The Early Morning I Walked into That Dead-End Tire Shop
My name is Rosaura, and I’m forty-six years old. I’m fair-skinned, wide-hipped, with big tits that still hold themselves up, and men still turn around to look at me when I walk down the street. It had been a long time since I’d told anything like this, but this confession weighs too heavily on me to keep it buried. What happened that early morning changed the way I look at myself in the mirror.
It all started over something stupid. My husband had forgotten to buy breakfast for the next day, and it was already past ten at night. The neighborhood stores were closed, so, rather than sit around stewing, I grabbed the keys to the little car we hardly ever use. It has a manual transmission, and he doesn’t like driving it. I was assigned one at work, so that little one always sleeps in the garage.
I headed for a supermarket a little farther away, one of those that stays open late. On the way, I felt the steering wheel tug to one side, followed by a sharp knocking against the asphalt. I pulled over a few yards ahead and got out to check. The front tire had blown out, flattened against the ground.
“Of all nights,” I muttered.
I got back in and drove slowly for a couple of blocks. A young man was walking along the sidewalk, so I rolled down the window and asked him where I could find a nearby tire shop.
“Two blocks, then turn right,” he told me. “There’s one there.”
I followed his directions. When I turned, I found myself on a dark dead-end street, without a single working light. At the far end, a metal shutter was half lowered, and a faded sign identified the shop. I got out, somewhat frightened, because the place gave me a terrible feeling. A dark-skinned man of about sixty came out, with graying afro hair and grease-stained hands.
“We’re closed, ma’am,” he said, wiping his hands with a rag.
“Please, I’m begging you. I’ve blown a tire, and I live far away.”
Another man appeared behind him, also older, broad-backed, with a calm voice.
“Let her be, Aurelio. I can change it for her if you want,” he offered, and my heart came back into my chest.
They raised the shutter and had me drive the car inside. I thanked them several times while Aurelio pointed out a few battered chairs against the wall.
“Have a seat. This’ll take a while.”
I sat down. I was glad I’d found someone to help me, but I was also nervous about the place: a filthy floor, the smell of burnt oil, a single lamp hanging from the ceiling. The two men kept looking at me out of the corners of their eyes, and I knew perfectly well where those looks were going: my cleavage, my thighs, the triangle showing beneath my Lycra. I was dressed very casually, in a short Lycra running short and a sports tank top with no bra, because I’d thought I’d only be in and out of the supermarket. Suddenly I felt far too exposed for that place, my nipples showing through the fabric and the shorts riding up into my crotch every time I crossed my legs.
An old car entered the street and stopped in front of the gate. A young, powerfully built man got out, carrying a six-pack of beer under his arm. Aurelio went over to help him.
“You took forever with the errand,” he scolded him.
“Yamila was putting on her makeup,” the young man replied, laughing.
I was left wondering who this Yamila might be. Just then, the other man leaned out from the car.
“Your tire can’t be repaired. If you want, we can sell you a new one.”
“Yes, yes, put on whatever’s needed,” I replied. I just wanted to leave quickly.
To my surprise, Aurelio opened a beer and offered it to me.
“Here, so you don’t get bored while we get your car ready.”
I hesitated for a second, but the cold can won me over. I took a long drink. It was ice-cold and went down like silk. Meanwhile, the young man opened the passenger door of his car, and the famous Yamila stepped out. She was tall, with incredibly long legs, a defined waist, and a round ass that seemed to move on its own when she walked. Blonde hair, fair skin, sweet perfume that filled the whole garage. She sat down beside me and greeted me in a deep, hoarse voice that didn’t match her figure. I immediately realized she was a trans woman—and when she crossed her legs, I also noticed the thick bulge outlined beneath her tight jeans.
The young man handed her one beer and me another. As I opened mine, I thought that my presence was ruining the party for the three of them, because that was what they’d brought her there for. Better finish this drink and leave, I told myself. But the beer was already warming my ears, and something lower down was beginning to stir as well. I could feel my pussy swollen inside my panties, wet, throbbing in time with my heartbeat.
“The car’s ready,” announced the broad-backed man.
I jumped to my feet.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Fifteen dollars.”
“Do you take cards?”
“No, ma’am. Cash.”
“I don’t have any on me. If you wait, I’ll go to an ATM and come back,” I offered.
“Have another one with us, then we’ll settle up,” Aurelio said, handing me another can.
I looked at the three of them. I knew it was a bad idea. But the street was still dark, the car was already fixed, and deep down, part of me didn’t want to leave yet.
“Just one more,” I gave in, sitting back down.
The young man took out a portable speaker and put on some music. Without asking permission, he grabbed Yamila’s hand and pulled her out to dance in the middle of the shop. By then I was already on my third beer, and the heat in my ears had dropped down to my waist. My skin was sensitive, my breathing short, my panties soaked and sticking to my swollen lips.
The broad-backed man held out his hand.
“Dance?”
I accepted without thinking. He took me by the waist and pulled me against his body. He smelled of the sweat of a full day’s work, a strong, masculine smell that would have repulsed me at any other time but that night made me squeeze my thighs together. I immediately felt his bulge against my belly, already hard, thick, pressing against the fabric of my shorts. I looked up and saw that, in the corner, the young man had Yamila against the wall, one hand inside her jeans and his mouth devouring her neck.
Aurelio came over with another can. He handed it to me, I spun around, and ended up hugging him while the other man positioned himself behind me. I felt his big hands travel down my back and lower to my shorts, slipping underneath and squeezing my bare ass.
“Relax,” one of them whispered in my ear. “Nobody’s going to rush you. You set the pace.”
I said nothing. And not saying anything that night meant saying yes. I pushed my ass backward against the hard cock of the man behind me and thrust my pelvis forward against Aurelio’s bulge. They both understood.
A slower song came on. Aurelio began kissing my neck, slowly, behind my ear, and a moan escaped me that I didn’t even try to hide. The other man slipped his hand beneath my tank top and squeezed my bare tits, playing with my nipples until they were hard as stones. Then his other hand traveled down in front, inside my shorts, inside my panties, and found me so wet that he chuckled softly against my nape.
“Look at her,” he said to the other man. “She’s dripping.”
Aurelio lowered his hand too and joined in. Two thick, callused fingers smelling of motor grease slipped into my pussy while the other man’s thumb rubbed my clit in slow circles. I was between them, surrounded, and each of them found a new place to touch me. I spread my legs wider, leaning against the man behind me, and let them paw at every inch of me.
From the corner of my eye, I looked toward the back. Yamila already had the young man’s pants around his knees, kneeling in front of him and swallowing his long, dark cock all the way to the base, her throat open, without gagging. The kid’s hand gripped her blonde hair and set the rhythm. While she sucked him, she caught my eye, pulled his dick from her mouth for a second—a strand of saliva hanging from her lip—and nodded toward a door at the back, the shop’s little room. They went in first. We followed.
Inside there was a single narrow bed and a stale, closed-in smell mingling with her perfume. Yamila immediately sat on the edge to continue what she’d been doing. She had already taken off her pants and was left in a black lace panty that couldn’t contain the stiff cock bulging sideways beneath it, poking out over the elastic.
The two men continued undressing me. The older one yanked my shorts and panties down to my ankles and knelt behind me. He spread my ass cheeks with both hands, large and dark, and buried his face between them. I felt his hot tongue licking me from my asshole to my clit, back and forth, sucking my swollen lips, pushing inside, and I nearly lost my balance. The other man pulled my tank top over my head, left my tits bare, and brought them to his mouth, sucking one nipple and then the other, barely biting while I pressed his head against my chest.
The older man’s tongue never stopped. He licked my pussy hungrily, as if he were thirsty, slurping up my juices, jabbing the tip into my asshole and returning below. I felt my first orgasm rising from my feet, trembling, and I came standing up, crying out softly, held up by the arms of the man in front so I wouldn’t fall. My knees went weak, and I let myself drop onto the bed, breathless, the older man’s face still shining with my juices between my legs.
Then I decided to take control. I pushed them apart a little, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled them by the hands until they were standing on either side of me. I unbuckled both their belts, lowered their zippers, and told them to take off their pants. One wore briefs stretched tight over the outline of his cock; the other wore nothing underneath. When I pulled them all the way down, both cocks sprang into my face, dark, thick, veined, hard despite their age, foreskins already retracted, purple heads gleaming. I took one in each hand and weighed them, feeling their hot weight in my palms. They smelled of sweat, metal, and a whole night of work.
I started with Aurelio. First I licked the underside, following the thick vein running up to his glans, and sucked his balls one by one while jerking the other man with my free hand. Then I put him in my mouth as far as I could, pushing with my tongue, and felt him lodge at the back of my throat. Aurelio groaned and grabbed the back of my head. I switched to the other and did the same, without letting go of the first, alternating between them and listening to them pant. Both men stared at me admiringly, as if they couldn’t believe that the well-dressed lady who’d walked in half an hour earlier was now kneeling and sucking their cocks.
“You suck so well, baby,” the older man said hoarsely. “You’re hungry for dick, aren’t you?”
“It’s been a long time since I took two at once,” I answered with my mouth full, and they laughed.
I climbed onto the bed on all fours and showed them my ass. The older man positioned himself behind me and slowly began pushing his cock inside, opening me little by little. It was thick. I felt every inch as it entered, the head forcing its way through, the shaft stretching my walls. When he reached the bottom, I let out a long moan and lowered my head. The weight of his body settled onto my back, his hands gripping my waist. He began to move, slowly at first, then with firmer thrusts that pushed me a few inches forward on the bed with every stroke. The sound of his thighs slapping my ass filled the little room.
The other man stood in front of me and presented his cock to my mouth. I gripped it with one hand and shoved it down my throat, following the rhythm of the man behind me. When the man behind me thrust, I swallowed deeper; when he withdrew, I slid outward. They had me pierced from both ends, and I was in the middle, panting through my nose, drool running down my chin.
Yamila climbed onto the bed beside me, in the same position, and the young man mounted her the same way, penetrating her from behind. His cock was thinner and lighter than those of the dark-skinned men, and he thrust it into Yamila’s ass with quick strokes that made her buttocks bounce. She moaned in that deep voice that no longer surprised me, and her own cock bounced hard between her legs, dripping onto the sheet. Between laughs and panting, in a gesture I still don’t recognize as my own, I offered Yamila a turn with the older man. She accepted eagerly. The older man pulled out of me for a second and ran his cock across Yamila’s mouth. She swallowed it whole in one go, showing me how it was done. For a while we shared the same mouth, the same men, without jealousy or hurry, taking turns, even sucking each other’s lips whenever the cock changed owners.
The older man thrust back into my ass, and this time he changed the pace, faster and deeper, gripping my hips with both hands and slamming me against him. I felt another orgasm coming, longer, deeper, and screamed into the pillow as I clenched around his cock. That pushed him over the edge: heat ran through him, he growled deeply, and unloaded inside me in hot spurts, squeezing me hard against his pelvis so none of it would escape. When he pulled out, I felt his cum sliding down my thigh. He moved away to rest against the wall, grabbing a fresh beer.
The young man, who had been with Yamila, approached me with his cock still gleaming with saliva and whatever of hers was on it. He ran his hands over my back, arranged me on my side on the bed, lifted one leg, and drove into me in a single thrust, sliding in easily because I was full of the other man’s come. He was younger, rougher, and fucked me with the determination to finish. He didn’t last long: a few minutes later he came too, panting, pulling out just in time to spray thick streams across my tits and belly. He dropped onto his side, laughing.
I lay there for a while, my skin slick with sweat and semen, watching the second man continue with Yamila on the other side of the bed. He had her on her back, her legs over his shoulders, and was pounding her ass with steady thrusts while jerking her pale cock. Yamila came first, shooting across her own belly in a long arc, and he finished inside her shortly afterward with a guttural groan.
When everything seemed to be over, it was she who came over to me. She removed her soaked panty and stood there with her cock bare, hard again, bigger than I’d imagined, pink and smooth. She settled on top of me, missionary-style, and kissed my neck. She opened my legs with her knee and slowly slid inside me, almost tenderly. It was different: thinner than the men, but longer, and she knew how to touch me the way someone who also has a pussy in her head knows how. She pushed all the way in, held still for a second so I could feel her, then began moving with slow hip motions, propped on her elbows, looking me in the eyes. She kissed me on the mouth—a long kiss, with tongue, tasting of cock—while she made me hers. She gave me another orgasm, softer, more skin-deep, and she emptied herself with a sigh against my neck, trembling on top of me.
The night went on. Warm beer, low music, exhausted bodies seeking each other again whenever least expected. Aurelio asked me to sit on top, and I rode him for a long time, my tits bouncing against his face, until he came inside me again. The young man put his cock in my mouth twice more, just so I would keep him hard while he fucked Yamila. We lost count of the times and the hour. I only realized dawn was breaking when a gray line slipped through the crack beneath the door.
I dressed in silence, my body battered, my thighs sticky, my head spinning. I paid the fifteen dollars for the tire—which by then was the last thing I cared about—and drove home with the windows down to clear my head, feeling the semen still trickling out of me into my panties over every bump.
I got home with the first light, disheveled, smelling of beer and things I’d rather not name. My husband was still asleep. And after everything, I hadn’t even brought home the bread for breakfast.
I never went back to that dead-end street. But every now and then, when I pass a tire shop at night and smell rubber and oil, something inside me wakes up again; my panties grow wet without permission, and I squeeze my thighs around the steering wheel. That’s why I’m confessing it here: because there are early mornings a woman keeps forever, and I didn’t want to carry this one alone anymore.
