Pleasurable Revenge - Hardcore M/f Seduction/Oral Sex-Erotica

I had just enrolled at a small state college and funds were low. I needed a job, something to help me pay for my USDA recommended daily allowance of beer. I answered an ad at a two bay auto repair shop to do tune ups. I was more than qualified, I had been working on cars and motorcycles since I was 14. I was a hot rodder, having built several high performance vehicles in the past eight years. I entered through the overhead door and approached the figure I found bent over the fender of a late model sedan. All I could see of him was his back from the waist down. The sounds of a ratchet turning, the clank of metal against metal and the cheap radio playing the Kingston Trio's Ballad of Tom Dooley were the only noises inside the shop.

I walked up to stand beside him and as he noticed me, he bent himself around and out from under the hood of the Chrysler. "What can I do for you?" he asked.

"The Campus Courier had an ad saying that you need a tune up man." was my reply.

He was a small man, maybe five and a half feet tall, and probably didn't weigh more than one hundred forty pounds. He wore blue jeans and a blue denim shirt. He wiped his nose against the sleeve of his greasy shirt and introduced himself as Richard Bells. He asked if I had any experience. I told him that although I had never worked in an automotive shop, that I had built several cars from the ground up.

He sneered at me with red rimmed eyes and said, "You rich college boys are all alike. I hire you, you work a week or two and then after you've gotten a paycheck or two, you don't show up any more. Besides, if you've never worked before, How can I check to find out if you can do the job?"

I didn't answer, I only held my hand at my shoulder and with my thumb pointed to the overhead door I had just entered. I turned and walked toward the opening. He followed me. I walked over to my pristine '57 Chevy Bel Air door hardtop. I reached into the glove compartment and showed him the photos. This is this car 2 years ago I told him. He looked at the pictures of the battered hulk, and whistled under his breath. The Chevy had had its whole side bashed in when I bought it. As he looked at the three by fives, I strode to the front and opened the hood. Okay, chrome won't make it go, but the triple two barrel carbs were impressive. I opened the door, and sat behind the wheel. I turned the ignition on and the engine roared to life then settled to a low rumble. He listened respectfully.

"I built this from the pictures you saw. The engine started as a 300 HP 327 CI and now delivers over 400. I built the Muncie 4 speed from pilot shaft to tail shaft. I think I can do your simple tune ups."

He looked at the straight side of the car, listened to the Smithy mufflers' deep rumble, and checked the bucket seated interior. "If you really built this, I think I can use you. When can you start?"

I have a class at eleven o'clock, I can be here at one." I told him. "I scheduled my classes to have afternoons free."

"Sounds good to me," he said, "I need someone three days a week and all day Saturday. Be here tomorrow at one." I waved at him and pulled the car into the street. Feeling good about the new job, I decided to celebrate so I drove directly to the Wizard's Bar to toss down a few. My friend Steve was there with a few of the other regulars. I told Steve about my new occupation. Mark, I didn't know his last name, overheard me and asked if I was talking about Richard Bells.

After I answered in the affirmative, he told me, "We call him Little Dick. Watch out for him his name may be Dick, but he is a prick. My friend Lonnie worked for him once, and had nothing but trouble from him."

I tossed the warning aside, I knew Lonnie and he was no prize winner himself. I had always thought that he was a lazy jerk.

The next day when I reported in, Richard was under the hood of the Chrysler again." What's up?" I asked.

He unfolded himself from under the hood and looked over at me. "I'm just putting the heads back on this bitch." he said.

"Yeah," those damned hemis don't give you any room to work." I sauntered over to where he was working. I looked inside and saw only a ratchet and a few sockets.

"You should torque those head bolts." I told him.

"I know," he sounded exasperated, "but mine is busted, the only one I have is a quarter inch drive until I get the other one from the repair station." He pronounced it Bistid.

"I have one in the trunk of my car, I could lend it to you." I offered.

He accepted and I brought it inside. He whistled when I opened it and showed it to him in its fitted case. "That must have set you back a couple of bucks." he said

My answer was, "A couple of hundred, four years ago. And inflation has been double digit since then."

"Yeah, I know," he answered, "I priced one when mine busted, he showed me this very one. I decided to have mine fixed. Anyway, thanks. Now take care of that Falcon over there."

I started toward the small Ford, I noticed a room that I had not seen before, probably because it had been dark. Now, the fluorescents were bright and through the window and open door, I was able to see the most ravishing woman I had seen since leaving LA Long blonde hair framed her angelic face, framing her sparkling blue eyes. She was wearing a white blouse that could have had another button or even three fastened at the top. The shirt was translucent, showing faintly her pink bra that encased the most beautiful set of 36 C's I had ever seen. The push up effect was not lost on me. She was standing and bent over the desk the twin globes of her ass out thrust. The navy mini was snug and form fitting ending about three inches below her crotch. Her black pumps had three inch heels. She was engrossed in some invoices and receipts spread on the desk top. Then she noticed my movement as I walked by.

"Hi," she looked over her half lensed reading glasses, "you must be Sonny. Richard told me that he had hired some new help. I'm his wife, Cindy." She held out a dainty hand. I took it lightly in mine. "I also serve as the bookkeeper." Although her lips were puffy and pouting, she also was smiling. How does she do that I wondered.

I turned away, muttered something about getting to work, hoping she hadn't noticed my boner pushing against my jeans.

Cindy and I became friends and often I would come in on my days off to visit, sitting on the desk and often glancing down her always open top. She had many stories that I found extremely interesting. She had been one of the women who in World War II had flown planes and supplies from America to England freeing male pilots to fly fighters and bombers. Her husband had been killed in that war. They had one child, a daughter. She learned she was pregnant two weeks after she had been notified of his death. She met Richard after the war, and they were married. He was a widower with a daughter three weeks older than hers. Both were in college and I learned that they were both in one of my classes.

It didn't take me long to learn of Richard's temper. I had only removed, inspected and installed the new spark plugs and started to remove the distributor cap when I heard a subtle clink, the sound of a wrench slipping off its bolt. "Motherfucker!" he yelled and winged a socket against the wall about twenty feet away. It ricocheted off a shelf and knocked a gallon of anti-freeze to the floor. It split open and sprayed the pungent liquid across the floor. He turned to me, glaring, "Clean up that fucking mess!" he hissed. As I walked by, I glanced at his scraped knuckle. There was a trace of blood, and a little two corner tear, less than an eighth of an inch long.

I worked for Richard two long weeks. In that period of time, he fired me three times and I quit four. After each time he would call me, usually within thirty minutes and ask me to come back. The seventh time, I decided that I didn't need the ulcer this was causing and returned to tell him of my decision. It was then, I asked him to return my torque wrench.

"What torque wrench?" he was almost screaming.

I remained calm saying, "That one." indicating the case atop his roll away cabinet.

"That's my wrench!" He was shouting now. He stormed across the room, opened the case and removed the wrench. "Look at this, motherfucker!" With an electric engraver, he had attached his name and social security number. I was familiar with this mark, all his tools were similarly marked. I knew that with all the traveling I had done since high school, I could never find the receipt, especially after four years.

I didn't say another word. I went out to my car, started the powerful engine, calmly engaged first gear and slowly drove away. My calm manner left Little Dick awestruck. I slowly drove to Little Dick's house and parked in front. I shut down the engine and set the brake. The front door was open, someone was home and Laury was attending the books at the shop. I pushed the door shut and strode up the sidewalk.

I knocked on the door and Laury, Richard's daughter answered. "Hi Laury, I'm having some trouble with that creative writing class. Could you help me?"

"Sure, come on in." She turned and walked into the living room. I watched as she walked away, a favorite pastime of mine, watching women's asses. Laury's was supreme. Those tight little double bumps lifted and tilted with each step. Her tight, shorter than short, shorts defined those firm balls of flesh delightfully. When she turned to face me at the couch, there was a wonderful triangular gap between her legs allowing light to pass through. I really love that feature. Her tube top squeezed her tiny little tits into luscious, paired mounds. Most men like big tits, but I prefer those barely a mouthful types. Even though the day was warm, her nipples formed smaller bumps atop her other bumps. Her dark hair fell in waves to her shoulders, lightening her emerald green eyes. Her cheekbones were maybe a little too high, but they formed a base for her cute pixie like upturned nose. Below her lips were large firm and the lower stuck out as if it were swollen. The corners turned up, she smiled and asked, "Would you like something to drink?"

"Hey yeah," I replied enthusiastically, "how about a beer?"

"Great," she answered, "I'll have one too."

I heard the refrigerator open and close, two caps being lifted and then she was back. I patted the cushion beside me and she sat, her legs together, but turned slightly toward me.

I took a sip and started to set it on the coaster in front of me. "This is my problem... " I began, as the longneck crossed over her lap, "...Professor Jameson said..." and the cold beer spilled accidentally into her lap, inside her thighs. "Oh my God!" I shouted, "I'm sorry, here let me clean it up!" I took a handkerchief from my pocket and started rubbing her thighs. She was dry, and still I was gently rubbing the affected area, in fact, I was rubbing higher than the beer had been spilled. I glanced to her chest and her perky little nipples were now harder than before. I brought my arm down of the back of the couch, around her neck and cradled her chin in my hand. Lifting, I raised her mouth to mine, and gently, firmly nibbled that swollen lower lip. Her lipstick was both slick and adhesive, my tongue slipped between her lips and at the same time they were sealed to mine. My tongue dipped into the recesses of her mouth between her lips and gums, straight back toward her throat, up against her soft palate. I could feel a soft moan building deep inside her chest. I pulled away, returned to kiss her nose, her fluttering eyelids, and around to suck her earlobe inside my mouth. The moan I had felt now erupted up her throat and changed to a sigh, I felt her gentle breath against my shoulder.

During this time, my hands were not idle. I pushed her tank top up, over her graceful tit, holding her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Rolling, twisting, pushing in against her delicate boob. A pinch, a little too hard brings another gasp, a shiver starts at the base of her spine and travels up between her shoulder blades. I can smell the aroma of her excitement wafting up from between her legs. She broke away, took my hands in hers and tugged me into a standing position. "Not here, come." she said.

Walking backward, she led me across the room down the hall and into another room, her bedroom. Lacy curtains, twin beds, twin dressers, teddy bears, the smell of perfumes and cosmetics, a typical girl's/woman's room. She stood in the center, raised the tube top over her head, her little tits bounced only slightly. Bending at the waist, she pushed her shorts and panties down to her ankles at the same time and stepped out of them. She took the bottom hem of my T-shirt and with a fluid motion pulled it over my head. She dropped it amid the pile of her clothing on the floor. She reached for my belt, and without hesitation worked it loose. Nimbly she unfastened the snap of my Levis and the zipper followed.