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Flat Tyre

The trouble with having your birthday in the middle of winter is the weather. It's cold and wet and windy. It seems to me that the only time it doesn't rain is when it's waiting for me to venture outside. As soon as I do all that saved up rain comes pelting down. I hate winter.

To make it worse, my father bought me a neat little coupe for my eighteenth birthday. A sweet little car I call Marie. I hate driving in the rain and I could only use my sweet Marie when I had no choice. Accordingly, I was delighted when spring came around, especially as the sun came with it, drying out our drenched countryside.

On the first fine Saturday I took my little car out for a drive. The sun was out in a cloudless sky and the forecast said a nice hot day. I'd dressed accordingly, short shorts and a loose top, carrying a warm top just in case. Windows down, radio on, I headed for the hills.

I wasn't going anywhere in particular, just driving for the sake of driving. I'd find nice open roads and zip down them, having fun. Mind you, I took care to avoid unmade roads. No telling what might happen along those things. A small car like mine could drive into a hidden pothole and sink out of sight. No thank you, nicely made roads suited me fine.

So there I was, zipping along this road in the middle of nowhere when I came around a corner and there was something lying on the road. There was no way on earth I was going to miss whatever it was, although I did try, jinking across the road to the far side. (Safe enough. There was no other traffic.) It didn't help. I didn't quite get clear, with my rear wheel bouncing hard off whatever it was.

It was pretty plain to me that something had gone wrong with my Marie so I pulled over to assess the damage. My passenger side rear tyre was as flat as a pancake. A simple glance told me I needed a new tyre. Whatever I had hit had ripped a hole in the tyre sidewall. The stupid thing wouldn't hold bricks, let alone air.

Irritated I strolled back to see what I'd hit. There was this chunk of rock lying on the road. A ragged piece of granite it looked like. No wonder it had ripped out my tyre. Being a good citizen I moved it to the side of the road. Well, I would have if I could have moved the stupid thing. It weighed a ton.

I considered my situation. I had a flat tyre and I wasn't going to change it. I'm a girl. I don't change tyres. That's what men are for. Obviously I needed to call a man to come and attend to the problem. My other, more immediate problem was that stupid chunk of rock. Anyone else who came around the corner fast might lose control, either from hitting it or from taking evasive action, and there was me and my car a sitting duck for an unguided missile.

My father has always been very safety conscious and he had put a couple of triangle flashers in my boot, just in case. This seemed to be such a case, so I grabbed one and went down to the corner and placed one in the middle of the road. This should slow down anyone coming past.

My immediate safety secured I checked my GPS to see exactly where I was and rang my father. He was not impressed.

"You're a big girl now," he pointed out. "Can't you change the wheel?"

"I tried, daddy," I cajoled, "but I can't loosen the nuts. They seem to be welded on. I just can't budge them."

My father muttered something under his breath and then told me he'd come out. He also pointed out that it would be at least an hour before he got there as he had to finish what he was doing before he could leave.

I settled down to wait. With a bit of luck someone else would come along and offer to change the tyre for me. Country people are supposed to be neighbourly and helpful.

Neighbourly and helpful they might be, but they were also few on the ground. Fifteen minutes passed but no cars did. Then a car finally came along. He came slowly around the corner, thanks to my emergency triangle, then accelerated, waving to me as he passed, still accelerating. Obviously someone from the city and not a helpful local.

It was another fifteen minute before another car came. This guy was more the good citizen type. He came slowly around the corner and stopped. Got out of his car and dragged that chunk of rock off the road. I hopped out of my car, waiting for him to approach and offer assistance. That rotten swine walked back to the corner, grabbed the triangle, came back to his car, hopped in and drove off, taking my triangle with him, leaving me staring after him, mouth open in surprise.

It was only a minute later that another car came around the corner and this one actually pulled up behind me and stopped. This guy got out and he was the yokel's yokel. Really. He had blue denim bib overalls, a blue t-shirt, and clodhopper boots.

He strolled over to my car, looking at the tyre. I got out and regarded him. He looked back at me.

"Bob's the name. You got a flat tyre," he said.

"Ah, I'm Janice. Yes, I know," I admitted.

"Why haven't you changed it?"

I didn't even bother with the story of not being able to loosen the wheel nuts. I just gave him a look and said, "I'm a girl. I do girl stuff. I don't change tyres."

He nodded slowly as though this made perfect sense. Well, it did to me, even if some men seem to have trouble accepting it.

"Gotcha," he said. "I guess you want me to change your wheel."

"I would be very grateful if you did," I admitted. "My father is going to come out and help me but he won't be here for at least another half hour."

"Well, it'll only take me a few minutes to change it. Then you can call your dad and tell him all's fine. Pop her for me and I'll get out your stuff," he said, slapping the car lightly.

I did as I was told and he very efficiently extracted my tools and my spare wheel. While he changed it I called my father and told him he needn't worry as a helpful local was changing the wheel for me. Then I stood and watched as Bob worked. It was literally only a few minutes and the old wheel was off, the new one on, and the old wheel was being stored away.

"That was very efficient," I told him. "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure," he said. "Now it's your turn."

"Excuse me?"

"Your turn. To do girl stuff," he clarified, and without any more preamble than that he reached over, flicked open the button on my shorts and yanked them down.

My jaw just dropped. How could he do that? And outside, by the side of the road, at that. It would have been bad enough in private but you can't call a public highway private.

"What do you think you're doing?" I yelled.

"Helping you to do girl stuff," he said, now busy encouraging my panties to follow my shorts.

"Well, just stop it," I yelled. "You have no right to do such a thing. How dare you?"

I wasn't just yelling. I was pushing at him and trying to catch hold of my panties at the same time. The stupid oaf just laughed at me. I suppose I shouldn't say 'just'. As well as laughing he grabbed me, spun me around, and pushed me so I was bending over my car. He also delivered a firm spank to my bare bottom.

"Stop mucking around," he reprimanded me. "I haven't got all day, you know. I did the man stuff, changing your wheel, and now you can do your girly bit. Don't worry, I'll be doing the man part for you."

He was now holding me in place with one hand pressing against my back while his other hand was between my legs, getting overly familiar with me. I kicked backwards at him, missing, unfortunately. He didn't miss. He withdrew his hand from between my legs and I got another firm spank.

"Behave," he snapped, hand dropping down between my legs again.

"Well you stop this nonsense. I never meant anything like this when I said I do girl stuff and you know it."

"Yeah, you did," he contradicted. "You might not have expected to have to pay up but it's what you were offering. Or were you offering to bake me a cake?"

"But, but, it was just a figure of speech."

"Mm. You say that now. Why not hush up for a while? Save me having to spank that charming little bottom of yours."

"What, you expect me to just stand here and let you fuck me?"

"Now you're getting the idea."

I was stunned. He could NOT be serious. He was just taking the chance for a quick grope. That was all, I told myself.

I was telling myself lies. He must have decided that I was ready for the next step as he withdrew his hand and I heard a zip going down. Then his hand was back, spreading my lips to make way for his cock. It seemed to me that he was spreading them a bit much. Then his cock was pressing against me and I found he hadn't been over-stretching my lips.

Next thing I know I'm giving a long low scream as this huge cock comes snaking its way inside me. To be fair, I wasn't screaming because he was hurting me. That damned groping he'd been doing had been preparing my passage quite nicely for his intrusion and now he was reaping the reward, his cock slipping down a well-oiled slope. Or up it, anyway, the way he was taking me.

Once he was fully inside me, he didn't waste time letting me adjust to him. If I wasn't ready for action that was my problem, not his. He was pulling back as soon as his groin mashed against my pussy, withdrawing almost the whole way and then driving home with intent.

At the same time he reached up inside my top and unhooked my bra, his arms circling me so he could maul my breasts.

He gave a few firm strokes and paused. A hand left my breast as it had something else it needed to do, namely, spank my bottom again.

"What was that for?" I yelled, outraged. "I didn't do anything."

"That's what it was for. You're supposed to be doing girl things. Hump your hips when I'm fucking you," he growled.

Oh, excuse me. I wasn't being properly receptive to his love-making. How remiss of me. Still, he did have a point. Things would be easier for me if I did move with him. Grumpily I conceded the point and started pushing to meet him as he resumed.

With me cooperating Bob promptly picked up the pace and set off at a regular gallop. I found I was working hard to keep up with him but I was consoled by a couple of little points. The first thing was that at this pace good old Bob wouldn't last long, which was a pity in a way as it meant I probably wouldn't get there.

The other thing was that the whole situation was incredible exciting and erotic. I mean, I was being fucked by a stranger in broad daylight by the side of the road and someone could come past at any moment and there was nothing I could do about it. I was a helpless victim and all I could do was accept what was happening. That possible traffic was probably the reason Bob was galloping away, wanting to get his rocks off before someone came and caught us.

When you're wrong, you're wrong. After a good five minutes had passed and Bob was still running his race I was able to work out that Bob was galloping along like this because this was his normal pace. I was gasping for breath, hovering on the brink of a climax, wanting to scream at him to get on with it, but he was getting on with it, and on, and on, and on.

My blood was running hot, my heart pounding away to the rhythm of Bob's cock, each stoke acting as my pulse, throbbing right through me. If he'd just slow down for a moment maybe I could catch my breath and tell him to finish it, but he was not slowing down. If anything, it seemed to me that he was increasing speed.

It turned out that he was. His finishing run had snuck up on me and suddenly his cock was running amok inside me. It was too much for me to cope with and I climaxed, lost to what he was doing, just shuddering as waves of heated pleasure swept through me.

Bob disengaged and gave me another spank on the bottom.

"Not bad, love," he said. "You'd better get dressed though. You never know who may come down the road."

Then he was getting in his own car and driving away, giving me a wave as he left. I hastily tidied up my own clothes and slumped into my little Marie, feeling both drained and exhilarated. That had been a most strange occurrence. I started Marie and drove off. Time, I thought, to go home. There was a small side track a little way up and I used that to turn around and head on home.

I was passing the scene of my flat time incident when another car came around the corner. A police car, of all things. It went sailing past me and I watched it disappearing in my rear vision mirror.

What, I wondered, would have happened if they'd arrive five minutes earlier?

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