This story is entirely fictional, as are most of my stories. I hope you enjoy it.
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She sat there, waiting for me as I approached her. She was beautiful, the light shining over her body in the afternoon sun. She didn't move as I traced a finger over her, caressing her, getting to know her. I'd never touched a girl like this before. She was sleek, smooth, and curved in all the right places. I opened her up and she called me inside. Not wanting to disappoint her or myself I entered, gasping at the comfort I felt inside of her. I ran my hands over her again, this time exploring entirely new places, frozen in awe of her beauty. She seemed to purr as I turned her on, impatient to get started.
I hit the accelerator and I was out of the garage, onto the street, and already hitting 60 as I lost sight of the shop. I had 30 minutes before anyone new the car was gone, a silver glowing porsche that had barely clocked up a hundred miles on the odometer. She would net me a fair bit alright. I high the highway and accelerated to 110, determined to put as much distance between me and the shop as possible. I took the first exit, turned of the main road and began to weave through the suburbs like an expert. I pulled into an open garage, turned her off and closed the door. It was swift, it was sly and it was seamless. I was the perfect con.
My name's Lance, and cars are my life. Well, cars, football and women anyway. I'm about six feet tall with curly hair, slightly longer at the back than at the front. I have deep blue-green eyes that every woman I have ever known said were beautiful. I have a fairly thick build, playing middle linebacker for my high school football team. I work to keep in shape, and gain the rewards, as pretty much every woman I have ever wanted eventually wound up in front of me, usually on their knees. Forgive me for being cocky. I used to be modest. I used to disbelieve girls when they said I looked hot, shun their praises. But once pretty much every girl you've ever known has told (or shown) you in one way or another, it's kind of hard to deny it.
Pretty much every woman… Except the one I have wanted most. My mother. The one bending over to place a plate in the dishwasher and showing me her beautiful behind. Well, technically my stepmother, but I have never known another so I have never felt the need to call her anything but my mother. It wasn't healthy to crave your father's wife as I did, but it really was his fault for choosing this hot a woman to replace my biological mother. It didn't hurt that she'd always been kind to me, even when she first met my father when I was seven (she was eighteen, my father thirty six). She had never had any problems being affectionate while I was growing up either, stroking my head and lying with me til I feel asleep at night. This all contributed a lot, but I can't deny that the main attraction was her looks.
Sarah Knight is as beautiful a woman as you have ever seen. She is almost as tall as I am, with long, shiny blonde hair that falls below her shoulders. She has those deep, green, inescapable eyes that few women possess, full juicy lips and an adorable nose that complete a truly amazing work of art. Her breasts are no larger than a C-cup, but breasts can be beautiful big or small, and on this body they are heavenly. She has a pair of the longest legs you have ever seen, which disappear into the tightest, most shapely butt cheeks in existence. Sarah Knight was an angel. That's right. Knight. At times I almost dislike Dad for naming me Lance. I suppose he thought it was comical or something. But my revenge was standing in front of me, perfection in the afternoon sun.
'Lance? Are you okay?' Mum asked as I snapped out of my stupor, hoping against hope that she remained ignorant of the fact that I was checking her out, as I had done ever since I was twelve.
'I'm fine.' I said, and walked to the fridge, grabbing a coke and last night's leftover lasagne, sitting in front of the TV and digging it voraciously.
'Shouldn't you still be at work, honey?' she asked from the kitchen. With my lasagne already gone I murmured an affirmative, downed my drink as quickly as possible and jumped in the shower. I quickly dried myself off and got into my work gear. I headed back to the porsche sitting in my garage. I reversed out of my driveway and was soon speeding back along the highway, desperate to get the porsche back to the garage before my boss came back, or worse yet, the dumb ass suit that owned this beautiful piece of machinery.
Let me explain. I'm not a thief. I'm a part-time mechanic. And when I fix a car, I've got to know that it's working properly. I had just stepped out of the car when my boss popped his head out from the front. 'That car fixed yet Lance? The owner's here to pick it up.' He said to me.
'Ready as ever, Bill. She's purring, good as new.' I said, throwing him the keys and pretending to look busy with one of the three shitboxes that was sitting next to the proud porsche, looking like kitty litter in comparison.
'Excuse me? Are you the man who fixed my car?' I spun around, a woman holding the porsche keys instead of the man that brought it in this morning. She was remarkably beautiful, around 30 years old, wearing a business suit and skirt, which was relatively high considering she looked like a very proper person.
'Yes maam.' I replied, allowing my eyes to linger slightly at the bottom of her short skirt, which hid beautifully tan and toned thighs, judging by the look of her legs. 'My name's Lance. How can I help you?' I now looked up at her face, which was soft and welcoming with only a light bit of make-up, but somehow strong.
'My name is Sue, and I was wondering if you could tell me what was wrong with my car in the first place and how I can prevent that from happening again.' She said, aware of my calculating gaze and she brushed some strands of hair behind her ear and her eyelids fluttered a little.
'The problem you had, Sue, was actually with your gearbox.' I said, wiping a spanner clean as I looked at the floor and placed it on top of the rusted old gemini I was working on, all the while taking in her full womanly figure. 'Your's is a simple case of making a smoother transition between gears to go easier on the gearbox.' Her long, silky blonde hair again fell in front of her face and I took the chance to brush it back myself, smiling warmingly and leaving my hand lingering for a moment on the skin of her neck.
