I was driving home from a party when I had a blowout. Thank God I wasn’t driving at my usual speed or I might have lost control of the car. I steered the car to the side of the road but had no clue how to change the tire. There wasn’t another car in sight, and my phone was on low battery—an attempt to call my son drained it. With just a couple of hours till daylight, I decided to make the 20- minute walk to town. Even at 45 I’m in shape from running each morning, so I took the flashlight from the glove compartment, locked the doors and headed out.
I passed the bar where my friends and I hung out during college. The neon sign was dark and the closed sign was on the door, but it was only an hour past closing time, so I figured someone might be inside cleaning up. I looked in the window and sure enough just made out the silhouette of someone wiping down the bar. I knocked on the glass; the figure shook its head. I kept knocking until the figure came to the door, unlocked the locks and opened the door about six inches. “See the sign?” a deep voice said. The figure was tall.
“I know you’re closed. I just need to use the phone.”
“What for?” he asked.
“I’ve blown a tire and don’t know how to change it,” I said, “and my phone’s dead.” Did he think I was going to overpower him if he let me in to use the phone? “Look, you don’t have to let me in. Just let me borrow your cell so I can try to reach my son or call for a tow.” I could use a drink as well, but I wasn’t about to push my luck.
Those few seconds felt more like minutes. Finally he opened the door enough for me to slip in. Even with the limited lighting, the place looked the same. I had lots of good memories, including more than a few hook-ups in the back room. One time I’d given a boyfriend a lap dance in the corner booth. It turned out to be one of the best rides ever.
I heard the door lock behind me. I turned around and got my first good look at the guy. He looked to be about the same age as my son, mid-20s, and he was heart-stoppingly gorgeous! But he didn’t act like it. Most guys I’ve met that are hot are kind of stuck on themselves, but not him. He carried himself like he was more mature, more businesslike.
“There’s a phone near the bar,” he said.
“I know,” I said. “I’ve spent a lot of time here.”
“Really? I think I’d remember someone like you.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure you were still in grade school at the time,” I said while I checked the place out. “Is the back room still open?”
“It’s been padlocked for a while now,” he said. “My uncle told me stories about how he’d busted people screwing in there.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, remembering getting busted a couple of times myself.
“Don’t tell me he busted you,” he said. “Come on, you’re way too young.”
“Thanks, I’ll take the fifth,” I said, laughing. “But I have a son about your age.”
“Hard to believe,” he said.
We talked more, and then Miles and I were sitting at the bar drinking cocktails he made and swapping stories. I told him about my sexcapades on those premises, and he told me some of the strangest places he’d had sex. The raunchier our tales got, the more fun we had. Miles was attentive, and from what I saw interested not just in what I had to say but in me personally. He never took his eyes off me and asked lots of questions.
When it started to get light out I realized how long I’d been there and I hadn’t yet called the Auto Club for help. When I stood and reached over the bar for the phone instead of walking around it, I felt my skirt ride up, and knew I was flashing Miles. Trying to grab the phone with one hand while holding down my skirt with the other, I lost my balance. If Miles hadn’t grabbed me from behind, I might have landed on my head.
I felt his hands on my hips pull me back onto my feet.
“I can’t reach the phone,” I said as his hands, along with my skirt, moved up around my waist. He was standing behind me, and I felt the unmistakable ridge of his cock against my ass.
“I’m good at changing tires, Laura,” he said. “Are you in a hurry?”
“No,” I said, and that was all that I managed to say as his lips pressed against my neck and his hips pressed me against the bar. His big, hard body was making me vibrate from the inside out. My panties flooded as I arched my back and pushed my breasts into his hands. He got the hint and began to massage and knead them just the way I like. I moaned, letting him know I was on board with whatever he wanted to do. He looked like he’d be a fine fuck.
“It’s getting light out,” I said as I turned to kiss him. The kiss was deep, and tasted of rum and ginger beer from our drinks. “Is the back room open?”
“No, and I don’t think I can wait,” he said. “You’re so beautiful, and I want to fuck you so bad.”
I didn’t argue when Miles pulled down my panties and squeezed my ass cheeks. I didn’t say anything when I heard his zipper being lowered. I reached back and felt a cock that was not only thick but as long as any I’d encountered. I couldn’t wait for him to ram it into me.
It’s not that I was starved for sex. I’d hooked up with a friend several nights before. But doing it with Miles would be different. It wasn’t just the age difference, although I wasn’t used to fucking such a youngster. The real difference was that Miles really made me feel wanted. For me there’s no greater aphrodisiac than when a man makes me feel desired.
Miles said to hold onto the bar and spread my legs. I backed toward him and widened my stance as much as I could, but my panties were hindering my movements. Miles noticed my predicament and pulled them down to my ankles so I could step out of them.
“God, you’re wet,” he said. And silky-smooth, I thought, since I’d just been waxed.
I didn’t have to turn around to know Miles was about to get sidetracked. He’d gone down on his knees to go down on me. While he licked the insides of my thighs, he pushed his fingers in me. He pumped them in and out a few times, then pulled them out and sucked them. Then he used them to spread me open. I felt his tongue push inside me, then snake through my folds. Over and over, his fingers, lips and tongue teased and tormented me until an orgasm ripped through me powerful enough to bring me to my knees.
When I opened my eyes, the sun was rising and Miles was holding me against him.
“I still want to fuck you,” he said. “Let’s try out the back room.”
“Do you always fuck older women?” I asked.
“I don’t think of you as older,” he said. “You’re hot, and we got along good before I got you out of your panties.”
Yes, we’d enjoyed each other’s company, all right. He led the way to the back room and unlocked it. The room had been painted since I’d last seen it, and some of the furniture had been replaced. The sofa and chair looked as if they had been reupholstered—a good thing, as far as I was concerned. Miles shut the door behind us, then took off his shirt, dropped his pants and stepped out of them. No underwear!
While he sat on the sofa gazing hungrily, I unzipped my skirt and let it fall. I took my time unbuttoning my blouse, slipped it off and tossed it toward his head. He caught it and tossed it aside, then patted his hands on his thighs. I walked toward him, swaying my hips as I moved. When I reached him I knelt between his legs and ran my hands up and down his thighs. His cock was erect and wet with precome oozing from the fat head.
I cupped his balls and held his shaft with my other hand. It felt alive in my hand, like a purebred behind the gate itching to run. I lowered my head and licked him up one side and down the other, tracing the veins with my tongue. He moaned and groaned and threaded his fingers through my hair. “Oh yeah,” he moaned, “that’s good, Laura.”
He had no idea! He was big, but I could handle him. I opened wide, relaxed my throat and sucked him down. A spasm went through him and his fingers tightened into fists gripping my hair. I came up for air, then took him in deep again. I kept it up until he started to thrust. Then I pulled back and sucked his balls. I’d felt them start to draw up, and I didn’t want him to come until he was buried in my cunt.
I stood up and straddled Miles’s cock. Holding it straight up, I guided the head to my wet hole and slowly eased down. He was thick, but I was wetter than I’d been in a long time. We both moaned when he was seated inside me. At first I didn’t move. Then he pulled me down for a kiss and said my pussy felt amazing.
I gripped the back of the sofa, and he pulled my bra straps off my shoulders. He sucked my tits through the lace cups and pulled my sensitive nipples between his teeth. That made my inner muscles clench and ripple around his cock. I started rocking myself on it. When I began fucking him, he held me by my hips and thrust into me.
“Oh yeah, Miles,” I panted. “That’s it. Fuck me hard.”
He took me at my word. He flipped me on my back and with one foot on the floor started pounding my pussy. It felt so good, I screamed his name. I just let myself go, and he just kept fucking me. Finally he grunted, “Coming, Laura!” His pace slowed, and his last few thrusts filled me with come. He collapsed, pulling me over him.
We were both spent and sweaty. But I felt good too. That boy could fuck! I sat up and leaned down to give him a quick kiss.
“I really enjoyed that, Laura,” he said, lazily. “Where are you going?”
“My car—remember?” I said. “And I should probably call my son.”
“There’s a phone on the desk,” he said, “but I’m going to help you with the tire.”
I called my son. Then we got dressed. Miles drove us back to my car and got to work changing the tire. I offered to help, but he said he had it under control. I liked that. I never married my son’s father. It just didn’t work out—I was used to men offering to help but not really meaning it.
Miles took care of the tire and offered to change the oil for me.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “too busy running the bar for my uncle.” We started talking again and ended up screwing in the back of his car on the side of the road.
Miles has talked me into coming to the bar several times a week. We fuck in the back room, and then sometimes go to his place. I don’t worry about our relationship. It is what it is. As long as it lasts, I’ll make the most of it.
—A.E., Memphis, Tennessee