The Diesel Mechanic

If one wanted to observe the embodiment of the term; ‘built like a brick shithouse,’ then Ratchet would be the perfect example. Six- foot-four-tall, he was broad in every aspect of his physique and facial features. Ratchet’s real name was Richard, and he was a diesel mechanic. He got the nickname as a result of a malapropism at technical college when one of his fellow students’ referred to him in error as Ratchet. Everyone guffawed at the time, but as is so often the case, the nickname stuck.  

At the age of twenty-five, Ratchet found himself in the employment of a wealthy farmer. Mr. Harris owned several farms in the district and decided to employ Ratchet on a full-time basis to service and maintain his equipment on the farm. Mr. Harris had appropriated Ratchet from the garage in their small town, which serviced the entire district. Along with all the local farmers, Mr. Harris had grown tired of the poorly run service centre and took matters into his own hands.

Mr. Harris constructed a large workshop on the road that led to his residence, about two hundred yards before the main house. The reason was so that the other farmers seeking Ratchet’s services wouldn’t have to pass by Mr. Harris’ home. In no time the investment paid for itself, and Ratchet was not only kept very busy but generating a good income.

Ratchet’s living area was a spacious apartment that had been laid out in the loft area and was accessed by a wooden staircase. It was well-furnished with all the amenities Ratchet could want. As part of his remuneration package, Ratchet’s weekly groceries were supplied by Mr. Harris as well. The provisions were always delivered to Ratchet at around ten-thirty on Wednesdays, by Laura, Mr. Harris’ young wife.

Mr. Harris was well into his fifties, and his first wife had passed away four years before. Mr. Harris married the twenty-three-year-old Laura three years later. Laura was beautiful, had an hourglass figure, but was a total wallet-missile. Laura could easily have been the unofficial chairperson of the, ‘I’d rather be an old man’s love than a young man’s slave,’ club. Although not entirely rude, she had a slightly haughty demeanour with all the staff in Mr. Harris’ employ. Being younger than Mr. Harris’ sons, a few lifted eyebrows appeared once Laura moved in.

Ratchet had the hots for Laura and would’ve liked nothing better than to grip hold of her and throw her over the solid wooden table in his workshop, before fucking the hell out of her. Ratchet had a misogynistic attitude towards women and was only interested in one part of their bodies. Frankly, that segment was located several inches below their bellybuttons.

On Saturday evenings, Ratchet frequented a bar in town along with all the other rednecks in the district. There they would all shuffle around to country music supplied by a local band. He mostly got lucky on Saturdays, but the females were usually desperate cougars and well passed their sell-by dates. Although he dreamed about Laura, he knew she was beyond his reach, and therefore had to be content with his pickups at the bar.

On a Monday evening, however, Ratchet’s luck turned when Mr. Harris was away on a business trip. Ratchet had run out of milk and decided to visit the main house to get a carton, as was the norm. As he approached the homestead, he saw a faint beam of light, emanating from what he supposed was the main bedroom. On an impulse, he decided to take a peak, hopeful that he might get a glimpse of Laura naked. What he saw was a lot more than he bargained. Laura was indeed naked and was lying on her bed, being fucked by Gareth, one of the farmhands. A broad smile broke out on Ratchet’s face as he observed the lovers. Rubbing his knob absentmindedly, Ratchet knew that he just been handed a golden ticket to Laura’s pussy. As he walked home salivating, he couldn’t wait for his grocery delivery on Wednesday.

Lying on his bed that evening, he played with his thick cock, before contentedly shooting a load all over his hairy chest. Ratchet had three genitals features that set him apart from other men. Firstly, his dick was very thick and had a huge mushroom head. Secondly, he also had an above-average sized piss-slit and could push his little finger into the hole up to the second knuckle. With that finger inserted in the slit, he could then caress the bulbous head of his dick, with his thumb. Thirdly, Ratchet also had one oversized ball the size of a large orange, which gave his ball-sac a strange appearance. The sluts that he picked up at the bar were mesmerized by his equipment.

On Wednesday, ‘Miss Prissy’ arrived at her usual time, and after they unloaded the packets from her pickup, Ratchet asked if she minded him asking her a question.

“What?” She queried, in an exasperated tone.

Ratchet decided to go straight for the jugular. “Does your husband know Gareth is fucking you?”

It was though a plug had opened on an inflatable toy. Doe-eyed, Laura looked at him with a frightened expression. Her haughtiness completely melted in that instant.

“What… what do you want?” she apprehensively asked.

“Your pussy,” he countered, without missing a beat.

After observing him for several seconds, she shakily replied, “Name your price. Tell me how much money you want?”

Ratchet laughed. “I don’t want your money, I want your cunt,” Ratchet stated as he groped the front of his trousers.

Transfixed, she just stood there as he moved towards her. Grabbing hold of her wrist, Ratchet moved her towards the wooden table. A thickly folded blanket appeared over the edge of the table, in anticipation of her visit. As she whimpered in protest, her torso got pushed down. Behind her, he pulled up her dress before placing both thumbs on either side of her panties. In a swift motion, Ratchet pulled his thumb’s outward, ripping her underwear apart. His sullied right hand immediately cupped her cunt, as her legs got pushed apart.

“Please, please, nooo,” she begged.

With his left hand firmly holding her down, Ratchet’s right hand moved from her pussy and commenced smacking her backside.

After five hefty slaps on either side, he said, “There are four things you need to know. Firstly, this pussy now belongs to me. Secondly, your relationship with Gareth has just ended, and thirdly, when your husband goes away in the future, you’ll be in my bed. Finally, from now on, you, and not your maid, will be bringing me my sandwiches at ten o’clock every day, are we clear on this?”

“Yes,” she replied meekly, fully comprehending the devastation that Ratchet could cause her.  

“Good, now it’s time to introduce your pussy to its new best friend,” he concluded.

With one hand still holding her down, the other hand unlatched the clasps of his dungarees. Ratchet never wore underwear, and presently his knob boldly pushed up against her portal. He looked down triumphantly, watching his dick-head nudge its way between her pussy lips.

‘No more stretched out cougar cunts for me,’ he thought with delight. Then, with both Laura’s arms pinned, he rapidly entered her. As she gasped, he groaned with satisfaction. ‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘not so fucking prissy anymore.’

Wide-eyed, Laura experienced the biggest knob than she had ever had inside her. Strangely, the slaps had sexually excited and relaxed her. ‘Maybe, I underestimated this grease monkey,’ she thought. ‘Oh god… yes, this feels very good,’ her thoughts continued, as she groaned with pleasure.

Once all in, Ratchet held still for a short while. As he sensed her pleasure, he knew she was succumbing to his control.

‘This bitch is in heaven. Fuck yeah, she’ll be begging me for my thick cock from here on. Time to start pounding,’ his mind concluded.

Lifting her left leg for maximum access, Ratchet began thrusting into her. He then slowly began to lift her torso and pulled her dress up and over her head. With his hairy left arm wrapped around her, he clamped onto her right breast. With Laura firmly secured, Ratchet commenced thumping into her.

After a short while, his right arm moved around her body, before his middle finger located her nub. As his rough finger frenziedly began rubbing her clit, Laura started howling with pleasure. Locked in his embrace, she could smell his masculinity over-laced with the smell of workshop grease. The entire scenario was overwhelming her, and when he sensed her impending climax, he banged his cock into her. As Laura cried out in the throes of orgasm, he pushed her body down and hammered her cunt mercilessly. He came shortly after, aggressively pumping his cum into her pussy.

Laura had not ever experienced anything like this before and knew that she would never again be satisfied by the wimp-like lovemaking skills of her husband or Gareth. Turning around, Laura observed the magnificent uncut pussy-pounder that had just tamed her.

‘Fuck, he’s huge,’ she thought, totally mesmerized. The arrogant smirk on Ratchet’s face further excited her. They just stared at one another, gasping in a haze of animalistic gratification.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Ratchet growled as he stepped out of his dungarees. Lifting her body back onto the blanket and pushing her torso backward, he ordered her to hold her legs wide apart for him. Ratchet lightly began bouncing his rock-hard knob on her pussy, before taking a firm hold of his dick and slapped her pussy-lips severely. Instinctively, she closed her legs.

“Don’t ever close your legs again,” he snarled. “This stuck-up cunt of yours needs to get taught a lesson,” he concluded. Gingerly, Laura once again opened her legs for him.

Laura howled as his cock now spanked her vulva wantonly. “Now you know your place bitch,” he intoned as he meted out his discipline. Laura had never felt more excited or alive as she received her punishment. Her sex life had just got taken to a heavenly level that she had even dreamed of. Her complete submission was exhilarating her beyond comprehension. After placing his knob at her portal, Ratchet gripped her thighs and pulled her onto his dick, impaling her forcefully. Laura cried out in bliss as he began to thump her cunt.

Sensing Laura’s next orgasm, Ratchet’s rough thumb located her clitoris and began flicking her nub. There are no words to describe the sounds that now emanated from Laura, as her body writhed in ecstasy. Ratchet pulled his cock out of her as he began unloading and sprayed her torso with an abundance of his spunk.

What Laura and Ratchet did not realize was that their entire show got observed by Bennie, Mr. Harris’s youngest son. Bennie had walked over to the workshop to ask Ratchet a favour. Upon his arrival, Bennie had heard the commotion from within and had witnessed almost the entire spectacle. Bennie often popped into the workshop to ask ‘favours,’ which was a ruse to ogle Ratchet, whom Bennie thought was the sexiest man on the planet. Bennie had always known he was gay but had to restrain this predilection in fear that his father might find out.

The scene that Bennie had witnessed had excited him beyond belief, and he wished that he was Laura. Bennie’s overstimulated mind now also began to scheme how he could use what he had seen to his advantage. Although Bennie had a cordial relationship with Laura, he thought of her as an upstart who had developed ‘airs and graces’ because of her newfound status in life. This sighting, however, would now give him the upper hand in their relationship.

More importantly, nonetheless, it was the leverage that he would now have over Ratchet, that excited him the most. Although Ratchet had always been friendly toward him, Bennie knew that this was because he was the boss’s son. Bennie had no intention of surprising the two and cleverly decided to give his observations some serious thought before putting his plans into action.

After the ending of the show, Bennie hid away so that he wouldn’t get seen.   

As Laura walked back to her home afterward, her only thought was delivering Ratchet’s sandwiches the following day.

As this ritual became the norm, Bennie avidly watched Laura’s coming and goings. He didn’t want to take too many chances but did peep in at the action from time to time. With each voyeuristic scenario, the intensity of Bennie’s lust flourished, and he knew that he would soon make his move.

A week or so later, Mr. Harris spent the night away on a business trip. At around seven-thirty that evening, Laura made her way to the workshop, observed by Bennie.

As she entered, Ratchet was wiping his grease-stained hands on a dirty cloth. He looked even grubbier than usual.

Observing her, he said, “Get your arse upstairs. I want you naked on the bed when I get up there.”

As she lay on the bed, she couldn’t wait to hear his approaching footsteps. Minutes later, she smiled as she heard Ratchet stomping up the stairs. Looking at her like an animal about to feast on its prey, he removed his footwear and dungarees. After mounting her, Ratchet began kissing her. He had never done so before, and Laura was surprised by this new development. Like his fucking, his kissing was also very rough, and he attacked her mouth with ferocity. It worried her that she might have to explain her reddened oral features to her husband the following day when he returned home.

Ratchet fucked her senseless that night. He was all over her like a rash, and she loved every second of his attention. The heady smell of his large odorous body completely intoxicated her olfactory senses. She spent a night in nirvana with her bulky oppressor banging the life out of her. Ratchet thrived on his dominance, having finally, enslaved the object of his desire.

Downstairs, Bennie had entered the workshop and heard the beautiful sexual sounds from upstairs. He would’ve liked nothing better than to climb the stairs and peep at the goings-on. Afraid, however, of the stairs creaking and being found out, Bennie resisted the urge. What Bennie did decide there and then, nonetheless, was that he was going to make his move on Ratchet, the following day.

After Laura made her way back to her home in the early hours of the following morning, she showered. Then she passed out on her bed, exhausted, but sated.     

The following day, as Laura was preparing Ratchet’s sandwiches, Bennie joined her in the kitchen. 

“You seem to be getting on very well with Ratchet,” Bennie said in a voice laced with innuendo.

“He’s okay,” Laura replied, doing her best to act as indifferently as she could.

“Well, when you finish, I will deliver the sandwiches for you,” Bennie offered.

“No, I’ll do it. It’s no problem for me,” Laura countered.

“Oh, but I insist,” Bennie definitively answered.

As Bennie made his way with the sandwiches, adrenalin was pumping through his body. The moment of truth had finally arrived for him.

“Where’s Laura?” Ratchet asked as Bennie entered.

“I decided to save her the trip,” Bennie answered.         

“Oh,” Ratchet replied, with a faint look of disappointment on his face.

“Well, I’ll stand-in for her if you like?” Bennie quickly responded.

“What do you mean?” Ratchet bewilderedly asked.

Going for the jugular, Bennie instantly answered, “You can fuck me instead.”

“I’m not queer,” Ratchet disbelievingly countered.

“But I am,” Bennie shot back.

Ratchet instantly evaluated the situation. The little cunt standing before Ratchet had a lustfully impish look on his face, and Ratchet was in no doubt about what was playing out before him. Under normal circumstances, Ratchet would’ve given Bennie a thumping, there and then, but he kept his temper under control. This little shit had a gun to his head and was calling the shots, in a strange change of fortunes. Ratchet knew that he was onto a good wicket with this job and couldn’t afford to lose it if Mr. Harris found out about him and Laura. He also knew that if he threatened to expose Bennie to his father that still wouldn’t solve matters, and that his future in the region would get annihilated.

“What the fuck do you want,” Ratchet sneeringly asked.

“I want to suck you, and have you fuck me,” Bennie succinctly replied.

“Christ, you are disgusting,” Ratchet scornfully answered.

“Last I recall, adultery trumps homosexuality in the bible,” Bennie bravely countered.

“Let me just make one thing clear. Don’t even think of fucking my arse. My hole is exclusively for shitting,” Ratchet crudely responded.

“No problem,” Bennie assuredly replied, relieved by his progress.

“Well, bend over the table. I’ll fuck your arse first and see how it goes,” Ratchet derisively hissed.

As Bennie removed his trousers and leaned over the blanket on the table, Ratchet decided that he was going to make things as unpleasant as possible for Bennie. Hopefully, in that way, Bennie would never again want a repeat performance. Ratchet’s concern that he wouldn’t be able to rise to the occasion got dispelled when he saw the pink pucker awaiting him after he had removed his overall.

“Shouldn’t you use some lube?” Bennie now nervously asked.

“No, if you want this cock, faggot, then you are going to have to take it raw,” Ratchet barked.

“Please, please just use some spit,” Bennie implored.

“No,” Ratchet growled as his mushroom head harried Bennie’s sphincter.

As the large head smashed its way into Bennie’s pucker, Bennie wailed.

“Take-your-pain-you-fuckin’ queer,” Ratchet bullyingly snarled as he persecuted Bennie’s backside. “You’re getting, exactly, what you deserve.”

As Ratchet forced his dick into Bennie arse, his strong hands menacingly clasped onto Bennie’s hips.

“Ouch,” Bennie shrieked as a triad of agony commandeered his backside, and Bennie’s entire arse felt like it was on fire.

“What’s the matter, faggot, bitten off more than you can chew,” Ratchet derided him.

“No, it’s just that my arse is on fire,” Bennie grunted.

Ratchet immediately decided to make things even more unpleasant and humiliating for Bennie, hopefully, to reinforce his future exclusion from Bennie’s agenda.

“Well, we cannot afford to have any fire in the workshop, so I’d better do something about that,” Ratchet said before he commenced pissing into Bennie’s arsehole.

With warm piss spraying into him, Bennie began to pant and lustfully moan. Instantly, Ratchet realized that the fag-boy was having the time of his life and that Ratchet’s plans were backfiring on him. Amazingly, Ratchet was also getting more turned-on that he had ever imagined possible. Invigorated by the journey of this newfound threshold in his life, Ratchet now went ballistic.

Not only was he fucking a person more rigorously than he had ever done before, but his thrashing hands were also more actively administering slaps and grasps than he had ever considered. The red botches appearing all over Bennie’s body seemed to heighten his stimulation enormously, not to mention the delightful tautness of the man-cunt that was strangling his fat dick.

For Bennie, he had never had a mental mind-fuck even close to what he was enjoying, and the pain was pleasuring him more that he had ever imagined possible.

Sounds of wilful supremacy and willing submission now abounded in the workshop as the veil of ecstasy drew over their orgasmic melee. Bennie almost got throttled, as both men erupted in the throes of an animalistic shuddering.   

After getting dressed afterward, Bennie’s eyes lit up when Ratchet suggested, “Maybe you and Laura can alternate between bringing my sandwiches to me daily.”