Grease and Cunt - Chapter 1: The Spark | Free Erotic Story

The late summer heat clung to Lila Voss like a second skin as she pulled her rattling sedan into Holt’s Auto Shop. The engine sputtered its last breath, and she cursed under her breath, wiping sweat from her brow. The place was a grimy cathedral of metal and grease—tools scattered across the concrete floor, the air thick with the tang of motor oil and burnt rubber. She stepped out, her sandals clicking against the pavement, and adjusted her sundress, the thin fabric sticking to her thighs. She’d chosen it for the heat, but now it felt like a tease she hadn’t intended. Damien Holt emerged from the back, a shadow in the dim light of the garage. Shirtless, his lean frame glistened with sweat, a smear of grease streaking across his tattooed chest. His dark hair was mussed, and his jaw, rough with stubble, tightened as he wiped his hands on a rag. Lila’s eyes flicked downward, unbidden, to the bulge in his faded jeans. The denim hugged his crotch, outlining what had to be a thick cock, the kind that could stretch a pussy wide. She bit her lip, heat pooling between her legs, her clit giving a traitor’s throb. “Car trouble?” His voice was low, gravelly, like he’d smoked too much and fucked even more. He tossed the rag aside and stepped closer, close enough that she caught the scent of him—sweat and steel, raw and male. “Yeah,” she said, forcing her gaze up to his face. His eyes, dark and sharp, locked onto hers, and she swore he smirked, like he’d caught her staring at his dick. “It’s been making this rattling noise. Figured I’d get it checked before it dies on me.” He nodded, circling the car like a predator sizing up prey. “Pop the hood,” he said, and she did, leaning into the driver’s seat, aware of how her dress rode up her thighs. She didn’t adjust it. Let him look. Damien bent over the engine, his hands moving with a mechanic’s precision—long fingers, calloused and sure, probing the machinery. She imagined those hands on her, spreading her pussy lips, sliding inside her cunt while she moaned his name. Her nipples hardened against the thin cotton of her dress, and she shifted, pressing her thighs together to ease the ache in her clit. It didn’t help. She was wet already, the dampness soaking into her panties. “Looks like a loose belt,” he said, straightening up. He grabbed a wrench from the workbench, his biceps flexing, and leaned back over the engine. “Won’t take long.” “Good,” she replied, her voice a little too husky. She leaned against the car, watching him work, her eyes drifting again to that bulge. It seemed bigger now, like his cock was half-hard, straining against the zipper. Did he feel it too—this electric pull, this need to fuck right here on the greasy floor? She pictured him bending her over the hood, ripping her panties down, slamming his dick into her dripping vagina until she screamed. He finished tightening something, then slammed the hood shut with a clang that jolted her out of her filthy thoughts. “Should hold for now,” he said, turning to face her. He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. “But you might wanna bring it back. Make sure it’s not something deeper.” His words hung between them, heavy with double meaning. She swallowed, her throat dry, her pussy slick. “I’ll think about it,” she said, holding his gaze. He reached past her to grab her keys from the workbench, his arm brushing hers—deliberate, she was sure of it. His skin was rough, warm, and her breath hitched as he pressed the keys into her palm, his fingers lingering a beat too long. “Anytime,” he said, that smirk tugging at his lips again. His eyes flicked down her body, a quick sweep that landed on her hips, like he was imagining her cunt beneath the dress. “Drive safe.” She nodded, turning away before she did something stupid—like grab his cock through his jeans and beg him to fuck her senseless. As she slid into the driver’s seat, the engine purred to life, smoother now, but her body was a mess. Her clit pulsed, her vagina clenched around nothing, and her panties were soaked through. She glanced at him through the window—he was watching her, arms crossed, the outline of his dick still taunting her. Lila pulled out of the lot, her hands tight on the wheel, promising herself she’d be back. Not for the car. For him. For that thick cock she couldn’t stop thinking about, and the way it’d feel buried deep in her needy cunt.