DISCLAIMER: I don't own the ladies and I'm making no money from them.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Grease-Monkey
By scarimor
Sam Carter pulled in her abdominal muscles, winced, squeezed, and forced the zipper on her jeans to close. Boy, they were tight.
Not that she'd put on any weight recently. Oh no. The Colonel's current regime of uphill runs and night-time exercises on Cheyenne Mountain meant there was no danger of that. If anything she'd lost a couple of pounds over the last month - and gained some stamina.
No. The old, faded, more than threadbare-at-the-knee jeans were tight because they were not designed to accommodate both Sam's toned curves and a double-dildo.
Sam winced again. It was kind of uncomfortable. Not the in Sam section of the dildo - which she was well designed to accommodate (ooh yeah). No, that part was fine. More than fine, in fact - rather big and smooth and... well, filling, in a nice kind of way. No, the part that was uncomfortable was the extra Sam section - that is the equally large, smooth, silicon phallus which now stood proudly erect against the inside of her zipper, its dark crimson head peeking eagerly above the waistband of her jeans like something alive and on the pull.
Sam eyed it uncertainly. Was it meant to peek out like that? She tapped the dildo lightly on the helmet, then gave it a gentle push down. It rose back up again as soon as she withdrew her finger. One thing was certain - she didn't need a harness with this set-up. All she need do was unzip a little to let her shiny new cock stand to attention, ready for action. The combination of tight denim and her own inner contours anchored the double phallus perfectly.
Just like Janet said it would.
Sam glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall: 14:47. She had thirteen minutes until Janet would arrive back from the hairdresser. Thirteen minutes to the appointed time. She looked at her own watch to re-check: yep, 14:47. She was on schedule. Cool.
Sam looked in Janet's mirror next. It was a little too low on the wall and she had to bend her knees to see herself properly. She mussed her hair, trying for an unkempt look, and managed something close to the blonde shagginess which she usually sported every time she returned through the 'gate. Janet liked that look, apparently.
She straightened again and worked through a verbal list: "Okaaaaay... jeans - faded; wife-beater shirt - off-white; boots - polished..." Oh well, never mind, they'd do. "And cock. Big, shiny, crimson cock - peeking."
Sam stared down at it again. God it looked silly. She pulled her shirt down to hide it.
So, thirteen minutes to kill. Enough time for a beer. Sam opened Janet's refrigerator and scanned its contents. A large, boxed chocolate gateaux occupied an entire shelf - she knew she shouldn't touch that like her life depended on it. There was also a bottle of Californian white chilling in the door. Sam stooped and peered behind the pasta salad - ah, there they were: stupid little bottles of Stella Artois. She grabbed one and flipped the metal top off with her thumbs so that it landed in the sink with a satisfying 'I'm too cool for this kitchen, baby' clink-clink. She was about to take a swig and hesitated, the cold rim of the bottle hovering near her lips. Was beer-breath such a good idea?
A moment later she grinned and gulped half the bottle down. Beer-breath was perfect for this scenario.
Sam wandered into the garage to wait. The silicon inside her twisted a little with every stride. It felt good as she moved but rather unpredictable, and she tried sitting down on one of the lawn-chairs which Janet had brought in out of the rain, wriggling to find the best position.
She sprang back up again quickly when she heard a vehicle pull up outside. She darted forward to peer through the open garage door in time to see a cab door open. A familiar pair of high heels appeared.
Sam scuttled back inside the garage, surprised to feel her heart-beat quicken in her chest. Janet was back early. She put the half-drunk beer bottle down on the concrete and grabbed a grease spray-can from a shelf. She squeezed a little onto her fingertips and smeared some of the dark grease along the line of her cheekbone, then added a few more sticky squirts onto her shirt. Then she ducked behind Janet's car, out of sight.
The sound of the cab pulling away receded as the sharp click-click of Janet's heels grew louder. Sam waited until she guessed Janet was inside, then stood up abruptly. She opened her mouth to greet the doctor, and promptly lost her voice.
Janet Fraiser took Sam's breath away. She stood with her back to the light, her hands perched on her trim hips and her feet planted wide. She was wearing a low-cut, figure-hugging purple dress that revealed a cleavage full of promise and left little of her perfect legs to the imagination. There were so many delicious curves to stare at that it took Sam quite a while to notice that Janet's hair looked lovely.
Janet waited a few moments, milking her entrance, then spoke imperiously.
"Is my car ready?"
Sam had almost forgotten the scene. She blinked a few times, still gazing at Janet, then cleared her throat.
"Uh, nearly, Ma'am. I'm almost done."
Janet glared at her. "Nearly?" She flipped a delicate wrist, checking her watch. "Your boss told me it would be fixed by three."
Sam found a rag and wiped her hands clean. She approaching cautiously. "I fixed it, Miss... Mrs..."
"Fraiser."
"Mrs Fraiser. I just need to check a couple of things."
Janet noticed the beer bottle standing on the ground. Her eyes narrowed at it, then she turned back to Sam. "You're drinking on the job?"
Janet's tone was so disapproving that Sam came close to feeling chastened. Damn it, Janet didn't miss a thing.
When Sam didn't answer Janet stepped forward. Her eyes grew piercing. "Does your boss know that you drink liquor when you're supposed to be working?"
Sam didn't know what to say. Was Janet really annoyed? This wasn't what she'd expected, and her improvisation skills felt sadly inadequate.
Fortunately Janet didn't wait for an answer this time. She strode around her car, her sharp heels loud on the concrete.
"Did you valet it?" she asked, frowning.
"Um, no." Sam tossed the grubby rag aside. "I don't do the valeting. I'm just the grease-monkey... you know - 'Hey, Grease-monkey! Get that nut off!'" She coughed for effect. Then she cringed. God, that was dreadful.
Janet kept a perfectly straight face. Sam wondered if the doctor maintained such a rigid poise to avoid dissolving into a fit of laughter. She wouldn't blame her.
Janet paused at the front of the car. She glanced up. "What's your name?"
Sam stuck her hands in her back pockets. "Sam."
Janet's lips curved a little into the beginnings of a smirk. "Well, Sam, I'll make you a deal. I won't tell your boss that you're drinking while you should be fixing cars, if you come here and polish this scratch off my license plate."
Sam joined Janet by the car, once again feeling the dildo move inside her. For some reason this time it felt much more distracting. She glanced down briefly.
"I don't think I can polish that off, Mrs Fraiser. You'll need to get a new plate."
"Oh really?"
Janet moved closer, and Sam felt the warmth of the other woman's body seep through her clothing. She looked down and saw Janet's smooth, olive-skinned breasts rise and fall within the tight confines of her dress. At that moment Sam could have sworn she felt her silicon cock shudder.
"That's not particularly satisfying," said Janet, her voice lowering. "Maybe we can come to another arrangement." She raised her hand and stroked Sam's abdomen with her finger. "Take your shirt off."
Sam swallowed. Janet was good at this. Through the heady smell of grease on her own clothing Sam could sense Janet's alluring scent. She recognised it as something expensive.
"My boss doesn't like me to take my shirt off when I'm at work," she replied. "The customers find it... trashy."
"I won't tell him," said Janet.
"Her," said Sam, spontaneously.
Janet's eyebrows rose slightly. "Her? Oh." Her lip curled. "So your boss is a woman?"
"That's right." Sam nodded, trying not to react to the teasing fingertip which was now caressing her chest in a slow, circling motion.
"I see," said Janet huskily. "And how does that make you feel, Sam? Taking orders from a woman?"
Sam inhaled sharply as Janet's thumb stroked her left nipple through the thin cotton.
"I'm fine with it," she said, in a voice that came out croakier than she intended.
Janet's smile broadened into a knowing grin. "Oh, I doubt that, Sam." She licked her lips as she brushed her fingers across Sam's other breast. "You don't strike me as the type who's secure enough to take orders from a woman. You'd have your shirt off by now if you were."
Sam met Janet's gaze. The doctor's expression was amused, and more than a little challenging.
Sam took her shirt off. She hadn't pulled it free from her head before Janet looked down and noticed the crimson cock peeping above Sam's jeans. The doctor's eyes widened.
"Oh my goodness..."
Janet lowered her hand to touch Sam's erection. Sam stepped backwards out of reach awkwardly. Janet followed quickly and seized Sam's jeans with her left hand. She tugged the zipper down with the other, just enough so that the dildo bounced free. She grabbed the smooth shaft and pulled Sam towards her.
Sam moaned. The rigid toy jerked against her both inside and out, sending a wave of exquisite sensations shooting down her thighs and up through her abdomen. She groaned louder and snaked her hand around the back of Janet's smoothly styled dark hair. She closed her eyes and pulled the other woman into a passionate kiss, pushing her tongue between Janet's lips and invading her soft, warm mouth aggressively.
The warmth left her lips abruptly as Janet jerked away from her. A second later Sam heard a slap and then felt a sharp sting on her cheek where Janet's palm connected.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Janet demanded angrily.
Sam stared, her confusion rendering her speechless. What the hell? Did Janet just hit her?
Suddenly the awkwardness left her. A throbbing heat began to build where the solid cock touched her ripening flesh. She grabbed Janet around the thighs and hauled her up onto the hood of the car, shoving her back and spreading her legs forcefully.
"What the fuck do you think I'm doing?" She glared down at the shocked woman and adjusted her cock. Her other hand slipped up Janet's thigh under the purple dress and seized a firm buttock. Oh lord, Janet wasn't wearing panties...
Janet struggled to get up from the car. "How dare you-?"
"Oh I dare!" hissed Sam, positioning herself between Janet's spread thighs. "And don't pretend this isn't why you came here early, Mrs Fraiser." She groped for Janet's entrance and almost cried out when she felt how fluid and ready her lover was. She thrust in hard.
Janet did cry out. Then she closed her eyes and gasped as Sam slid back and then forward to fill her again. Her hands grabbed Sam's shoulders, gripping tightly.
"Oh, Sam!"
Sam thrust again, pulling Janet towards her with hands wrapped around her hips for extra leverage. Janet slid against the smooth metal and gasped again as the cock rammed home.
"Oh, fuck!"
"You got that right!"
Sam grew breathless as she quickened her pace. The sight and sound of Janet moaning on the hood, coupled with the dildo's urgent friction against her own flesh, brought Sam to an unexpected and rapid climax. She closed her eyes and groaned as she came, trembling against silky thighs that gripped her waist.
When she opened her eyes again she realised she still had work to do. She pulled out suddenly.
"Ooh!" Janet gasped as Sam flipped her over and pressed her palms down against the solid steel. Sam spread the doctor's firm, glistening thighs and drove into her again from behind. Janet arched against her.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" Sam said roughly, pounding into her. She curved her hand underneath Janet and began circling her swollen clitoris above the sliding cock. "This is why you strut in here with no underwear."
Janet squeaked. Her fingernails clawed at the metallic paint.
"Isn't it?!" Sam hissed, demanding a coherent answer.
"Yes!"
"Yes," Sam repeated, moving faster. "And this is why you try to blackmail me, like the desperate slut you are instead of the lady you pretend to be."
Janet whimpered against the cold metal, shuddering with every vigorous thrust of Sam's hips.
"Isn't it?!" Sam growled.
"Yes, Sam," Janet cried, and her limbs went rigid.
Sam felt Janet's pulsating orgasm travelling against her own body. She grinned in triumph and held Janet tightly while she rode out the waves. As Janet keened the last moments of her climax, Sam flicked her thumb across the rigid flesh an extra couple of times, eliciting another startled squeal of ecstasy.
Afterwards they lay across the hood of the car, Sam's weight pressing into Janet's back. Janet was breathing heavily.
"You're such a good boy, Sam," Janet said after a while, smiling contentedly.
Sam leaned back and slapped Janet hard on the ass.
"Ow!" Janet yelled, startled. Then she smirked. "I guess you owed me that one."
The End