on your bones. Skinny chicks are too skinny for me, 80 percent of the time. And it you asked again, I'd waltz to the toilet for you," I declared. "That might happen. For me, pooping takes time. It seemed to be a little easier with you around. If your preferences are a little out there, apparently my desire to have you around is, too," Claire said. "But what the hell, if we're both okay and not freaking out about it, there's really no harm in it." Claire circled back toward home. I told her not to forget to stop at the dealership so I could scarf the Lincoln. We arrived, I entered the building for the keys, and directed Claire to the rear of the showroom building. I unlocked a service door, located the MKZ, and slid in to start. I used the onboard opener to get the overhead door, drove out, closed it, and locked the service door. Claire had the window down on the Durango. "My place?" she called. "Yeah, I'll follow you," I said, and I did. When we got there, I called Troy to let him know about the Lincoln and why. He called me a 'generous guy.' Discussing the Nissan would wait until tomorrow. I got off the phone and filled Claire in. She paid attention and nodded. We sat down together on her couch. She told me she'd had a nice time, and thanked me for working to connect her to a new vehicle she could likely drive for another ten years. "Now this is going to sound odd, but until this car deal is done at least, if I have to take a dump, I'm coming to you. At least that way I can get it done, instead of being uncomfortable," she informed me. "I can probably let you," I said. "I'm still kind of wondering why me, though," she admitted. "I personally find you attractive. To me, your body isn't ugly, nor is your face. Besides, letting you take care of my hair is a turn-on too. I like big butts too. I'm not insulting you, I just noticed yours is to my liking," I offered. "Jesus, no beating around the bush. What am I into here?" Claire wondered. "I was going to tell you, we see each other over the next few days, I'll wash your hair once a day, give you a turn-on and crank you up a little," she offered. "Yes, please," I said in acceptance. She proceeded to say she had a small haircare station in her basement. "That way, it's just us, and I don't have to worry about other customers at the shop," she explained. We wrapped our arms around each other in a lingering hug. "God, you're half hard already. Out you go. See you tomorrow," Claire said. I bid her goodnight, went through the door, and made the short drive home to go to bed. Day Two Today was Friday, end of the work week. Hell yes. On lunch, which took forever to come around, I pitched Tony on borrowing the Nissan to Claire. Because it was me, and with the confidence I had that she would buy, and my willingness to use the Dodge as collateral, he agreed. I told him to roll the Murano into the loaner bay. We'd pick it up tonight. So I cranked through the afternoon. I sold a new 2013 Ford Fusion, a gently used F-150, and a three-year old, leased and returned Infiniti G37 coupe. That constituted a busy afternoon, but we got those a couple times a month. End of the day, I knocked off and reminded Tony we'd return for the SUV, and leave mine in the bay. I went home and showered, leaving my hair so I could hold Claire to her offer. I wanted to let her make me get sprung. I ate dinner and kicked back in front of the TV, fully expecting Claire. An hour later, the knock came, though it wasn't necessarily her. Turned out it was. She stepped in and seated herself on my loveseat, on the other side of my end table and my primary recliner. Cars, Haircare, and Kink Expecting the worst, she got to the point. "What'd Tony say?" she asked. I decided to toy with her just a bit. "Well, he was a tad concerned about damage to the vehicle, and I lobbied hard, promised him my life savings if anything happened to it, signed a waiver in blood, and he said yes," I informed Claire, absolutely soberly. Her face went slack for a second, and then the fact that she'd been had registered. "You did not sign a waiver in blood," she scolded. But she stood up, walked over, and hugged me, resting her head on my shoulder and murmuring a thank you in my ear. "Did you make the movie with your lady friend?" I asked. "Yeah. We closed the shop early and went this afternoon. And it was a nice trip to make with the Durango. She thought maybe I'd finally picked something new. I told her I was I "Well, let's go make the swap and get this deal done," I suggested. We stepped out and locked the house. The Dodge sat waiting in the drive, and we piled in. I let Claire drive. We pulled into the lot, and she drove around the building to the back bay. I stepped out and unlocked the service door, then powered the bay door open. The Murano sat, freshly washed. The door was unlocked, and I located the keys inside and started it, nosing it outside. Claire pointed the Dodge's tail to the bay door, and backed it in. We worked the Nissan back to the front of the building. I went inside and let Tony know what was going on, and he gave me the keys to my substitute Lincoln. He asked my permission for the Durango to be on loaner duty if necessary. I granted it. I walked out and located the dark-blue MKZ. I slipped in and started it. Hmmm, leather interior. I looped to the front of the lot. Claire powered the window down and called, "My place!" I nodded. She led the way, and we crowded both cars into her drive. We went into her house. We stepped into a narrow entry. The kitchen was to the immediate left. To our front was a hallway with four doors: A closet, two bedrooms,and the bathroom. Walking through the kitchen revealed a medium-sized living room adjoined to it. Claire walked through the kitchen, raiding the fridge on the way to the living room. She told me she needed to eat. I told her to go ahead. I spotted what must have been the basement access as she turned on the TV. She found some college sports and worked her way through the leftovers. She tidied up and returned to the couch. She let the game end, and said, "Should I give you your turn-on now?" "If you're ready," I said. I let her lead the way to the basement entrance and down the stairs. We entered a narrow space, and on the opposite wall from the stairway were two doors. One was likely a closet, the other definitely Claire's in-home hair studio. She pulled keys from her pocket and unlocked one door. About an hour had passed since she had finished eating and let the game on TV conclude. We stepped into the room and Claire hit the lights. She directed me to the single chair at the barber's station. When I was seated, I removed my shirt. Claire spun the chair and lowered it toward the sink. I adjusted myself and heard the water start. Then my hair was getting wet, her fingers trailing through to soak it. She was leaning over slightly, and I felt her hip pushing into my middle rib area. My erection launched. Claire lathered her hands and laced the shampoo through my hair, then worked it down to my scalp all over my head. I felt her fingers probing, and my dick throbbed. Two minutes later, the rinse began. The water started again, and she worked her fingers through my hair. She turned the water off, then leaned over me with one hand on the sink and the other on the chair. She passed gas loudly, long and crackling and ending with a rumble. Claire straightened up. I noted the rustle of fabric. Twice. Positioned awkwardly over the sink, I didn't move to note what was happening. The sink was free-standing about a foot from the wall, on a pedestal. Claire slid the chair sideways a few inches with her hip. She stepped toward me and slid a leg to the opposite side of the sink, so she could basically squat over it. With her ass inches in front of my face, one of her hands caressed my forehead. "Don't move," I heard. Claire relaxed, leaving a hand on my face. Two or three minutes passed. I sensed her starting to push. I saw her ass move, and I watched the turd she was trying to deliver ease out of her. A couple of inches showed, and she flexed her belly muscles. The balance of a dense, thick turd came rolling out of her anus, dropping into the sink with a wet slap. A heavy sulfur odor hit my nose. Claire shifted herself. Somehow, her stream of piss, body-temp warm, splashed straight into my face, running down to my neck. I heard Claire sigh. Her bladder emptied within ten seconds. With something wet blasting into my face, I expected to recoil involuntarily. All that happened was I started slightly, then relaxed and let Claire finish. Her hand brushed across my face, clearing moisture away from my eyes. I opened them, greeted by the sight of her load of crap resting on the side of the sink bowl. Dark brown and about 6 inches long, looking soft, with a hard area at the first inch of the big end. Finished, she leaned over, drew her leg back, and stood. She washed her hands, then soaped my face and rinsed it, letting her fingers lightly brush and then massage it. She toweled it dry. She toweled her pee off me farther down. I sat up, seeing Claire's naked derriere disappearing back up the stairs. Turning my attention to the sink, I noted her brown load was gone. A couple minutes later, the toilet flushed. Inside a minute, she returned. Stark naked, she wandered over so she was standing just in front of me. For fifteen seconds, we just stared at each other. Claire lowered herself carefully across my lap, facing me. While I was not used to the weight of another fully grown person on my lap, I adjusted to it quickly. "I guess that was pretty far outside the box," she said. "It was," I answered, "but at least I got a nice look at your ass," I pointed out. "You are okay though? We won't be trying that position again. The urge hit, so I took a dump and tried to play to your interest." "I'm fine," I replied. Claire put her panties and pants back on, remaining topless. I eyed her healthy tits and the slight paunch of her belly. She preceded me up the stairs, where we entered the bath and showered together. We let each other finish. My hands explored her highlights, rubbing, massaging, caressing and squeezing. At one point Claire nudged me with her hip. She turned to look at me, and she stepped sideways and gently shoved her ass into my groin. I grabbed the two bars mounted in the shower. Claire worked her hips, rubbing her caboose across my pelvis and groin area. I was fully hard, and Claire hit a rhythm of up, around, down. She kept the pace slow, leaning over to keep her cheeks pushing on me. This continued for several minutes, and then we dried and returned upstairs. It was about time to be turning in, and Claire announced her intent to go grocery shopping tomorrow morning. "No wonder you wanted the SUV," I commented. "The test begins," she declared seriously. "Breakfast, lunch, and groceries, then I'll call you," she noted. So we exchanged numbers. We hugged, and I cupped one ass cheek in each hand and jiggled it. Claire reached down and slapped my ass twice, playfully. "You're the addict, between us," she suggested. "Now get out of here, until tomorrow. We'll have dinner and the evening together," she noted. I stepped to the door, turned, and gave her a long look before I was gone and hot-footing the Lincoln toward home three blocks off. Day 3 Saturday crept by when I was up for the day. I killed a fair amount of time reading after finishing breakfast, and then took a walk to a local park to shoot hoops. Wanting to be fresh for Claire, I showered when I returned, then ate a light lunch. I took a nap, and awoke to my cell phone playing AC/DC's "Back in Black." Someone calling. I withdrew the phone off my hip and took a look. Claire. "Hello?" I answered. "Come on," anytime you're ready," Claire said in my ear. In the Lincoln, I beelined for Claire's place. When I stepped inside, after a polite knock, the smell of something cooking met me. I stepped down the entry hall and stuck my head into the kitchen. There on the counter was a crockpot. Claire was standing there checking the contents. On the stove there one pot boiling. From the smell, I guessed a roast in the crockpot and potatoes on the stove, cooking to be mashed later. I was right. Claire said, "Ready by 5:30." She let the potatoes finish, tended them,and checked the roast once more before we re-entered the living room. Claire asked if I knew anything about baking bread. "I've never done it, but there is a good bakery not far from here. They've got all kinds of freshly made stuff." I asked if she wanted me to go pick something out. Yes, so off I went. Half an hour later, I returned with a sizable loaf of banana bread and a dozen chocolate chip cookies. "A big meal is always better with dessert," I noted. "But nothing ridiculous." A few minutes later, the potatoes were mashed. Claire checked the beef roast with a meat thermometer. She used juices from the meat to make gravy for the spuds. We cut into the bread and plated the roast, with the gravy and potatoes each going into a bowl. We got down to enjoying the meal. After ten minutes of silence because eating was a priority, I said,, "Well, you took the Nissan on the grocery run. Anything turn you off?" "No way," Claire said. "Everything fit, no stacking stuff on the seats. The cargo opening was plenty roomy. It drives and rides nice. It's got all the power I could want." "Now you just have to get in and drive for awhile, outside of city driving," I commented. Claire replied, "There is one more errand I want to run tomorrow. An electronics store is having a sale, and I'm going to get a bigger flatscreen TV. I have a 37-inch, and it's okay. Been using it for three years. I think I'd really enjoy something bigger. And we're going to put a small one on the wall at the hair studio." Dessert time rolled around. Claire asked if I would accompany her on the trip tomorrow, and I accepted. We ended up selecting a relatively short movie from her personal collection and sitting down with it. Claire got touchy-feely as the movie progressed. She started holding my hand; then she was rubbing it. Then she was leaning on my shoulder, and my left arm slid behind her and I put my hand on her thigh. In the last ten minutes before the credits rolled, Claire slid her hand into my shorts and fondled my penis until I was hard, which didn't take long. I rubbed my hand along the inside of her thigh, up high toward her crotch. Something else happened as the movie ended; Claire began to squirm a little. Getting up to return the movie to its resting place, she came back into the room and nonchalantly said, "Your new lady friend needs to shit again. So let's go." "Don't be subtle, whatever you do, now," I quipped. We navigated to the bathroom, where Claire stepped out of her jeans and panties. She opened her shirt and worked her bra off, putting her nicely-sized, shapely tits on display. I ditched my shorts and boxers. She opened the toilet and gestured for me to sit. Claire dropped a properly sized towel across my bare thighs and groin. "I hereby declare my intention to push a load right out into your lap," Claire said with a grin. Without further delay, she stood tall and planted a foot on either side of me. She was facing me, and she took the back of my head and pushed it gently toward her breasts. I leaned ahead and let them fill my face, fleshy and smooth. With my face in her chest, Claire put her hands on my shoulders and squatted just a little. Accustomed to things now, she relaxed easily. There was no gas. She simply sighed, and then I smelled things and sensed her turd blooming out and dropping toward my lap. She was flexing some of the appropriate muscles, so her load was likely sizable. I felt the large end touch my lap through the towel. Claire leaned over and groaned, and I felt the balance of her shit drop to my lap. It smelled intensely ripe. Claire let out a contented sigh. She stepped back carefully and lifted the towel off my lap. I looked at what was there as I stood and moved. Part of her deposit laid straight out, and the end of her push had piled the load over on itself. Her turd had to be a foot long, lightly colored and somewhat firm, but not hard and solid. She tipped the load into the toilet, where it splashed quietly. She left and returned with a small amount of laundry detergent. She filled the sink with hot water, added the soap, lathered it, and got the towel wet before scrubbing it for several minutes. She drained the sink and thoroughly rinsed the towel and hung it to dry. Claire stepped over and wiped, then dropped and flushed. She washed her hands. We replaced our clothes and made our way to the living room. "Much better," Claire decided. "On more than one level, no question that this turning you on is wrong and weird. But having you with me makes things easier, no question. I guess that's what I care about," she announced. "Would you like me to wash your hair again?" she asked next. "I enjoyed the other two experiences," I said casually. She led me downstairs again. I parked myself in the chair. Claire started the water, then gently tilted my head and wet it thoroughly. She lathered the shampoo, and took a lengthy few minutes working it through my hair. I let the hard-on build. Claire started the rinse, and her left hip and ass cheek pushed into my torso as she maneuvered to the proper position. She stopped the rinse, turned, and backed her ass fully into my torso. She gave me a hard nudge and sat me up to dry my head. We tidied things up and returned upstairs. Claire announced that she intended to share her bed. We went in and crashed, Claire behind me and my back to her, nestled against her healthy figure. Day 4 We woke and showered and had breakfast Sunday morning. We let things settle, then hopped in the Murano for the hour drive to take advantage of the TV sale. Claire chose an LG 32-inch flatscreen for the studio, and took more time picking her personal gem. The only debate she had was 46 or 50 inches. "Fifty," I opined. "Then you won't want something bigger in three years." So fifty it was, a Toshiba LED. We found a clerk and showed what we wanted, and paid for it, along with extended warranties. We ogled a few more things around the store, then asked for help loading our purchases after killing an hour. We secured the smaller TV on the rear seat, and angled the 50-inch into the cargo bay, with about six inches to spare. We drove back to Claire's with some caution, after having lunch out. She called a neighbor and got help with her TV. It came out of the vehicle, out of the box, and rested on the TV stand in her living room. $250 got the neighbor the replaced TV to run with his game console. He departed happily, and Claire and I decided to take a walk after stashing the Nissan in her garage. We returned a half hour later, and connected and operated the TV. We drove over and put the new LG screen in the hair shop. Claire called her partner, who arranged to have the screen mounted on the wall by a friend of hers. Out back of her house was a medium-size deck. We sat out in the fresh air for another hour. Wanting to examine the worthiness of her purchase, Claire selected and purchased the first Hunger Games movie through a streaming media service. We sat back and watched, and I admitted being impressed. Claire became touchy-feely during the movie, and cuddled, and kissed my neck and one cheek. I looped one arm around her and down one leg to her knee. Halfway through the movie, we ate a light dinner in the early evening. As the movie ended, Claire focused her desire for affection and sex. She unfolded herself on the couch and sat me across her lap, lip-locking me, pushing her tongue into my mouth, and plastering my face into her chest. Her hands traveled around my torso, and cradled my head when she kissed me some more. I let her work, and fondled her healthy breasts through her shirt and bra. This continued for several minutes. Breathing deeply after a lengthy kiss, Claire panted in my ear. "Bedroom," she decided. She walked us in, and her shirt and bra got pulled off. She unfastened her jeans; she guided my face into her tits again. She worked her jeans and panties off. She took one of my hands, and guided it down between her legs. My palm brushed across a patch of pubic hair, then found her labia and rubbed gently. With one arm around Claire, and one hand rubbing her pussy, I let my dick work into a hard-on. Claire guided me to the bed, produced a love glove, and applied it. She used a small amount of lubricant on the condom, and straddled me and slowly slid my member into her. She rode me slowly for several minutes, letting me feel her weight and her rhythm. Then she leamed over, braced her hands, and rolled her hips around. My dick fired. I felt Claire dripping on the condom. I breathed deep, and we kissed some more. In the top position, Claire pumped her pelvis up and down, working my cock in and out between her legs. She went slowly for a few minutes. She stretched out to rest near one of my shoulders. Her pumping motion got faster. Fully engaged, she breathed deeply, like a racehorse on cooldown. Her pelvis bounced on my groin. I came again. Claire kept working, and I let her just take what she wanted. Maintaining the fast pace, she breathed hard and made quiet sounds of passion. At one point, her face became intense, and she slid out of me and released a high-pitched moan. I figured she had to be ready to come and she did. It wasn't a hard surging stream; she straddled my belly, and her sex oozed out rapidly in a huge puddle on my bare skin. I came again, feeling her flood, body-heat warm. Claire looked into my face, and I studied hers. She moved so we were within inches of each other. "Fuck, Claire, that was nuts," I declared. She grinned, and kept looking into my face. She took a deep breath, and was suddenly very still. Her eyes widened. She braced herself on my shoulders, no longer with her ass resting on my stomach. Her body tensed some. Her mouth opened, and her belly flexed. Ten seconds later, I felt a warm, solid mass touch my belly. Claire sighed, adding a drawn-out 'yeeesssss.' She had shit on me, and the balance of what had to be a healthy load slid out and rested on top of me. Claire carefully moved aside, and I got a look while a heavy sulfur odor rolled into my face. Claire's deposit was thick, dark, and soft. I guessed it was near a foot long. "Holy Mary, Claire," I said, wide-eyed. "That's mine. From me to you," she said. "You're welcome. Taking a dump with a partner is no longer weird. I will do it again, and you will be invited when I need the amazing relief of emptying myself," she said, fixing me with a hard stare. "Yes ma'am," I said slowly. "Helluva mess, though." She departed toward the bathroom. She returned wearing forearm-high rubber gloves, and carrying baby wipes. She lifted her brown deposit off my belly, and carried it off carefully; the toilet flushed. Claire returned, her hands bare and presumably clean. She used two of the wipes to cleanse my torso. She carefully removed the condom besides. This called for a shower. We decided to double up. The shower provided a perk for each of us; I let Claire wash my hair, and after she had finished showering the rest of herself, I lathered her healthy, round rump. I rinsed it thoroughly, and then I knelt and kissed both cheeks. She breathed deeply and sighed contentedly while I worked. We stepped out and dried and dressed. Cars, Haircare, and Kink Since it was getting late, we decided to turn in. Claire spooned into me. As Monday rolled around, we were up early. Both of us were on our phones; me to tell Troy that Claire would be in to seal the deal on the new Nissan, and Claire to the bank, and then her shop partner to let her know she'd be in late. Claire had the bank wire a balance of funds to her account, then walked into the dealer with a cashier's check. She attended the paperwork that goes with a new set of weels. Said and done, she drove out in 3 hours' time. The smile on her face was huge, and genuine. She invited me down to the shop, after hours, and her partner's eyes showed recognition when I came in. "The guy with the Dodge Durango," she recalled. "Yes, ma'am," I replied. She proceeded to tell me she had been impressed by it riding around for an evening with Claire. Then she straight-up asked if I would consider selling it to her. I told her I wasn't bored with it yet. She frowned. "But," I countered, "we did take in a Buick Lacrosse the same year as that Dodge. I drove it a couple times, and I've been pondering owning it." She bluntly asked about bottom dollar price, private party sale. I gave her a number I considered reasonable. The next day, we worked the trade through the dealer, and had an 8-year old BMW on the lot for our trouble. I then became the owner of a very nice, direct-injected V-6, leather interior Buick. I settled into the new driving style in short order. All's well that ends well. As each of us made to part ways, Claire's partner was all gratitude. "I'm very happy. Thank you for helping things be easy and go smoothly." I responded that she was welcome. I stepped over to the Nissan's window as her friend departed. "Things were weird, at first, with your kink," she said. "But then, not so much. Everybody probably has a wacky or odd side they camouflage well and let loose only as appropriate. I held onto your normal guy side, because you are. Our attraction is mutual, with a wrinkle I adjusted to. I suppose I'll see you regularly now, and we'll indulge as I see fit," Claire reasoned. "Yes, Claire, you will," I said. She slid out of the driver seat and hugged me. Not in a spot where people in the building would notice, I gently groped her caboose. "Oh, that ass," I said. "Claire, it's nice." "One of us likes it, then," she said. "See you another time, another haircut and another wash?" "Yeah," I said, cuddling into her ample figure for a little longer before we parted and drove off. The End