Go With It

Life changed for me, fairly quick. One moment I was married, trying to have children and the next my wife was leaving me. She didn't want to adopt, didn't want a man's sperm in her that wasn't that of her husband.

Three months later my cell phone buzzed. It was a Utica, NY number that wasn't familiar. I knew one number from that area; had it memorized, even, but this number wasn't it. It was the hospital, I needed to get there fast. My Gruncle (yes, that's what I've called my grandfather's brother since I was a tike), was fading fast; major heart attack at eighty seven, and I was his emergency contact. The truth was he was mine, too; even during my short marriage. He was also my last of kin.

I was too late.

His lawyer informed me that Gruncle's burial was taken care of, taxes were paid and up to date on the land, and that he had made a large donation to the local library. Other than that, he had put together a substantial trust for me and given me his land, small home and large barn (which was a mechanics dream). He wrote me some brief words of wisdom "follow your passions, go with it" and underneath it was a doodle of a 40's flatfender Jeep.

The consulting firm didn't want me to leave; I was their core piece of business development but I didn't need the money and efficiency solutions were no longer challenging. I gave them eight weeks notice, took he last quarterly commission and wrote to my contacts that I'd be leaving the industry and that I'd be training my replacement before I left. There were a few surprise return emails, some job offers, lots of "good luck in your future endeavors" but one stood out to me.

One from Kelsey Davis, Ms. Davis, as she always corrected me during my consultations with her superiors. She had asked me where I was going, where I was off to, and if it meant her company could stop their annual fee. Our firm typically offered a flat fee for each consultation but Ms. Davis had rejected it and I had countered with a two percent charge from the net profits based on my suggestions for them to run smoother operationally. She convinced her superiors that they wouldn't see the gains I outlined; they were wrong. I saved them bundles and our firm loved the idea.

I told Kelsey I was off to a small town outside Utica to follow a passion my Gruncle and I shared since I was a young boy: rebuilding Jeeps.

She reminded me that if I got bored that maybe she would throw me some consulting work. She even signed it with a winky face.

It was a head scratcher. Here this woman and I had done battle, she was cold and calculated and choosey about her words. Very short, succinct and to the point where as I was filled with superfluous verbiage and jargon and reassuring smiles. Night and day we were and, truly, I thought she would have had a vendetta against me because of that deal. But here she was, nice, warm and sympathetic and encouraging. She even signed the email "Kelsey" and not Ms. Davis.

The weeks went by and my time drew to a close in Seaport; I tried dating but I may have told the women the truth too soon about my inability to produce offspring and leaving my high-end gig in the city for Utica and I didn't get many return dates. There was nothing holding me back from the little rural town outside of Utica.

I kept a few suits, just in case I was bored, and packed up my remaining belonging and shipped them up.

They house wasn't quite what I had remembered. Gruncle wasn't a carpenter and the house needed lots of work. I spent about a week gutting it, a week on the porch, two weeks on the roof and then the next week resting and planning the interior. In that time I had dropped about 25 pounds naturally, amazing what getting out from a desk and an ultra-rich diet from entertaining clients will do. I had noticed a change in my body, especially my arms, my old college body was coming back to me.

It was time to explore the barn. The interior was dark until I flipped the switch and then it was as bright as a laboratory. Several rebuilt military Jeeps, spanning from WWII to Korea. In another section, completely parted out vehicles, several frames, bodies, engines, axels and all split into two piles: good and scrap.

In the big bay, I found a surprise. It must have been Gruncles last project. Recently stripped and ready to build sat a M-715; a big, meaty truck: one and one quarter tons. You could hit a tree with it and the tree would be uprooted and the truck would keep going. The frame was sanded down, the welder in position, and it was just calling my name, it beckoned to me to finish it.

I took my time researching what I was going to do... Trundle hadn't picked an engine and that was my first decision. I wanted it to be a modern diesel in the old rig. Something with far more torque; the issue for me was a) I didn't have that around the barn and b) modern engines were out of my scope.

And so I found myself at the Utica GM dealership trying to talk with the parts manager about a Duramax, when in pulled Kelsey in her Cadillac. It was summer, Friday afternoon, and she was wearing a tight light skirt just about the knee. Not high enough to say 'slutty' but enough to say 'yes, these are exquisite' and they were. Muscular but not in a heavy athletic way, just toned and they accentuated her apple bottom oh-so-well.

She must not have noticed me. She threw her keys to the autoparts manager and said:

"Frank, it sounds like I've got a crumpled backing plate at the rear left brake, can one of your boys check it out?"

It was all in one fluid motion, the entrance, the smile, taking her seat, crossing her legs and opening a magazine.

"Hey, Buddy, are we talking Duramax or not because you should have us do a transmission, too."

'follow your passion' entered my mind.

Coming out of my daze: " ah, yes, Frank, sorry, yes put me down for that combo and then let's talk about the transfer case coming in for free. Do you need a deposit?"

"With this type of order we do mister...?"

Perhaps louder than I needed, "Jake, Jake Prescott's the name."

And as I had hoped, "Jake? Name is that you? It's Kelsey, I was hoping I'd run into you now that you're Upstate."

Ugh. That fucking smile. The flash of those green eyes. I could feel the blood rushing to my face and to my... Fuck, it had been awhile, but I couldn't keep a hard-on down in public anymore? What was I, 17?

I ushered her over to a seat and I shuffled after trying to hide my member with my hands.

She didn't mention it. I was unsure if she had seen it or not. But we spoke about my transposition to Upstate, the work on the house I was doing, the forthcoming project on the M-715. She said she wanted to see it sometime. We talked about her work how she had been promoted and before we knew it, her car was done. I scrambled to write my address down and told her to come visit whenever she pleased.

I made it home, showered and furiously jerking off thinking about her body, smile, what I would do to her and her musk, flowery but it was like one could smell her horniness, too.

Two weeks later I was getting ready to email her to see if she needed any consulting work done; before I had the chance , though, she showed up with two iced coffees, casually stopping in as I had hoped. I was shirtless in the late August heat painting the house in flip flops and shorts.

"Shit, Jake, who knew you were so buff?"

"Well hello to you, too, Kelsey."

We smiled and she handed me a coffee. I showed he around the property and we made casual chitchat. Every once in a while I'd catch just a hint of her heat, of her arm would graze mine as we walked side by side. Her left hand was still devoid of a big shiny rock.

"So why did you divorce, again?"

"Oh, um..."

"I didn't mean anything by it, Jake, and I apologize for being so blunt but a guy with your background, skills, and other gifts would drive any woman crazy."

"Kelsey, um, look, this isn't something I usually tell girls on until the third date-"

"is this a date, Jakey?"

"Er, ah... What I'm trying to say is that I don't really brag about this, and don't want it floating around our industry, but... But I have a low sperm count."

"she left you for that? Bitch! You can't help that."

We sat in silence for a bit. Then she kissed me on my scruffy cheek. I turned my head and tried to move my lips towards hers but she kissed down my chin and up to my other cheek and then she bit my lip before kissing me, hard and she lanced her tongue on mine. Our tongues wrestled and she pinned mine, something I wasn't accustomed to, and explored my mouth. Our bodies grew close and my hardness dug into her thigh, her tits pressed up into my bare chest and I could feel something poking my thigh.

I am sure I had a quizzical look on my face. But the kiss was so good I forgot about it, closing my eyes again and going with it. But it grew more forceful and I could feel its heat through my own shorts as it snaked it's way up my thigh.

Her eyes were on mine, forceful, lusty but a trace of worry, of fear. Her green eyes said "go with it, ask questions later" and who was I to dispute those green eyes. My body wasn't backing off either, I had felt her throbbing member but curiously mine hadn't abated its hardness, either. In fact, my sweaty dick felt like it was straining, it felt like hot, rigid iron. She had me.

I had always had an attraction to her; carnal and intellectually but now her personality, too. I was going for it but one thing did concern me, as we made our way into my house and into the bedroom, would it hurt?

We kissed more, she harder than I, and pushing me back she then kissed down my throat, my chest, and simultaneously she was removing my belt, pulling down my zipper and letting my hard prick out.

He looked up at me, those big green eyes and then down at my dick, and then back up to me.

She mouthed, "I am bigger." And she said it with a big grin.

Then she took me balls deep. One quick and fluid motion. She didn't gag once, no teeth, she knew what she was doing. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and I was enjoying the pleasure. She pulled off and I was the one out of breath.

She smiled and grasped my dick with her right hand and slowly stroked me up and down.

"Don't make me cum, Kels. I want to last."

"You will, I'll make sure." she said with a devilish smile. She teased me mercilessly for the next twenty minutes. Her tongue would dart over my balls and flirt with my grundle, she would lick the underside of my shaft, suck on the head but she wouldn't take me in her throat again. My balls were enflammed, I wanted to cum.

"Do you want to cum, Jakey?"

"Ugh."

"Shall I take that as a yes?"

She jerked my cock faster and faster, now, spitting on it for more lube.

"Do. You. Want. To. Cum?"