Roadside Assistance

You are an auto mechanic working for a roadside assistance company.

For years, you worked at various garages, always one of the few female mechanics. But you had gotten tired of working for someone else, so you tried to start your own repair shop, but it was harder than you thought and closed it.

You heard that some roadside assistance companies were looking for experienced mechanics and offered to pay more than you had been earning in a shop. The other thing you like is that you get to drive around.

You offered to take the late shift. You really aren’t a morning person, and you don’t mind being on the road at night. The company issued you a truck with their logo on the side, compartments for all your tools, and extra floodlights mounted on the top.

It’s a sweet truck.

Because you are one of the few female mechanics, some guys refer to your truck as “the Candy Machine”.

At first you thought it was a dumb nickname, compared to “Breaker Bar”, “Jack Stand”, or “Power Driver”. But after a while, you appreciated hearing, “‘Candy Machine’ we have a stranded motorist off the highway.”

Especially when it was a new driver that needed a tire changed or stuck in a ditch. Whether it was a guy or girl, they were grateful that you were a bright light in the darkness, putting a smile on their face, and sending them on their way.

After a while, you even enjoyed calling in, “This is Candy Machine; we are done here. The customer is satisfied.”

Tonight, you got the call that a driver has a flat tire on a country road, away from the highway. After plugging the signal into your tracker, you call in. “This is Candy Machine. I’m on my way. I should be there in about 20 minutes.”

Turning off the highway, you get on to a narrow-paved road, flanked by fenced off farmers’ fields. In the darkness, you aren’t sure what they are growing, but you have a feeling you wouldn’t want to be stranded out here.

A dark country road with only car headlight providing light.

Even though you are only minutes from the highway, without any lights along the road, the whole area feels unnerving and spooky. You are glad you’re in your truck. You turn on the fog lamps to help push back the darkness.

It helps, but you still want to find the driver, help them, and get back to where there are lights and people.

You keep glancing at your icon on the map. You have a good signal, which you are thankful for, but the whole thing reminds you of a bad horror movie.

As you get closer, you look ahead and see red hazard flashers. You slow down and pull up behind the car. You put it into park, but leave the engine on.

Flipping on your floodlights, you bathe the whole area in bright light, but that just makes the fences on the side of the road look that much more imposing.

You see the silhouette of someone in the driver’s seat. The left rear tire of the car is obviously flat.

You get out, go to the tool box on the side of your truck, and pull out a tire iron. It feels cold, and heavy in your hand.

Even with the floodlights on, the whole area looks spooky. You slowly walk up to the driver’s door and knock softly with your knuckles.

“Driver’s Assistance. You called for help?” You say in a polite but slightly nervous voice.

The driver’s side widow rolls down. “Thank you.” Says a young woman. “I was driving, made a wrong turn, got lost, and then I had a flat tire.” You hear the fear in her voice, but she also seems to relax a bit seeing that you’re a woman.

You smile at her, “I understand. I’ll get that tire changed and we’ll get back to the highway. Can you find your way from there?” you ask in a friendly tone.

“Oh, Thank You! Yes.” She says as she breathes a sigh of relief. You notice her hands had been gripping the steering wheel tightly, but she is now relaxing a bit.

“No problem. That is what I am here for. Do you know where your spare tire is on your car?” you ask as you step back a bit, relaxing the grip on your tire iron. You hadn’t realized you were scared too.

She pops the release on the back of the car, unbuckles her safety belt, and gets out. The floodlights of your truck shine through the thin material of her light cotton dress. She has a nice figure, but you are here to do a job and focus on it.

“I think it is here.” She says as she lifts the back and the floorboard.

You look in and see never used spare tire. “Good. Let me grab a few things, and we will get you on your way.”

You grab your jack, the long air hose, your air wrench, and the correct size socket. After connecting one end of the hose to your air compressor, you unroll it to the back of her car. You connect your air wrench and set it on the ground.

You pull out the spare tire, and the woman helps a bit. “You don’t need to do that. I am here to help you.” You say as you roll it and lay it down.

“I know. But it feels so dark and spooky out here, and I feel better being near you and in the light.” She says.

“Okay, then just keep back.” You say as you put the jack under the axle and start pumping it up. You raise it just a bit, and then use the air wrench to loosen the nuts.

Then, you raise it higher so that the tire is fully off of the pavement, and pull it off.

She stands the spare up and rolls it to you. “Thanks.” You say and then put it into place. Quickly, you hand tighten the nuts and then release the pressure on the jack. Once the car is down, you use the air wrench to fully tighten the nuts. “You did that so quickly.” She says in a tone of awe and admiration.

“It's what I do.” You respond in a light tone. “Here, let’s put that old tire in your car. There’s a truck stop on the highway. If we time it right, we might have the night mechanic look at it. They can tell you if you need a new one or just need it patched.”

“Ok, I like the sound of that. At the truck stop, can I get you a cup of coffee or something?” she offers.

You smile, “That sounds good about now.” You say as you put away your tools.

She closes up the back and gets into the car. You walk up. “Follow me. I’ll get us out of here.” She smiles and nods.

You pull ahead, your truck’s floodlights still on, helping blaze the way down the dark road. On your map app, you see where there is a crossroad ahead. If you get on it, even though the road will be twisty, it will lead back to the main roads, and from there to the highway.

You keep your speed slow, and keep her headlights in your rear-view mirror. In places where the road dips, there are light patches of fog, which adds to the spookiness. You try to relax your grip on the steering wheel, but sometimes the floodlights make strange shadows. “It must be scarecrows or something.” You tell yourself.

You call the shop. “This is Candy Machine. I helped the motorist and am leading her back to the highway. We will stop at the truck stop to have her tire checked.”

“This is Driver Assistance Home-base, we read you loud and clear. Call if the situation changes.”

You hit the button and focus on the road. You feel a bit better, knowing that Home-base knows your status. But you still want to get to where there are lights and people. “It must be worse for her.” You think to yourself about the driver behind you.

It took longer to get back to the main roads using the twisty farm road than the road you came in on, but once you see the street lights, you slowly exhale.

Turning onto the main road, you turn off the flood lamps, but keep the fog lights on, allowing you to see a bit more into the darkness. You keep your speed slow, just under the speed limit, so she doesn’t lose you.

After a bit, you merge onto the highway. She is still on your tail. A few minutes later, you turn into the Truck Stop. The bright lights of the fuel pumps, garage, and café are welcome.

You park, and she parks next to you. “Follow me.” You call to her as you head for the garage. “Hey, Big Mike? Are you still on?” you yell as you enter the garage.

A deep voice booms back. “Yeah, who wants to know?” You see your old mechanic friend. “Oh, it’s the Candy Machine.” He says in a playful tone. “What can I do for you tonight, darlin’?” he asks as he wipes grease from his hands.

You point to the lady. “This nice lady had a flat tire. If we bring it in, can you see if it needs patched or if she needs a new one?”

“Sure, just roll it to the side door. I’ll look at it after I finish what I’m doing. It’ll take about half an hour.” “Okay, we will be in the café.” You say.

Quickly, both of you return to her car, take the old tire and roll it to the side door. The bright fluorescent lights of the truck stop make everything seem more comfortable and friendly.

“How do you take your coffee?” she asks. You tell her, and she orders two coffees. You find a table and sit down. She hands you your cup and you take a sip. The strong smell alone is what you need, but the hot liquid feels so good as it goes down. She sits across from you. “By the way, I’m Ann.” She says, extending her hand. You softly shake it and tell her yours.

“But he called you ‘Candy Machine’?” she asks with a puzzled look on her pretty face.

“That is the name of my truck, because it is sweet and leaves a smile on their faces, when I am done.” You respond.

“Oh. But I was so glad to see you when you knocked on my window.” She says. “It was so spooky out there. I felt like…”

“Like you were in a bad horror movie.” You finish her sentence.

She reaches out her hand and places it on yours. “I kept having thoughts of getting attacked by some “hillbilly” cruising the back roads looking for helpless women.”

You set your cup down and place your other hand over top of hers. “I know what you mean. If you noticed, I walked up carrying my tire iron, but I never used it to change the tire.”

She thinks about it for a second. “Oh. Oh, wow. So, I wasn’t the only one thinking like that?” says as she places her other hand over top of yours. You hold each other’s hands, helping to reassure yourselves that you are safe.

She releases yours and takes her coffee cup in both hands. “So, how long have you been a mechanic?” she asks, trying to change the subject.

You tell her an abbreviated version of your story. “So, what do you do Ann?” you ask.

“I am a college nursing student. I never thought about being a mechanic. Most of the women I knew growing up were moms, teachers, secretaries, cashiers, or in the medical field. I really hadn’t noticed any working as a tradesman. It sounds exciting.”

“I enjoy it.” You say taking another sip.

After a while, while you are chatting, she gets another round of coffees. Returning to her seat, she asks, “So with a “butch” job like a mechanic, are you into women?” You take the cup from her hand.

“Not really.” You respond with a slight pause. “Are you?”

“I have dated both guys and girls. Many of us in the nursing program have guys who want to be doctors, asking us out all the time, but I hate to admit it. I find more pleasure and comfort in the skilled hands of my class mates than with the guys.”

She takes a drink from her cup and sighs.

“Do you know what I was imagining when I watched you fix my tire?”

You shake your head. “No, what?”

“I pictured you, on your knees, licking me and then using a dildo attachment on your air wrench.”

You laugh at that. “Oh Honey, the torque on that wrench would tear a body up. I would never use something like that on someone as pretty and cute as you.”

She smiles, “You think I am pretty?” she asks in a soft voice.

You nod “Though I prefer guys, you are a pretty little thing. If we had some time, I’d enjoy learning what you and your classmates are doing. I tell ya’, I still feel a tingle left over from being scared out there.”

She stands up, and takes your hand. “Leave your coffee and follow me.” She guides you to the Ladies room and takes you into a stall.

Kissing you, softly you feel her warm lips on yours. “Would you like to see what I have learned?” she asks you. You nod and kiss her back.

Her skin is soft and smooth compared with your rough calloused hands.

As you stand there, she unbuttons your shirt and kisses your upper chest. You place a hand on her head. Her hair feels soft. Everything about her is soft and pretty.

“I’m lucky tonight.” She says as she opens the clasp at the front of your bra. Your full breasts are freed, as the empty cups hang to each side. She grabs each tit and then licks around each nipple. Her tongue is so wet and smooth. Then she sucks your right nipple, as she reaches down and opens your pants.

It feels so good, your panties are getting damp, and you press down on her shoulders. She moves down to her knees.

You feel the thick denim of your pants against your skin as she slides them down your ass and hips, then hit the floor around your ankles.

You grip the top of the stall to steady yourself as you feel her gentle fingertips move the crotch of your panties to the side.

Looking down you, you see her smiling face looking up as she slowly licks your wet pussy lips. She licks up and down, then you feel her tongue on your clit.

You bite your lower lip to stifle a moan as she licks and sucks it.

“You taste so good. You are a Candy Machine.” She says as she licks and sucks your clit harder. You feel her fingers slide into your pussy, thrusting and twisting. Going deeper and harder.

You grip the stall with one hand and grab her hair with the other. Bracing yourself, you feel pleasure building and moving through you.

“Yes! Cum for me. Let me taste you, my Candy Machine.” You hear her say in a soft tone.

You grip her hair tightly as you press her face into your pussy and cum. You bite your lower lip harder as you hear a low moan echo in the bathroom.

It takes a second to realize that moan is coming from you.

Ann stands up and kisses your mouth. Her lips are wet, and you taste yourself.

“I think we should get back to our table. I think “Big Mike” might be done with my tire.” She says as she opens the stall and washes her face in the sink.

You exhale for a moment and get dressed.

Washing your hands in the sink next to her, “I have never felt something like that. I mean, I’ve had guys eat me, but that felt great.” You say in a low tone.

She kisses your cheek. “Maybe on your day off, we can get together and teach you what I did. We learn a lot at college.” She says with a wink.

Going back to your table, you see the coffee cups have been cleared away, so you get a fresh cup. In a “to go” cup this time.

“There you are.” You hear a familiar voice say. “I was looking for you ladies. The tire is patched. It had picked up a nail. It is as good as new. Pull your car into Bay 3 and I’ll change it for you.”

“Thanks, Big Mike. Do we owe you anything?” you ask.

“Just the cost of the plug and my time.” He hands you a quickly scrawled estimate. You look it over. “That’s fair, and covered under the service plan. I got it.”

Taking the company card from your wallet, you head for the cashier.

“Are you sure?” Ann asks.

You nod. “It is all part of the service package. Go move your car to Bay 3, it will be the one with the garage door open.”

She kisses your cheek, “Thank you.”

After paying the cashier and getting the receipt, you head back to your truck, sipping your coffee. You call into the shop, “This is Candy Machine. We are done here and everyone is satisfied.” You say with a smile.

(This was the second story of the female mechanic, if you want more, tell me. If you enjoyed this; leave a comment. If you enjoy my stories, follow and subscribe.)