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So, this is the address my co-worker gave me. It’s an average inconspicuous looking place, and there’s a car parked in the driveway so someone must be home. My co-worker Angela said to ask for “Diane” and give Diane this strange, rather erotic phrase hastily scribbled down on a piece of paper. Whatever, Angela.
I approach the front door, and ring the doorbell. A couple moments go by, and the front door opens.
“Well, hello there,” says the pleasant woman behind the door.
“Hi, I’m looking for Diane.”
“Yes, that’s me,” she responds. “How may I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Jessica. Angela Barton told me about you, and she gave me something for you to see,” as I hand Diane the piece of paper.
Diane takes a look at the piece of paper then looks at me, smiles, and stuffs the paper into her pants pocket. “Come on in, Jessica. It’s so nice to meet you. Glad you could stop by.”
Diane invites me inside.
“So, did Angela tell you much about me?” Diane asks.
“She was very vague, but she did said something about a machine…”
“Yes, I tell all my clients to be very vague. We can’t let the cat out of the bag too much,” as we walk down the hallway. I gathered there was something sexual Angela used that Diane has at her place.
We end up in the garage. I scan the garage and first see there are average garage contents: boxes stacked up against the wall, a couple bicycles, then what looks like a small home gym. Maybe it’s something related to that. A dresser. A curtain hanging in the corner. Then I see something very large – all covered up by a large black cloth.
“Well, this is what your friend Angela was talking about, Jessica,” Diane says as she approaches the large covered object. “Don’t be nervous; only if you’re up for it…”
Diane slowly takes the cover off the large object and reveals what’s underneath.
“It looks like a little car,” I say, feeling a little bit confused.
“Yeah, it may looks like one, but this one ain’t like anything you’ve ever been in before,” Diane replies.
I take a look. It’s powder puff pink and sure looks like a little car, but it doesn’t look like any of the cars I’ve ever seen around. But it’s got tires, and it’s got a door – well at least the side I can see does.
“What kind of car is this?” I ask.
Diane replies, “It’s called an O-Mo.”
“Yes, it’s an O-Mobile, or O-Mo for short. See,” as Diane points to a silver logo stuck to the back of the ‘car’. “O-Mo. And the O, well… that stands for the ‘big O.'”
“You mean orgasm?” I ask.
“Sure do. The O-Mo is designed solely for a woman’s pleasure. Don’t worry; it’s not really a drivable car. See,” as she lifts the rear window revealing a display screen. “Let me just take him off standby.”
Diane taps in some sort of passcode and lowers the window back down. The machine begins to make a quiet hum.
“So, where do you get one of these things?” I ask.
“Oh,” Diane replies. “My sister went somewhere on a business trip, and one of her clients had one of these, and sis just so had to have one for herself. She pulled some strings, and got a hold of a ‘pre-owned’ model. She keeps it here at my place as our little secret. We have a few friends that come by to use it. And it’s great for our girl get togethers.”
“Ok, I guess.” I reply.
“So you can probably tell by the windows that nobody can peek inside. No cameras inside there either,” Diane assures me.
Diane reaches in her pants pocket and pulls out a small key ring, and takes its key. She puts the key in the door lock and turns, resulting in a faint click.
“Yes, it’s very retro, but so is the inside, it’s part of the whole experience,” Diane responds as she lifts up on the door handle and opens the door. “Look inside.”
I look inside and first see the lone driver’s seat; it’s all black vinyl with one exception – a Ankara escort pink bump right in the middle of the butt part of the seat. Diane looks over my shoulder and says, “Yes, that pink thing in the seat is the tip of exactly what you think it is. Let me get in and give you the tour.”
I let Diane climb into the seat and begin to listen.
“OK, so they designed the O-Mobile to be just like a car from the good ol’ days. Right over here you have the ignition,” as she slides the key into it. “Turn the key to start the engine up,” as she makes a motion to pretend to turn it.
“Up front here, the large gauge is your speed. The one on the left is his temperature, and the one on the right is how much gas he has left. Once in a while he overheats, and occasionally he just plain runs out of gas. Just like men in real life. You can tell a woman sure had a say in that part of the design.”
“There’s a lever next to this side of the seat, it’s the brakes,” Diane says as she reaches for the lever. “If you want to stop for any reason, just pull that up.”
Then Diane points to a lever coming out of the floor between her legs. “And this is the gearshift. Have you ever driven a ‘stick’ before?”
“No, can’t say that I have,” I reply.
Diane continues, “It’s not that hard to figure out. Right now the gearshift is in the middle so it’s in ‘neutral’, nothing will happen. You’ll want to get going in first gear, so start off by moving it over and up to first,” as she demonstrates. “Then, he’ll begin his movements. When you’re ready for more, move it down to second, then later over and up for third, then down again for fourth, fifth, and so on. Then down at your right foot is the gas pedal, that will give you a quicker boost if you want one.”
“So if you need something to hold onto, you can with these handles up here,” as she grabs the handles where a steering wheel would normally be, “or there are handles on the sides of the seat too. And since you haven’t tried this out before, I would recommend that you put on the seat belt that’s right up here,” as she reaches up and pulls it out slightly.
Diane then makes a fist and strikes the ceiling a couple times. “And don’t worry, the ceiling’s padded.”
Diane takes the key out of the ignition, hops out, and gently closes the door to the O-Mo. “So do you want to give it a try, Jessica? Might as well now that you’re here.”
“Sure, I guess I’ll try it,” I respond. Might as well is right.
Diane says “Good. So I see that you conveniently have on an easy access little dress so I guess you don’t need to take too much else off…”
“Just my underwear,” I respond. “Excuse me, Diane, but you wouldn’t happen to have any…”
“Lube?” Diane interrupts. “Of course I do. I’m prepared.” Diane walks over to a drawer and takes out a little tube and a towel. “You can keep it,” as she hands me the tube of lubricant. “I keep plenty on hand just in case. There’s a curtain hanging over in the corner, you can prepare yourself back there.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
I make my way behind the curtain and find a chair for my purse. I take off my underwear, then carefully lubricate myself and clean off my fingers, then put my dress back down – leaving my underwear on the chair. I’m ready, but not sure for what’s in store.
I come back out from behind the curtain and approach Diane and the O-Mo. Diane is holding up the key on the key ring and wittily says, “So, Jessica, do you want to borrow the car and go for a spin?”
“Sure,” I respond as I take the key from her, adding to my little tube of lube in my possession.
“OK, so while you were back there I set him back on ‘virgin mode’. Just remember if you need to just pull the brake lever to stop, then shift back to neutral. I’ll be over here if you need anything, just let me know.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I hope you Ankara escort bayan have a great time in there,” as she winks.
I reach for the door handle for the O-Mo and open the door, looking again at the pink bump in the seat, and put the lube on the floor. I then hop inside, sliding into the lone vinyl seat and straddle the phallic gearshift. I gently close the door, sealing myself off from the rest of the garage – and the rest of the world.
Feeling for the bump in the bottom seat cushion with my buttocks, I hike my dress and cautiously line myself up for the O-Mo’s mechanics. I then put on the seat belt across my chest and waist, pausing to make sure I know for certain where that brake lever is. Right there. OK.
I put the key Diane gave me into the ignition. I glance and notice for the first time between the front handlebars is the O-Mo logo in the center. Cute. The gearshift is pointing skyward between my spread legs, and I see the numbers on the knob. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. Diane didn’t mention anything about a 6. I’m beginning to wonder if Diane was really still outside like she said she would be. I don’t want to get trapped in her O-Mobile. Out, bad thought, out.
So there’s the speed, there’s the gas gauge. A few other things that I don’t know what they’re exactly for. And there’s another pedal under my left foot. Not sure what that’s for either. And thank God there’s no big video screen in front of my face. Who knows what would be shown on there.
“Well, here goes nothing,” I quietly say to myself. I reach over for the O-Mo’s key. I grasp it and turn it gently one click. The interior begins to dim slightly and the few dashboard gauges cast a faint glow. This is much better, I thought.
I take a deep breath and slowly turn the key to Start. I hear the O-Mo making the sounds of its “engine” trying to start as the seat and gearshift shake. Brr, rrr, rrr, rrr, rrr. I turn the key for a few seconds, then release. The O-Mo’s interior is filled with dead silence. I feel a little puzzled. I turn the key again and repeat the process. Brr, rrr, rrr, rrr, rrr. Silence. Again. Brr, rrr, rrr, rrr, rrr, rrr, rrr. Silence. I turn the key back to Off and the interior illuminates once more. I reach for the door and open it slightly.
“Diane?” I ask. Maybe I should try the horn instead…
After a few seconds, Diane peeks in the door and replies, “Something wrong, Jessica?”
“Yes, I’m trying to get this thing going but nothing seems to be happening.”
“I know,” she says. “He can be a little difficult sometimes. Try touching and playing with his stick a little bit. That will get him in the mood.” Diane smiles and closes the door, leaving me alone again.
Okaaayyy. I question myself, but play along. I unwillingly take the knob and move the gearshift around, and move it from side to side, then set it back in the center. But I’m not giving this thing a full-on handjob.
I then grasp the key again and turn it one click; the interior begins to dim again and the dashboard begins to glow. I then whisper, “OK, honey.” Maybe this time something will happen, I thought.
I realign myself in the seat and firmly turn the key to Start. Brr, rrr, rrr, vroom! Ta-da! The O-Mo’s seat and gearshift begin to hum with activity, as the interior is filled with the sounds of the “engine” running and I begin to feel the O-Mo’s vibrations. The gas gauge needle moves all the way to the “F”. He must have a full tank. Thank God. I don’t want him to die on me.
I remembered Diane saying I might not need the gas pedal, but I thought I would try and see what would happen anyway. I tap my right foot onto the O-Mo’s gas pedal, and the O-Mo responds. Vroom! Vroom!
I can now feel the O-Mo’s mechanics have slightly extended and are vibrating. I think I’m ready for this. I use my right hand to cautiously move the gearshift into first.
The sound of the O-Mo’s Escort Ankara engine slowly increases as its mechanics begins to force upward. I unconsciously grab the handles besides the seat as the ribbed mechanics begin to screw me over and over like I never ever have been before.
I decide to see what happens if I use the gas pedal now. The O-Mo delivers a more powerful quick thrust with each tap of the gas pedal. Vroom!
After a bit, I decide to keep going and move the gearshift down into second. The sound of the engine speeds up and the penetrations become more powerful and frequent and I grab the handles again to hold on. I begin to feel really, really, really good, and continue my pleasure with an occasional brief tap of my right foot.
I later move the gearshift once again, now up to third. The sound of the engine speeds up again and so do the thrusts. I’m beginning to grab onto the handles for dear life. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this good before and begin to unconsciously say “oh” but trying so not to be heard.
I’m oh so ready for fourth. I quickly pull the gearshift towards me and rapidly grab back on to the handles for more. Oh, my God! I take a quick peek and look at my speed, then look over to the gas gauge. He’s almost out of gas! Damn you! I’m almost there! Keep going! Keep going! “Oh, oh, oh, OOOHHH!”
I have the longest orgasm of my life. I grab the brake lever to yank it up, stopping the O-Mo’s still vibrating mechanics mid-thrust into me. I wait several seconds then use my free hand to put the gear shift back into neutral, and the O-Mo’s mechanics descend back into the seat as the engine sounds slow back down. I glance at the gas gauge and the needle’s pointing at “E.” Whew. I just made it. Oh, yeah, I just made it all right – I just made it with an O-Mobile.
I’m taking a few deep breaths recuperating as the O-Mo’s engine continues to purr. I take the opportunity to tap the gas pedal a few times to excite the O-Mo a little bit more as I wind myself down. Vroom! Vroom! Vroom! I really don’t want to go back out there – I’d much rather drive the O-Mo home instead – but alas I must get out. OK, I guess I’m ready now.
I grasp the key and turn it to Off. The sounds of the O-Mo’s engine sputter for a few seconds, then stops. Silence. The interior illuminates once again. Back to reality. I remove my seat belt, open the door, and climb out – taking the key with me. Whoops, can’t forget the lube in there.
As I’m re-adjusting my dress, Diane comes back over. “So, what do you think?” she asks.
“Oh, my God,” I respond as I hand her back her key ring. “That was amazing. I had the best orgasm while I was in there.”
“Good. That’s exactly what he’s designed for. Would you try it again?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely. But just not right now.”
“Yeah, I knew that.”
“So, what do I owe you for this?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, I know you’ll be back, we’ll take care of it next time. Anyway, I still need to wipe him down for the next gal, you’re only the first client today.”
“OK, Diane, thanks; but before I go, do you mind if I use your restroom?” I ask.
I go back behind the curtain and grab my purse and underwear. Diane and I come back into the main part of the house and she shows me the restroom so I can um, take care of things. On my way out the front door, I book my next drive with Diane’s O-Mobile. Perhaps I’ll go beyond ‘virgin mode,’ I’m pretty sure Angela already has.
I walk out and approach my own car. The car doors unlock automatically as they always have and always will. I open the driver’s door, hop in, and put on my seat belt. I press my right thumb on the power button, and after a couple seconds of reading my thumbprint all’s good and all the controls illuminate. The video screen says the car’s hydrogen is getting low; I guess I better buy some today – no problem, there are stations all over the place. I move the selector down to “D” – I guess that would be D as in dull – and silently roll down the street.
P.S. No challenge to the term “O-Mo” is implied. I’m sure someone owns it. You still do.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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