Becoming the Greasemonkey’s Dirty Slut. Category: Quick and Dirty
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Welcome to ‘Becoming the Greasemonkey’s Dirty Slut’, a little piece of filthy short fiction about getting more than just my car serviced by the local hot mechanic. Approximately a 7 minute read.
It hadn’t been the best day. I’d been hoping to work from home but had, instead, been obliged to go into the office for mandatory training followed by an interminable team meeting at the end of the afternoon. My car, usually reliable, was poorly and needed the attention of a skilled pair of hands. Frankly, so did I. I hadn’t had a skilled pair of hands, except my own, between my legs for far too long. I didn’t have time to worry about that right now. The meeting had ended late, and now I had to rush to the garage, before they closed, to collect my car, which I needed to retrieve now so that I could leave at silly o’clock tomorrow morning for a long weekend away with my best friend. Frankly, it was all extra stress I didn’t need.
I managed to catch the garage with only 5 minutes to spare and was ushered through to the little office at the back of the shop. The owner, Mike, printed off my invoice while he told me what the issue had been – nothing too much to worry about, but it was a good thing I had gotten it fixed rather than try to drive halfway across the country tomorrow.
I fancy Mike. He’s older than me, and not my usual sort. He is, I suppose, a ‘bit of rough’, with tattooed arms and seemingly permanent stubble, but he has a muscular physique and twinkly eyes. He also seems to like flirting with me when I come in. He wasn’t flirting now, though; he was looking a little impatient as I rummaged fruitlessly in my bag.
***
‘Shit! I’ve left my purse in my drawer at work!’
‘Oh. That old chestnut.’
‘No, I really have. Shit, shit, shit.’
‘Never mind – you can come in tomorrow and pick your car up then.’
I was a bit taken aback. ‘But… but I’ve been coming here for ages. You know I’m good for it. Anyway, I can’t come in tomorrow – I’m going away for the weekend.’
‘If I made exceptions, soon everybody would be taking the piss. Sorry. Rules is rules. I need to close up now: I’ll see you tomorrow.’
We stood looking across the counter at each other. My desperation must have been writ large on my face because I saw a look, a sly look, in his eyes.
‘We could come to an arrangement…’
‘What? Yes, anything.’
‘Maybe you could do a little favour for me, and I’ll let you take the car, and you can settle up when you get back from your weekend. I’d give you a reduction on the bill too.’
I immediately knew what he was suggesting and felt a sudden rush of emotions: disgust, then anger, then desperation at my situation, and then, perplexingly, horniness. I felt a twinge between my legs. Mike looked at me in amusement. ‘I’m going to need a decision. If it’s a no, I’ll have to ask you to leave so I can close up.’
***
Thirty seconds later Mike was standing in front of me, his powerful, grease-stained fingers gripping my arse as he pressed his tongue into my mouth. There was a faintly stale taste of cigarettes, and I was glad that I was wearing a black mini: at least he wouldn’t ruin it with his big, grubby hands. Those grubby hands, which had now hitched the skirt up and were exploring the milky white flesh of my thighs and backside, framed by the black stockings and suspenders which I was wearing underneath. I was being handled. Firmly and a bit roughly. I would never have admitted it at that moment, but I loved it and was already wet. He pulled back.
‘Time’s wasting, Darlin’. He said with a lascivious look. I didn’t immediately understand, so he took my right hand and placed it firmly on the crotch of his overalls, which seemed to be concealing an impressive erection. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it’s not gonna suck itself.’
***
I knelt on the squalid carpet; it might have been a colour once, but now it was just uniformly dirty brown. Mike was in no time to hang about – perhaps his wife would have his dinner waiting for him, I wondered – and pulled his impressive cock from its confinement. To be honest, having worked all day in the garage, it didn’t smell too fresh, but my mind was focused on keeping my weekend plans intact. I gingerly took hold of it and slid it between my lips. I ignored the salty, unwashed flavour and concentrated on the job in hand, or mouth, in this case. Mike groaned as I began to move my mouth up and down his shaft, feeling it swelling further. My, my; he was quite a big boy, and with my tongue flicking across the underside of his glans, he was now rock hard and throbbing. I could feel my pussy throb too as I worked away, God, I was soaking. I needed to do something – it had been a depressingly long time since I had been relieved by someone else, but it seemed that Mike was intent on filling my mouth with his cum rather than concerning himself with my needs. I slipped my left hand down and into my knickers, confirming, as if I needed to, that I was saturated. I brushed my fingertips across my clitoris and shuddered, hard enough for Mike, who was leaning back against the counter with his eyes closed, to take notice.
***
‘You want some, too, do you?’ He said gruffly. ‘Well, I think we should do something about that, then.’ He reached down, taking hold of my upper arm, and pulled me to my feet, then led me through the door into the workshop area. ‘I’m going to fuck you on the pile of old tires,’ he said. ‘What do you think about that?’ I wasn’t thinking much at all, actually. If I had been, I would probably not be doing this at all and I knew that later tonight when I thought about this episode there would probably be a certain amount of self-loathing to deal with but here, right now, I wanted his cock, in me, as fast as possible.
We reached the piles of old tires stacked up, higgledy-piggledy, in the corner of the workshop. Mike positioned me in front of a lower pile, one that I could get a knee up on to steady myself. He roughly turned me around and yanked my knickers to one side. I felt his rough hands on my stockinged thighs – he was bound to snag them with his calloused hands – and then on my arse. There, a hot, hard cock, then oh shit, oh fuck, he was in me and pushing forwards. He was big and extremely hard, but I was so wet that it was the work of a few moments before he was in me to the hilt. I nearly came then and there and steadied myself against the grimy tires as he began to thrust, purposefully into my saturated pussy. He gripped me by the top of my miniskirt with one hand and grabbed the back of my hair with the other, twisting it in his big hand as he pumped.
***
God, I needed this. There was no gentlemanly finesse about Mikes technique; he was a working man and he was fucking me in a no-nonsense, workmanlike way, and I loved it. His hips slapped against the white globes of my arse, driving my face against a filthy old tire. I felt my lubrication trickling down my inner thigh as he pounded and, reaching a finger to my sparking clit, I began to crest the wave. It didn’t take too long before we were at the point of no return and came together, more by luck than any design. I slumped, jerking against the tyre wall in front of me, the filth and grime reinforcing my feelings of seediness and amplifying my orgasm. I was a dirty, dirty girl in every possible respect, I thought.
Mike knocked 25% off my bill and let me take my car. I left with my knickers soaked in our combined fluids. Upon arriving home and finding that I was still horny as hell and not, in fact, wracked with self-loathing, I lay on my bed in my dirty, grease-marked clothes, smudged face and laddered stockings. I plunged, with my filthy hand, my favourite vibrator into myself, well lubricated with Mike’s semen, which oozed from me as I thrust away, replaying my sordid adventure in my head and jolting to a shuddering second orgasm.
Hmm… Maybe I should try to negotiate a good price to get my exhaust pipe sorted?
Love, Jaimie XX
Links and Stuff
I hope you enjoyed this little tale. I’m aiming to try to balance the longer stories with some more short fiction like this as time goes along (by which I define as being a story less than 1500 words long). Firstly, I want to work on my short-story chops, but also, the longer stories do take quite a long time to write and edit, and there’s only so many hours in the day! If you fancy a longer read, may I suggest this slice of filth for your consideration?
2 thoughts on “Becoming the Greasemonkey’s Dirty Slut”
I love how this story is a great example of the advantages of shorter stories. It may lack in the details and the slow build of a longer story, but what it lacks in those, it makes up for in immediate impact. :biting_lip:
Thank you, Sarah! You make a good point, and it’s one which I’ve been mulling over. My natural inclination is to lean into longer pieces just because it does allow time to develop themes and characters. Not everybody wants that so I do try to mix in some short flash-fiction as well.
I’m not aware of many other erotica writers who are regulalry posting 2500+ word pieces so I suppose longer stories are kind of a USP for me. I do recognise that it’s important to keep the shorter stuff coming as well, and, happily I enjoy wiritng both types!
Jxx