Garage Gangbang - A Rough Reluctant Gangbang Sex Story

by Mercy Faulk

  Faulk / GARAGE GANGBANG / 23

  GARAGE GANGBANG

  A Rough Reluctant Gangbang Sex Story

  by

  Mercy Faulk

  About This Book:

  After months of unemployment, Ginny's brand-new dream job is threatened unless her car passes a smog test. The trouble is she doesn't have the money to pay for it. Her sexy mechanic suggests a trade: A passing grade in exchange for becoming his sex slave for a night. What Ginny doesn't know is that the hunky grease monkey has more planned for her than she suspects.

  WATCH OUT! This 10,000-word story depicts erotic situations, oral sex, anal sex, creampies, bondage, and a rough and reluctant four-on one gangbang that will make you want to rush out for a tune-up!

  As I lay shivering in a puddle of bodily fluids on a filthy concrete floor, cum leaking from every orifice and four men standing over me, I wondered at how a simple thing like getting a smog test could take such an unexpected and twisted turn.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  “We’re so pleased you’ll be joining our team, Ms. Meyers.” Mr. Jaimeson stood and came around his desk to shake my hand. I flushed and let out a sigh of relief, which made me blush even harder. The hand I’d put out to return his handshake flew to my mouth in embarrassment.

  He smiled good-naturedly. “Don’t worry about it, Ginny. It’s a tough job market right now, so I get it. We’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, right?”

  “Definitely!” I’d been out of work for eight months, but somehow I’d managed to fool this otherwise brilliant businessman into thinking I would make a good assistant.

  I turned to walk out of his office but his next words stopped me in my tracks. “Oh, and don’t forget to bring in your driver’s license, insurance and current registration for your car. Human Resources will want copies for their records.”

  Glancing back over my shoulder, I feigned curiosity rather than the panic that was swelling inside my chest. “Sure. What do they need it for?”

  “Well, since you’ll be driving nearly every day for the job, they need it in case there’s an accident or something. It’s pretty standard, really, at least for a job that requires you to have a car.”

  My heart started thudding. The relief I’d felt just seconds before was swept away by a tidal wave of fear. I stretched my lips into what I hoped looked like a smile, nodded and choked out, “Okay.”

  I’m surprised my wobbly legs carried me to my car. Shaking fingers jimmied the key into the lock and I barely got the door closed before tears started streaming down my cheeks. I was going to lose this job before it even started!

  The latch on my glove box had been sticking for a while, but a swift pound on the dashboard popped it open. The contents spilled out onto the door, with a few packets of mustard and a stray spork falling to the floor. I rummaged around till I found the registration, which informed me that, as I suspected, it had expired a week ago and, by the way, it was time to get smogged.

  “Shit,” I whispered to the dusty interior of my ancient ride. I’d owned the piece of shit since high school, and it was a piece of shit back then. Three years more years of abuse hadn’t magically improved it. My friends called it ‘Banger’, and some of them refused to step foot inside, claiming they might catch fleas.

  It wasn’t that bad, but I couldn’t afford anything better, especially after I’d lost my last receptionist job when the company closed down. I’d been living on my meager savings and credit cards, scraping just enough together to keep a roof over my head, for the last several months. This month’s rent was late, and I wasn’t sure where I’d find the money for it, so paying $150 for a smog test and renewal wasn’t anywhere near the top of my long list of bills that needed paying. My insurance was current — barely — but now, according to the payment schedule on the back of the form, a $75 late fee would be tacked onto the final bill.

  It was just my luck. I’d just been hired for a great new job with a good salary, but it required a car and mine wasn’t legal. When I read the job listing, I’d assumed they wanted you to have a car so you could make it to work every day. During the interview, Mr. Jaimeson had mentioned a few errands I’d need to run, but he made it sound like they were few and far between. I figured there would be a two-week training period, and by then I’d get my first check and I could go get the car smogged and registered.

  I tipped my wrist to check the time: 4:50. “Double shit!” Where would I find a testing facility that would take me so late in the day? The bigger question was, how would I pay for it? I had about $100 in my checking account and $5 in my savings — just enough to keep it active in case I found some work. Hopefully one of my credit cards — or more likely all of them combined — would have enough room to eke it out.

  I jammed the key into the ignition and said a little prayer to the car gods before turning it. Banger’s engine grumbled a bit, giving me a mini-heart attack, but she finally sputtered to life. Then I was roaring out of the parking structure on a mission to find a smog shop.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  As I drove down the busy thoroughfare, all the auto shops I passed were already either closed or a guy in coveralls was pulling down the roll-up doors to the testing bays. I was in full-panic mode by then. Driving with expired registration didn’t worry me as much as walking into my new job tomorrow without up-to-date paperwork. There was probably a huge line of people more qualified than me ready to snap up the gig if it was offered. I had no illusions I was indispensable.

  My tears had dried up as I frantically searched for a shop that would take me but they threatened to spill over again as I closed in on the end of the businesses along this stretch of road. It was useless. I’d never find an open shop now that it was after five.

  A sob had just wracked my body when, through a shimmery veil of tears, I spotted a small garage whose doors were still open. My breath hitched and I cut across two lanes of rush-hour traffic to make the center turning lane, horns blaring in my wake.

  Minutes seemed to tick by as a herd of cars packed the road, preventing me from turning left into the parking lot. “Please don’t close, please don’t close,” I breathed as I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, my heart racing. Finally someone took mercy and stopped so I’d have room to turn. Cars in the other lanes followed suit and I pulled into the lot.

  I nosed Banger into the garage bay as a seriously sexy guy in blue coveralls was reaching up to pull down the door. He glared at me and shook his head, mouthing the word “closed.”

  I don’t want to sound braggy, but I’m pretty cute. Long dark hair, small but perky breasts, and a banging bod. I swear, I don’t play on my looks very often, but I was desperate. I literally batted my eyelashes at him, clutched my hands to my chest in a pleading gesture — which, incidentally, pushed my tits together nicely — and gave him my prettiest pout. “Pleeease,” I whispered out loud, knowing he could only read my lips.

  He stared at me for a long moment, and then one corner of his mouth twitched, almost as if he was trying to suppress a smile. He crossed his thick arms and leaned back against the doorframe to appraise me. This gave me time to check him out as well. He wasn’t just sexy; he was gorgeous. He had shaggy blond hair cropped short, but not shaved. He was tall but not towering and he filled out his coveralls nicely. I dipped my head and pulled my sunglasses down a bit to get a better look. Yes, I liked what I saw. He looked like a jock mixed with an underwear model. “Mmm, come to mommy,” I mumbled.

  I don’t know if he could tell what I said but a smile lit his face and he waved me inside. “Thank God!” I pulled Banger forward, set the hand brake and
turned off the engine. My door opened and a grimy hand was offered to help me out of the car. I hesitated, not wanting to get my fingers dirty, but decided it might seem bitchy if I didn’t take it. Pretty ironic considering just how deeply inside me his long, warm fingers would soon be buried.

  They wrapped around mine and an intense heat swept over me, causing my nipples to pucker. Slack-jawed, I met his gaze. His eyes were like cocoa, warm and soft. I was lost in them. I only remembered to stand when he pulled my hand up. But instead of stepping back to give me space, he stayed where he was so our bodies were nearly touching. The electricity that zapped between us was so strong that I could almost hear it. My eyes were at the level of the faded, frayed name patch on his coveralls: Jake.

  I took a deep breath to clear my head but what I got instead was the overpowering scent of oil and tires mixed with Jakes own intoxicating musk. Wetness slicked my pussy lips. “God…” I breathed, as I felt my fingers entwining with his. Tipping my head back, I gazed up at him. What I saw there scared me.

  Jake had a wild animal expression on his face, like he was a lion and I was his prey. His warm, brown eyes turned to the laser sights of a hunter. Even his upper lip twitched upward, baring his teeth a little. A warning pinged in my lust-addled brain; this was no ordinary mechanic.

  He must have sensed the change in my reaction because he dropped my hand and moved toward the garage door. “So how can I help you tonight, miss?”

  His perfectly even voice was all business. Had I been imagining his animalistic look, the intense attraction? I figured I must have been transferring my lustful thoughts onto him. He probably had a thousand girlfriends at his beck and call, and the last thing he needed was another complication. What a relief! Or was it? An ember of disappointment glowed deep inside me. It’s nice to have someone be attracted to you, after all.

  “I-I need a smog test,” I stammered.

  He paused by the door and looked back toward me, beyond me, to the clock on the back wall. “Quarter after five.” He was shaking his head slightly, as if he was about to change his mind.

  “No, please! I really need this or I’ll lose my job!”

  “No way, really?” He gave me a doubtful look, as if I was trying to con him or something.

  “Seriously. I just got offered a job but it requires a car . . . one that’s current on its’ paperwork. If I walk into the office tomorrow without that piece of paper your machine spits out, I might as well head on down to the unemployment line. Again.”

  He tilted his head. “Hit a rough patch, huh?”

  I nodded somberly, hoping to whip up some pity. “More like the road just dropped out from under me. Eight months.” I looked up at him from under my lashes. Poor little ol’ me.

  Nodding, he said, “M’kay, I’ll do it. Just gonna close the door so no one else thinks I’m working late tonight.” He gave me a wink and turned to the door’s rope, tugging it down. It clattered down the slides till it banged shut, the sound making me jump nearly out of my skin.

  “Nervous type?” He cast a sidelong look my way as he passed by toward a big machine near the nose of my car. I couldn’t help notice that his eyes raked down my body before he turned his attention to the machine.

  “Not really, it just startled me,” I said sassily, more sassily than I felt. Something about this guy unnerved me. He looked normal, and he was as sexy as hell, but I wondered if being in here alone with him might not lead to trouble. As I got a clear view of his broad shoulders, narrow hips and tight butt, I thought maybe I could use a little trouble. I hadn’t had ‘trouble’ in far too long.

  I leaned one hip against the driver side door and started chewing on my thumbnail as I considered what kind of trouble the two of us could get into. Maybe after the test he would take me out for a drink… and dessert.

  My gaze was lingering on his sweet ass when he turned and caught me now looking directly at his crotch, which was tented out from his obvious erection. “Oh!” I cried and turned away.

  “So what’s your name?” I could hear the amusement in his voice as he clipped wires and meters to my car.

  Blushing fiercely, I moved toward the garage door and stammered out, “Ginny.” It seemed that the safest place to be right then was near the door, though my brain reminded me that it would take quite a bit of effort to roll up the heavy door, so it wasn’t like I could make a quick getaway.

  The next fifteen minutes were spent with him revving up my engine, marking down results on a clipboard and punching numbers into the machine. Finally, Jake snatched the sheet that printed out from the tray and examined the form. The moment he looked at me, I knew. “Uh oh,” he said, motioning me over.

  I could hear blood pulsing through my ears as I moved through a sea of pudding to reach him. I knew I’d see ‘FAIL’ peppered all over the sheet. I could barely make my legs move. He crossed the distance between us in a couple of steps and thrust the paper in my face. I didn’t just get a ‘FAIL’, Banger had been labeled a ‘GROSS POLLUTER’!

  Tears were welling in my eyes. “What does it mean?” My voice was small, terrified of the answer.

  “Well, just by looking at the numbers here, you need a new catalytic converter.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to prevent my tears from falling. I got a ‘fail’ there, too. “And how much does one of those cost?”

  “For your car, about $500 installed.”

  My breath was knocked clear out of my lungs. I didn’t have the money to pay for this test, much less an expensive repair bill! I turned away from Jake and moved to the door, sobbing quietly, not wanting to make a scene.

  A clean white handkerchief appeared over my shoulder. I sniffed and dabbed my eyes with it, trying to compose myself. I cleared the thickness from my throat and handed back the hanky. “Well, I guess I just lost the job. C’est la vie.”

  I turned back to Jake, who was back to eyeing me again. I wasn’t in the mood for flirting now, so I asked him to ring me up. I’d have to just live with being an outlaw until I found a job that didn’t require a car. But this job seemed so perfect, and there was actually room for growth at this place. I sighed heavily and pulled out three credit cards that I hoped would cover the final bill.

  Jake rolled his eyes when I held out the cards, but reached for them just the same. Even though I was horribly depressed by the outcome of the test, I still felt that pulse in my pussy when his hands enclosed mine. I watched entranced as his thumb rubbed little circles on my wrist. He slowly slipped his fingers across mine. It seemed as if invisible strings connected his fingers to my nipples, as the farther he pulled back, the tauter they became.

  Then he’d turned and I was left reeling. I tried to shake some sense back into my head but that was just one more thing I failed.

  BLAT! The credit card machine made the awful sound of rejection. Oh shit, I thought. That’s not good.

  He tried punching in a smaller amount. BLAT! Setting that card aside, he tried the next one. BLAT! Then the next. BLAT! He collected all three cards and turned to face me. I thought maybe he’d be angry, but he seemed almost…happy. “What are we going to do about this, Ginny?”

  “I-I-I…” My words failed. I was made of fail, apparently. It wasn’t a ploy when I burst into tears and crumpled into a ball on the floor. I was truly horrified. I didn’t want this guy to think I was a loser, but he had three overdrawn cards in one hand and a bill for $100 in the other. The evidence was right there.

  He let me sit there for a few minutes, crying it out, before he squatted down in front of me. “Ginny, look at me.” It wasn’t a gentle request, but a firm command. It was a tone that couldn’t be ignored…or disobeyed. I looked up.

  He used the handkerchief to wipe away my tears, and some of the running mascara. “Blow.” Again with the tone. I blew.

  “I have a suggestion that would not only get you out of this bill, but it might also be something we both want. Understand?” He searched my face for understanding. I was puzzled for a mome
nt, then gasped as what he was saying sunk in.

  “You want me to fuck you to pay off this bill?!” I was flabbergasted!

  “No, you can just suck me off, if you want.” That animal look was back on his face. His wet, pink tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth adorably. I was disgusted with myself for wanting to take it into my mouth.

  “I couldn’t do that!” I didn’t add that, just a few minutes before, I’d been hoping to.

  “Why not? I can tell you want it. It’s a win-win. I get your sweet luscious lips wrapped around my cock, and you get this bill thrown in the shredder. And no one will ever know.” He winked as he said that last, and stood from his crouched position.

  He slowly unzipped his coveralls, letting his firm shoulders pop out one at a time, then shrugged his arms free. His arms. Tanned to a deep gold, ripped from hard work, and unbearably lickable, I wanted them wrapped around me. But I was still horrified at the idea of prostituting my mouth for a stupid $100 smog test. It was the ultimate in humiliation — or so I thought then.

  Jake pulled the coveralls just low enough to access his fly. His eyes locked on mine, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly, allowing his beautiful cock to bounce free. It was as pretty as he was. Not too big, not too small. My mouth flooded with drool.

  God, I wanted to suck that thing dry, but I didn’t want it to happen like this. I wanted him to take me out for a drink, flirt a little, put in some time before I gave it up. That’s how it was supposed to work.

  I looked up at him and mustered up a few tears. “Could you just let me go home and I’ll pay you next week?”

  His hearty laugh made his cock bob temptingly in front of my face. My heart sank at the same time juices wetted my panties.

  “Girly, you ain’t gettin’ this piece of shit till I get paid…one way or another.” He waggled the tip just under my nose. I could smell his musk, and more drool filled my mouth.