Car trouble en engelsk kortnovell

Det var många män som hörde av sig och berättade om sina upplevelser med äldre kvinnor efter att ha läst min novell Krokimodellen. Men kvinnorna som haft en affär eller ett förhållande med en yngre man lyste med sin frånvaro. Så jag gjorde som jag brukar och la ut en lite efterlysning på Instagram och genast var det en kvinna som hörde av sig. Hon är gift och det här är hennes stora hemlighet. När hon berättade om sitt äventyr var det inte den klassiska affären utan här var det helt på hennes villkor. Hon har även berättat historien som förklarar varför hon valde att göra som hon gjorde för mig men den är hennes egen och inget jag väljer att dela med er.

Det jag gillar med den här historien är att det är hennes val, hennes njutning och hennes villkor. Hon berättade att hon skrivit ner upplevelsen som en kort novell som jag fick läsa. Jag tyckte den passade in här i samband med mina Heta samtal om åldersskillnad och frågade om jag fick dela den med er. Och hon sa ja!

Jag lovar att det är den enda engelska novellen ni kommer hitta här på Heta stunder.

Så varsågod, läs och njut. 

Car trouble

The thing about being a car owner is that it is somewhat a necessary evil. If you live where I do, pretty far away from the nearest city and somewhat outside the civilisation you really don’t have much of a choice. Sure, I probably could find a way to get to and from work every day with busses or such… but last time I checked it would mean leaving for work a good two and a half hours earlier than I do now - and get home in the evening approximately the same amount of time later. It really isn’t very tempting. 

The car we own is neither new nor very old, it’s somewhere in between and it usually works pretty well… but the car, same as it’s owner, has reached an age when there is bound to turn up some problems sooner or later. When it comes to the car; that time is now.

I just got it back from the yearly service and apart from doing the service the work shop has noted several more or less urgent things that need to be looked after or fixed on the car. They also kindly has given me a price offer that gave me the hickups. It would cost me the better part of one months salary to get everything in order the way they suggest. 

Standing outside the workshop looking through that offer I’m feeling more and more frustrated

and helpless. I don’t know shit about cars and I certainly won’t be able to fix this on my own… still it needs to be done if I want to be able to continue getting to and from work and thus earn myself some money. 

I’m suddenly struck by the realization that I actually have a former colleague who used to work with cars, but has now changed career. He is roughly half my age, but we always did get along very well while working together. Maybe he could be able to help me out, he probably still has some connections and could possibly manage to get me a better price. 

Pulling out my mobile I scroll through the contacts and there he is. I’ll just have to swallow my pride and send him a message, asking if he could be of service. 

Helpful as always he immediately offers to check up what the price would be on the parts needed and get back to me with a new and hopefully less expensive offer. 

It’s only a few hours later when a “ping” on my mobile tells me there is a message for me - and there it is. A new offer with parts bought at the same price he himself would get, since he still has an in with the firm he used to work as a mechanic. It is a little confusing, though, because he hasn’t written anything about the cost for the actual work, I mean - these things won’t just get themselves into place on my car. I send him an answer, thanking him for the offer… but isn’t there something missing? There probably will be a fee for the work too, won’t it? 

The answer takes longer than I had anticipated, I just figured he’d forgotten to write in the sum for the hours it will take to repair my vehicle. I really would like to know how much of a hole this procedure will cause in my economy, so I send another sms to remind him.

This time it doesn’t take more than seconds before the answer arrives in my phone. Only it isn’t the answer I expected. There are no numbers and the message starts with the emoji that covers its eyes, seeming embarrassed… and the words that follow are not what I thought they’d be. He writes that he always did have a very keen eye to me when we worked alongside and that he, as a matter of fact, has considered me to be somewhat of a so-called MILF - only without the children. What he suggests as a fee for doing the work on my car… is actually doing some work at me. He wants to go down on me in return for getting my car in order. I stare at the message, because I’m not sure I’ve understood his suggestion correctly - and if I have, then how to react… and I definitely can’t understand it. This guy is almost half my age - or at least twenty years younger. He’s popular, fun to be around and why the heck would he be interested in going down on a middle aged woman, I am old enough to be his mother, had I been prone to reproduction..! 

Shaking my head I start writing an answer, telling him that he is mad… but for some reason I cannot make myself press the send button. The message and the idea of him going down on me has most definitely made my brain start producing the most explicit pictures - and I’d be telling lies if I said it didn’t turn me on. Before I’m fully aware of what I’m doing I’ve deleted the answer I had written, that he oughtn’t make fun of me, a married woman,  like that - and that he’d just better tell me the actual price for getting the job done… and I’ve just kept the part about me being married. I continue the message, telling him that I wouldn’t, couldn’t be an active part in what he has suggested - but that I am positive to the suggestion apart from that. I quickly press the send button, before my mind - and for that matter; my morale! - stops me. I’m staring at the screen, equal parts excited and terrified. What on earth have I done? Have I gone mad? The screen hasn’t even gone black before a new message arrives. He knows and accepts the fact that I won’t actually DO anything… and wants to know if next Monday would be a good day for the repair. 

My heart is pounding and my body is tingling all over. I take a deep breath and send a message to my husband, asking if he has any plans for Monday or if it would be a good day to get the car repaired? “No plans, go along with the plan” comes his reply and I send a confirming text to the guy who will repair my car and lick my pussy - most likely in that order - that it’s a go. 

During the days leading to Monday my brain is playing tricks on me and every other thing I hear or see seems to be a reminder of what’s to come. I’ve agreed to wear a dress and no panties when arriving at the garage where my car and my pussy will be taken care of - for practical reasons. These days it seems I am constantly horny and I’m almost a bit worried that my wetness will show. It is, for sure, much easier to hide one's excitement when one is a woman - but a wet spot on the dress will be rather revealing nonetheless. Oh well, I’ll just handle that problem when it occurs. To have the weekend off and to look forward to Monday, that is not my default mode - I like my job, there are even days when I think that destiny made sure I’d end up doing this, but most of the time it is mainly a way to earn my pay. This particular Monday, though, is something different completely. 

The day is busy and the time flies by… and soon enough it is time to clock out and get in the car for my garage date. We have agreed that he will get to work undisturbed with my car for an hour or so while I keep busy elsewhere - to make sure that no distractions make his work unsafe in any way… but I honestly get the feeling that it hasn’t worked out completely. When I show up he is muttering and mumbling to himself, it seems the car has put up some resistance to his advances. There seems to be some trouble regarding the handbrake and the battery… and after a few unsuccessful tries to get things in order he sighs and says that the battery had better get some time to load up - and meanwhile, there’s a place nearby he has been meaning to show me. 

He leads me through a dark warehouse and up some rackety stairs to an attic. The blue light from the naked lightbulbs are merciless and even though the area is unusually neat for a storage it is nonetheless a storage. He steps in close and runs his hands over my breasts, down my waist and around to my ass. I’m wearing a red dress and on request I have taken off my panties, they are stuffed into my handbag that still stands by the car in the garage. The smooth fabric of my dress caresses my thighs when he grabs my behind and presses me towards him. The situation is both absurd and tense and arousing and my body reacts to his touches. He unbuttons the three heart shaped buttons on the front of the dress and pulls the fabric to the sides, revealing the top of my breasts, then pushes the cups down and away. My nipples are almost painfully sensitive and I am so grateful that he doesn’t fall for the classic “grab and pull”, he just lets my breasts fill his hands and squeezes gently. My nipples get even more stiff against the palm of his hand. Then he swings me around, pressing me close and I clearly feel his cock hardening against my ass while he runs his hands up and down my body. His warm breath on my neck makes me want to close my eyes and just lean in - but then I get a firm push and he motions for me to sit down on the chair standing in the middle of the floor, surrounded by storage shelves. I obediently do as instructed and look up on him. He nods at my legs and I slowly spread my thighs, watching him intently to see if I’ve interpreted him right. It seems I have, so my next move is to slowly pull the hem of my dress higher and higher over my naked thighs until I almost have revealed my pussy. That’s when he gets down on his knees before me and for a second or an eternity I feel the warmth of his breath before the soft wetness of his tongue lands on my pussy, spreading my pussy lips and circling my clit. I hear my own exhalation echo among the shelves and his fingers inside me and that warm tongue caressing my pussy is enough to make my head spin. 

It’s a very peculiar feeling to have someone you know, but didn’t before consider that way, go down on you - and the fact that we are in a forbidden place; his workplace! where someone theoretically could walk in on us any second… it is both exciting and arousing in itself - but at the same time it makes it kind of hard to relax and just relish the feeling… and the fact that my cunt is getting seriously eaten out by someone who appears to really enjoy it, not just doing it to get to the part when he gets to fuck me - since that is not on the menu. He knows all too well that I won’t be returning the favour by sucking his cock, nor will he get to fuck me. This really is just because he claims to find joy in giving me pleasure. It’s really f**king amazing - and I’m not sure I’ve ever had that before. 

I have to beg him to slow down a few times, my clitoris is very unused to this kind of attention

and my whole body is extremely sensitive… but before too long the orgasm builds inside me and my legs, my tummy, my spine starts to shiver. It’s building to an orgasm that beats anything I’ve had in years - I am shaking from head to toe and it’s a bloody good thing there aren’t anyone else left in the building, because my cries would have alerted a deaf person. 

When I’ve calmed down a little bit and am able to breathe properly again this big laugh just bubbles up from within. It’s a laugh of pure joy, the kind of laugh that comes after a magnificent orgasm and even though it feels like every bone in my body has turned to jello… I feel utterly good. 

I have to take a couple of minutes collecting myself before I manage the stairway down and back into the garage. Obviously my exceptional good mood has influenced the car in a similar way and by now everything works out with the handbrake. 

Only… all the material hasn’t arrived - so we will have to make a new appointment… to fix the rest. Well, yes, and possibly get me another orgasm.