Where the Boys Aren't #15 - Part 2

In a grease-stained mechanic's office at closing time, a Black woman in coveralls peels open a white girl's jumpsuit, tugging the zipper down her hips like unwrapping something she'd waited for all day. Sweat, engine oil, and something sweeter hang in the air while fingers push into heat. Tongue traces slick folds, slow circles turning hungry as the Latina mechanic grips the doorframe, thighs shaking around another woman's shoulders. Short gasps fill the small room. The shorter of the two drops to her knees, spreads the taller one's legs wider with firm hands, then presses two fingers inside while her mouth seals over the swollen clit and sucks like she plans to ruin her. The wall clock ticks; every heavy breath lands louder than the last. Legs tremble, knees nearly buckle. A slick hand pumps steadily in wet heat until the white girl grabs the desk, knuckles white, hips jerk forward, and her whole body locks, thighs clenching around the face between them as pleasure spikes sharp and hard. Silence follows except for the faint drip of oil hitting concrete outside.