Damn, time to get my oil changed. Dad has always said if you want to have your car last, get the oil changed every three thousand miles. Good thing they came up with these 10-minute places, or I would never bother with it. I really need to get it done today, got a long drive coming up this weekend and I want to make sure everything is OK. Let's see, it's 5:40, and I think the Jiffy Lube closes at 6:00, so if I hurry I can get it done this evening.
Damn, it's only 5:55, but it looks like they are closed, all the doors are shut except one, but the lights inside are still on. Maybe if I turn on a little Vicky charm they will squeeze me in tonight. Let's see, push the skirt up to show as much thigh as I dare, undo two more buttons on the blouse, cute smile, OK, it's showtime. Let's use what mama gave me. Beep the horn. OK, here come somebody. Good, it's a young guy, they're easier to coerce.
"Sorry ma'am, but we're cl...". He stops and stares openly through the window. Yeah, check out this young body. OK, open the legs a little more, inner thigh seems to drive guys crazy. 'Greg' is the name on his dirty uniform. "But Greg, I just need an oil change, and I'm going out of town tomorrow. Please?"
He smiles, turns his head and yells back toward the door he came out of, "Hey, Harry, we've got a special here. Open up bay 3."
Special? I don't need any $59.95 special, just the basic lube and oil. Oh, maybe he means I'm special. Well, this won't be the first time that I have used my natural charms to my advantage. The door rises and Greg gestures for me to pull in. As soon as I do, the door closes behind me. This feels weird. I have been here several times, but it's usually on a Saturday morning, when all three bays are open and there are lots of people around. Now it's just me, Greg, and the mysterious Harry.
No, wait, now there are, how many, looks like five guys swarming around my car. Four of them are young, probably mid-twenties, and one older guy, probably the manager, would that be Harry? Well, at least it shouldn't take long with this many guys working on it. But why are they all still here if the place is closed? Hmmm, maybe they were playing poker in the back room or something.
Greg pushes a clipboard through the window. I know the drill, they want my name, address, phone number, make and model, and mileage. OK, everything about the car is accurate, but I know better than give some greasy-fingered dude my real addy and phone number. Now another guy, gee, he's kinda cute, comes over and sticks a weird-looking hose into the window. "Ma'am, for your convenience, here's a little cool air. Just close your window on the hose and enjoy."
Gee, that's a good idea. It does feel good, blowing nice cool, clean-smelling air right into my face. It's certainly better than the oily smell of the garage. Boy, it must have been a rougher day at work than I thought, I'm actually getting sleepy. Or maybe I've been spending too much time on line at night, I'm probably sleep deprived. Whatever, I could just close my eyes and take a little...
What's that? Oh Greg is rapping on the window. They must be done. I must have dropped off for a minute there. What's he saying, something about a 5-person special? Doesn't he mean 5-point special? I told him all I wanted was an oil... what's he doing? He's opening the door, pulling me out. Not really pulling, it's like I want to go with him, but I can't do it on my own, so he is helping me. I'm so sleepy I can't think straight. Now all five guys are standing around me. Greg is talking to me, but I can't quite understand what he is saying, something about me acting like a slut, and they're going to make me pay for it. What is he talking about?
Now Greg and the cute hose guy are unbuttoning my blouse and unhooking my bra, and I don't seem to mind. It feels like I am in a dream. My eyes aren't even focusing right, but it looks like some of the guys have taken off their uniforms. They can't really be standing there nude, stroking their hard cocks, can they? This must be a dream.
Someone presses on my shoulders. I give in to the pressure and fall to my knees. I expect the concrete garage floor to be hard and cold, but someone has slid a mat under my knees. OK, I might be drugged, but now I know what is going on, and what is expected of me. One of the guys, the old guy, moves in front of me and pushes his cock against my mouth. I have a moment of lucidity and realize it must be embarrassing for him, all of the other guys have their cocks out, and they are nicely erect, and his is still a soft, little lump. OK, I've done older guys before, I know they sometimes take a little more effort to get it up.
I take pity on him, and gobble all of his cock at once. It's like stuffing a wad of cookie dough in my mouth. But now, in the nice warm oven behind my lips, and with my tongue teasing him, he is finally getting harder. But it feels like he will never be more than a mouthful for me. It reminds me of some of the pricks I played with the last time I found myself surrounded in a garage. But that was child's play, these guys are adults and they mean business.
Two of them are standing on either side of me, and without thinking about it, I reach out and take their cocks in my hands. I am starting to regain my ability to think now. What am I doing here? Am I being gang-raped? How can that be, I don't remember struggling or resisting. But here I am, entertaining three men at once. My vision is back to normal now. I look up and see that the old guy is even older than I thought. Hell, he could be my dad. OK, Vicky, let's drop that thought.
Someone says something I can't quite understand. The old guy pulls out; thank god, I really wasn't looking forward to swallowing his cum for some reason. I close my eyes, and keep my mouth open, expecting another stiff prick to be placed there. Instead, something round and flexible is pushed into my mouth. I open my eyes and see it is the tube that had been blowing into my car a few minutes earlier. I have just a moment to realize that I am being drugged by whatever gas is in that tube, but then I can feel the listless, dream-like state taking over my mind again.
Time seems to be playing tricks now. It seems like only a few seconds elapse, but during that time I know I have had at least three different cocks thrust into my mouth. The last one was the old guy again. This time I could not avoid what I had dreaded. Almost as soon as he was back in my mouth, nice and hard now, I could feel his semen dribbling out of his cock into my mouth. For some reason I remembered a joke I had heard about old men, basketball, and sex; something about they don't shoot, they just dribble.
.... There is more of this story ...