Some times what a girl wants is a good solid fuck.
He is wearing his faded old coveralls, and only his feet stick out from beneath his current project. The sun is hot and sweat trickles down my back as I sit waiting to hand him a wrench or socket when he needs it. He hums a tune to himself and there isn't another sound in this dusty late-afternoon desert junkyard. This place was abandoned years ago after the war, but sometimes he still finds useful parts here. I glance at the line of his leg as it disappears under the vehicle and smile to myself. I know what is under those coveralls and can easily imagine him with out them.
I start thinking about all the things I could do to him and soon desire for him fills me. I love watching him work and the smell of hot metal, old engine grease, and his sweat just gets to me. He doesn't know what seeing him like this does to me; he thinks I just like old cars.
He asks for a socket but as I am lost in day dreams I don't quite catch the size. Breathless, I ask, "Sorry, what size do you need?"
"3/8," comes the muffled reply.
I search through the set of tools, struggling to get my brain back in gear.
He wiggles out from underneath the old car, and looks up at me, "Are you ok?"
"Mmm, yeah, I'm fine," I reply, looking away.
He puts a finger on my chin and turns my head to face him. He looks at me with concern, then understanding blossoms on his face. He smiles and laughs, "I forgot how much you like seeing me work."
"It is a bit, distracting," I reply.
