In the 1970's and 1980's I was a player. I had fun with life and sex has always been fun for me until this unique encounter ...
I was an elementary school teacher recently graduated from college and I lived on the west coast of Florida with the old people. I often had to travel to get good sex.
My current sex partner - and I am pretty good at not bounding from bed to bed - is my best friend's 30 year old older brother. We got to know each other casually when I was invited to their family gatherings. The spark grew between us to the point where here I was driving across the state to the Ft. Lauderdale area to have an evening of sex with him.
He is an airplane mechanic who works Saturdays, but has Sundays and Mondays off. I am a school teacher with Saturdays and Sundays off. Therefore, we can only spend any length of time together if I drive over to him for sex Saturday night and then head home again after noon on Sunday.
I drive an older VW Ghia convertible because it's fun and I don't have much extra money.
Since this story is not about my boyfriend I won't go into much detail but to let you know that the Saturday night sex was great as usual. I was feeling relaxed as I reluctantly drove away from his apartment early Sunday afternoon.
I had a long drive ahead of me and the weather was hot so I dressed for the occasion. I wore a short, sassy, sundress with no bra. I really don't need one since my large breasts are firm, and although they hang down a bit from weight, they stand proud and are very touchable. The top was down on the car and I had a full tank of gas.
We kissed goodbye and I was on my way.
Traveling by car in Florida in the 70's was a lot different than it is today with the Interstate highways. In those days traveling across the state meant 2 lane roads, orange groves, and extensive fields of grazing cattle. It was also before the common use of cell phones like we have today.
As usual, I had my AAA card with me in case of any automotive failure.
Halfway home, in the middle of rural Florida on a two lane stretch of highway with very little traffic, my car sputters and stops. I coast to the side of the road and hit the steering wheel with my hand. How can she let me down now?
I had taken a "powder puff" mechanics course at our local technical school, so I popped the rear engine lid to survey the scene. The oil level checked out ok and everything looked to be in place. I didn't know what else to do. I left the engine lid open and sat back down in my car to wait for help.
It had to be a good 30 minutes before an elderly couple drove up and ask if I needed help. I told them my predicament and they offered to stop in the little town a few miles up the road and send someone to me. Preferably from an AAA service station. You will remember that in those days the gas stations also had mechanics on duty most of the time and most minor repairs were taken care of right there.
30 to 45 minutes later my savior appeared. Gus was driving an old Chevy pickup with a towing hook on the back and an AAA sticker on the door.
I was not looking as good now as I had before spending over an hour sitting in the HOT Florida sun. My long, naturally curly, brunette hair was limp and sweat was running down my face and into my cleavage. My shoulders and the tops of my breasts, which were prominently on display in my sundress, were sunburned. In addition, I really needed to use a restroom urgently.
Gus looked me over, giving an extra look to my large breasts, and then looked under the engine lid. "Try to crank her over," he said around the chaw of tobacco in his mouth.
After several attempts, Gus said it looked like I had a carburetor problem and that he could probably fix it, but we would have to go back to the station.
I showed him my trusty AAA card and he hooked my car to the back of his truck. I climbed into the cab with him, pulling my short skirt down to cover as much of my long legs as possible. We slowly made our way back to his small town service station. Gus explained that AAA only paid for a certain number of towing miles and that I would be responsible for the extra 2 miles.
I didn't think that sounded like a deal breaker, only 2 miles, so I said go ahead.
Let me try to describe Gus to you. He was probably in his early 40's; chewed tobacco and had the stained teeth to prove it; black grease under his fingernails; hadn't shaved for 3 or 4 days; and wore bib overalls with no shirt. He didn't smell too bad, but I could tell that he hadn't taken his weekly bath.
As soon as we arrived at the station, while Gus unlocked the front door and raised the garage doors on the service bays, I ran to the restroom only to find the door locked. I ran back around the building to where Gus was and begged him for the restroom key. I was getting really desperate.
I ran back around to the side of the station, unlocked the door, and found one of those gas station restrooms you cringe when you go in and avoid whenever possible.
It looked like it had never been cleaned and there was no toilet paper in the holder. The toilet seat had urine stains, the bowl was permanently discolored and seemed to have a growth of something on it. The cloth towel roll looked like it was never changed and the windowless little room really smelled bad. However, I really had to go and go quickly so I hiked up my dress and lowered my underwear and squatted over the bowl without touching anything. I felt relief as my gusher flowed into the bowl. What a good feeling.
I went back to the service area with dripping hands since I couldn't bear to use that dirty towel.
Gus had removed the carburetor and had it laid out on the work bench in lots of pieces. I didn't know what I was going to do. It looked expensive and I only had twelve dollars and seventy-six cents in my purse.
On the wall above the workbench was a sign listing various prices for repair and service.
Carburetor was listed twice. The first one was R & R (remove and replace) carburetor - $25.00; The second one was clean carburetor - $40.00. Down below was listed Towing - $10.00 per mile. I was already into Gus for $85.00. What was I going to do?
I watched as Gus washed off various parts in the vat of cleaner and reassembled my carburetor. He was good with his hands. He replaced it in my car and asked me to try to start her. She purred like a kitten.
Gus said, "Sounds good. Let's go into the office and settle up so you can be on your way."
I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing, and followed Gus into the office. He sat behind his desk and began to itemize my bill. "$40.00 for the extra distance - 2 extra miles to your car and 2 extra miles back; $25.00 for R&R $40 for carburetor repair. Little lady, it looks like $105.00 will get you out the door."
"Gus, I don't have that much with me. How about if I send you a check when I get back home?"
Gus laughed, "Honey, I run a cash and carry business here. I don't take checks or credit cards. I report what I want to the IRS and not a penny more."
"Gus, what can I do?"
