My story begins the day after I moved to Minneapolis to live with my brother, a computer superfreak with a multinational media corporation.

His success had given me the opportunity to leave my dead-end job and start afresh somewhere else.

Taking advantage of my new freedom, I slept in until noon. When I finally emerged from my den, a stiff back reminded me of my long road trip the previous day, and I decided to take my SUV for a well-deserved oil change.

After a brief search, I spotted a service station and pulled in. I’d been in the same sort of quickie station many times before. All the places had the same design, the same red-and-white decor, the same interiors. This time, however, there would be something wonderfully different in store. An attendant came out as I was digging in my pockets for the $20 my brother had advanced me the night before.

“Oil and filter, please,” I said without looking up.

“Ever been here before?” asked a rich feminine voice as the hood of the car popped open. I was shocked: What kind of woman changes oil for a living? I had to take a look. I turned to face her, but she was already under the hood.

“I’ve been to other stations just like this one,” I said as I watched the thin-figured blonde in a greasy blue uniform walk behind a computer terminal.

“Have you had your system flushed within the past six months?” she asked.

I thought about the question, and so did my balls, as I sized up, first, a robust chest, then shoulder-length curly blonde hair, and, finally, a ripe, innocent face. As a matter of fact, it had been way too long. But I merely answered, “No, it’s been a while.” The thought of her driving a pickup truck started to awaken my dormant cellar dweller, and I felt my rising hard-on press tight against my jeans and leather belt.

“Ooh, I didn’t see your ’friend’ when it exited the vehicle,” she said, smiling.

With embarrassment, I threw a glance at the waiting room.

“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll be finished in a second.”

I grabbed a magazine and took a seat. Before long, she appeared behind the counter with that inviting smile on her face. Evidently, it was just the two of us.

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“Oh, everything’s just fine,” she said, and began to tap away at the register. “That’ll be $26.72.”

I fumbled through my pockets and managed to find the $20 bill, but that was all. “You know, I seem to have a little problem. I’ve only brought $20 with me. I didn’t think — ”

She moved quickly to unbutton my jeans. I raised her knees to my shoulders as she pulled off her panties. Slowly, she engulfed my organ. When she had taken in al of my seven-inch rod, she held it there and slowly wiggled from side to side, then up and down.

“You didn’t think?” she said, stopping me with a rough voice. “Come back here. You’ll have to do some paperwork.” She lifted up a section of the counter and directed me to a storage room in the back of the store.

“Wait here,” she said. When she came back from locking the front door, the zipper on her jumpsuit had been lowered to expose a white satin bra and tan skin. My cock quickly grew hard again.

She slowly walked toward me. When she was all but on top of me, she stopped and lowered her zipper until it reached below some white panties and could go no farther.

“The way I see it,” she whispered, pressing her left hand against my chest, “you owe me. And by the way, my name is Susan.”

I pulled her tightly to me. I knew she was hot all over by the way she was breathing. The smell of her juices was in the air. My tongue found hers as I slid my hands over her shoulders, snapping her bra open with a single motion.

“I want you,” she said. “I want you now.”

“You want this?” I asked, as I teased her wonderfully attentive nipples.

“I want it,” she growled, as her hand found my surging woody.

She moved quickly to unbutton my jeans. I raised her knees to my shoulders as she pulled off her panties. Slowly, she engulfed my organ. When she had taken in all of my seven-inch rod, she held it there and slowly wiggled from side to side, then up and down.

“Real slow,” she moaned. “Oh yeah, baby, slow.”

I took the opportunity to suck on her nipples as she lubed me up and down. I felt her juices flowing down my thighs as I rapidly approached takeoff.

“Oh, yes,” she sang in my ear. “Faster, faster, faster.”

Gritting my teeth, I gave way. She pulsed in the satisfaction of absorbing my load. Slowly, she rocked back and forth, then broke away.

“Don’t think that I’m finished with you,” Susan said breathlessly.

I needed no pep talk. She dropped to her knees and brought her lips to my cock, working her tongue in circles as she absorbed my sensitive member.

“Hold it there,” she said as she rose to her feet. She walked back to a work counter and bent over, her ass beckoning me. I went toward her and inched my way inside her glove compartment. She was so hot, I had to struggle not to push too fast or hard. But, again, the pace soon intensified. She came and came and came as I plunged myself relentlessly in and out of her.

“I’m going to come,” I gasped.

“Wait,” she said, as she again pulled away, turned around, and began to suck me off.

“I’m coming!” I cried.

Susan stroked my tool back and forth with her hand and mouth. I yelled again, louder this time, before pulling out and blowing my load all over her chest. She grinned and slowly licked me dry as I lay back against the counter to catch my breath.

It was an experience I’ll never forget. And, needless to say, I no longer wait 3,000 miles to have my oil changed.