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I want to tell you about the sexy, married, straight neighbour I remember who had an old, rusting, silver grey ’67 AMC Ambassador SST fastback 2 door coupe.
He rented an apartment across the street from where I lived and grew up. This was in the mid-seventies. I was nineteen years old at that time and still at home with my parents.
College was a few months away, when I would leave and set out on my own.
I figured my straight, older neighbour was newly married with a wife and probably in his early thirties.
He was one of my first male crushes.
I have powerful and vibrant memories of this guy and his hot, masculine set of old wheels.
I imagine he most likely worked in one of the local factories in the city. He looked like a rough, blue collar type of guy, just starting out in married life with an old car and doing the best he could.
I remember he was moderately hairy and big-chested, very muscular with the most incredible male ass I had ever seen up to that point in my young life. It was a perfect masculine, male bubble butt with hard, round, prominent butt cheeks.
He wore these typical seventies era, tight fitting polyester trousers that stretched over his muscular, beefy thighs and rode up the crack of his hard, male ass.
I couldn’t help but stare at his butt every time he strode up to hop into his old car.
I hated his wife, because I imagined her grabbing onto that hot masculine ass and riding him, while he pounded her and fucked her the way I wanted him to fuck me.
He also had one incredible basket. I imagined a thick meaty cock with a big, sensitive cock head and low hanging, hairy balls prominently thrusting out of the front of his tight pants, clearly evident to anyone looking down at his undeniably sexy, male crotch whenever he approached them.
I got to know his daily routine and usually managed to spy on him heading off to work very early in the mornings during the week. He either parked his old car in his apartment parking lot just across from our house in the winter months, or right in front in the spring, summer and fall.
There was never an opportunity for him to plug his car in, so you can imagine some days the trouble he had getting it to turn over for him without the aid of a block heater.
We lived on a steep hill. At the bottom of the hill, our street became a dead end with a small parking lot. This guy had to park his old set of wheels on the hill with his parking brake on. He usually did this right under my bedroom window.
He always revved his motor and gave it three or four good pedal stomps whenever he came home from work in the early evening.
That sound caused an immediate, intense, electric-tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach that shot straight down to my cock and testicles every time I heard it. It didn’t matter what time of the day or night, I got to know the sound of that sexy, straight guy’s masculine-sounding wheels whenever he parked it and left it, or pumped and cranked it to hopefully get it started to head out somewhere.
It gave me an instant boner every time I heard my neighbour hop in and crank his temperamental old bitch of a car.
I remember the winter in the early seventies when this occurred. It was a particularly cold winter and we had had lots of snow in Eastern Canada.
One late night in mid-January, I was in bed and just beginning to fall asleep, when I heard him cranking his old ride to get it started. I was almost asleep and didn’t think anything about it and rolled over and fell into an immediate deep slumber.
The next morning I awoke, discovering I had ejaculated all over myself during the night and remembered I had had one powerful, horned-up, wet dream about this hot, straight, masculine neighbour.
He had gone out to his old set of wheels and was pounding his gas pedal, pumping it and having trouble getting his bitch of a car to turn over for him.
Eventually, after stalling out four or five times, it reluctantly turned over for him, so he gunned it and subsequently started to head up the hill.
At that point, his car coughed twice, back-fired and subsequently died on him in the middle of the street.
I remember dreaming of seeing him raising his hips and hot ass out of his driver’s seat, bouncing up and down, bending forward with his strong left arm slung over his steering wheel, cranking that bitch and angrily swearing at it to turn over for him.
I imagined him shouting, coaxing, begging and pleading, “C’mon babe! C’mon you bitch! C’mon you cock sucking piece of shit! Start for me babe! Turn over for me, you fucking shit box! Let’s go! Let’s roll, you sorry piece of crap! Awe c’mon baby! Don’t let me down now, bitch! Please start for me! C’mon, you can do it! C’mon babe! For me, please, Babe! Oh please! C’mon!”
He had it in neutral and it was rolling backwards down the street. He just kept up with the starter, pumping and cursing, with his old beater balçova escort bayan continuing to crank away with nothing happening.
I was embarrassed about my cum-stained sheets, but secretly thrilled and excited at the vivid intensity of my sexually-charged, wet dream about this hot guy and his old car.
I headed out that morning and happened to look down at the base of my street. Imagine my shock when I saw my neighbour’s set of wheels just sitting down in the parking lot by itself.
I began to wonder at that point whether I had been dreaming the night before or not.
I was distracted and couldn’t think of anything else but this hot guy’s ride down in that parking lot all day long.
When I came home later on that afternoon, his baby was still parked down there. I had never seen him park his set of wheels down there before.
I was very curious about what was going on with him and his old car.
That evening the temperature went down to -20 Fahrenheit. It was one hell of a cold winter night and no one would have dared venture out unless they really had to.
I couldn’t stop thinking about his hot, sexy, masculine SST coupe down there in the parking lot. So I looked out the front door around 10:00PM and saw that it was still down there. It looked like no one had moved it all day long.
I had to investigate.
I put on my tight black leather bomber jacket and boots and quietly slipped out the front door. I walked around the block and eventually wound up standing beside this hot guy’s rusty, old SST coupe.
It was wedged between a couple of piled-up, hard banked snow banks on either side, with just enough room to open the driver’s side door.
I just stood there and stared inside at the personal, masculine-charged interior of his old ride.
I could see his car interior clearly through the glass. And to my shock and surprise I saw that he had left his car keys in the ignition!
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
I was mesmerized.
I was getting really aroused and boned-up, thinking about this sexy, married, straight, masculine man with the amazing ass and his hot set of wheels sitting right in front of me.
I opened his creaking driver’s side door and stared down at his worn driver’s seat. I was glued in place and my mind started to race with the thoughts that were going through it at that moment.
The front seat of his old car was a long bench style type that sat three across. The fabric was a pale aqua-blue brocade kind of fabric that was very popular in upscale model AMC vehicles in the late sixties.
Where this guy typically parked his hairy ass and cranked his beater to get it going was incredible to me.
His old driver’s seat had formed a shallow, hollowed-out recess where his butt cheeks carved out two visible indentations in the foam padding. The upholstery seat fabric was worn more on his side than the passenger side and there was a visible stain that his ripe-smelling manly crotch would have straddled when he tooled down the road in his baby.
I wanted to believe it was his cum.
I was tempted to bend down to taste and smell the essence of where his thick, juicy cock, low-hanging balls and funky-smelling, hard, male ass rode when he sat there tooling down the road with his right foot squarely planted on that gas pedal.
Instead though, I had other plans.
I knew I just “had” to feel where my hot neighbour sat when he drove his old car.
This was my big chance.
I slowly slid into his driver’s seat and sank down into the recess that his incredible butt had carved out for him over the time he had owned and driven his old car.
I could smell a faint aroma of BRUT cologne, old tobacco and his lingering male sweat there that made me half crazy.
I leaned back into his driver’s seat and felt where his strong back had imprinted his shape into the seat back.
His head rest reeked of his pungent sweet-smelling cologne and his stale neck and shoulder sweat.
It felt like he had come up behind me and shoved his big bulge right into the crack of my tight, young butt. The only thing missing was his strong arms around me, holding me tight against his chest, with his rock hard tool deeply buried up my tight, young hole at that point.
I took my time, felt the steering wheel that his hands would have grasped confidently and tried not to look over to where his wife would have normally sat on the passenger side.
His gas pedal was big with a lot of pedal play, as was typical for most cars of the era.
It was a real man’s gas pedal.
I imagined him hopping into his old wheels early in the morning with his old work boots and jeans on, romping on that worn pedal to bring his stubborn old SST to life to get to work.
My cock started to swell up when I thought of him sitting exactly in same the spot where I was now.
His keys in the ignition escort balçova were hypnotic.
I kept wondering why he had left his car down there with his keys in it.
After a few minutes, my curiosity got the best of me and I knew I was going to have some fun with his car key.
I turned it to the “ON” position and watched all of the “GEN” and “OIL” and “ACC” lights come to life and again just sat in his driver’s seat transfixed, with those lights shining red and amber in my face, as I stared at them.
Then I pumped that man-sized gas pedal a couple of times like I saw my neighbour do many times and turned his key all way to the right to “START.”
That bitch started to vibrate, shake and wail with a high-pitched whining rhythm. I could feel it protesting and vibrating and shaking my butt right through his driver’s seat as it cranked and tried to turn over for me. The vibrations went straight to my crotch and my cock was twitching and swelling up until it was rock hard in my tight jeans while that crappy old shit box of a car of his continued to crank away.
The son of a bitch wouldn’t start!
I tried one, two, three, four long crank sessions. I stomped on his worn gas pedal and lifted my hips and butt up, stretching and simultaneously bouncing up and down in his driver’s seat, the way I saw my neighbour do several times before when his old ride was giving him a hard time and being an uncooperative bitch with him.
Nothing. Dead silence.
Here it was, a damned cold winter night and my sexy, straight neighbour’s dead, old car not going anywhere for me.
I just sat there in his driver’s seat and thought to myself. “What the fuck? Why doesn’t this bitch want to turn over for me? Is there some secret with this guy’s crappy old car? Is he the only one who can get this cock sucker to start?”
I stopped pumping and cranking, just staring at his instrument panel and steering wheel and was beginning to get very frustrated. “Lots of gas in this fucker – why the fuck won’t it turn over for me?”
I decided to try starting his cock sucker of an old car one more time.
This time again, I roughly jerked his key with frustrated determination to the right to “START,” while pumping his gas pedal continuously. I kept up with the cranking for half a minute, until the tired battery in his old SST coupe started to die on me.
I was really frustrated and pissed at this point. “One last time, you fucker,” I whispered to myself.
I was relentless and obsessed this time around.
The battery kept cranking slower and slower and eventually all his rusting-out, old car would give up to me was the sound of solenoid clicking noises whenever I turned his key.
I stopped and just sat there in my neighbour’s dead car thinking, “Fucking shit, man! I’ll likely never be able to suck this guy’s big tool or shove my face and tongue up the crack of his hot, ripe straight ass the way I’ve been fantasizing about and dreaming of for months – and now his cock sucker of an old car won’t even start for me! What now, you loser?”
Then I looked over on the stained, carpeted floor of the passenger side and saw two plastic bottles of gas line antifreeze and a can of ether-based carburetor spray fluid used to start a poorly-tuned, rich-running, flooded car when you’re having problems getting it to turn over.
I had figured it out.
He must have been having problems with his carburetor and automatic choke because of the cold winter weather and as a result, his old car just wouldn’t turn over for him.
This got me really aroused. I sat there, completely turned on, feeling the strained throbbing of my young cock inside my jeans and thought about what I was going to do next.
I suddenly realised just exactly what I was going to do next.
It was a mean thing to do. But, I took my straight neighbour’s car keys and got out of his ride, slamming his driver’s side door shut hard behind me. Then I quickly walked away from his uncooperative old beater of a car.
I thought about the poor guy coming back to get his ride sometime the next day and discovering some son of a bitch had taken his car keys and left him with a dead car and no way to start it.
I went home that night and fell fast asleep.
The next morning, once again I discovered I had ejaculated all over myself during the night, waking up with crusty sheets and a sticky pleasure trail and crotch that reeked of my dried-up, spent cum.
The next night, I waited until after 11:00PM and quietly snuck out of the house again.
Another cold, night and another determined, cranking session to kill the battery completely in this hot guy’s reluctant and stubborn set of wheels.
I took a roundabout way to get down to the parking lot and wound up once more beside my neighbour’s old Ambassador. No visible fresh footprints in the snow around it, so I figured no one had been near it since the night balçova escort before.
I hopped in and wiggled my ass back and forth around in his now familiar, welcoming and inviting, masculine driver’s seat and pumped his big gas pedal six or seven times – all the way down to the floor and back each time.
Then I stuck his key into the ignition and proceeded to crank the crap out of his old car.
I was determined I was going to have my way with this sexy guy’s ride, or kill it in the process.
I had my foot down to the floor on his gas pedal and had raised my hips and tight butt out of his well-worn down driver’s seat and cranked away.
I was shocked when his old, rusting-out SST actually vibrated, coughed, shook, protested and stumbled to reluctant life for me!
I couldn’t believe his stubborn piece of crap ride had started!
The “COLD” light was on and it roughly idled away, with just the slightest bit of protest and hesitation. So I relaxed a bit and sat back down in the hollowed-out recesses of his driver’s seat, with my foot on the gas, hard-revving his baby every now and then, waiting a couple of minutes until the “COLD” light flickered off.
The physical sensation and rough rhythm of those dual throaty, deep male-sounding mufflers growling and beating unevenly away underneath my now-moist, tight, young butt was one hell of a horny, cock-hardening experience.
I didn’t have a plan in place, so I just sat there in his warmed-up old driver’s seat and thought about what I was going to do.
I didn’t have the balls to take his wheels out of the parking lot. But I had a dirty thought and decided to go with it,
I just had to have some horny, sexually- charged, private male fun time in my hot neighbour’s old car.
Once again I lifted my hips, unzipped and dropped my jeans and sunk my sweaty young butt down into the contours and recesses of his worn-down driver’s seat and planted my foot firmly on his gas pedal. I stomped on it a few times to make his old car pay big-time for having given me a hard time.
I practically stood on his gas pedal and jerked the gear lever into “DRIVE.”
That bitch roared and lurched forward. My hot neighbour’s old set of wheels really wanted to roll now.
His balding, worn tires spun on the ice and snow and his old bitch of an SST coupe took off with a neck-snapping, rumbling growl.
I stomped on his wide brake pedal almost immediately.
His old ride jerked me suddenly forward out of his seat. I had to brace myself against his steering wheel, as it came to a sudden, violent and complete stop.
His old car surprisingly didn’t stall out on me.
I was almost sorry it didn’t, because I wanted to abuse his old car much more than I had, up to that point.
Rather, it just continued to roughly and uncertainly idle away, feeling like it could stall out on me at any second.
I could feel the heart of this guy’s old wheels beating in sync with my own racing heart at that point.
The feeling was extremely sensual, sexual and erotic.
Time stood still for me at that moment.
I sat there with one foot on his brake and one foot on his gas and revved the shit out of his old car, all the while feeling it protest and vibrate and I thought, “You deserve this, you sorry piece of crap!”
After a couple of minutes, I slammed his gear lever into reverse, stomped his gas pedal and rammed the back bumper of his misbehaving set of wheels into a snow drift right behind the car.
My stiff, young cock was standing straight up and had swollen to the point where it felt like it had taken over all of the space inside the intimate, sex-charged interior of my hot neighbour’s old ride.
I then figured both my throbbing, young cock and my neighbour’s old SST coupe had had enough excitement for one night, so I zipped up, got out and strode away from his stubborn, uncooperative wheels, feeling like a real man, having just shown his misbehaving car who was boss.
The explosive cum session I had at home in my bedroom later that night was one of the most powerful and intense I can remember.
The next morning, I headed out of the house as usual and looked down at the base of the street to discover that my neighbour’s set of wheels was gone.
Later on that day, I saw him drive home from work at the usual time.
He hopped out of his old car, revved the crap out of it six or seven times (more than usual), slammed his driver’s side door and then groped and adjusted his prominent, bulging package.
He casually glanced over at our house, then locked his car door for the first time ever and quietly, slowly and deliberately headed on into his apartment, where his wife was waiting for him.
That was the end of this intense episode for me.
Owe the next short while, I felt guilty about keeping the poor guy’s car keys, so I eventually threw them away to avoid future temptation from playing once again in his old ride.
In the months to follow, he and his wife eventually moved away.
I never saw him or his hot, sexy, old silver grey ’67 SST coupe again.
I often wonder what happened to the guy and his old set of wheels.
The story is still fresh and alive in my mind to this day.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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