After 30 years I have come to one definite conclusion⦠the car business is one of the most stressful occupations on earth. There is always a manager riding your ass to sell more cars or to make more money. And if you have a good run you are a hero at the end of the month, but one day later youâre nothing again. And forget a family life. If you want to be at the top of list, thereâs no time for family nonsense. Thatâs probably why at 50 years old I have been through three wives and none of my four children know me. The great thing about the business is the ability to make a ton of money. And I have recently found a great way to spend some of it.
We were two days into a three day promotion. Five of the local dealers had banded together to have a huge sale at the fairgrounds. It was murderous. The days were sixteen hours long, on your feet and running the whole time. Itâs a numbers game, you see. The more people you talk to, the more opportunity there is to sell. I was having a great sale! After two days I had sold 14 cars and knew by the end of the month I would make somewhere in the neighborhood of $10,000. There can also be a lot of cash pass hands in my business. Sometimes if you sell an over-aged unit, or hit a certain level of profit, the boss might hand you a $50 or $100 dollar bill. These âspiffsâ could add up if you were sharp and pointed your customers to the older cars. By nine oâclock on Saturday night I had $500 dollars cash in my pocket. It was common tradition for the leading salesperson of the day to buy drinks after work, but I was spent and found it more and more difficult to keep up with the younger after-hours crowd. Jake was the General Manager and about my age. We got along very well. He knew I was always good for my share of sales, month end and month out, and he kept the Sales Manager off my ass for the most part. Jake drove in just about the time I was ready to leave and motioned for me to come over to his car.
âMac,â he said. âYouâre doing a great job. When are you going to reconsider and be a manager for me? I need your experience at the top.â
âOh, Jake,â I replied. âIâve been at this too long. I donât need the extra pressures.â
âThatâs what I thought youâd say. Jump in, Iâm treating tonight,â he ordered.
I really didnât want to go out, knowing the next day would be another killer, but sometimes politics is as important as performance. âSure,â I said. âBut letâs keep it short. Some of us have to work tomorrow.â
Jake drove away in his usual maniac manner, throwing gravel onto a row of a neighboring dealerâs cars. But instead of heading toward town, he took a bypass, heading west. âThe bars are thatta-way,â I said, pointing behind us. Jake smiled but drove on in silence. About ten minutes later he turned onto a dirt road in the industrial park area. He turned into the drive of what once was a home, but now read âTokyo Massageâ in a small flickering neon sign. Attached to the side of the house was a large metal building with a tall overhead door. The door opened when he pulled up, on some sort of motion sensor I guessed. The headlights shone into pitch darkness. He entered, obviously knowing the terrain. He parked and we both got out as the door creaked downward. A rap on the back door was promptly answered by a gorgeous oriental girl, who looked to be about sixteen. She wore a traditional kimono and ushered us into a dimly lit hallway, then in to a large sitting room where incense burned and silk lamp shades cast a hue of red.
âGentlemen, my name is Kim,â the young lady started.
Jake interrupted her, âKim, itâs OK. This is my friend and I want the best in the house for him. We can forego the formalities, but thank you for protecting my identity.â
âMr. Jake, you are funny man,â Kim giggled. âWe give him the works.â
Kim led me to a small cubicle equipped with a padded table with white sheets neatly tucked and cornered, a small lounge chair, and a lamp stand with another of the red-shaded lamps. A clean ashtray, a bowl of mints, and a box of tissues lay on the stand beside the lamp. Kim handed me a towel and said, âYou take off clothes and I be back.â Without further ado, Kim bowed and left me alone. I stripped down, concerned about the cash in my pocket, but quickly assured myself it was OK. In a few minutes the door opened and a striking lady in a shortened kimono appeared. She introduced herself as Angie and asked me to follow her. She led me through a myriad of hallways to a sauna. Following her instructions I entered the sweltering room, sitting on the wooden bench. âI be back soon,â Angie said, and left me once again with my thoughts. Hanging on a hook inside the sauna was a pair of white bikini panties. My mind wandered as to how they got there. Although I have never considered myself perverted in that fashion, I pulled the panties from the hook and put them to my nose, wanting to smell the scent of sex. At precisely that moment, Angie reappeared. The embarrassment was overwhelming, but she was quick to put me at ease. âYou like panties? I show you more later,â she said. âPlease come with me.â Once again Angie led me through the maze of hallways to a small room sealed with a glass shower door. In the room was a stainless steel table, a vat of water, and a hose attached to a water spigot. The room was entirely tiled with a floor drain in the center. It was a sterile environment. Angie instructed me to lie on my front on the table. She pulled the towel away and before I knew what was happening she was dousing me with buckets of hot water. She then produced a large natural sponge and began scouring every inch, nook and cranny of my body. I must admit that in my fifty years I had never had a woman scrub my ass before. She then asked me to turn over. For the second time that night I found myself embarrassed. Between the anticipation, the hot water and the scrubbing, I was fully erect. But once again Angie put me at ease. âAh, you like so far, me too,â she said. The scrubbing resumed with special attention to my cock and balls. Then came the hot water again. My body felt like I had gotten lost in a car wash. Angie sat me up on the edge of the table and started patting my body with the towel. âWait, Angie,â I said. âWhat is this place? Are we going to have sex or are we through now?â
âThis is wish place,â Angie responded. âWe make wishes come true. If it is your wish to have sex, then that shall be.â She pulled me to my feet and continued the drying. When she had finished, she took me back into the hall and back to the original âmassageâ room. She lay me face down on the table and began pouring warm oil on my back. The massage that ensued was remarkable, and thorough. From head to toes, Angie expertly manipulated my sore muscles, then casually turned me over to do the front. My cock throbbed and dripped pre-cum as Angie performed her magic. Periodically she would wipe the dripping fluid from my cock with a tissue, then resume the massage. Finally with a soft cloth she wiped all the oil from my body, then said, âYou want to see panties now?â What I really wanted to do was throw her on the table and fuck her hard, but she was so sweet and so obliging, âYes,â was all I could say. She pulled me to my feet and sat me in the lounge chair at the foot of the table. She hopped onto the table and turned on her back. Angie was a very small woman, probably not over 5â2â and not likely over 100 pounds. She unbuttoned her short kimono, revealing her petite titties. She wore white silk bikinis that took on a pink glow in the shaded light. I watched intently as she spread her legs. The silky material contrasted hard with the olive tones of her legs. My first instincts were to grab my throbbing cock, but I refrained. Angie softly asked, âYou have a wish?â
âYes,â I said eagerly. âPlay with yourself through your panties. Finger fuck yourself through your panties. Make yourself cum with your panties on.â I blurted my wish so loud and adamantly that Angie startled for a moment. But she immediately began fulfilling my wishes. Her tiny hand began to gently rub her pussy. With her legs laying flat her pussy mound rose high and as she rubbed, the material seemed to cling more to her flesh. With her finger she traced the length of her slit, slowly creasing the panties into her pussy. As she gently inserted her finger into her cunt the panties puckered and pulled from the inside of her thighs. Her outer lips became more and more visible as her finger penetrated deeper. As she withdrew her finger the frail material remained inside her. I watched in awe as Angie brought herself closer to orgasm. With one hand she was vigorously fucking herself, while the other hand pressed and circled over her confined clit. I had risen to the foot of the table for a better view as Angie pulled her heels up to her ass. This woman was so tiny and I couldnât help but wonder how tight that little pussy would be. Angie pushed her hips into the air as her body trembled with her orgasm. My hand went o my cock and in three strokes I was shooting my load on the floor in front of the table. In her own pleasure, Angie failed to notice what had happened. Her hips came back to the table and Angie sat up. Sheepishly, she said, âYou want sex now, please?â
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