Mustang Sally


During the summer that I turned eighteen, I worked my butt off at a burger hop – you know, one of those places where the girls all wear short-shorts and roller skates – with one goal in mind: to buy a car. I came from a middle-class family with two older brothers in college, so my parents didn’t have enough money to afford a car for me. But, my dad made me a deal: if I came up with half the money for a used car, he would pay the other half. But I had to do it by the end of summer.

Talk about incentive to work! I pulled every shift I could, working days and nights over that scorching summer just so I could have my own transportation when I went away to college. Thankfully, my managers at the burger hop were pretty relaxed in their interpretation of the company’s uniform standards (we were popularly referred to as the ‘Hooters of car hops’), so I let my tits work as hard as I did.

I’m not the prettiest girl in the world (I think my nose is a little too big and no matter what I did, I always had a couple of pimples here and there on my face), but I do have, as one boy put it, ‘the world’s most perfect breasts.’ Despite being D-cups, they are firm and lusciously teardrop-shaped and don’t droop one tiny bit. Throughout high school, I was called ‘Bag Lady’ because of my fun bags.

Well, I wore my work polo unbuttoned all the way down, showing off my mouth-watering cleavage, and tied my shirt under my mams, showing off my well-toned tummy as well as the little kitten tattoo on my abdomen. I used to tease boys after I got the tat; “hey, wanna see my pussy?” Then I’d show them my kitten. ‘Course, a few lucky boys got to see the real thing . . . .

Some of the other girls hated me because I was so shameless about flashing my boobs. But they were just jealous since the most they could ever hope for were little ‘B-stings.’ When they counted their twenty or thirty bucks in tips at the end of the shift, I’d gloat as I showed them my wad of cash that equaled twice what they made. And I saved just about every single penny.


By the time mid-August came around, I had saved up fifteen hundred dollars. I went to my dad, and we agreed that, when I found the car I wanted, all I had to do was call him up, and he would give me the money for the other half. But he cautioned me to be careful, especially with ‘shady salesmen.’ I assured him I would be fine; after all, my boyfriend Tommy was going with me.

That morning, I was giddy with excitement as I waited on the curb before my house for Tommy to show up. That day, I wore the tiniest little denim shorts that really showed off my camel-toe and long, slender legs, and a tight white tank top that might as well have been invisible for all the good it did covering my breasts. Hey, my tits had earned me good money so far; now they were gonna help me get a car.

Ten o’clock, and no Tommy. Ten-fifteen. Ten-thirty. I was starting to panic. I wanted to hit as many places as I could in one day. I was not about to let Tommy screw that up. God! Why did I have to pick the laziest, most irresponsible moron in school to be my boyfriend?

I headed back into the house to call him (this was back in the day before cell-phones were as common hanging off people’s ears as earrings). No answer. I waited another fifteen minutes. Still no answer. I was getting pissed off.

Finally, I figured, fuck it. I jogged down to the corner bus stop, caught the Number 8 just in time, transferred to another bus, and arrived in the middle of a busy avenue lined with over a dozen little used car dealerships on either side. They had names like Shadow Car Sales, Henry’s Car World, and Pick-N-Drive. Maybe not the most reputable of places, but I only had a three-thousand dollar budget.

My anger toward Tommy was replaced by hope as I headed into the nearest place. Thanks to my jog and from walking out in the sun, I had a light sheen of sweat and my nips were all but clearly visible. Guys in the lots stared at my tits as I checked out the cars. Now, thanks to my two older brothers, I knew a thing or two about cars. I knew that a cam shaft wasn’t some guy named Cam’s dick, and that an air filter wasn’t a hand-rolled cigarette.

I checked out various cars and indulged in some Q&A as the greasy salesmen checked out my T&A. Naturally, they assumed that an eighteen-year-old girl with big tits must be an airhead, and was therefore easily duped. Nope, not me. I startled them with questions about fuel rating, mileage, carburetor versus EFI, horsepower at RPM, and so forth. I crawled underneath and inspected hoses and fuel lines, popped the hoods and looked for evidence of oil leaks from the gasket seals.

I took a couple test drives here and there, sometimes with the salesmen beside me as I opened the various cars up. More than once I got propositioned. I didn’t mind that so much since I knew how to let guys down easy and even shady, greasy salesmen could only go so far. In fact, it was kind of flattering.

I saw a couple of cars in my Trabzon Escort price range, but by four o’clock, I still had some time, so I headed to one of the last places, called Rudi’s Car Emporium. A little brown trailer sat in the middle of the lot, surrounded by about thirty vehicles. Most were sleek little sports cars, definite classics. I looked around a little, and—

I actually gasped. Oh my God! No way! No freaking way!

Baby-blue, white vinyl top, it called to me. A 1966 Mustang. I literally ran to the car, slapping my hands to the driver-side window. Okay, so maybe the upholstery needed some work – I could always cover it – but the dash was perfectly restored, looking almost like brand-new, four-speed shift kit, and – gasp! – bucket seats! Oh, man . . . .

I popped the hood, and swooned at the sight of the engine: a 327 short-block V6 that had somehow been crammed into the compartment. It looked practically new, and I doubted there was more than a thousand miles on the thing. My heart was hammering, and my nipples were so hard that they almost tore through my shirt. I had never been so totally turned on by a car before, but my little cunny was juicing so much I was willing to fuck the gear shift.

This was it. This was the car. But there was one little problem. The four bright yellow numbers glowing on the windshield beside a dollar sign: 3-5-0-0.

“So you like the Mustang, eh?”

The nasally voice startled me, and I straightened and spun around. The little man standing before me ogled my swaying tits. And he really was a little guy. I’m five-six in flat shoes, and he was a good two inches shorter. A dark-skinned Hispanic guy, thinning hair slicked back, a day’s growth on his round face, he looked the epitome of ‘greasy’ and ‘swarthy.’ There was the overpowering aroma of some cheap cologne wafting off him like the stench from a pile of dead fish.

But at the moment, he was my salvation, or so I hoped. “Are you a salesman?” I asked excitedly.

He grinned, showing yellowed teeth. He lifted a cigarette, making no effort whatsoever to disguise the way he was undressing me with his eyes. “I’m Rudi,” he said simply. “What kind of deal can we make today?”

I smiled, and put my hands behind my back, pushing my tits out toward him, shifting a little to make them bounce. Rudi’s eyes drank in every movement, darted down to my crotch before coming back to meet my gaze.

“I really want this car, sir,” I said emphatically. “This is exactly what I’ve been looking for.”

He smiled, puffed on his cigarette, walked before the car and touching the hood. “Oh, she’s a beauty, all right,” he said. “And she needs a real beauty to drive it. Someone like you.”

I actually blushed. Sure, it was a line, but his words made me imagine being behind the wheel, windows down, some old-time Aretha blaring out through the speakers, letting Tommy drill me in the front seat . . . .

“Wanna take her for a spin?” he asked.

Those were the magic words. Rudi headed into his little trailer for the keys, and I jumped behind the wheel. Rudi laughed from the passenger seat as he watched me drive up and down the street, through a subdivision, then out on the highway. The more I drove the car, the more I turned on I got. I even started thinking that cologne-marinated Rudi was kind’a cute. The ‘Stang had aftermarket speakers that surrounded me with music.

I was sold. I had to have the car. I had to!

“But I should tell you,” he said once we got back to the lot. “I may have a buyer for her tomorrow.”

I gave him a serious look as I got out of the car and looked to him over the hood. “I’ll take it right now,” I said confidently, then faltered slightly. “It’s just—”

He gave me a narrow-eyed look as he came around. “I don’t do payments, Miss . . . .”

I held out my hand. “Sally,” I said.

Rudi chuckled, shook my hand. His own was a little sweaty. “Sally,” he repeated. “Of course.”

I kept my smile. “I can pay cash,” I said. “Well, half cash, and half check.”

Rudi arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Money order?”

I fidgeted a moment. “Um . . . sure,” I said, hoping my dad wouldn’t mind getting a money order instead of writing a personal check.

Rudi smiled, flicked his cigarette. “Well, then, Mustang Sally, looks like you’re about to drive off in the car of your dreams.”

I followed him back to the trailer, where air conditioning awaited. I sighed in relief as the cool air washed over me. The office was surprisingly nice, with a couple of wooden-framed futons facing each other over a heavy wooden coffee table, a water cooler, and a desk toward one end, facing out. Rudi went behind the desk, sat down in a big leather chair. I shifted uncomfortably. “Um . . . there’s one little problem,” I said.

Rudi’s eyes narrowed again as he looked up. He said nothing, waited patiently.

“Um . . . would you consider going lower than thirty-five? I-I can give you three grand right now—”

He Trabzon Escort Bayan sighed. “That Mustang is worth four thousand already,” he said. “Thirty-five hundred is a damn good deal.”

I started to panic. That was my car out there! I knew it was! “I-I know,” I said. “Trust me, I know. M-maybe I could give you the other five hundred in a couple weeks, soon as I make the money—”

He raised a hand. “I have a buyer who will take it tomorrow, all cash, all up front,” he said. “Why would I take your offer of less money with a promise of paying off the rest? I already told you, I don’t do payments.”

I trembled, even whimpered a little. I paced back and forth, feeling desperate. “M-mister . . . Rudi,” I said, looking at him over his desk. He looked so small in such a big chair. “Have you ever found something that you just knew you were meant to have? Something so . . . special and perfect that you had to have it?”

He smiled roguishly, his dark eyes wandering over my body again. “Oh, I think I know that feeling pretty well,” he said meaningfully.

“Please,” I said, leaning over the desk. “I swear I’ll pay off the rest. I swear.”

Rudi held my eyes for a moment, then stared at my tits. I took a chance, and pushed them out toward him, making the fabric of my top really stretch across them. “Please,” I repeated.

“Well . . . I’ll tell you what, Sally,” he said. “I’ll give you two options: come up with the full thirty-five hundred by six o’clock – which is about an hour and fifteen minutes away – or . . . .” he trailed off, licking his lips suggestively.

I understood his implication instantly. I straightened, feeling suddenly uncomfortable, and folded my arms across my chest. “Or what?”

He smiled. “Or fuck me, and I’ll knock off five hundred bucks.”

I just stared at him, astonished and offended by his offer. For a long moment, neither of us said a thing. Rudi just gave me that smug, I’ve-got-the-upper-hand look, and lit another cigarette. I felt my stomach churning.

“You’re disgusting,” I said at last.

He laughed. “You want the car, don’t you?”

I huffed, grinding my teeth, looking away from him. Typical asshole male, I thought. Sure, he’ll give me what I want, but only if I fuck him first. I shuddered at the thought of letting this sweaty, greasy, smelly little man have his way with me.

I finally looked back, glaring at him. “I’ll have the money,” I said. “All of it.” Then I turned and marched from the room.

“See you soon,” he called after me.


I jogged to a convenience store just down the street, called my dad. I told him I had found the car I wanted, but that I needed an extra five hundred from him. He refused to give me the extra money, saying that we had made a deal. It was his attempt at teaching me financial responsibility and value, I knew, but at the moment, I didn’t want to hear that crap. I begrudgingly accepted what my father told me, then got him to send cash through a Western Union that was there in the convenience store.

While I waited for the money, I called my mom, my friends, even ex-boyfriends. I didn’t bother calling Tommy; I was still pissed at him, and beside that, he was always broke anyway. No one could help me out, and I felt stupid and foolish and selfish for even asking. After I hung up the phone for the tenth time, I looked to the clock on the wall in the corner store. It was twenty ’till six. I had a choice to make.

My dignity, or my car.

Would it really be so bad? I thought. It’s not like I’m a virgin, after all. Okay, so Rudi’s a little guy and he smells like the perfume department of a pawn shop. But maybe he’ll just pop off in ten seconds, and that’ll be it. The way he was checking me out . . . .

I was nervous with the three thousand dollars in my pocket as I left the store, but even more nervous as I headed back to Rudi’s Car Emporium. As I headed down the short drive, I passed by a young kid as he drove off in his new car. He did a double-take when I passed by. Rudi stood on the steps of his trailer, giving me a self-satisfied smile as I approached.

“Ready to make a deal?” he asked flippantly.

I said nothing, just followed him into the trailer. Rudi closed – and locked – the door behind me, then headed around his desk and sat down. He brought out some paperwork. I stood across from him, waiting, feeling more humiliated by the moment. Rudi seemed to enjoy drawing out the torture as he explained the details of the contract.

“And how will you be paying?” he asked at last, talking to my breasts.

I took the wad of bills from my pocket and smacked them down on the desk. Rudi smiled to himself, counting the money. He counted it twice, then looked up to me.

“Three thousand dollars,” he said. His eyes fell to my crotch. “And how will you pay off the rest?”

I just stared at him for a long moment, feeling humiliated, mortified. But I steeled myself, and crossed my arms, tugging Escort Trabzon my top up over my head. My big sweaty tits bounced free and naked on my chest. I tossed my shirt on the desk.

Rudi just stared at my tits for a long moment, his eyes glazing in lust. “Oh, my,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He pushed back in his chair, motioned with his hand. “Come here, Sally.”

I closed my eyes a moment, thinking, I can’t believe I’m doing this! I’m a whore! I’m selling my body just so I can buy a fucking car! And I’m cheating on Tommy!

But . . . oh, Jesus, that’s my car out there, I know it is. I gotta have it, and if I have to fuck a greasy little pig of a man to get it, so be it.

Numbly, I stepped around the desk, getting in between it and Rudi’s chair. The greasy little man grinned crookedly, ogling my breasts. He leaned forward and grabbed them roughly, making me flinch and gasp. He breathed out, squeezing, kneading my tits, pinching the nipples with his fingers. Despite my sense of revulsion, my thick pink nips were getting hard.

“Mmm, I’m so glad you wanted to pay this way,” Rudi murmured, pulling himself closer. “Uhmmm . . . .”

I winced again as he started sucking one of my nipples, rolling his tongue around it. He moaned constantly, smacking his lips, sucking like a baby trying to get milk. I gasped as I felt a surprisingly aroused charge arc through my body and zap my clit. I hated to admit it, but Rudi’s mouth actually felt kind’a good.

I gripped the edge of the desk, breathing in and out heavily through my mouth, keeping my eyes shut as I tried to imagine that it was Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise or Matthew Perry nursing my boobs. But I couldn’t ignore the reality that some sweaty, short little used car salesman was sucking my tits.

And doing a pretty damn good job of it, I had to realize. He pulled, sucked, licked, lapped, swirled his tongue around my areolas, kissed and sucked on the undersides of my mounds. His hungry mouth even dug into my arm pits, and I gasped as I realized for the first time that they were an erogenous zone. So distracted as I was by his skilled mouth, I did not realize that Rudi had unzipped my shorts until he shoved them down off my hips.

I gasped again as my shorts fell to my ankles, revealing my bare pussy. I had just a tiny little tuft of brunette hair above my clit, and kept my lips shaved smooth. Rudi certainly seemed to appreciate that as he touched and pried open my moist cunt. My labia bulged out, dark pink and a little wet, my clit thick and swollen in its fleshy hood.

“Oh, my, my,” murmured Rudi, pushing back and lowering his head. My nipples were shiny and wet from his mouth.

“Mmmmmaaahhhh . . .” I moaned as Rudi pressed his mouth to my cunt, sucking on my clit like a piece of candy, swirling his tongue around. I felt his tongue slipping between my pink folds, tasting me, probing the entrance to my tunnel. His fingers spread me open, and I automatically parted my thighs, sitting on the edge of his desk. I leaned back on my hands, lifted my legs in the air.

Rudi smiled up at me, his dark eyes as shiny as his greasy hair, and pried my cunt open rudely with his fingers. He stuck out his tongue, then shoved it deep inside my hole. I whimpered, moaned, panted as he did it again and again and again. I had never been tongue-fucked before. Oh, fucking hell it felt good!

Rudi pumped his head back and forth, sliding his tongue deep inside my snatch, rubbing my needy clit with his nose. I started shaking and shuddering, feeling oh so fucking close—

“MMYYEEAAAHHH!!!! I cried out as Rudi covered my cunt with his mouth and sucked hard, his tongue thrashing against my clit. I bucked and trembled as I came, feeling my pussy swell and release a flood of cum that he eagerly sucked down. I heaved, moaning loudly. I had never cum while getting my pussy sucked before! Not even when Tina Stratton did it! Oh, Jesus, I couldn’t believe how wonderful it felt!

Rudi smacked and slurped and sighed between my legs as he licked out all of my cum. I felt light-headed and drunk, heaving in satisfaction as I looked down at him. Then, suddenly, he was on his feet and I was on my knees before him. His dark slacks fell to the ground, along with red silk boxers, and—

Holy fuck!

A sudden, almost comical thought entered my mind: Now I know why Rudi’s so short! All his height went to his dick!

Jutting out from a trimmed nest of jet-black pubes was a long, thick, mighty cock, fully circumcised. It had to be a good nine inches long and about six inches around. His balls were equally huge and heavy, and shaved smooth. The broad dark head was shiny and dripping with pre-cum. I was impressed and turned on by Rudi’s immense dick, and lifted my hands to stroke his throbbing staff.

Rudi chuckled as he settled his hands behind my head, pulling me toward his groin. “Open wide, honey,” he said.

I stared at his penis as it loomed closer, and automatically – maybe even eagerly – opened my mouth. I moaned as his dick filled my mouth, stretching my lips. His crotch had a thick, manly, musky smell to it, while his cock tasted salty and sweet. Oily pre-cum seeped onto my tongue. I felt every pulse and twitch of his dick against my tongue.

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