Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

“I’m here about the Camaro.”

“Yeah, hold up,” Dan said as he retrieved the keys from a set of hooks on the wall. He eyed the fob, a short leather strap faintly embossed with his name. Won’t be selling that, he thought as he methodically detached it from the key ring.

“I’ve been looking for a fast car. Is she fast?”

“I went one hundred eighty four on the Skynight track.”

“Holy shit.”

“Four hundred horse, I figure.”

“The new ones have five eighty.”

Buttmunch, thought Dan involuntarily.  Giving up his car was painful but selling it to this douche was going to hurt. He popped the hood.

“Sweet,” the bulky customer said as he looked over the engine. He doesn’t know what he’s looking at, thought Dan. “That makes it look really cool.”

“The coolest,” said Dan, trying to hide the disdain in his voice.

“I always wanted a car like this.”

“Now’s your chance,” said Dan, his reluctance to sell finally giving way to his need for cash.

“How long have you had her?”

“I’m the original owner.”

“How many miles?”

“Just over sixty.”

“That many? That’s a lot.” He squinted as he said it, making it look like he was asking.

“It’s like new,” Dan said. “Almost everything’s been replaced or upgraded. The engine runs perfectly.”

“Can we take a spin?”

Dan muffled his desire to hit the chubby balding man and held up the keys for the chubby balding man to take.

“Would you drive?” He went to the passenger door. “I’m not a very good driver and I want to see the car perform. You can drive, I’ll bet.”

“Yeah, I can drive,” Dan said, relieved and surprised. He slid into the driver’s seat.

The drive around the neighborhood consisted of the buyer saying “Wow,” every few minutes, more excitedly when the car made any sound that reflected its power. Dan tried not to wince.

Dan became painfully aware that this could be the last time he drove his car. So many years, so many tires, so many nights spent tuning, replacing and jawing with the guys. The races. The tickets. The pussy. Dan blushed. The car had been a magnet for a while, before he met Janelle. So many chicks. So much head.

The dude was playing with the window when they entered the highway. A last chance to really move this machine, see if he could fly. Janelle had sucked his cock while they drove down this road, so awkward, so hot, only a few minutes but if they only knew. Dan felt a twitch and adjusted his seat to cover it up.

The backseat, that was where the action was, so many girls, so much cunt. Twisting bodies in the tight space, trying to get closer here and loose from there. There was a tear in the leather, where his keys got caught when he was boning Melissa. And Janelle. That was where he did it with Janelle. That’s probably where it happened.

“Such a perfect beauty,” the drudge said. “Why are you selling her?”

“Wife got pregnant. I need the cash.”

“How about twenty-eight thousand.”

“Make it thirty.”

“Deal. You drive a hard bargain.”

Dan shook his head. “So do you,” he muttered. “So do you.”

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, reading, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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