Auto Accident Becomes Opportunity

We’d just gotten the convertible; a change from three years of only having an S.U.V.  As a retired finance manager for a conglomerate of auto dealerships nobody knew better than me about the economics and potential waste buying a new car.

Despite having as part of my retirement at-cost privileges if we bought or leased from the “family” of high-end dealerships my former bosses owned we’d downsized; me not working and my husband Kent working from home made two cars absurd.  During the COVID-fueled used car demand we’d sold our four-year-old luxury sedan and only kept our two-year-old S.U.V.  Three years later it was the warranty’s expiration; I convinced Kent we should live a little.

For the little we drive the convertible added some joy to the mundane.  The Florida late-summer heat didn’t daunt us and the sixteen second duration of the convertible top’s raising cycle solved the frequent downpour issue.

I was driving home from the dealership after my first complimentary car wash; one week we’d had the convertible.  Blazing hot sun, some old Ray-Ban’s, and Queen blaring on the high-end sound system; life was GOOD.

The three miles on the interstate of the eight-mile drive home was a breeze; and I was first in one of four lanes at the stop light at the huge intersection at the bottom of the off-ramp.  The day was beautiful; enough ocean breeze to have me on simmer instead of boil in the direct sun while I waited for the light.  The light goes green and a horn from an impatient driver a few lanes over got my attention as well; strangely all of us waiting at the cross-walk for the light seemed to take our time or at least waited a beat to forge ahead.  I along with them proceeded at last after the insistent honk.

No more than a few feet into the vast eight-lane wide boulevard I was turning left onto a white blur in my peripheral vision from my left became a ridiculously huge S.U.V. barreling through his red light and directly toward me and the other cars.  As I literally stood on my brakes and the sophisticatedly engineered brake system stopped me without skidding three things happened nearly simultaneously: first I for whatever reason looked away from the danger and at the six green lights I could see ahead of and around me (that’s how huge the intersection was) which confirmed what I knew already;  second the likewise advanced engineering blared a collision warning at me; and third I felt the draft of the huge vehicle as it swerved and passed so close to me I didn’t know how we didn’t collide.  Unfortunately that moment was followed by a huge jolt from behind, a sickening crunch, and my trunk lid flying up in my rear-view; my new car was wrecked.

I had no choice but to continue the turn and caught a glimpse of the regular-sized S.U.V. which had done me in behind me as we made what seemed like a never-ending journey onto the cross-street and I found a place to pull over where no stopping was encouraged.  I was pulling my registration and insurance card from the console when the other driver rushed up to my door.

“Why the fuck did you stop old man?”

Well that got my attention!  Not that fifty-three is young but seriously?  And in an S.U.V. himself he could have easily seen over my sporty convertible and observed the marauding villain who could have killed at least me and the people in the car next to me had we not all miraculously stopped.

“I didn’t even see you,” he continued as I opened my door with deliberate force to slam into him and knock him out of my way.  “What the fuck dude?” he cried as I got out and to my feet.

I then noticed he was short; I’m only six feet but I towered over him as I turned and crowded him into the side of my car.  “The FUCK, DUDE,” I snarled and rolled the ‘dude’ out until he cowered as I looked down at him, “Is that your irresponsible driving is eclipsed only by your abhorrent manners and probable stupidity!”

He blinked and shrunk back some more with the small available space.  “First what the living fuck do you mean you didn’t see me?  You’re driving a lethal weapon and are legally bound to be paying attention and looking at the car in front of you!”

He started to say something and I shut that down.  “Shut the FUCK up until I’ve finished answering your asinine question!”  He flinched and looked side-to-side to no avail; the only activity was the throng of vehicles speeding past.  “Second how could you have possibly missed the biggest fucking S.U.V. ever produced that ran the red light at about ninety and nearly  took me and several other cars out?”  None of it was hyperbole.  In fact the weaponized S.U.V. had been an early-two-thousands Ford Excursion which actually holds the record as the largest S.U.V. to threaten the pavement.  This year Jeep put out a Grand Wagoneer with the same length, but considerably less girth and a fraction of the weight of the now-discontinued Excursion.  Only the Hummer was heavier but it was shorter.  But I digress; my automotive trivia is substantial.

“Third you don’t tell the driver of the car you just wrecked by rear-ending him that you didn’t see him.  If the law wasn’t clear about rear-end collisions being the unquestionable fault of the following driver you’d have landed the liability squarely on yourself anyway with that quote to the police!”

“You … you … you’re not going to call the police are you sir?” he stammered.  His tune had changed!

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?  What the fuck do you have to hide?”

“Nuh … nuh … nothing sir; I swear.   It’s just that … just … well the police here shoot first and ask questions later when you have my color of skin not yours.”  He was shaking; I was against him and felt it as well as observed it.

“And fourth YOUNG man what the FUCK do you think happens to insipid stupid ignorant jack-ass punks who call a combat-trained army veteran ‘old man’?  Huh?” I spat into his face an inch or so away?

“I … uh … I didn’t … uh … I’m sorry sir!”

“Yeah well wait until your insurance company raises your rates when it pays a shit-ton for the repairs to my brand new car that’s worth about thirty times the value of your beater two thousand base-model Cherokee in less than fair condition!”  He went so pale that I thought for an instant that he was going to pass-out.  “You DO have insurance right?”

“Oh yes sir!” he quickly answered.

“Well that’s something!”

I glared at him until he looked away again; then I took a step back.  “Get your registration, insurance card, and driver’s license.”  He blinked at me and I noticed blue eyes in the sun.  That made me notice more of him than his height and eye color; a jock’s body.  And an unavoidably noticeable bulge; I wondered if his ass was as noticeable.  “Now would be good,” I prompted.  He scurried back to his car and I checked-out his very fine ass in GAP khakis.

We took photos of each other’s documents, exchanged numbers, and were about to leave.  From behind as I was returning to my door I heard him.  “I really am sorry for disrespecting you sir.”

I turned and he was standing with his hand on his oxidized door handle looking at me.  “If you were my son, who’s about your age, I’d literally paddle you until you learned some manners,” I told him and let all my remaining frustration funnel through that outburst.  My cardiologist had unknowingly been holding his breath and could relax now.

His face changed.  “So I’d be rewarded?” he asked with a snarky smile.

Whoa.  And his hand strayed to that bulge … that was bulging more.  “A young twerp like you can get loads more than he bargained for being a tease to a man Dylan,” I found myself saying incredulously.

His eyes narrowed and he walked toward me; his hand was still on his package.  He stalked right up to me until his pecs and his wrist at his crotch were touching me.  “You think you could handle me?  OLD MAN?” he asked with a filthy smile and his bright blue eyes boring up into mine.

I chuckled.  At myself.  Would I?  Was I? really?  Seriously?  Apparently I was because I heard myself saying, “After my husband and I fuck you within an inch of your life you’ll beg for more.”

He grinned up at me and with his other hand he found my dick and balls in my shorts.  His face changed to surprise as he gripped me.  “Is your husband a hot hung daddy too?”

I knew it was fucking wrong; but I knew I was going through with this.  “You can cut out the daddy stuff for me; that’s not my kink.  And my husband’s a young stud and his huge dick will make you remember him for weeks.”

His eyes smoldered up at me.  “This one here feels damn big!  He’s bigger than you?”

“Huge by comparison,” I told him honestly.

“DAY-UM!”

“You prove your worth, and I’ll take you to him.”

“What; here?  You forget I now know where you live and that your husband is hung as fuck?  I might just present my holes for him sometime without your approval and intro,” he said with a wicked grin up at me and his hand now up the leg of my shorts feeling my dripping dick-head because I was free-balling.

“We should take this somewhere off the road,” I told him.  I wish I could claim virtue of setting an example of road safety for the boy; but you know … my dick.

“ANYwhere you say SIR!”.

He rubbed his own obvious hard-on as he looked up at me with a smirk.  I knew this was all wrong; I didn’t even know if he was trying to trap me somehow.  I also know I was going to fuck this hot, irresponsible young man within an inch of his life!

“Follow me.  When we get to the gate just follow through behind me fast.  It’s about four miles.  And what happened with having to get to work?”  He’d told me nervously while we were exchanging info.  “Or are you as irresponsible about that as you are driving?”

“I sent a text I had an accident.  I’ll send one I’m being held-up longer.  And you’ll just have to punish me for that,” he said through a dirty grin.  And those blues just glittered in the sun-light.

“Call your insurance company on the way there; hands-free so you don’t cause another accident!”

“Done deal, daddy!”

“And knock off that daddy shit!” I snapped.

He smirked again.  “Yes sir!”

“Mmmm better,” I grumbled and turned and shook my head at my trunk lid wide open and no way to close it … which meant the convertible top wouldn’t go up either.  I gave a look to the sky as I went to my door and got in; no signs of rain so that was something.

I Siri’d a text to Kent that I was bringing home a ‘morsel’ for ‘lunch.’  He texted back a pic of his formidable dick already nearly hard.  He knew exactly what I meant; he always does.

The insurance company call was quick; wham, bam, “thank you for trusting … “ and “go to the website we’ll text you the link”.   Still getting used to most everything being self-service.  I’d take care of that after I took care of the urgency in my shorts.

“Fuck you weren’t kidding when you said he’s a hot piece!”  Kent’s way of establishing turf and praising what I’d brought back to the cave for him to feast on.  The hot piece was petting Sasha and took his time before he stood again and turned.

“Not bad at all yourself sir,” Dylan replied looking Kent up and down.  He never took his eyes off my husband after that; like a dog eyeing a steak and calculating.

I had a dead-on view of the little stud’s ass and man was it fine!  Looked like two perfect cantaloupes riding high lust below the tiny waist of his khakis.  “Nice ass on you Dylan.  You think you can take two big white dicks?”

“Probably both at once,” he said cockily.  “When I’m not giving it I’m usually taking big black cock.  But don’t worry I’m still plenty tight.”

Kent just laughed.  “Get in there and get those fuckin’ clothes off,” he told our guest and pointed to the door to our rooms.  Dylan turned without a word and went through the hall toward the open door to our rooms. Kent leant in to me and spoke lower.  “Since he’s already rear-ended you … “

I elbowed him gently as I guffawed.  “I’ll cede first dibs on his far-too-young ass.”

“He’s older than Corey,” Kent rightly pointed-out.  Corey is the slutty son of our next-door neighbors; he’s recently returned to school and started his senior year or grad school.

“Well, then; fucking the kid who doesn’t know how to drive isn’t really as bad an idea as it seemed after all now that I’ve had him follow me home.”

“That built little bitch has an amazing ass on him, hon.  You did GOOD!”

From the bedroom:  “This little bitch is ready to be DONE good.”  We looked at each other and laughed.  “NOW would be good daddies!”

We do love a demanding bottom.

We went through and were greeted in our sitting room by the promising sight of an exceptionally well-formed jock-butt facing us.  The rest of him was perched with his forearms on the back of the mid-century modern leather sofa, his knees wide apart on the edge of the seat, his back arched, and a shit-eating grin as he looked back at us.  His ball-sac hung low if a bit slack between excessively muscled thighs; and I’m not sure why I was surprised that the soles of his feet were toughened but squeaky-clean.  They were also noticeably wide: I immediately side-stepped to see if I could see if his dick’s girth was concomitant.

I was startled when Kent’s big hand took hold of my hard-on; I hadn’t realized I was hard.  “Perhaps you should go first,” he offered.  “After all turnabout and all that … “

Without awaiting my answer Kent went around to the back of the sofa and took a stance with Dylan’s forehead nearly touching his abs; his big feet wide apart.  “Take it out!” he commanded.  

My husband was wearing only a pair of gym trunks; he wasn’t wearing anything when I’d left as was our custom at home.  Even as I’d told him from the drive I was bringing home a fuck he’d apparently pulled them on to play host.

I got myself moving and stepped-up behind our guest.  With one hand I unzipped my shorts; with the other hand I reached-out and took a handful of his sac.

“Fuck yeah daddy!” he hissed but since he’d unzipped and taken out Kent’s anaconda I couldn’t tell if it was my grip or the sight of Kent’s monster dick.

The boy’s balls were actually sub-average in the big sac; they hung low but the reality was they were no bigger than the onions you’d find in a hearty Gibson.  While my brain was speculating that his dick would correspond the edge of my fore-finger knocked against his member.  It was rock-hard … and felt far more substantial than I’d expected; more like I’d speculated when I saw his wide feet.

I used my free hand now that my shorts were around my ankles to thumb his obviously well-experienced hole.  “Yeah daddy my pussy’s all yours,” he groaned and spared me wondering which of us he intended it for.  I bent and spit; a benefit of allergies which otherwise were a nuisance was that the glob of mucous that found its target was substantial.  “OH FUCK YEAH!” resounded.

“Oh fuck!” my husband echoed.  And while I thought the glugging gurgle of the jock-bitch was the source of Kent’s exclamation he quickly dispelled that notion.  “I forgot Sasha’s groomer appointment.  They’ll be here soon.”

“Well good thing he’s sitting this one out and will be free for his mobile beauty parlor,” I joked.

Kent rolled his eyes and grabbed the jock-boy’s head to make more efficient use of his mouth and throat.  I couldn’t see Dylan’s throat distended by Kent’s enormous hard-on but I could see the effects as he clenched the leather frantically and his traps, delts, rhomboids, and tris all strained.

“Come on boy!  This isn’t your first rodeo!” Kent admonished him.  “Work that cock!”

I cringed at “boy;” but Dylan didn’t seem to mind.

“That hole clean boy?” Kent continued.  He vaguely grunted in response in a way it seemed he had something to say.  Kent released his grip on the jock-boy’s head.

Dylan pulled off and choked for a breath or two.  “Yes; I’m on PrEP, get tested regularly, and I will show you my results if you want them.  Are you men clean?  Because I would much rather have both your loads in my holes than latex.”

It was the most articulate utterance from him since we’d met; er since he slammed into our new car.

“And before you stuff that amazing cock of yours down my throat again I just have to say … well it’s the biggest I’ve ever seen on a white guy.  And most brothers can’t compete with that!  I don’t even know your name by the way.”  All of it directed to Kent; eyes met eyes.

Kent took hold of his head and slammed his knob into Dylan’s mouth until it opened.  “You talk too much for a cock-sucker.  And I’m Sir to you!”  And he shoved more, the jock-boy resisted and gagged, and Kent thrusted harder and slammed his bush into the boy’s nose with a thunk.  To me he urged, “Fuck this bitch-boy!  We have to be done before Shasta’s appointment.

Actually only one of us had to be free to answer the door and to hand over our trusty beast to his spa date.  But the hole my thumb was in was inviting and why wait?

I spat another glob of snot and again hit my target.  I worked it in with two fingers and the boy worked his ass back on me and moaned more aggressively.  I got my dick-head lined-up and smeared some of my own pre-jizz around and found myself being consumed by his hot hungry hole.

Kent leaned over him and we kissed.  He looked at me with a combination of passionate intensity and devotion.  “I love watching your beautiful cock own a hole … almost as much as I enjoy it when you own mine.”  He kissed me again.

That scene might well have continued had Dylan not shaken his ass in a twerk-like way to let me know my distracted thrusts needed some acceleration and focus.  I took hold of his hips and began slamming into him hard enough that he was whimpering and growling all at once around Kent’s assault on his throat.

“So hot inside; like fucking lava,” I told Kent.

“Throat’s had some training; that’s for sure,” he grunted as he skull-fucked him.

Kent was going for the gold, no doubt about it; I could feel the force of his thrusts as Dylan was slammed back onto me harder than I was already railing him.  He was moaning and shouting albeit muffled as we slammed into either end of him.  My dick wasn’t going to take much more to unload; that jock-pussy was that good.

I angled myself a couple of ways until I felt him jolt wildly on a jab and knew I’d found his spot.  I mustered more force from my core and drove into him mercilessly.  Other than a noticeable increase to the audio intensity I felt his body begin to tense and knew it was going to go down to the wire whether I held-out until he blew his wad or I exploded first.

As it turns-out it was about simultaneous.  With a flurry of thrashing around (which is no mean feat when you have a billy club down your throat) his hole began gripping man’s that was all I could take.  “FUUUUUCK!” I moaned as it built beyond my usual pressure point before the release.  Then I choked-out, “Ohhhhh fuckkkk with an intensity that exceeded what I was expecting.

“Load-up.  That.  Hoooooole!” Kent struggled to get out through an increasingly intense grimace.  Then he threw his head back and stopped his throat-fucking buried to the hilt.  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrggggggggg!” he bellowed.

To his credit the boy took it all until Kent finally released him and stumbled back a step.  “Fucking holy shit that was hot!” the fuck-toy nearly shouted.  I pulled out and saw him clench his puffy pucker closed.  He gingerly got himself to his feet as we all caught our breath.  There was a huge mess of his splattered cum all over the sofa back and seat.  And I also noticed that while not long his still-hard dick was girthy as promised by his wide feet.  The chime sounded on our phones that the gate had admitted the groomer. 

We all stood for a time that became awkward as we had already caught our breath.  What does one do when the loads are all blasted and there’s no remaining social objective; but he’s still there?

 Finally Dylan asked, “May I shower before I go to work?”

Relieved we showed him the way   Shortly after that he dressed and was leaving.  “I may call you; I have your number.”  He was back to smirking.

”Next time it’s my cock in that ass that had Al’s seed in it today!” Kent staked his claim.

”Still does!” Dylan grinned and left.  When he crossed paths with the groomer he turned and waved.  “Thanks again for your contribution sirs!”  

We both stifled our guffaws.