Garage Whore’s Hidden Hustle 🔥
Jump to Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Dawn Drop and Early Cravings
Lisa slammed the car door shut, gravel crunching under her boots like brittle bones. Thirty-two, blonde waves cascading wild over shoulders tanned from weekend hikes, she smoothed her pencil skirt—tight enough to hug her toned thighs, professional tease without screaming slut. Ryan, her husband of four years, still snored off last night’s beer in their suburban split-level. He’d never suspect the firestorm she’d walk into at Apex Auto Repairs, the gritty shop on the edge of town where engines roared and deals got sealed in sweat and shadows.
She’d started this double game months back. Ryan’s garage teetered on bankruptcy after a bad supplier scam. Lisa, the sharp bookkeeper with legs that went forever and a ass sculpted from yoga obsession, cut a deal with the crew: her holes for their silence, their muscle to fix the books and chase debts. Protection, she told herself, nostrils flaring at the metallic tang of motor oil even before she parked. It was survival. Pure, filthy survival.
Inside the bays, fluorescent buzzed harsh against grease-smeared walls. First shift hadn’t hit yet, but there was Nadia, the fiery redhead from parts inventory, perched on a workbench, cigarette dangling. “Morning, bitch. Ryan send his love?” Nadia’s laugh scraped like sandpaper, skirt hiked, fishnets torn at the crotch.
Lisa’s pulse thrummed. “Fuck off, Nadia. He’s clueless.” She kicked off heels, skirt pooling at ankles, blouse unbuttoned to bare freckled cleavage. Underneath? Thong, garters, no bra—nipples hardening in the chill draft from the open bay door. Naked now except rings glinting like guilty stars, she dropped to knees on the cold concrete, rough scraping skin raw.
Nadia spread thighs wide, musk hitting Lisa like a slap—salty, aroused, mixed with last night’s cheap soap. “Earn your desk space, whore. Tongue out.” Lisa dove in, lips parting folds slick with dew. Taste exploded: tangy brine, woman’s heat uncoiling on her probing tongue. Fingers twisted into Nadia’s curls, pulling close as hips bucked. “Yeah, slurp that clit, married slut. Ryan know you crave pussy juice before coffee?”
Lisa moaned into the wet heat, vibrations sending Nadia arching. Circles, flicks, suction—skills honed from too many “overtime” shifts. Nadia’s thighs clamped, breath ragged gasps echoing off tool racks. Cum gushed, coating chin, dripping to breasts pert and heaving. Lisa licked clean, rising shaky, wiping mouth with forearm smudged black.
“Good girl. Now clock in.” Nadia zipped up, smirking. Lisa grabbed her “slave kit”—box of folded clothes, heels stained from past spills—heading to the office nook amid bays. Ass swayed, drawing wolf whistles from early arrivals. The game was on.
Chapter 2: Invoice Interruptions and Shaft Surprise 💋
Desk fan whirred lazy, papers fluttering like trapped birds. Lisa crossed legs, pussy still throbbing from Nadia’s flood, juices trickling sticky down inner thigh. Phone blinked—call waiting. She punched line one, voice husky honey. “Apex Auto, Lisa speaking. Parts order?”
“Babe, it’s me.” Ryan’s warm baritone, oblivious as ever. “Quiet morning? Love hearing your voice amid the grind.”
Heart hammered. Before reply, shadow loomed—Marcus, the towering ebony mechanic, all rippling arms and grin wolfish. Six-four, pants tented massive. “On knees, slut,” he growled low, zipper rasping.
Lisa’s hand flew to his veiny monster—eleven inches uncoiling thick, veins pulsing like rivers under chocolate skin. She stroked slow, thumb circling flared head beading precum salty-sweet. “Uh, yeah, Ryan. Swamped already. Love you too.” Words clipped as Marcus gripped hair, forcing lips wide.
Stretch burned divine—jaw aching, throat bulging around girth shoving deep. Gags muffled moans, saliva drooling chin to tits. Ryan prattled about dinner plans; she hummed agreements, hips grinding air instinctive. Marcus thrust brutal, balls slapping chin wet slaps echoing faint over line noise.
“Gonna fill this cocksucker’s gullet,” Marcus grunted, free hand pinching nipples to stiff peaks. Lisa’s cunt clenched empty, scent of arousal blooming musky amid oil fumes. Ryan: “Call later?” She nodded frantic, mouth stuffed, phone slipping as first rope blasted—hot, viscous, choking thick.
Swallow frenzy, tongue milking shaft clean. Marcus pulled free with pop, smearing remnants on lips glossed shiny. “Dial back, whore.” Phone clattered; Ryan’s “I love you” hung unanswered. Lisa slumped, throat raw fire, pussy weeping need. Two invoices stamped before next demand.
Tyler sauntered in, wiry frame belying stamina endless. “Bend, bitch. Chair grip.” Lisa obeyed, ass high, cheeks spread by callused palms. His rod—eight inches curved wicked—speared folds sodden, hilting balls-deep in one plunge. Slosh of cream from earlier lubed plunge filthy.
“Fuck, tight grip even after breakfast munch.” Tyler hammered, hips cracking ass reddening. Desk rattled, pens scattering clatter. Her moans built whimpers—pleasure coiling snake-tight. He erupted, seed jetting womb-deep, pulling out to watch cream pie ooze pearly.
Lisa straightened, thighs quaking, chair slick puddle. Back to keys clacking, cum cooling crusty trails.
Chapter 3: Bay Brawl and Triple Team Takedown
Intercom crackled. “Office slut to loading dock. Vans ready for loads.” Chuckles filtered through. Lisa rose, slime trail glistening thighs, bare feet padding gritty floors. Dock reeked diesel sharp, rubber scorched—three mechanics pantsless: Brock the burly vet, Miguel lean Latino fire, and Jax, newbie with tats snaking arms.
Van doors yawned, mattress filthy tossed in back atop tool crates. “Mount up, Lisa. Spread ’em missionary.” Brock first, gut hanging but cock iron girder nine inches. She climbed, legs hooked shoulders, soles dirty flexing as he mounted. Plunge stretched walls fluttering—full, invading bliss.
“Pound that cheating gash!” Jax yelled, stroking fist meaty. Brock rutted relentless, sweat dripping salty to tongue darting catch. Groans mingled grind gears distant, her cries sharp barks pleasure-pain. Climax ripped—cunt spasming, milking seed flood scorching.
Miguel next, flipping ass-up doggy. “Ass for me today, puta.” Fingers scooped prior loads, slathering rosebud puckered. Push insistent—burn searing, then glide velvet vice. Nine inches buried bowels, rhythm building slap skin thunderous. “Scream it!” “Fuck my shithole, Miguel! Deeper!” she begged crude, nails scraping mat fibers.
His roar peaked, rectum flooded warm pulse after pulse. Jax claimed pussy sloppy seconds, railing sloppy squelch symphony. Double stuffed echo haunted, bodies slapping frenzy. He knotted deep, blasting nectar mixing melee.
Lisa crawled out wrecked, ass gaping wink cum-farting bubbles, pussy wrecked swamp. “Clean cocks, slut,” Brock barked. On knees trio circle, mouth working shafts filthy—tang ass-musk, pussy brine, cum bitter blend. Sucked shiny, they loaded vans rumbling off. She limped back, body map bruises bites blooming.
Chapter 4: Break Room Blitz and Stranger Stretch 🔥
Mid-morning haze, coffee bitter drip. Break room called—rare pause. But six crew lounged: Nadia back, Chloe billing brunette stacked, plus four grease monkeys mid-shift. Table cleared, Lisa shoved atop Formica sticky rings old spills.
“Gangbang buffet, boys. Dive in.” Chloe orchestrated, yanking Lisa’s arms taut. Mouth first—Jax reclaiming throat, gagging her symphony wet glurks. Pussy invaded tandem: two rods stretching labia obscenely, thin one atop thick beast friction infernal. Friction sparked stars, clit ground merciless.
“Feel that married twat split? Hubby’s tiny prick never wrecked like this.” Laughter barked amid moans meaty. Ass next—Brock lubing spit-slick, mounting rear double anal dream nightmare bliss. Triple filled: holes drum roar flesh pounding, bodies slick sweat rivers.
New face burst in—client Harlan, burly trucker suit rumpled. “Heard tales. Join?” Eyes lit ravenous. Crew nodded; he unzipped behemoth ten inches uncut. Rotating station: her lips claimed veiny log, seawater tang foreskin strong. “Suck trucker seed, office tramp.”
Waves orgasms crashed tsunami—body betraying quakes endless, squirting arcs table pooling splash. Harlan’s turn pussy, ramming void chaotic, balls hair-matted slapping. “Gonna breed this bitch!” Blast volcanic, overflow geysering mix rainbow fluids.
Hours blurred frenzy. Ended sprawled cum-glazed, every orifice raw echo ache sweet. “Best break ever,” Chloe sneered, snapping polaroid flash blinding. Lisa rose dripping deluge, wiping futile paper towels linty.
Chapter 5: Client Close-Out and Double Dip Deal
Afternoon dragged sludge. Client storm—Harlan back legit, paperwork mountain. Victoria, boss hawk-eyed in leather slacks, summoned. Corner office fogged mystery, blinds slatted sun shafts.
“Seal deal, Lisa. Harlan wants extras.” Victoria pants shed, perched desk edge hairy mound glistening command. Lisa knelt worship—tongue delving slit velvet, clit hood sucked pearl. Taste aged whiskey faint, boss’s thighs vise quads steel.
“Finger ass too, whore.” Two digits plunged pucker musky tight, scissoring gape. Victoria bucked howl primal, squirting face shower acrid sweet. Harlan watched stroking, then yanked Lisa bent desk. “Double team contract.”
Victoria first—strap-on massive black veined, spit-lubed ramming cunt thunder. Harlan throat concurrent, skull-fuck blur tears streaming mascara rivers. Switch: him ass savage, her pussy dildo grind. Sandwiched screams symphony muffled cock gag.
“Cum-dump us!” Orgasms synced explosion—holes flooded front back, Victoria’s toy churning froth foam. Collapsed tangle limbs heaving, scents cocktail cum leather sweat heady.
“Deal signed,” Victoria purred, slapping ass crack echo. Lisa cleaned toys tongues lazy twirls, body thrumming afterglow wired.
Chapter 6: Twilight Taint and Ride Home Reckoning
Sun dipped bloody, bays emptying ghosts. Lisa dressed shaky—skirt crusty patches hidden, thong sodden lost trash. Body atlas: hickeys purple blooms, thighs chafed rash fire, nipples scabbed pinches tender.
Last rite: communal cleanup. Crew ring final bukkake—eight cocks fisting fury, ropes painting face mask pearl cracking smile. Swallow what lands mouth, rest air-dry crust. “Go home stinking spunk, tell Ryan gym glow,” Marcus taunted laugh booming.
Drive blurred lights streak. Home loomed, Ryan’s truck parked innocent. Shower scalded trails steam, scrubbing futile phantom itches. Dried, mirror ghost: eyes glazed sated, lips swollen bee-stung.
Ryan hugged waist pull, sniff subtle. “Rough day, babe? Smell… intense.” Kiss peck cheek, she laughed throaty. “Just shop funk. Missed you.”
Dinner fork clinks, words dance normalcy veil thin. Under table, foot traced his calf tease old sparks. Night fell bed silk, his touch gentle probe—missionary vanilla, whisper “love yous.” She faked peak soft, mind replaying bay blasts endless.
Asleep spooned, Lisa’s hand drifted belly secret swell potential. Pill faithful? Gamble thrilled. Tomorrow’s shift called siren song. The hustle endured, deeper tangled web silk spun sin. No end sight, only plunge eternal slick.
