“Shit! Shitshhitshitshit!” Sarah quietly screamed, looking at the scrape on the back fender where she’d kissed the nearby post of the mall’s underground parkade. Tears welled in her eyes. “What am I going to do?” she lamented, beginning to hyperventilate, as she considered her husband’s response. She wasn’t even supposed to be using his pride and joy, a maroon Carerra 4. She wouldn’t have been either, except that her Audi was making weird noises.
Paul was going to be enraged! Unless… A thought came to her, mercifully. “Unless, I get it fixed before he gets home – and never tell him. Hmmmm.” She pondered as she got back into the car and exited the garage. “Yeah,” she said, aloud, feeling better already. Instead of going home, she drove directly to the dealer. She knew she had three days before her hubby got back from his business trip, and she naïvely expected that the people at the dealership could easily fix it in that time. She’d just have to scrape up all her available cash to pay for it. It simply wouldn’t do to have it repaired secretly only to have Paul discover the charge on a credit card bill.
And so it was that Sarah Henderson, a well put together, affluent, 29-year-old – attractively pert if somewhat naïve – pulled confidently into the customer parking of Lakeside Audi Porsche and strode up to the service counter.
When, after listening to her explanation, the service tech told her he could get her in on the following Thursday, Sarah became indignant – a subconscious attempt to hide her insecurity and fear. She demanded to speak to the manager.
“Fuck!” was Kyle Jacobs’ first reaction. He was the owner and defacto manager of the very successful dealership. Still, he set his jaw and prepared himself to pretend that – he sang the refrain to himself – ‘the customer is always right.’ He was used to dealing with arrogant assholes. Approaching Sarah at the service manager’s desk, Kyle took in the luscious figure she cut, standing there doing a poor job of disguising her worry. “This might not be so bad,” he thought. “At least she’ll be easy on the eyes.”
Sarah rushed into her explanation – making it more of a babbling plea than she intended – telling Kyle how she needed to make it right before her husband got home in three days. While she was speaking it suddenly clicked.
“You’re Paul Henderson’s wife.” Kyle interrupted – a statement more than a question. When Sarah nodded, still a little befuddled, he went on, “He’s one of our regular customers.” He neglected to add that he was considered a real egotistical prick throughout the shop. A kernel of an idea started to percolate in the back of Jacobs’ head – “…hardly worth considering, still…” he thought, before announcing cheerily, “Of course we can make it right, Mrs. Henderson. Just give us a couple of days.” Sarah was so relieved she was giddy, so much so that she didn’t even ask what it would cost. “Oh my God! This is great! Thank you, thank you!” Kyle had the body shop boys take on the job, then, he guided Sarah through the paper work. Watching her surreptitiously, Kyle got a few lewd ideas, and thought to himself, “When opportunity knocks…;” still, he initially pushed them aside – although not completely out of mind.
Taking her by the elbow, Jacobs led her out of the shop, offering to drive her home. Sarah blithely accepted a ride, not in courtesy shuttle, but in Jacobs’ A8. She failed to consider it odd that she was being driven home by the manager. Nothing untoward happened other than some subtle leering – Kyle watched Sarah closely, as they drove; looking for clues – to something – and as they neared her home she suddenly blurted out, “Oh, yeah! I also need to pay cash for this work, because I can’t risk leaving a credit card trail that Paul might discover.”
“A bit of a bimbo,” Kyle thought as he watched her make her way to her front door. “But I’d still plow her garden, given the opportunity,” he thought, adding in the back recesses of his mind, as he pulled away, “and I just might!”
In the afternoon, two days later, Jacobs called. “All done,” he said. “Good as new!”
“Oh thank goodness!” Sarah exclaimed, her relief almost palpable.
“We’ll bring it around after work this evening.”
Fussing about, Sarah pulled together all of her cash savings and ‘mad money’ and then sat to wait for them, unable to do anything except sip a glass of wine.
The crew – three guys besides Jacobs, arrived at her house with the Porsche, and the company courtesy car – a Eurovan. She was very impressed with the job but, even at the ‘beautiful damsel in distress’ discounted rate she was rather short cash.
With a sly nod to his employees, Jacobs casually suggested that they might be able to make a further discount if she were to convince them all – say with a kiss each. She was a little taken aback but eventually acceded. Jacobs was first. “No,” he reprimanded, “not just a peck. A real kiss! Something with passion!” She kissed Kyle again – this time with much more vigor – much more passion. Then Max, the first of the techies, stepped up and received a real smooch.
After two smoking hot kisses, the third guy, Pete, said he wanted his kiss on his chest – stripping off his shirt. Sarah giggled, looking around nervously, but agreed. During the kiss Pete guided her lips to his nipple. Someone snapped a phone picture. Arnie, the fourth guy, wanted the same.
Max complained, getting into the game, “No fair!” He said he wanted more than just a mouth kiss; he wanted his kiss on her chest. Sarah, flabbergasted at this, looked to Jacobs for support, but he just smiled and nodded. Sarah stood frozen as Max pulled her blouse open and flipped her bra up off her breasts. Immediately he dropped his mouth and voraciously sucked, first one nipple, then the other. More clandestine pictures were taken. Now Pete wanted more, too. He managed to talk her into sucking his nipples while he mauled her boobs.
Continuing – furthering the shameless manipulation, Jacobs unzipped and said he wanted his kiss on the end of his cock. Sarah balked. “No, no. This has gone far enough – too far already!” she announced – trying to make her voice full of resolve. But Kyle just nodded to one of his boys. Smiling evilly, Arnie showed Sarah some of the pictures on his phone. And she was just as suddenly deflated; her reluctance overcome by the implied possibility of blackmail. Jacobs pushed inexorably down on her shoulders, forcing her to her knees.
“Delightful,” Kyle thought, looking down on her exposed boobs, hanging free beneath her flipped bra. Face to face with his turgid member, Sarah paused, then tentatively surrendered to the inexorable pressure of Kyle’s hands, pushing her head from behind. His helmeted head bobbing impatiently, he pulled her lips toward his cock-head, then waited until she’d reluctantly leaned in and planted a bona fide kiss on his plum.
“Okay, then,” he said abruptly, pulling her to her feet. “Good girl!” He smiled warmly at her, before announcing, “I think that that’s pretty much made up half of the shortfall.” He paused and looked about, before adding, “Don’t you think, guys?” When they all nodded he went on, “and another round or two should do it, eh?”
Then, in a preemptive move, Kyle grabbed Sarah by the shoulders again, and mashed his lips against hers, pulling, at the same time, her blouse down her arms, unclasping her hanging bra, and pulling it off completely, leaving her tits bare and exposed. With a hand at the nape of her neck, holding her in his lip-lock, his other hand began to mercilessly maul her boobs, to a chorus of, “No fair!” “I want some of that!” “Hey, it’s my turn!” “Don’t be a tit hog!” In the instant, the boys descended on her like a pack of dogs – all hands and lips to start. But they demanded more and more. Her breath came ragged through the insistent kissing; her hands flailed ineffectively warding off the groping assault; a hand slipped into the front of her pants, its fingers finding – finding and strumming her enflamed clit. Eventually, inevitably her resistance evaporated in the flare of an unexpected orgasm. It hit her so hard her knees buckled. Kyle slipped his hands under her arms and lowered her gently to the floor. She groggily scrambled onto all fours – dazed and tingling.
She felt a sort of glittering, hyper-stimulation lurking just beyond the fog that was obscuring her alertness – and a realization gradually dawned on her: she had to admit to herself that she had never been so aroused in her entire life! And that puzzled her. Sarah’s consciousness returned just in time for Max to feed her his erection – which she readily accepted – working her jaw and her lips as she fitted her mouth around the invader. Pete, seizing the moment, immediately set to removing her pants, then swiftly pushed into her – her pulsating twat slick from her surprise climax.
Suddenly, like she’d been born to it, Sarah was taking on the bunch – moving from prick to prick – sucking, swallowing, cleaning; all the while thrusting her hips and dipping her back to accommodate whoever was poking her from behind. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she rationalized, “May as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.”
Her husband called while she was being double-teamed – his special ring calling in vain from the pocket of her discarded pants. She let it go to voicemail. She’d later tell him she was out in the garden.
While her participation had, indeed, been coerced, she knew that she had surrendered to the tide of carnal pleasure, without much protest. And she’d had three climaxes in one afternoon. She hadn’t previously had three in a week.
At some point during the afternoon, during the exquisite sex, Sarah came to the sad realization that Paul was, not to put too fine a point on it, a lousy lover. Certainly a tumble in bed with him was generally long enough, but basically it was, she could see now, just a drawn out wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. Even these rogues were more – much more – concerned with her happiness, her arousal, her release. And finally, as they, one by one, pulled out, dressed, and assembled at the door, looking a little embarrassed even – except for Mr. Jacobs, who looked smug – Sarah felt just a little bereft, like her newly invigorated life-source was abandoning her.
The four of them muttered compliments and thanks and good-byes, before wandering out the door, and driving away in the dealership’s van. “Did the neighbours wonder why they had taken so long?” Sarah pondered briefly, suddenly unable to wipe the smile from her face. The sheer naughtiness of what she’d just done – she didn’t even consider it as ‘what had been done to her’ – had her buzzing. Glowing!
Then her husband came home, and life went on. Mind you, over the next few weeks she often found herself reliving the ‘sexperience’; becoming so damp and tingling she’d need to pause and slow her breathing. Watching TV, shopping, doing the laundry, she’d find herself perspiring – her body glistening at the memories of the – what? The incident? The assault? The orgy? A few times, when the recollection came over her home alone, she even masturbated – something she hadn’t done in many years – achieving an intense climax as she reminisced over the experience.
It was well over a month later that she could finally recall the event without getting horny and flustered. It became more like a dream than a memory – the memory of a dream – a very erotic dream!
Then, one day, dear Paul had to take the Porsche into the dealership, complaining about something – real or imagined – and before long was causing a ruckus. “As usual!” Jacobs muttered to himself as he entered the shop intending placate his asshole customer. But Sarah’s husband was in fine form – huffing and puffing and threatening and complaining.
Returning to his office after doing his best to defuse the situation, Jacobs realized his entire crew was now aggravated and on edge. “Okay, Mr. Henderson!” Kyle chuckled to himself, “we can fix this.” Sitting down at his desk, he scrolled through his contact list then lifted the phone and called Sarah’s cell. “Hello Sarah. It’s Kyle Jacobs down at the dealership. Paul’s down here and he a bit upset. I wonder if we can get you down here to help soothe the situation?”
Caught off-guard, Sarah couldn’t be sure if it was a request or a command. “Er, yeah,” she muttered. “Okay, if you think it will help.”
As she paused, considering logistics, Jacobs jumped right in. “Great! I’ll send up the shuttle right away. Five minutes. All right?” Before she could reply, he added confidently, “See you in a few minutes then,” and rang off.
The young mechanic who picked her up and delivered her to the employee lounge – not one of those whom she had met before – was very deferential, as he presented her to his boss, but his eyes scanned her hungrily as he took his leave. He had vaguely heard rumours, and wondered. “Hello Mr. Jacobs.” Sarah said, trying to control the quaver in her voice. “Will you take me to see Paul, so I can calm him down now?”
“No Sarah,” Kyle smirked, “That’s not the way it’s going to work.” He waited a moment to watch Sarah’s eyes grow round. “You see, Paul doesn’t need to know you’re here. Just like he doesn’t need to know about your incident way back when.” He stood and walked casually toward her. “I just need you to spread some goodwill among ‘the boys’, to make it easier for them to deal with your hubby.
Sarah’s mouth dropped open, her breath suddenly coming in short, shallow gasps. She already knew the answer to the obvious next question, but she felt she had to ask – as if it was scripted that way. “How am I going to do that?” she whispered.
“Just like you did the other time,” Jacobs replied matter-of-factly. “Here you can begin with me,” he added, nonchalantly fishing out his already turgid cock.
Sarah stood, petrified, for a long moment. A shiver ran through her, leaving her body trembling with anticipation. As her eyes fell to the growing erection jutting from Kyle’s fly, a tingle of thrill ignited deep within her, the recollection of her previous orgy bright again in her memory
Grinning broadly, Jacobs spelled it out. “Just, you understand, so we all know what we’re on about here.” He huffed a big breath, as if to dispel unpleasant memories, then went on. “I was so angry with your hubby, this morning, I almost showed him the pictures and video we’d collected on our phones – from that earlier event.” He shook his head, as if to signify what a close call it had been.
“Oh my God!!” Sarah gasped silently, “They have me on video! What if they show someone? Anyone? How could I ever live it down?” She stared at Jacobs, shocked, her mouth hanging open. Still, another thought rose, unbidden, in her brain. “What do I look like – in those videos?” And a tingling, curious, titillation pinballed through her as she ran erotic scenes across the screens of her mind.
“Just to clarify, you understand. I’m not implying any threat here;” although they both knew he was. He went on to suggest that if she’d reprise her part in the earlier orgy, it’d make it a lot easier for them all to deal with her asshole husband. Watching her closely, he hadn’t added, “If not, well, who knew what might become of all those pictures and movies,” although he was pretty sure she understood.
Realizing her position, Sarah deliberately pulled her sagging body erect, and whispered, “Okay.” And despite it all, as she moved forward and dropped to her knees before Jacobs, she felt a glimmer of arousal kindling deep in her psyche. Grasping Kyle’s bobbing cock with both hands, and tentatively touching her tongue to the tip, caused the hardening prick to twitch, and the jerking member caused a flare of excitement to shimmer up her spine. She opened her mouth and pushed her rounded lips fully over the proffered cock, quickly getting into an oral rhythm.
Jacobs casually explained his expectations. “The boys will be coming up here one or two or three at a time. All you need to do is make them feel good so that they can be more agreeable to fuck-face down there. Objecting silently to the nasty reference to her husband – after all, he was still her husband – she moaned her acknowledgement inarticulately around the tool in her mouth.
Kyle abruptly stopped her mid-felatio and pulled her to her feet. Sarah momentarily thought she’d done something wrong, until Jacobs said smoothly, “We’d better get you undressed. Wouldn’t want to soil your lovely outfit.” Sarah stood trance-like as he helped her out of her clothes, and folded them neatly on a side shelf. Then he sat her on the couch. She folded her hands on her lap, feeling both self-conscious and giddy. Jacobs flipped on the intercom; his “Okay!” echoed through the establishment. Returning his attention to the picture of naked innocence in front of him, he pulled Sarah forward, guiding her onto her knees on the carpet, once again, to finish his blow-job.
The first employee to arrive was Max, a participant in the earlier debauch. At first Sarah’s reluctance battled with her growing anticipation, but eventually a rather unfamiliar wantonness overpowered her sense of propriety, and her resistance vanished like smoke in the wind. She felt Max caressing her backside, stroking his fingers under to her moistening pussy, just as Kyle pulled himself deep into her throat and emptied his load into her gullet. After only the briefest moment to catch her breath and clear her throat, Max had flipped her onto her back, and was urgently pushing his woodie into her. She threw he legs across his back, and, hooking her ankles together, assisted his deep insertion.
After that it was simply a carnal whirlwind – she sucked and fucked all comers – the entire shop contingent – two at a time, even three, when she gave up her ass. Sarah was not an anal virgin, but close to it; however, with the amount of fluids in and around her genitals, the pressing erection slipped in slick as a whistle, with virtually no discomfort. After that her third orifice was available to any and all. In the back of her mind she silently made the wry observation that, with that, she had surrendered herself fully – surrendered herself to the lewd and lascivious demands of her what? Admirers? Lovers? Captors? But not rapists – not any longer. She was amazed at how quickly she had become an eager accomplice in her own degeneration.
The time passed in a miasma of slick, slapping flesh, and sweat and cum, and groans and growls. The rampant erections just kept presenting themselves, pushing into available holes, thrusting and pumping into whatever orifice was available. Sarah wondered just how many people worked in the shop – sure some had used her more than once – probably some more than twice.
At some point, later in the revelry Sarah’s cell rang; but she didn’t hear it, as she was lying on her back, legs waggling in the air, arms around the anonymous neck, actively receiving another pounding fuck. Jacobs swiftly retrieved the phone, and, determining it was her hubby calling, pushed it into her face. “Answer it!”
Giving Jacobs a confounded look, she took the device. “This afternoon is just too weird,” she concluded, resignedly. Taking a moment to compose herself, her partner thankfully lowering the intensity of his thrusting for the moment, she answered. She thought she sounded breathless, but her husband was too busy complaining to notice.
“Jesus, the service around here is the shits! It’s taking longer than expected. They keep saying ‘another half hour’, but it seems to me the mechanics keep disappearing. They sure seem to have a hell of a lot of breaks.” He paused in his rant, to heave a frustrated sigh. Sarah strove to settle her own heaving breath, in the pause. “I’ll be home a bit later, but probably still within the hour.”
As soon as she disconnected, her rider, accelerated, pulling Sarah to a sudden, intense climax – her umpteenth of the afternoon – she’d lost count. He came himself, at the same time, deep and loud, depositing yet another load, among the litres of semen sloshing about in her snatch; then he pulled out, leaving Sarah feeling a bit abandoned, even after such a long bout. “Paul thinks he’ll get home in an hour,” Sarah told Jacobs, as he handed her a towel.
“Don’t worry,” he replied, “we’ll give you enough time; but you’ll have to shower at home,” as he passed her her clothing. All the staff had returned to the shop when Kyle whisked Sarah home in the van, sticky and slick beneath her clothing. Uncharacteristically, Kyle said, as Sarah got out in the driveway, “Thanks for being such a good sport.”
She replied sharply, “I didn’t have much choice, did I?” But she really didn’t know how felt about it, as she virtually ran for the shower. Perhaps the thanks were sincere; perhaps she felt all right about that.
She was sparkly clean, casual in her sweater and jeans, when Paul got home. He huffed and puffed, complaining about the service and the car and even the Germans, until Sarah handed him a drink, and the household slipped quietly back into a comfortable routine.
After months of privately reliving the experience, quietly masturbating to recollections of the orgy, Sarah showed up one day at the dealership, unannounced. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Jacobs, please.” She was wearing a short, gray, stretch-jersey dress, with a scoop neck and cap sleeves. The Spandex material gripped her curves, which were unmarred by underwear – neither panties nor bra. As her heels clicked up the stairs, and she approached the manager’s door, her high-beams, stiffening tit-buds, pushing out at the tips of her firm breasts, and becoming increasingly conspicuous, led the way.
Sarah tentatively tapped, and without waiting for a response, pushed the office door open. She stood in the doorway until Kyle looked up, a surprised smile crossing his face. “I was wondering, Mr. Jacobs,” she began, in an almost coy voice, “do I have to wait until my husband pisses you off again, or can I bank a little goodwill?”