The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Triumphs of the Past

By Maximilian Cummings

Chapter 2

A hot Saturday a couple of weeks later. A really hot July day (they happen some years). Lovely to see Heulwen bending over and into the engine of the Triumph 2500. I was momentarily reminded of that Wednesday when I had sat in my office and the cum had poured from me as I had watched the girl bending over. If she had no overalls on, as she bent into the bonnet, I would be able to see almost as much as I had done then, though, pleasingly, ‘undecorated’ by Paul. A shame I had not taken a photo of that bending! Nonetheless the photos I had taken were pretty first rate. Blown up on my home PC screen, rather than the small screen of my Samsung, I had been more than delighted. It can be imagined I’d not been wearing a lot when I had downloaded them that evening, nor when I brought them one by one up on the screen and nor was my penis relaxed either! It had clearly been going to be a second wank and ejaculation—and why not before bed?

Only five pictures—I should have taken more but I had had other things to do with my hands… And all five crisp, detailed and erotic. It could so easily have been, out of a dozen, there would have been only one good one, yet here I was with five. I had had the megapixels set high so there was no loss of detail if—or as—I zoomed in. The first of the two of them standing, not touching, right in front of the car: the long smile of the Triumph and its gleaming paintwork and spotless windscreen forming a nice backdrop. Two naked young people in profile. Heulwen’s conical breasts so there, and even her dark pubic hair tufting—and it did tuft—I had not appreciated that before that it grew with a definite upwards slant. If I zoomed in, I could see the individual hairs!

So erotic in its accidental composition, neither of them touching the other, but all the implication of what would happen there in the photos. Paul in profile. A young man in good health and fitness, no unnecessary fat and with a very fine stand. I’m not a great judge of penises—still less erect ones—but it looked firm enough to me and at a much better than forty-five degree angle up towards Heulwen. I’d have liked to stand facing Heulwen like that.

The next of them just starting their chase. A surprising action shot with Heulwen almost moving out of shot and Paul about to leap after her. As a photograph it certainly had movement. And then there was the one of Paul fucking Heulwen on the bench, very much his bottom centre stage, him drawing in his cheeks so they hollowed as he applied himself to her. In a way not much to see, rather as I had thought at the time, but all the implication of the young man very clearly joined to the young woman, his penis hard up inside her body. Almost not pornographic if you discounted the thoughts it aroused. Certainly, I was happily stroking away as I examined the photograph and my thoughts were most definitely aroused. I was not hurrying, I only had five to view.

The next was stunning. You have to give it to these little ‘phone cameras, they can take the most amazing pictures. This was the one of Paul carrying Heulwen whilst copulating with her. His hands under her thighs, her arms around his neck, a slight turn of her torso so you could just see one breast and the wonder of her spread cheeks and thighs. I zoomed, I most certainly did, and there in colour and detail the sexual connection. Perhaps more of Paul’s penis than I really wanted to see but, there again so easy to imagine it as my own, the detail phenomenal. I could see every vein and wrinkle. Half of its six or seven inches (I don’t know, I had not applied my Vernier calipers to it. Perhaps Heulwen had…) were visible and clasped so tightly by the ring of her vaginal entrance. I could well imagine what that ring felt like—and it would feel a lot better than my rather substantial, oil ingrained, rather rough, finger and thumb clasped around my own cock. Paul’s penis obscured the sight of her clitoris, of course. A trade-off between seeing Heulwen’s sex in detail and seeing it in use, stretched and penetrated. And I could see her tight little bottom hole—every wrinkle! Delightful imagining Paul offering that to me, perhaps saying he was finding Heulwen’s weight a bit difficult to support and could I ‘prop’ her up a bit, give her a bit of ‘support’ under her bottom? Naughty but arousing thoughts. Incredibly unlikely, in reality, but very pleasant to imagine, sitting at my PC, pyjama fly open, cock in hand and looking at these wonderful ‘stolen’ snaps of the couple.

The last photo was little different from the one before, not quite as good, if anything. It caught Paul on the inthrust. Heulwen’s bottom as lovely as before but all somewhat a portrait of Paul’s hanging gonads. I smiled recalling how they had swung as I had peeked through the knothole, no doubt getting ready to do their job: a task I had, unfortunately, missed carried out on the, hidden from view, back seat of the Triumph.

First rate photos indeed. So, there I was a hot Saturday, a couple of weeks later, looking at Heulwen bent over the bonnet and recalling what I had seen. No Paul there, just the two of us. I walked over to talk. As we discussed the car my eye rested on the leather of the back seat. Yes, I had been sure the next day after their love making, when I looked, there had indeed been a new stain to the leather, just where I thought Paul and Heulwen’s sexual connection had been. Heulwen was talking about brake fluids but my mind was on her and Paul’s sexual fluids. I found myself erecting and hoped all was well hidden in the folds of my overalls. Not really the done thing to get an erection whilst discussing brake fluid with an apprentice mechanic.

“The 2500’s such a classic, isn’t he?” Her hand was stroking the paintwork of the wing.

‘He?’ Where did she get that from? “Would you like to have a drive. You’re insured.” My policy allowed for clients and others to drive.

“Oh, could I? Yes, please.”

I did not add superfluous words about ‘being careful,’ I knew she would be. I opened the garage doors and smiled to myself as I very deliberately watched her hand putting the gear into reverse. It was my penis thinking really. I wanted to see her hand on his ‘knob.’

Was my motivation in letting her ‘have a go’ simply to give her the pleasure of driving the car, letting her get the feel of the machine, or was it something else, a suspicion that she would find the experience sexually arousing? Whichever it was, there was undoubtedly a flush to Heulwen’s face when she nosed the car back into the garage. I closed the doors.


The discussion was about driving characteristics, acceleration and braking, but as she sat in the driver’s seat and I talked through the open window I could see she was not quite herself. Did I like seeing her left hand, perhaps, or probably, unconsciously, touching that big gear stick knob? I think so! If I moved closer to the door I could feel the hardness of my erection through the cotton fabric of the overalls. I was, as usual wearing nothing underneath, not even a tee shirt in the hot weather. It was, actually, hot enough to work naked. What an idea, Heulwen and me working starkers, perhaps with streaks of oil and grease across our bodies, rather than the overalls. I was not, though, going to suggest that!

Heulwen shook her head as if trying to clear it, “It’s hot in here.”

It was hot in the workshop, probably no hotter in the car. I stepped backwards, opening the car door as I went.

Heulwen went on, “It was going to be a hot day. I knew it. I didn’t bother with anything under this.” Her hand touched her dark blue overalls, at her breast as she got out of the car.

“Don’t blame you. Err, sensible.” What was I to say? This was sexual talk—I was sure of it. One thing to talk about how hot it was, quite another to mention a lack of underwear and draw the attention of a man to that lack.

“A pity they don’t do workshop skirts or dresses. Good wearing a skirt in the summer. Nice and cool…” she looked me in the eye, “…without panties.”

I swallowed—where was this leading? “Not very practical in the workshop when crawling under cars, might ruck up and…” I tried to make a joke of it, “…distract the other mechanics.”

She turned, a little coyly I thought, and stroked the car’s paintwork. “What about you? Do you wear anything under those?” She looked up for the answer.

“No shirt,” I said. She kept looking at me. “No… like you, nothing…”

“Would you mind if I worked with my overalls rather open? A bit skirt like only open down the front. You could too, if you like…”

“I… of course… only if I did, I might, um, embarrass myself…”

Crikey! Heulwen was looking directly at my waist, could probably discern a vague tenting within the loose cotton.

“I doubt you’ve anything to be embarrassed about.”

It came to me forcibly that something was about to happen. This was not a mere wanking fantasy in my bed but the real thing. It had to be that car: what was this effect he seemed to have on women? I watched, well, stared more like, as Heulwen’s hand came up and pulled her top popper apart. I swallowed again. I had seen—peeked at her breasts twice before, had wanked happily at photographs of them—but this was going to be different.

And then she stepped towards me, reached and pulled my top two poppers apart. I really did not know what to do. I stood as if rooted to the spot, my erection rearing up inside my overalls. Was I meant to reach and undo another of hers, or rip the whole front of her overalls apart, more than bodice ripping, poppers popping all the way down?

Seemingly not. One by one, Heulwen undid and rejoined the snap fasteners but not to their own garment: rather, because we were standing facing each other, my male press studs on one side of my overalls faced her female ones and vis a versa on the other side, she slowly joined the two sides of our two overalls together, moving gradually downwards, undoing one pair of her overall’s press studs at a time and rejoining them to those on my overalls. And so, at the end of that slow re-arrangement, there we were, open to each other’s naked bodies within the overalls but all closed to the workshop. The two of us, as if in one pair of overalls albeit our legs and arms in different trousers and sleeves but undoubtedly within the same space as regards our torsos. Nothing of the other was revealed, all was hidden inside the clothing—not to eyes anyway but touch was a different matter. So close together that inevitably my standing penis touched the smooth skin of Heulwen’s opposing stomach, just a touch and then she pushed her stomach against me and I found myself pressed against young female flesh. My erection hard against her stomach, her little conical breasts pressed against my chest. I could feel the hard points of her nipples. What a feeling, what a surprise—what was going to happen next? I was happy to go with the flow. Would it be just rubbing, might I make a wonderful mess with her inside the overalls, my penis just spurting away up her stomach, perhaps running and gathering in her tufting pubic hair, my balls being tickled by that hair as they rose and fell, pumping out my semen?

“Mmmm nothing to be embarrassed about at all.” I felt her stomach rubbing against my erection. “Lift me up, onto the wing. Yeah, like that. Don’t kiss me. Just…”

I had brought her up, reached under her overall covered arms and lifted her up under her armpits, up onto the car’s shiny wing, bringing her face up level with mine and moreover, yes, her sex level with my own sexual organs.

Her face to the side of mine, her lips close to my ear, she whispered “…fuck me. I’m ready, really ready.”

I hadn’t ‘fucked’ for three or four years but, like riding a bicycle, you don’t forget. Wonderful to nose with my penis, feel my knob brush against her tuft, slide it along her sex—so delightfully slippery—and feel for her entrance with my knob. A gentle push with my buttocks and it slipped in. Unbelievably, I was copulating with my young, female, mechanic friend. One moment we had been discussing the car: the next… Was I breathing hard as I felt her muscle tighten, holding me just at the point knob becomes shaft? Was I? A tight grip, possibly enough to have prevented me breaking the connection—as if I would have wanted to!

“Piston rod,” Heulwen breathed again into my ear. “Go on, fuck me.”

Despite the clamping, I was able to push in, slipping up her well lubricated channel and back down again. The lovely motion of sexual intercourse and, as it happens, the motion of the piston in its cylinder. “Double acting,” I replied to her, as I pushed back inwards.

“Stuffing box,” she breathed in my ear.

Sexual phrases for mechanics and engineers. So good to feel her rubbing her nipples against my chest as I fucked her. Perfect, normal sex—if you discounted the age difference. Nothing could be said about me having taken advantage of the young girl, no ‘payment in kind’ for tuition or payment to her: nothing like that. She had initiated it all and was seemingly really enjoying what I was doing, clasping her arms around me and breathing deeply and sexily in my ear. Luckily, I am not a man who ‘comes too soon,’ I’m ‘up’ easily enough but it takes some work to get to orgasm—I see it as my feminine side! Wonderful to be able to just keep fucking, but there came a point.

I stopped. “Do you want me to…” I searched for the right phrase.

“I’m on the Pill, not yet, but when you want to.”

“Not too hot, are you?”

“Pretty hot and steamy in here!”

I think I got Heulwen there before I knew it was all too late to stop. Some really deep thrusts, my penis curving up into her, and then I came. That delicious feeling as you build and then the release and the spurting. So savouring what I was doing into the young girl. Wow, wow, wow!

I stood there, rather overcome with what had just happened, but Heulwen kept wriggling away with her bottom on the wing, sliding around on its smooth paintwork as I held her, squeezing and moving on my still standing rod. But that wasn’t going to last and pretty soon she dislodged me out of her, as I lost my firmness. Time to separate, we could not stay popped together like that. Again, Heulwen slowly unpoppered us, rejoining the studs a pair at a time so neither saw anything of the other—it had all been touch and, indeed, penetration.

And on we carried with the work as if nothing had happened. ‘Bye’ she said at the end of the day, leaving me standing, wiping oily hands on a rag and looking at the Triumph 2500 Mk 2. What other situations was he going to get me into—if it was the car, that is?

I wondered quite what Heulwen would be like the next time she came to the workshop. Regret, embarrassment, not wanting to talk about ‘it’ or what? Would she come at all? What would she think about Paul: about ‘cheating’ on him?

But she was there the next Saturday, actually was there before me, and as I stepped from the ‘office’ to the workshop she came skipping across the floor to me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. She was not wearing overalls, not that she had taken up my (unmentioned of course) idea of working naked, but was in workshop blue dungarees and nothing much else that I could see.

“You don’t wear those at the garage, do you?”

Heulwen pouted, “Yeah, with tee shirt and bra. But not a need with you, is there?

“Well, I suppose not.” I was delighted. No embarrassment, no uncomfortable silences or monosyllabic replies. Heulwen was as bouncy and jolly as usual—and were her little conical titties bouncing away behind the bib of the dungarees!

We were not working on the Triumph but a related TR6—same overdrive switch as the 2500S as it happens. Heulwen was learning well, quick and very definitely interested. Good to work with her, a real pleasure, right through the morning. It was late morning, lunchtime, when we had gone over to the 2500 to make a comparison, when she asked,

“Shall I get coffee and sandwiches for lunch?”

“That’d be kind of you. I’ll pay. You’ll, um, need to put something more on to go out.”

“Course I will, you’re like my dad and what he used to say about my hemline!”

Well, I didn’t really want her stared at, and I suppose, these days, almost anything goes but that little denim bib with the straps over her shoulders clipped to brass buttons on the bib was a little too overtly sexual—it certainly was for me. The more so when Heulwen reached and unclipped preparatory to putting on a tee shirt. I couldn’t help staring as I, once again, saw those lovely little cones. Did she look a picture with the bib dropped down, and she there before me, topless in denim?

“You’re showing more than you should.” It was Heulwen speaking, not me, which seemed peculiar as she was definitely showing more than she should—delightfully more. I was in my overalls.

“You’re poking out,” she added.

I looked down to where her eyes were pointing, and I was! My erection had sneaked out between the set of pop studs, my knob was there on show. “Sorry!”

“Don’t be. It’s nice. Did I cause that? Would you like me to… before lunch.”

Can you imagine it. She stepped over from the Triumph, knelt and pulled my overalls apart fully exposing my genitalia, yeah, poppers popping.

“Mmmm, I like sucking cock.”

Really? Lucky Paul.

“Shall I?”

“What? You don’t have…”

“Course I do. Suck your cock. Make you come.”

She was doing it before I answered. A hand reaching, a hand directing it into her open mouth, and then it was in. All so much better than being just pulled out of a trouser fly, I was hanging there free, fully exposed to the young girl and she could, and did, fondle my hanging ‘nuts.’ Yeah, she’d slipped her ‘washer’ over my ‘bolt’ and had reached for the ‘nut(s).’

Wonderful to just stand there and be fellated—and with the bonus of really being able to see it all, see her lips clasping and working—moreover, see her little titties because her bib was still hanging down. And it didn’t leave her mouth until she had made it ‘work.’ No let-up of the suckling or fondling until, actually, a whole week’s worth of stored cum, poured out of me into her mouth. And the girl swallowed! I watched her. No porn flick like showing me the cum in her mouth, no spraying it over her face or dribbling it out of her mouth, just a swallowing with a smile on her so pretty lips. She had been effective and neat—no cum on her lips or anywhere else but in her stomach.

“Nice cock,” she said. “Does that feel better?”

“Much better. Um, thank you Heulwen, um I think the swelling will go down now.”

A giggle and she was pulling on her tee shirt. What on Earth had made me lucky enough to have this young thing fall into my lap or rather my workshop? Hmmm, actually ‘lap’ was probably right—or groin!

I looked from Heulwen to the Triumph and that big, cheesy grin just smiled back. I turned again and watched her denim clad bottom leave the workshop. My cock was still hanging out of my overalls.

What a delight to have young Heulwen around the workshop but I was also thinking of other women, indeed a woman somewhat more in the middle of the age spectrum. The very much older Jane, indeed. I had not seen her since that ‘gear knob’ incident, when I had been somewhat put out by the less than warm reception I had had later in her house. That had been much more the severe and rather uptight woman I had known when Rob had been around. If I had thought, half an hour before in her garage, there was a chance of friendly sexual relations becoming a feature of our lives, rather than perhaps a full blown ‘relationship,’ I was clearly disabused of that notion by her manner. She proved no better when I went around to see her the next time to work on the cars and see how she was ‘getting on,’ or on several subsequent times. There clearly was no interest in me at all.

But I did not give up on popping in to see how she was getting on: somewhat my duty to Rob in part. I am not sure how we got onto the subject, one time, but I mentioned I had a fridge/freezer to deliver to Matlock Spa (for a friend) and it came out as a complete co-incidence that she had a great-aunt who had died and left her some ‘stuff’ which she needed to collect from not that far away from Matlock. Naturally I suggested we shared the petrol cost and trip. Fridge one way: ‘stuff’ the other. Efficient and economical. And we could visit a motor show as well… not that I mentioned that additional idea until she was committed.

There was reluctance and I sensed it was the Triumph 2500 she was wary of, notwithstanding her original hope of being able to see Rob’s car on occasion, though it was too big for her to keep.

“But it’s an estate and has masses of room in the back if you put the seats down. It’s big.”

I wondered if she was thinking of the big knob. Not too big for her!

“Have you another car?” As soon as she said it, I could see it had upset her, as if she was rejecting Rob’s pride and joy, and she quickly added, “No, that’ll be fine. Good to feel those leather seats again,” she said, rather feigning brightness.

And so, we were off again, going north. Desultory conversation at first, followed by Jane seeming to try to sleep. And then she shivered. Was it happening again? A few miles further on and I saw her hand resting on her jeans. I had hopes but was amazed to see her hand slipping inside the tight denim of her jeans, clearly stroking and then her fingers undoing brass button and zip to allow ingress. I alternated between watching the road and watching the seam of her jeans between her now open but jean clad thighs where it looked like a pair of hamsters had taken up residence and were, very possibly, copulating. I say alternated but, to be fair, I did keep most of my attention on the road. What was it about that car?

Off the motorway and at a rather tricky place where I had to keep both hands on the wheel—there was mud on the road from rain and farming activities—slippery conditions indeed, though probably nowhere near as slippery as in Jane’s knickers, when I felt fingers at my zip. There was nothing I could do—as if I would want to have done—to prevent Jane opening my fly, extracting the organ, pulling back the foreskin and then wanking it up to erection. I had been ‘up’ when she had started her inside jeans play but had lost it with the driving. Not now!

I felt the hand withdraw and glanced sideways. Jane was sitting there with an amused smile on her face looking at me. My eyes flicked back to the road. It was not a straight motorway we were driving along, we had left that, but a rather winding ‘A’ road and at 60mph I needed my eyes and most of my concentration upon it. Nonetheless I was driving along with my cock out of my fly, pointing rigidly upwards with the foreskin drawn back. I looked back across, there she was sitting there with her jeans open and her purple knickers showing, nicely mounding over her bush.

“It’s like a gear stick isn’t it? Another control.”

I glanced downwards again, her hand was now fondling the Triumph’s gear stick as she had been fondling me a moment or two before. A tease perhaps. Her thighs were still rubbing together, the purple of her knickers on the move.

“Can I control you with it?”

I was having to slow, a bit of a queue of traffic ahead. I reached to drop a gear and Jane did the same mimicking my movement to the gear stick by taking hold of my penis.

“Do you press or pull to get into reverse?”

“You know, you’ve driven him. Overdrive to off and then you pull up, but not when going forwards!”

I flicked the overdrive off and felt a thumb pushed across the very top of my knob.

“It’s sticking a bit, needs a bit of lubrication, I think.”

No, the switch did not. It was not a part needing oil or grease. Quite a different matter the tip of my penis where she was rubbing the ball of her thumb over that very sensitive opening.

“That’s better, its sliding easier now. Not sticking but sticky!”

I dropped to third, and she did the same. I glanced down at my exposed cock and saw a thin thread of liquid connecting her raised thumb and my urethral opening—a little pool of wetness across it—and almost ran into the car in front.

“Keep your eyes on the road. I’ll look after this.” And she moved my cock to neutral… and then pulled upwards on the knob and put me in reverse.

Just slow movements as we eased our way along in the traffic jam and then we were off again, up through third to fourth and into overdrive. Funny old word, ‘Overdrive.’ It sounds as if it is some hidden source of power that can be unleashed with just a flick of that switch, whereas it’s the complete opposite. It’s all about fuel economy, put into older cars way before the current obsession with mpg and high petrol prices. It also gives less engine noise and a quieter ride once up at a cruising speed. Simply it engages a faster transmission output shaft speed than the input rotation speed of the input shaft from the engine. This means torque is reduced as the revolutions are multiplied (by the amount of rev-multiplication), so being ‘overdriven,’ if you follow me. Can’t say there was less noise from my penis, unlike the car, as Jane wanked me in overdrive. Certainly, her movements were slow and relaxed. I’d have actually said it was silent: not that fap, fap, fap sound of enthusiastic masturbation.

‘Underdrive’ is the opposite for an engine, where it is spinning faster than the resultant rotation of the output shaft. That is what you get dropping into the lower gears, like when you drop for acceleration or get before the cruising gears of fourth and now fifth on modern cars. Fifth, if you like, is similar to overdrive. I suppose it’s underdriving a penis when you do some quick handwork to get it ‘up’ and going before you settle into a steady cruising mode. And did Jane get my penis cruising! She would let it alone for long periods, as if it was automatic transmission like on most Yank cars. But every time I started to droop, she would reach and bring me up again. Perhaps with a bit of underdrive! Jane seemed to find the whole thing amusing. Perhaps she was seeing how long she could tease me with the aim of keeping me erect for the whole journey without coming

Three quarters of an hour or more of driving with my cock out, erect and exposed with hardly a word spoken. Me trying to concentrate on the road with Jane’s right hand doing interesting things every so often to my cock and other times doing possibly more interesting things in her jeans. I was not sure her fingers were not sometimes rather wet on my penis. What a thing to be doing. Jane had seen my cock before, had seen me come through the window of the Triumph as she had ridden the gear knob, but this was something further. My old friend’s wife had got herself worked up enough to be touching and wanking me. And worked up she was, I could tell by her wriggling on her seat, by the movement within her jeans until she was very clearly on the brink of coming.

“I’ve got to…” she suddenly ejaculated.

Well if you’ve got to then you’ve got to: but what? What had she got to do?

Jane leant right over, beyond the gear stick, stuck her head down between the steering wheel and me and clamped her mouth right over my upstanding cock. A glance down and there was her straight, leather coloured hair with just a hint of a curl at the nape of her neck in my lap, the wet, hot feeling all around my cock wonderful; a glance to my left at her hand inside her purple knickers moving—I could see just a few brown curls; and back to the road. A dual carriageway now. What would people think if they looked out of their car windows and saw my passenger with her head in my lap… pretty obvious what they would think.

Three quarters of an hour of female attention to my cock, three quarters of an hour or more of erection and masturbation and now being sucked by a woman clearly in the throes of orgasm, her tongue lashing away at my knob. What do you think happened?

Yeah, I was overtaking a lorry and ejaculating into Jane’s mouth at the very same time. Fuck!

Spurt—keep eyes open, spurt—indicate, spurt—concentrate on the road…

Jane sat back up, said, “I needed that.” I glanced, a smile as she pulled her jeans back together again. “You’ve got lipstick on your cock. Funny how they soften isn’t it?”

Funny or not she left me out until we were almost at delivery point for the fridge/freezer. I was almost about to tuck myself away but nicer having it done for me. So good having your penis looked after, cared for by a woman. From there we drove to collect her stuff and then on to the show.

I spent the whole day walking around knowing I had lipstick all over my penis. Jane seemed a little introspective. I rather assumed, though, she had had a rather good day at the show as she seemed reluctant to leave the site electing for a last cup of tea and then wanting to go and look at something and then, as we were almost back at the car, wanting to go back to the ‘Ladies.’

Eventually we settled down, me driving again. She was quiet, and I wondered if she was going to go to sleep but, no, her eyes were open and staring fixedly ahead. It came to me that she really had not wanted to get back into that car again, had been putting it off. but had known she had to. It was the biting of the lip that clicked the realisation switch in my brain. ‘He’ was having his effect again. Jane was fighting arousal once more. What she had not wanted to happen, it seemed, was indeed happening. Strange the car had no effect on me; unlike her. I glanced at the fine looking, mature woman beside me. She was looking hot and bothered.

“I wonder, could we perhaps stop somewhere, have a bit of a walk to cool. A break and a rest from driving and I could do with, um, ‘going’ again.”

A turn off the ‘A’ road down a minor road and I found what looked a good spot. Not just a parking place but a track leading off into the woods. We could take a break, have a walk and take a leak.

“Well done,” said Jane. “Wish I’d put a skirt on. Jeans are too hot for this weather. This looks good for a walk but what’d be great would be a walk along a beach and a swim in the sea! Bliss—I’m just so hot.”

“Bit far from beaches here in the middle of England.”

“Yes, nice though, pretty countryside.”

It was a lovely warm summer’s evening. We stood by the car.

“Do you know what I’d like to do.” An uncharacteristic giggle. So different from the woman at the show. Relaxed and easy, almost flirty.

“Swim in the sea?”

“No, walk naked up that track.”

A bit of a bombshell. But no cars had passed. It seemed a very quiet lane and only room for one car to park where we were.

“We could do, why not?”

“Could we? Really? It’s such a… so naughty… would you mind?”

I didn’t. I was certainly game. What might this lead to?

Good to watch Jane kick off her shoes and undo her jeans, just as she had done in the car that morning, watch her slide her purple knickers down and show that generous patch of light brown hair I very much recalled (with the gear knob impaled). I was still standing watching as she unbuttoned her blouse and slipped her brassiere off, releasing her ample breasts. What a fine looking, albeit middle aged woman, standing there completely naked next to me. Me still clothed, she anything but.

“I thought you were going to be naked too.”

A rather clear invitation. This was definitely going to lead to sex. I had my clothes off in a trice. Clothes off, bundled on the back seat, car locked and key sitting on the back tyre ready for our return.

“You’ve still got lipstick on your cock.”

Given how it was standing up in the air in front of me you could not miss it.

“Shall I renew it?”

Amazing, we hadn’t walked a yard and already Jane had bent down and had my cock in her mouth. Standing by the Triumph in almost full view of the country lane I was being fellated by a woman almost old enough to be my… well certainly she was a good thirteen/fourteen years older than me. A mature woman with me, perhaps, an immature man.

“There you are, all ready for your walk!”

One thing to start walking up the track between the trees naked, rather another with a full-blown erection (and I use the word ‘blown’ advisedly!). Hopefully we would not meet anybody. To say that would be embarrassing would be an under-statement, more so for me really, but the prospect of sex with Jane more than overcame any hesitation on my part. Seemingly it was the same for her. Again, I say ‘prospect’ but was not walking naked and erect with a woman ‘sex’ in itself?

“I’ve never… the risk of being seen…”

“At least by the squirrels.”

“So exciting, so naughty really—and don’t you look naughty?” And she reached and held me as she had done that morning in the car. Imagine that, walking along a country track whilst being gently masturbated. The path forked and we took the left, less distinct track.

“Almost exciting, the risk of being seen… almost.” Jane said, “Shall we, I haven’t done it outside for years…”

Perhaps difficult to imagine Jane ever having been game to fuck in the great outdoors with Rob when he was around, not given her usual demeanour, but this was a different Jane. Yet, that implied mention of Rob, and copulating with him outdoors seemed to bring on a change. The further we walked from the car, the less Jane’s enthusiasm for the walk and what would follow seemed to be. Her hand dropped from my cock, her giggling and jollity disappeared. My enthusiasm for walking naked out along the track into the wood was undiminished—as was my erection—but Jane seemed to be having second thoughts about being exposed in an almost public place. Yet, as we walked back with Jane telling me it had all been a terrible mistake, her words faltered and stopped and the same look of lust I had seen before crept over her features.

Not only did she reach and hold my penis, once more, but the promise of the start of the walk all came back and I soon found myself sliding in and out of her rather moist vagina from the rear as she held onto a couple of young ash saplings, one in each hand, her large breasts swinging free. Through the trees and just in sight I could just make out the familiar paintwork of the Triumph 2500 Mk.2.

Jane had been walking ahead of me down the track and I had been admiring her swaying bottom, cheeks rising and falling, as they do. Despite her loss of enthusiasm, it had not dented mine—my ‘enthusiasm’ had not subsided. I had even taken to the occasional manual stimulation, even thought of how good it would be to let fly at that bottom, when, all of a sudden, she turned, and I walked into her, my penis suddenly in amongst her curls.

“Would you mind… I really would like to fuck, after all… I’m so wet again… I’ve an itch that needs scratching.” Her hand was again encircling my gear stick. “You’re very good, humouring me, an older woman.”

“Sexy as anything.”

“Really? I can suck cock, though, can’t I?”

She dropped down, her thighs opening revealing her hairy quim looking suitably swollen and wet. I knew what I wanted to do but she had my penis in her mouth, was looking up at me and very clearly sucking away (which I certainly knew from the feelings). Jane could certainly suck cock. Women look just so good with a cock in their mouths.

Surprising how strong the sex instinct is when roused, how it makes people do things they would not normally do or consider wise: so not Jane at all to be engaging in sexual acts on a footpath where any moment some old boy with a dog might hove into view or a courting couple out for a walk come tripping along, or… well, it was at least unlikely to be anyone she knew!

“Suck my tits.” Not just engaging in sexual acts but using words Jane would not normally use.

But rather than straightway do that, I grabbed her hand and pulled her through the bracken beside the track and into the wood beyond, the fronds stroking my nakedness as we pushed through. Not a lot more private really, still visible from the track but with some chance of crouching and being unobserved if the walker was spotted soon enough. My worry, seemingly, not hers. And then I bent my head and sucked on a nipple, pulling the slightly sagging, but still shapely, breast upwards by it. Hard as anything, though more pea than cherry, as I’ve said, not well suckled—by infants anyway! Good to hear Jane moan with pleasure and desire. I was going to get my chance at her. From one nipple to the other.

Jane pulled away. Phew—what a look of lust on her face: not a smile but that slightly blank, serious look women have when they want ‘it.’ She turned and walked a few feet to a patch of sunlight slanting down between the tree canopy, reached out for a couple of ash saplings and curled her fingers around their smooth stems, moved her feet backwards a little and apart, readying herself for coitus. It was just so sexual, so animalistic, so inviting. All around the quiet of a summer’s evening; warm, and it needed to be if you were wandering around starkers, still and perfect. Not usual that I get poetic, I’m a mechanic after all, but I did feel a little like the stag approaching the hind in the heart of a forest glade. Not often I walk around with an erection like that! It was ‘something else’ to walk up behind Jane as she held onto those saplings, dip and touch her wet sex with my knob, hear her moan and then push upwards; I reached and held her breasts as, through the trees, I could just make out the coloured paintwork of our parked Triumph 2500 Mk.2.

Nice and somewhat noisy copulation. I don’t think anyone walked by! And I did the New Man thing of reaching and curling one hand under her furry patch and helping Jane to orgasm with my fingers tickling her clit, all nice and prominent, a right little nubbin all pushed forward by her stance. Lovely to slide within her, lovely to feel with my fingers, lovely to feel my hips pressed against her bottom and, of course, wonderful to experience that point of inevitability of ejaculation, knowing the semen was about to be expelled, pushing the harder in excitement and then that electric shock of the first spurt. It certainly felt like I pushed a lot into Jane, even if I had come in her mouth that morning. I think, I’m sure, she came too.

The slightly embarrassing moment when, having disconnected, Jane turned, releasing her grasp of the saplings, which had looked to me so much like the grasp she had made around my own cock—yeah, Jane grasping a pair of woody, thick cocks—and looked at me. She looked so fine, a film of sweat across her breasts; looked as she was, a woman recently fucked. And there was me, still erect, still very much showing the evidence of our recent copulation. The man so much more demonstrative of sexual arousal, even after intercourse. Jane’s sex all neatly closed between her thighs whereas mine stood still up in the air and very clearly wet from her and, how should I put it nicely? Well, there was semen here and there upon it—and lipstick! Jane was looking so sexy, I just felt rather exposed.

“You men, you do make a bit of a mess. That was nice. Suppose we should be getting on.”

In a way I would have been happy to walk a bit further, to have turned back and walked further on the track, it really was so very nice being outside that evening, but I was concerned that would spoil the moment. I did not want Jane going all quiet again as we walked further away from the car. It was best to walk back through the bracken and down the path and get dressed for the further journey.

“I’ll just, before we go.”

I’ll gloss over that bit but, suffice to say, we both relieved ourselves. Another shared intimacy. Prudent before recommencing a journey and that was, after all, sort of why we had stopped in the first place.

Ferrying people around seemed to become a bit of a habit. Heulwen had her eye on a car to buy, was thinking of going by train to look at it but I offered to drive and found myself taking both Paul and her to look at it. Really great conversation all the way there. It’s not often you can have two men and a woman in the car and the woman not gone to sleep with boredom when the men talk about cars all the way without let up. It was very much a three-way conversation between Paul with me in the front and Heulwen on the back seat the whole journey. In the event, Heulwen did not buy. Paul was keener than me, but I thought the price wrong and disproportionate to the amount of work needed. The upshot being she did not drive that car back and I had both of them in the Triumph with me again. They were both in the back on the return journey. The nights were drawing in and we were soon travelling in the dark. To be fair, we had not started the outbound journey until well after lunchtime. Working mechanics have work to do and all that.

Not a lot of conversation once we had finished talking about the not purchased car. It became rather obvious to me that Paul and Heulwen were not simply sleeping in the back seat nor having just a little kiss and cuddle. Young people and hormones… and perhaps the comfortable leather seats of the Triumph 2000 Mk 2, and perhaps that certain something that particular car could impart. Probably more staining to the leather—yeah, if the Triumph could tell its stories…

I dropped Paul off and Heulwen came around to the front seat after kissing him good night.

“You knew what we were doing didn’t you?”

“Course I did.”

“I suppose you could see everything?”

“In the rear-view mirror? Nope, too dark and a bit dangerous anyway to be watching you copulate rather than the road. I could hear, though.” I didn’t think it quite ‘nice’ to say I could smell the sex too!

A giggle from Heulwen and I felt her hand on the front of my trousers in the darkness. And I was sure she could feel the consequent movement within, a certain growing and filling.

“Would you like to… I’m still rather…” a rather deep and throaty sigh for her, it made me shiver in anticipation.

“Wet?” I ventured. Nice to mention a young girl’s sexual lubrication to her in easy conversation!

“Mmmm, yep, perhaps a bit wetter than you’d be up for?”

A tug to my zip and a small female hand feeling around within, all in the darkness of the car, the only light from outside and the instrument panel.


“Back seat, I suppose, in the garage. I know it’s comfortable for that!”

“I’d like that, Heulwen, if you’re sure.”

It was the second time ever that a woman has sucked me whilst I was driving. Twice in comparatively quick succession. It was one way for Heulwen to confirm she was sure! Remarkable to drive through the streets with the young girl’s head in my lap and my penis in her mouth, to drive being gently fellated all the way up to the garage doors.

“Mmmm. I like sucking cock.” It was the second time she’d told me that. “Second cock of the evening!”

Unsurprising to learn Paul had been sucked in the back seat whilst I drove.

The garage doors needed opening and, even though it was unlikely anyone was about, I really did not want my erection spotlighted by the interior light coming on as I opened the door and got out of the car. Heulwen, good girl as she is, jumped up to do that, unclipping her safety belt as she straightened from my cock. It was still spotlighted by Heulwen opening her door but not the same as walking around the car to the doors with it sticking out of my fly!

I watched Heulwen opening the garage doors. Not in overalls, we had been out and about, after all, but a nice little, quite short, denim skirt and tee shirt top. So visible to me in the light of the car’s headlights. She could not see me looking at her, not when blinded by the headlights. To think I was about to fuck the little dark, curly haired apprentice opening the doors, following on from her boyfriend: she must have been really aroused to want more sex—and with me. I reached and had a short wank as I watched her. Arousing to feel my penis wet from her mouth. The doors now open, I drove in and heard Heulwen close them behind the car. The engine off, I switched off the car’s lights and plunged the workshop into darkness. The prospect of a second fuck with Heulwen very much in my mind.

“Do you think I’m bad?” Heulwen was there already beside the car as I opened the door. “Do you think it matters I’m cheating on Paul minutes after he’s fucked me?”

Not bad, just highly sexed as young girls often are—and no doubt her arousal given a further poke by the shiny yellow Triumph I was in the process of getting out from. The girl was nicely illuminated by the light shining from the car’s interior light, so sweet and pretty in her denim and top. The rest of the workshop fading away into blackness and her standing there looking at my still exposed erection. I did not have to answer. Heulwen answered her own question.

“It’s not as if I’m going out with two boys secretly at the same time. I like you Eric, very much indeed, but it’s different. Paul and I are going out, but I just fancy a bit more sex before bed. And I do like a nice cock!” Her hand reached for mine.

“Like a drink before bed then—a glass of hot milk.”

“Hot milk? Urgh!”

“Not inside the overalls this time?”

“That was nice. We must again. Haven’t mine here so perhaps it’d better be naked sex.”

I took that as a reasonable invitation to undress her. Not exactly an unpleasing sexual experience in itself.

“Can we perhaps, Eric, work naked one Saturday—just for a time. It’s something I’ve imagined and thought about though, actually…” she turned to let me undo the clasp of her brassiere, “I sort of imagined Paul there as well, but I don’t know what you’d think about that—or, actually, what he’d think about that! But in my bed with my fingers…” Heulwen looked straight at me and gave my penis a significant tug. “You know, like you do, I expect, in bed.”

Wonderful! The dark-haired girl standing there, naked from the waist up, her lovely conical breasts showing in the light of the open car door, and her hand on my penis, was talking about her masturbation. “Yes, course I wank.”

“You know I’ll do this for you any time you want.” She was stroking me with gentle movements of her hand, rolling the loose skin over my knob and back down again. “Or suck you off—you only need to ask.”

She bent at the waist and did just that, again. What a thing to be offered. Naturally I said, ‘thank you’ and indicated I would be more than happy to take up her offer.

“Yes,” she said, “I had a nice little frig or two thinking of you men naked in the workshop; tight bottoms there for me to maybe pat, swinging penises and balls unless, of course, the penises stopped swinging.” A giggle from the girl. “Not at all sure what Paul would think of that—or you—but gets me going. Aren’t you going to touch me?”

I had been enjoying the sight of her breasts and her stroking hand and touch of her lips. I had enjoyed what she had been saying. Now I reached up under her skirt. A hairy, wet, soggy, hot delight and no knickers.

“They’re still on the back seat. I wonder if Paul will remember I did not put them back on.

“Did Paul take them off?”

“Yes. Mmmm, that’s good.”

I stirred, I probed with my fingers. I was going to have no trouble at all getting my penis inside the girl. She was as slippery and open as anything. Of course, I could not help myself. When I withdrew my fingers, I had to look, the sort of way your eyes are drawn to something you really do not want to see, and there on my bunched three fingers was Heulwen’s delightful wetness but also, very clearly, a lot of semen. Not at all something I had ever thought of having on my fingers—another man’s cum. Erotic? Not really! But what was erotic was to see Heulwen lean towards my fingers and lick at them with her tongue and then suck. Now, that was OK! I rather liked having my fingers fellated.

I undid her skirt. Heulwen’s clothes were there on the driver’s seat (apart from those knickers) and mine about to join them in double quick time.

It was back seat sex: back seat with the car stationary and the inside light on. Two mechanics testing the springs. Somewhat more room than Heulwen and Paul had had not that many minutes earlier because with one door open my feet could go outside. Me on top and Heulwen underneath, probably just as they had been that day when I had watched them from my office. I had wanted then to fuck Heulwen and now I had the opportunity to do it. I am not sure I could teach the apprentice anything about sex, but I tried. So good to see her back into the car and lie down and make ready for me by opening her thighs. Good strong, soft, young thighs. I would have to go down on her sometime; I wanted to go down on her but, perhaps not that night: not when she was freshly fucked, not unless she asked very nicely indeed! Good to clamber over her, not so easy as in bed but room enough, and look down at her. She smiled up at me and puckered her lips for a kiss. It was just a touching of lips, not the full French thing lovers do, not a lot different from a peck on the cheek as between friends, or an apprentice and her supervisor, perhaps. Only it was different, the two of us were naked and my engorged penis was hanging over her ready to push up into her,

“Come on,” she breathed, “touch me with your prick, I want to feel that big knob. I want to be fucked… again.”

And I obliged—of course. So good to just lower a bit and touch that wetness, not with my fingers this time but the real tool for the job and stroke her clit. Nice to brush it up and down a bit before entering, very good indeed to feel Heulwen raise her hips and thrust upwards at me trying to catch my penis, trying to lodge it in her hole. She was clearly one very excited young woman in need of a good fucking: a second good fucking, I was sure her boy had done well. I obliged.

Certainly, something I could do with more often, the opportunity to slide my penis in a wet vagina, press my whole naked body down on a woman and feel the hard points of her nipples, hear her make appropriate noises of passion, desire and pleasure and go at it. My thrusts took me ‘balls deep,’ I could feel them slapping against her bottom; could even hear that once or twice alongside the noises Heulwen was making, the peculiar noises our moving and joined genitalia produced together, along with the creaking of the car springs.

“Me on top, me on top!”

A disengagement, an intimate rolling around and then Heulwen was atop me, pushing down and riding my cock.

“Suck my tits.”

I like being told what to do by a naked young woman… and I like sucking ‘tits.’

All of a sudden, she stopped her bouncing and stayed stock still, my penis half in and half out. I could feel her shuddering.

“Ooh, I’m on the edge, so sensitive, don’t move, just, just, my nipples.”

I used both hands, one set of fingertips to each nipple and rolled them. Seemingly that was enough. Heulwen did not move up and down me, rather her vaginal muscles rippled upon my cock, alternately squeezing and releasing.

“Fuck, I like being fucked, fuck!” The girl was coming almost just by nipple manipulation! Phew!

As the contractions slowed, Heulwen slowly relaxed and settled down upon me, my knob going upwards, deep into her,

“Phew. That’s what a girl needs—two in an evening! Have you…?”

I had not.

“How would you like… to finish?”

Nice choices for an ejaculation, come on her body, come in her mouth or do it where I was? I elected for ‘where I was’ but not on my back, rather on top of Heulwen, me squashing her down as I thrust away—and I did thrust and did have a most pleasant, albeit too short, injection of semen into the young girl. Just so good to feel the wet, slippery build up as I thrust away, feel me cross the line, try and hold back but be utterly incapable of stopping the intense feelings coming and feel my semen spurting.

“I liked that Eric, I liked that a lot.” She kissed me again on the lips. “A really good fuck. Two really good fucks. Anytime you want me to handle your tool, suck it or…” she breathed into my ear, “fuck. Let me know.”

Crikey! What an ‘available’ bit of tail, and such a lovely girl with it.

Those knickers were still on the back seat in the morning. The naughty girl had gone home ‘commando.’ Yeah, I had walked her home but had not realized she was like that. Had my semen been running down her legs as we walked? Maybe, probably but… not just mine. There was, though, fresh staining to the old, faded brown leather back seats when I looked in the morning, remembering. Sex is delightfully messy!