Shes car ruined, heels on the pedals, tight skirt. The deeper she revs, the harder she gets. She reaches over and strokes him while the RPMs climb and the seat shakes.

Every drop made the white shirt cling tighter while she washed. The heat, the tease, the stubborn starter. She needs the sound and the vibration to finish what the wet fabric started.

The old car would not catch, and the sound was already doing it for her. She watched him struggle, then put her hand on him while he pumped the gas. One hand on the crank, one on his cock. She set the rhythm until the engine and he both gave in.