Work Break
folder
1 through F › Fast And The Furious, The › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,292
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › Fast And The Furious, The › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,292
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own The Fast and the Furious, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Work Break
***Disclaimer: If you've heard of it, I don't own it and am getting nothing from it.
Work Break
A wet cooling trail was left in the wake of his exploring tongue. Like velvet, it seemed to pull at the skin it traversed, sending spiraling shivers down the spine, in spite of the close pressing heat that filled the shadowed interior of the sun dappled garage. Work roughened hands held and rubbed at grease and sweat coated skin.
The strong smell of engine oil, heavy and thick in the sweltering summer humidity filled the nostrils with its odor, so thick you could taste it. Other smells mingled with it but couldn't overpower it, gasoline, fresh cut grass, dust, and expensive leather. The scarred leather seat they were on gave off puffs of aroma that indicated the cushions had been in the heat for years too long. Another smell that seemed to settle on the tongue.
The rent of zippers was strangely soft in a day filled with normal neighborhood sounds. Kids yelling, cars passing, lawn mowers, metal ticking in the sun, birds chirping, and heavy breathing. The old leather seat squeaked its protest as they leaned this way and that, freeing limbs and more flesh.
Hands reached out immediately, pulling the lovers back together as quickly as possible. Soft sighs resulted from lips meeting flesh, hands roughly brushing over heated damp skin. Salt was the flavor of the day. No amount of showering could combat this heat's effect. Skin dripped with the cooling wetness, only to be lapped up by greedy lips and tongues.
Final bits of clothing were tossed aside. A hoarse groan sounded as grease stained hands closed over the thick satin-over-steel appendage. His head tilted back, eyes closed to slits as he reveled in the skilled handling.
After only moments of stroking manipulations his eyes opened. Fierce brown, his determination and need palpable.
"Get up. On your knees. Turn around."
His hoarse clipped commands brought a slow smile to flushed sun-darkened sweaty cheeks. He stood, bronze skin reflecting the glowing light of the afternoon, making him appear god-like. Without a hint of self-consciousness he turned, purpose in the very stride of his long sculpted legs.
Eager eyes stayed on the spectacle he made, crinkling at the corners when the sought prize was located. A small jar of Vaseline.
With the precious commodity engulfed in his huge fist he came back, moving as gracefully as ever. The head of his cock bobbed with his steps, drawing the eye. The sleek muscle of his sex just as beautiful as the rest of him.
"Get up. I want you from behind."
His demands got action this time and the seat creaked again as hands came to rest on the back, knees on the edge of the seat. Eyes peered over a sweaty shoulder to see him eyeing the anticipated target with narrowed appreciative eyes. He dipped his finger into the heat-softened jelly and liberally spread it on the glistening head of his dick, the moisture of pre-cum rejecting his attempts to make it stick. Then he was pressing a warm fingerful against the tight opening revealed to him.
A soft moan resulted from his touch. The peering eyes disappeared as the head dropped below rigid shoulders. "Oh, god."
His finger slid in easily, nearly welcomed by the normally unreceptive hole.
"Ready?"
His question was met by a faltering nod.
Stomach flexed and clenching in need, nipples aching from lack of attention, hands braced to take the initial thrust.
He slid in amazingly easy, his own groan drowned out by the hoarse cry of either pleasure or pain. Heartbeats later the penetrated ass was pushing back, accepting more of the offered gift. A hand dropped from the back of the couch to dole attention on neglected body parts out of his reach.
His hands gripped slim hips, holding them still for his punishing pace. Their sounds and smells now masked those of the day and garage. Only this mattered. Sex and sweat and grunts filled the air.
He slid a hand lower, pinching a hardened nipple, getting a gasp of reaction, as well as an answering lift of the hips. His body was hard, pressed tight to the smaller form beneath his, hammering his hips into receptive bowels. Big golden hands came to lean on the back of the seat, squeezing the aged leather in punishing grips as his tempo increased, his sounds roughened and became less practiced, more honest.
Moans of pleasure resulted from his straining urgency. His arm dropped, large hand seeking to reciprocate, to bring them both to peak at the same moment. Little effort was required. His skilled hands barely had to touch the oversensitive flesh to cause a cry of release. Hips rocked into his steady thumping penetration, and then they were both gasping, exertion causing muscles to go rigid, slick skin to slide.
Then there was only the sound of heavy breathing, warm puffs of air fanning warmer skin. And slowly the sounds and smells of the day returned. Each reached for discarded clothing, a smile of gratification the only indication of their activities as they went back to work.
****Two charries from the movie... One is obvious, but who do you see as the other?
**Thanks for reading! :D
Work Break
A wet cooling trail was left in the wake of his exploring tongue. Like velvet, it seemed to pull at the skin it traversed, sending spiraling shivers down the spine, in spite of the close pressing heat that filled the shadowed interior of the sun dappled garage. Work roughened hands held and rubbed at grease and sweat coated skin.
The strong smell of engine oil, heavy and thick in the sweltering summer humidity filled the nostrils with its odor, so thick you could taste it. Other smells mingled with it but couldn't overpower it, gasoline, fresh cut grass, dust, and expensive leather. The scarred leather seat they were on gave off puffs of aroma that indicated the cushions had been in the heat for years too long. Another smell that seemed to settle on the tongue.
The rent of zippers was strangely soft in a day filled with normal neighborhood sounds. Kids yelling, cars passing, lawn mowers, metal ticking in the sun, birds chirping, and heavy breathing. The old leather seat squeaked its protest as they leaned this way and that, freeing limbs and more flesh.
Hands reached out immediately, pulling the lovers back together as quickly as possible. Soft sighs resulted from lips meeting flesh, hands roughly brushing over heated damp skin. Salt was the flavor of the day. No amount of showering could combat this heat's effect. Skin dripped with the cooling wetness, only to be lapped up by greedy lips and tongues.
Final bits of clothing were tossed aside. A hoarse groan sounded as grease stained hands closed over the thick satin-over-steel appendage. His head tilted back, eyes closed to slits as he reveled in the skilled handling.
After only moments of stroking manipulations his eyes opened. Fierce brown, his determination and need palpable.
"Get up. On your knees. Turn around."
His hoarse clipped commands brought a slow smile to flushed sun-darkened sweaty cheeks. He stood, bronze skin reflecting the glowing light of the afternoon, making him appear god-like. Without a hint of self-consciousness he turned, purpose in the very stride of his long sculpted legs.
Eager eyes stayed on the spectacle he made, crinkling at the corners when the sought prize was located. A small jar of Vaseline.
With the precious commodity engulfed in his huge fist he came back, moving as gracefully as ever. The head of his cock bobbed with his steps, drawing the eye. The sleek muscle of his sex just as beautiful as the rest of him.
"Get up. I want you from behind."
His demands got action this time and the seat creaked again as hands came to rest on the back, knees on the edge of the seat. Eyes peered over a sweaty shoulder to see him eyeing the anticipated target with narrowed appreciative eyes. He dipped his finger into the heat-softened jelly and liberally spread it on the glistening head of his dick, the moisture of pre-cum rejecting his attempts to make it stick. Then he was pressing a warm fingerful against the tight opening revealed to him.
A soft moan resulted from his touch. The peering eyes disappeared as the head dropped below rigid shoulders. "Oh, god."
His finger slid in easily, nearly welcomed by the normally unreceptive hole.
"Ready?"
His question was met by a faltering nod.
Stomach flexed and clenching in need, nipples aching from lack of attention, hands braced to take the initial thrust.
He slid in amazingly easy, his own groan drowned out by the hoarse cry of either pleasure or pain. Heartbeats later the penetrated ass was pushing back, accepting more of the offered gift. A hand dropped from the back of the couch to dole attention on neglected body parts out of his reach.
His hands gripped slim hips, holding them still for his punishing pace. Their sounds and smells now masked those of the day and garage. Only this mattered. Sex and sweat and grunts filled the air.
He slid a hand lower, pinching a hardened nipple, getting a gasp of reaction, as well as an answering lift of the hips. His body was hard, pressed tight to the smaller form beneath his, hammering his hips into receptive bowels. Big golden hands came to lean on the back of the seat, squeezing the aged leather in punishing grips as his tempo increased, his sounds roughened and became less practiced, more honest.
Moans of pleasure resulted from his straining urgency. His arm dropped, large hand seeking to reciprocate, to bring them both to peak at the same moment. Little effort was required. His skilled hands barely had to touch the oversensitive flesh to cause a cry of release. Hips rocked into his steady thumping penetration, and then they were both gasping, exertion causing muscles to go rigid, slick skin to slide.
Then there was only the sound of heavy breathing, warm puffs of air fanning warmer skin. And slowly the sounds and smells of the day returned. Each reached for discarded clothing, a smile of gratification the only indication of their activities as they went back to work.
****Two charries from the movie... One is obvious, but who do you see as the other?
**Thanks for reading! :D