Candi's Tune Up

**Author's note:**

Candi doesn't do subtle. She does PVC, pink stilettos, and a filthy mouth. "Candi's Tune-Up" is a backstreet romp soaked in sweat, oil, and attitude - the kind of encounter that leaves no part untouched and no tool unused.

If you've got a thing for rough hands, tighter-than-sin trousers, and women who take what they want with a wink and a spit-polished grin - this one might be for you. Just don't expect her to call you back.

If not, no problem. You'll find plenty else to keep you entertained.

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The garage looked like the kind of place that probably shouldn't still be open, lingering in a forgotten corner of the city - the kind of postcode people stopped mentioning years ago.

Tucked down an alleyway between a shuttered-off licence and a fried chicken shop, the place wore its grime like a badge of honour. The sign above the roller door read Mack's Motors, once a bold deep blue, now bleached and battered by sun and rain, barely visible against the dark steel.

Grease-stained shutters hung half-up. Tools, oil cans and discarded tyres littered the concrete. A battered radio on a shelf burbled something bass-heavy beneath layers of dust and rags. Oil slicks shimmered like dirty rainbows. The air was thick with petrol, hot rubber, and engine oil - sweat and honest labour baked into the walls.

It wasn't the kind of place Candi usually touched, but it came recommended. Ignore what it looks like, her mate had said. The work's solid, the price is right, and the guy who runs it? Looks like he should be a Chippendale.

That had been enough to convince Candi.

Her pink stilettos crunched gravel as she stepped out of the car, slow and deliberate - The kind of slow that made men forget their own names.

PVC trousers, jet black and skin-tight, clung to her thick thighs and that juicy, unapologetic arse like shrink-wrap. A blue-and-white off-the-shoulder crop top hugged her massive, natural tits like it was hanging on for dear life - no bra, of course. Just soft bounce and the occasional wink of her pierced nipple through the stretched fabric.

Her platinum-blonde hair fell in tousled waves, full of sass and volume. Her lips were cherry red and wet. Her skin was golden, curves full and proud - a mum bod made for trouble.

She was filth and glamour wrapped in five foot four of pure confidence. A woman who turned heads on purpose. A woman who enjoyed it.

The roller shutter was open just enough to duck under. Inside, the sound of drill guns and old-school hip-hop echoed against the walls. She ducked under the threshold like a storm looking for somewhere to break.

The mechanic looked up from under the bonnet of a battered BMW - and froze.

Tall. Black. Broad. His overalls were undone to the waist, sleeves tied around him. A white vest clung to him, dark with oil and sweat, stretched across a body that didn't belong in a place like this - thick chest, cut abs, arms like carved stone.

He straightened slowly, tossing his wrench onto the worktop without breaking his stare.

Her friend hadn't lied.

***

As he took a step towards her his gaze dropped: lips, tits, hips, heels. Then rose again - slow and deliberate, drinking her in.

Candi smiled. She knew that look. The one that said fuck me without needing words.

He wiped his hands on a rag, one brow raised, a grin at his mouth. "You here for a service?"

"Oh, I'm definitely here for the service," she purred, handing him the keys. "That one there. Engine's making a weird noise."

He moved past her toward the car, close enough that his shoulder brushed the swell of her breast.

He circled the vehicle with deliberate slowness, big hands gliding across the bonnet like he was feeling for something only he could sense. One smooth flick and the hood popped. He glanced back over his shoulder.

"Don't worry," he said, voice thick with bass and amusement, "it won't be making a funny noise after I'm done with it."

Candi leaned one hip against the workbench, arms crossed just beneath her tits - lifting them, letting her top strain and tug with every breath. "Is that a promise?"

He turned fully now, rag twisting slowly between his fingers, eyes locked on her with growing intent.

"Promise, guarantee, and money-back deal," he said. "If you're not fully satisfied with the job."

Candi's smile widened. "I like a man who's confident with his tools."

He smirked. "I'm confident with whatever tools the job calls for."

She tilted her head, hair swaying as she uncrossed her arms, letting him see the full shape of her tits beneath the top. "That's good to know. I've got a lot of... performance issues that need attention."

He stepped closer. Just a little, but close enough to smell the perfume on her skin - sweet, sultry, something with undertones of vanilla and sin in equal parts.

"Could be your spark plugs," he said, leaning in, voice dropping. "Could be your pistons aren't getting the pressure they need. Or maybe...." his eyes dipped again "... maybe it just needs a good hard run."

Candi bit her lip. "You always talk to your customers like this?"

"Only the ones that look like you." His eyes flicked down again, lingering at the waistband of her PVC trousers, then crawling back up slowly. "And only when they show up in outfits that should be illegal in a garage."

"You think this outfit's a health and safety risk?" she asked innocently.

"I think that outfit's a fucking hazard," he muttered, his throat thick and eyes dark.

He stepped in closer now - not quite touching her, but enough that she could smell the engine oil.

"You always come dressed like this for a car check?" he asked, eyes flicking down her body again. "Or am I just a lucky bastard today?"

Candi let out a low, playful breath. "I don't dress for the car. I dress for the reaction."

"Well, fuck," he said, running a hand across his jaw. "Mission accomplished."

"You're not the first man I've flustered in a garage," she said, swaying a little on her heels, the PVC of her trousers creaking just enough to be noticed. "But you might be the best looking."

His grin widened, lazy and wolfish now. "Careful. You keep talking like that and I might start thinking you're not just here about a dodgy engine."

Candi's voice dipped. "I was... but, I'm adaptable. What if I'm not now?"

He exhaled through his nose, slow. "Then I'd say we're about to have a very productive afternoon."

She shifted her weight, leaned forward slightly - not enough to make it obvious, just enough to make her tits bounce beneath the fabric.

***

"You know," she said, tone honeyed and casual, "you've not told me your name yet."

He smirked. "Does it matter?"

She licked her lips. "Probably not."

He glanced toward the roller door. Still half open. Then back at her, letting the silence stretch.

"Tell you what," he finally said, "how about I knock 25% off the service... if you show me those tits."

Candi cocked an eyebrow. "You trying to barter with my boobs now?"

"Not bartering," he said, folding his arms and leaning back against the car. "Appreciating. And offering a professional discount in exchange for a little... motivation."

She laughed. "You're cheeky."

"And you're killing me in those trousers," he said, eyes trailing down to her thighs. "So how about it?"

Candi tilted her head, lips curling into a smile.

"Twenty-five percent, huh?" she said, fingers toying with the hem of her top. "You drive a hard bargain."

The mechanic didn't speak. He was transfixed - eyes locked on the soft jiggle of her tits beneath the thin fabric, the faint press of that pierced nipple against the cotton.

She stepped in closer, closing the distance to little more than a breath.

"You sure you can handle 'em?" she purred. "Big girls like these come with a health warning."

He grinned. "I've worked with heavy loads before."

Candi smirked, then slowly and deliberately slipped her hands under the fabric.

She didn't rush.

First, she teased the top upward, inch by inch, exposing the soft underside of her breasts. Then the curve. Then more - until the whole glorious weight of them dropped free.

Huge, natural, and mouthwatering.

Her pierced nipple glinted - a silver bar through the right one, catching the light like a secret weapon.

He didn't move at first. Just stood there, staring, lips parted like he'd forgotten how to breathe.

Candi tilted her head, letting them sway just enough. "Cat got your tongue, big guy?"

That snapped him out of it, and he let out a low, reverent "fuck."

"Like what you see?" she asked, giving them a little bounce for effect.

"Jesus, woman," he murmured. "They're... fuckin' spectacular."

"Flatterer," she said, turning slightly to give him the side profile - tits heavy, hanging perfectly, swaying just a little with the motion. "Is this where I get my discount code?"

He was already fishing his phone out of his back pocket. "I gotta get a photo of this. Just for my memory."

Candi arched a brow. "And what's that worth?"

"Another 25% off. Easy."

She played mock-thoughtful, then pushed her tits out further. "You better shoot from the good side."

He did - snapping a few quick shots of her standing tall, topless in her PVC trousers and pink heels, then some of her turned, bent forward slightly over the bonnet of the car, her arse perfectly shaped and her tits hanging low and heavy beneath her.

When he finished, he looked a little dazed.

"Fucking hell," he said quietly.

Candi turned to face him again, arms folded under her breasts, pushing them up just enough to keep him hypnotised.

"Now," she said, voice dropping a gear. "How much for a feel?"

He blinked. "A feel?"

She stepped forward again, right up against him, her tits grazing his vest. "Yeah. One touch. Full palms. No squeezing. Yet."

He swallowed. "I think I'm giving you this service for free."

She grinned. "Thought so."

He stepped forward, the grease rag slipping from his fingers. His hands hovered for a second, like he couldn't quite believe this was happening, then slowly he brought them to her chest.

Candi didn't flinch.

She arched her back slightly, pushing those glorious tits into his waiting palms.

"Go on then," she murmured. "Let's see how your hands handle proper fucking horsepower."

His fingers spread wide, cupping the full weight of them. Her nipple rolled against his thumb, already stiff. His hands were big, rough, callused from years on tools and engine blocks - the kind of touch that made her body tingle.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "These are... fuck."

"They're tits, baby," she said, voice like sugar. "Big ones. You've seen 'em before."

"Not like this. Not like you."

He massaged them slowly, thumbs brushing over her nipples now, watching as they swelled, tightened, became more defined.

His breathing had changed now, becoming slower and heavier. His cock was waking up too. Fast.

She felt it. The solid bulge pressing into her PVC trousers, stiffening more by the second. The heat of it rising through the fabric.

"You getting hard on me already?" she teased. "We barely started."

"I'm tryin' to behave," he said.

"No one told you to." She reached between them with one hand and pressed it against his crotch. "Oh, hello," she whispered.

***

He groaned as she palmed him through the material, slow strokes. "Fuck. You're gonna get me fired."

"You work for yourself."

"Exactly."

Candi dropped her voice even lower.

"Tell you what," she purred, tugging his waistband a little. "You gimme the full service - on the house - and I'll suck this big cock of yours until your knees give out. Deal?"

His jaw clenched.

Then he nodded, once. "Fucking deal."

"Good boy."

With that, she dropped to her knees on the oily garage floor - pink heels flat, tongue licking her lips, already reaching for his zipper.

She unzipped him slow, like unwrapping a present she already knew she wanted. His cock sprang free - thick, long, already hard.

"Well, fuck me," Candi breathed, her grin growing. "No wonder you talk a big game."

She wrapped one perfectly manicured hand around the base, giving it a slow stroke. The skin was velvet, the shaft solid steel beneath. His hips twitched as she pumped it once, twice - then leaned in and licked a long stripe from base to tip.

His groan was deep, from the chest, like a car engine turning over.

Candi looked up at him, eyes wide, lashes heavy. "Keep your hands where I can see 'em, grease monkey. I'm doing all the work here."

And then she took him into her mouth.

Just the head at first - lips sealing tight, tongue swirling around the crown. She moaned softly, letting the sound vibrate through him. His cock jerked in response, and she smirked, bobbing her head just enough to tease.

"You... fuckin' serious," he managed.

But Candi didn't answer - she was too busy now, sliding deeper. Her throat opened slowly, inch by filthy inch, until he hit the back, and she swallowed like a pro.

Her hands worked in sync - one at the base, the other cupping his balls gently. She pulled back, spit slick and glossy over his shaft, then dove again. Faster now. Wetter. Messier.

The sound of it filled the garage.

Spit dripped onto her PVC trousers. Her tits bounced with every motion, nipples stiff and visible beneath the clingy top. Her hair swayed like a metronome, keeping pace with her filthy rhythm.

He leaned back against the hood of the car, eyes rolling, hips jerking forward despite himself.

"Oh fuck... fuck...."

"You close?" she asked, stroking him fast now, pumping with both hands.

"Gonna blow, babe...."

Candi's lips slid off his cock with a long, wet pop, leaving him glistening and twitching in the cool garage air.

He groaned, hips jerking forward instinctively - but she pulled back just far enough to keep him throbbing and wanting.

"Fuck," he muttered. "I was right there...."

She grinned, wicked and knowing, her fingers still stroking the base of his cock in slow, cruel circles. "Oh, I know."

He looked down at her, breath ragged. "You're gonna finish, right?"

Candi raised an eyebrow and stood slowly, wiping her lips with her thumb, then licking it clean while his eyes followed every movement.

"Finish?" she echoed, brushing the dust from her knees. "Sweetheart, this was just the foreplay. You think I'm giving you the happy ending before I've even seen the quote for my fucking service?"

She stepped closer, grabbed his cock one last time - firm, warm, squeezing just enough to make him grunt. "You want more?"

"Jesus, yes."

She smirked. "Then you'd better do a damn good job with that car. I'll be back at five. Clean her up, tune her tight, and maybe - just maybe - I'll let you take me for a proper test drive."

With that, she turned, her arse straining in the PVC trousers as she strolled toward the door in her pink stilettos.

He stood frozen, cock still hard, balls aching, heart pounding.

She didn't look back.

Just raised one hand as she stepped out into the sunlight.

"See you later, grease monkey."

***

It was almost dark by the time she returned.

The sky was a washed-out grey-blue, tinged amber near the rooftops where the streetlights had begun their slow bleed into night.

Candi walked with purpose. Same outfit, but different intent.

The PVC trousers still clung to her arse, and her pink stilettos stabbed at the concrete with sharp, unapologetic clicks. Her hair was up now - high ponytail, wild and swinging. Her eyes were darker too. Focused. Her walk said this wasn't about small talk.

The space was quieter now. No music, just the distant hum of traffic and the quiet that comes after a busy workplace is still. The scent of oil still lingered in the air, but the lights were lower - golden from a floor lamp near the corner, casting long shadows across the walls.

He was sitting in a battered old armchair, mug of coffee in hand, watching her.

"Car's all done," he said, voice low and even. "Engine noise sorted. Tightened her right up."

Candi smiled, slow and sultry. She stepped further in, heels clicking against the floor, hips rolling beneath the second skin of her PVC trousers.

"Well, well," she said. "Good to your word. Same as me."

She stopped in front of him, cocked her hip, arms folded beneath her tits just enough to tease. "Remind me," she said, eyes glittering, "what was the agreed price? Me finishing what I started earlier?"

He chuckled, eyes dragging over her from head to toe. "Thought you might wanna test the car first."

She shook her head slowly, ponytail swinging. "No need. I've got other things I want to ride tonight."

His jaw flexed, and she caught the way his cock seemed to move beneath his overalls.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on knees, voice dropping. "You know... after you left earlier, I kept thinking. I knew I'd seen you before. Couldn't place it at first, but then it hit me."

He paused, smiled.

"CherryCandi. OnlyFans."

Candi laughed softly - dirty and delighted. "Well look at you. Got a good memory."

"Better than that," he said. "I was a subscriber. Might still be. Depends whether my card expired or not."

She stepped closer, standing between his knees now, looking down at him. "I always like to take care of my subscribers," she purred. "A little thank you for being so... loyal."

Her fingers trailed along the side of his face, then under his chin, lifting it until their eyes met.

"How about you sit back, baby," she whispered, "and let me thank you properly?"

He exhaled, slow and heavy, setting his drink aside without looking.

"I'm all yours."

Candi didn't waste a second.

She swung one leg over him and settled into his lap, slow and steady, like she had all the time in the world and every intention of using it. Her arse sank against his thighs, tight PVC creaking under the shift in weight, her pink stilettos planted firm on either side of the chair.

Her hands rested on his chest. Hot, possessive and confident.

"I like a man who watches me online," she said, rolling her hips once, deliberately slow. "But I like it even more when I can watch him squirm in real life."

He swallowed hard, his hands still on the armrests.

Candi reached down between them, fingers grazing the thick line of his cock through the overalls, now rock-hard.

"Tell me, did you ever wank yourself to me? Maybe here in this chair?" she whispered.

He exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. "Once or twice."

"Liar," she smirked. "Try every fucking night."

She leaned in until her tits pressed against his chest - soft weight against muscle. Her lips brushed his ear.

"You know what I love most about subscribers?" she whispered. "They always think they know me. But baby, you've only ever seen the teaser."

She pulled back and peeled her crop top slowly over her head, baring her tits again - bigger than he remembered, more perfect than he'd dared hope. Her nipple ring caught the light, silver and wicked.

His breath caught.

She reached behind her, found the two-way zip on the PVC trousers and slid one hand inside. Her eyelids fluttered. Her fingers worked slow, right over her clit.

She watched his face.

"Want to see what you've been paying for?" she asked, voice molten.

He nodded, but didn't speak.

"Good," she said.

She pulled her hand free - wet and glistening. Then she reached for his jaw, smearing that wetness across his lips with two fingers. Her scent. Her taste.

"You get to watch," she said. "No touching. Not until I say so."

She unzipped the trousers the rest of the way, exposing her pussy fully, the lips of her vagina slick with wetness. Then climbed back into his lap.

She lifted herself slightly, took his cock in one hand - massive, thick, flushed with blood - and stroked it once, twice, lining him up with her dripping pussy.

"Ready?" she asked, eyes blazing.

He nodded.

She sank down - inch by inch, her pussy swallowing him whole with a filthy sound that made them both groan. She didn't stop until he was fully buried inside her, his cock stretching her open, her cunt gripping him like a vice.

Candi moaned low, deep in her throat. Her tits bounced as she started to ride him, her arse slapping his thighs, the PVC of her trousers squeaking with every pump.

He gripped the arms of the chair as she fucked him like a demon - riding him harder, faster, her breath short and ragged. She leaned back, balancing on his thighs, letting him watch as her tits bounced wild, the pink heels still stabbing the air with every thrust.

"Oh fuck, baby," she breathed. "That's subscriber-only content right there."

Every time he tried to thrust upward, she held him down with a hand to his chest.

"I said no fucking touching," she growled. "This is my thank you. You'll take it how I give it."

He nodded, panting now, knuckles white on the chair.

She sped up - her thighs slapping against his, her arse jiggling with every impact. Wet sounds filled the room, echoing off the steel and concrete.

She fucked him like she meant it. Like he was a reward she was cashing in.

And when she came she did so with a long, low moan, hips bucking, clit grinding against him, pussy pulsing around his cock like it was draining every drop of his control.

Then she stopped. Froze. Still impaled on him. Breathing hard.

Her lips curved. "You can touch now," she said.

He grabbed her hips and thrust upward so hard the chair rattled.

She laughed - wild and hot - and rode him back, fast now, both of them chasing that edge. His fingers dug into her arse, her tits bounced like they were possessed, and her moans turned shameless.

"I'm close," he groaned.

She pulled off him and dropped to her knees.

"Finish in my mouth or not at all."

She wrapped those cherry lips around the head of his cock, swirling her tongue before driving him deep into her throat. Her hands gripped his thighs, holding steady as she bobbed, faster, harder. Gagging, moaning, spit pouring down her chin.

"Shit...."

He growled as he came, jerking forward.

Hot, thick streams splattered across her face, her lips, her tits. She jerked him through it, milking every drop, grinning through the mess.

She looked down, admiring the mess he had made on her breasts. She scooped some onto her fingers, sucking them clean.

Candi leaned down, kissed him once - slow, sweet, tongue tracing his lip.

Then she stood, stretched, and reached for her top without a word.

As she zipped up her trousers she glanced over her shoulder.

"Five stars, and a recommendation," she said, smirking. "Might subscribe to you next time."

Then she walked out, hips swinging, cum dripping between her thighs, heels clacking in the dark.