A Deep Look Under the Hood
# Engine Idle The workshop’s air, thick with oil and sun-baked metal, clung to Aisha as she stepped out of the sedan. Her hijab, a soft sage green, framed a face that Omar knew too well—yet every glance still hit him like a gut punch. She w
Chapter 1
The workshop’s air, thick with oil and sun-baked metal, clung to Aisha as she stepped out of the sedan. Her hijab, a soft sage green, framed a face that Omar knew too well—yet every glance still hit him like a gut punch. She was short, curvy, the kind of shape that made her abaya sway with a promise, and when she smiled, the dimple in her cheek deepened, a silent invitation. Khalid’s wife. Overseas now, leaving her restless and, from the way her full lips pressed together, hungry for more than car repair.
Omar wiped his hands on a rag, his tall frame unfolding from under the hood. The beard, dark and trimmed, did little to hide the playful glint in his eyes. A sleeveless shirt clung to muscular arms dusted with dark hair—a contrast that made her throat tighten. “Aisha,” he said, voice a low rumble. “Engine’s purring rough. Might need a deep look.”
She leaned against the workbench, the metal cool through her clothes, and caught the scent of him: sweat, grease, a faint cologne. “Deep,” she echoed, her tongue tracing the word. “Khalid used to check everything himself. Now…” She left the sentence hanging, a ragged edge.
Omar stepped closer, not touching, the space between them buzzing. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back up, slow. “You look tense. Radiator’s not the only thing overheating.” A tease. A dare. He uncapped a bottle of water and handed it to her, fingers brushing the air a inch from hers. “I could take care of more than the engine. Give it a full massage.”
Her pulse skipped. Massage. The word painted images behind her eyes: those roughened hands gliding over skin she kept smooth, shaved bare, a secret beneath the fabric. She’d spent too many nights alone, her own fingers tracing the paths he was now promising with a smirk. “You always fix things, Omar?” she asked, playful defiance tilting her chin.
“I fix,” he said, “until they beg me to stop. But I never stop.” He glanced at the office door, then back, a camera sitting on a shelf catching the light. “Ever had your picture taken when you’re completely undone? I bet the lens would adore that dimple.”
The dirty talk—veiled, electric—crawled over her skin. She felt her nipples tighten under the modest layers. No touch. Only words. Only the way his beard moved when he grinned. The workshop felt smaller, hotter, the hum of a forgotten radio beneath the tension. “Maybe you should open the hood,” she whispered, “and I’ll watch.”
He didn’t move. Neither did she. The air snapped with an unspoken bargain: she’d come back after hours, when the shutters rolled down and the office became a confessional. And he’d give her that fix. Slow. Until they both forgot Khalid’s name. For now, they stood, an eyelash away from combustion, the car’s engine still cold, their own roaring.
Chapter 2
The workshop swallowed the last orange light, shutters down and locked, the air still thick with oil and the frayed promise they’d left hanging. Omar waited by the sedan’s open door, sleeves rolled high, one thumb hooked in his belt. “You actually came back,” he said, his voice a low scrape. “I touched myself thinking you wouldn’t.”
Aisha let the side door click shut behind her. “Then I’m not the only one who’s been restless.”
He crossed the distance slowly, backing her until her palms met the car’s warm hood. The metal held the day’s heat, and she leaned into it, spine arcing, his chest a solid wall at her back. “Hands stay there,” he whispered through his beard, lips grazing the edge of her hijab. “I’m going to rub everything Khalid forgot you needed.”
His fingers found her waist first, kneading the soft curve above her hips. Then up her sides, thumbs dragging rough circles over her abaya, tracing the outline of her ribs, the lower swell of her breasts without cupping them. “You’re so fucking soft,” he breathed. “This curvy little body’s been starving, hasn’t it?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”
He moved one hand down, palming the thickest part of her ass through the fabric, squeezing hard enough to make the car creak. “I’m not stopping. After this, I’m bending you over this warm hood. I’m going to eat your shaved pussy until you soak my beard, then slide my cock so deep you’ll forget your own name.”
His hips pressed against her backside, his erection rigid behind his jeans, and Aisha whimpered, pushing back. “Omar… do it now.”
“Not yet,” he said, but it wasn’t rejection—it was a promise. He ground against her once, slow, then bit the side of her neck through the hijab. “When you’re shaking and dripping down your thighs, then I’ll fuck you. Until then, feel how hard I am just from touching you.”
His hands kept moving, possessive and patient, working the tension from her lower back while his dirty promises thickened the air between them, the car’s engine cold but everything else burning.
Chapter 3
Omar spun her like she weighed nothing, the sedan’s fender biting into her shoulder blades as he crushed her against it with his full frame. “I’m going to make you scream so loud the neighbors call the police,” he growled, the words vibrating through her chest. His fingers dug into the collar of her shirt, and with one savage rip the fabric tore open, buttons pinging off the concrete. Her heavy breasts tumbled free, nipples instantly tight under his stare.
“Fucking perfect,” he rasped, dragging a calloused thumb over one taut peak. “Khalid doesn’t deserve this body—you’re already dripping to be my little slut, aren’t you?” Before she could fire back, he grabbed a fistful of her hijab and forced her down, the rough floor scraping her knees as she knelt. Her face landed right at the swollen ridge straining his jeans.
Omar worked his fly open one-handed and freed his cock—thick, purple-tipped, slick with need. He threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled, tilting her head back. “Open that pretty mouth. You’re going to worship this cock until you beg me to fuck your needy cunt.”
Aisha’s full lips parted, her tongue darting out to taste the salty bead welling at the tip. A dimpled smirk flashed. “And if I make you scream first?” she taunted, pressing a slow kiss against the head.
He swore, thrusting shallow against her mouth but not breaching. “Then I’ll pin you over this hood and wreck that shaved pussy so hard the whole block knows my name. Now suck.” The dirty promise hung in the air, hotter than any touch, as she opened wider and he guided himself past her lips, the beginning of something that wouldn’t stop until the neighborhood rang with it.
Chapter 4
He pulled out of her mouth with a lewd pop, snatched her wrist, and spun her like she weighed nothing. Her palms slapped the sedan’s heat-baked hood, ass lifted, abaya bunched at her waist. One boot kicked her ankles wide. “You begged for this all day,” he rasped, fisting his slick cock and dragging the head through her soaked slit. “Now I’m going to fuck you so hard Khalid will feel it overseas.”
Aisha pushed back, her cheek flat against the metal. “Do it—stop teasing me.”
He slammed home in one brutal drive, his hips smacking her shaved pussy. She wailed, fingers curling over the hood’s edge. He gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, yanking her back onto every plunge. “That’s it, take all of it. Look how this married pussy swallows my cock. You were starving for a real fuck, weren’t you?”
“Yes, yes—deeper, Omar!”
He pounded her harder, the car rocking, metal moaning beneath them. One hand left her hip to fist the back of her hijab, pulling her spine into a taut bow. “You’re my little slut tonight. Say it.”
“I’m your slut—oh fuck, don’t stop, I’m going to come!”
Her words shattered into a scream as the orgasm detonated, her pussy gripping and fluttering around him. He barked something filthy, drove three more savage strokes, then buried himself to the root, thick hot cum flooding her in heavy pulses. He slumped over her back, chest heaving, lips at her ear. “You took every fucking drop, beautiful.”
Still buried, he turned her face and kissed the corner of her mouth, then eased her hijab back into place with a tenderness that didn’t match his hands. “Breathe, Aisha. The car can wait. We’re not done until your legs stop shaking.”
Chapter 5
Omar pulled out with a wet, obscene sound, spun her around, and bent her over the car hood again, her torn shirt hanging off one shoulder, abaya bunched at her waist. The metal scorched her bare stomach as he pressed her down flat. "Fuck, look at your pussy dripping my cum," he growled, two fingers sliding through her slick folds. "Khalid ever see you like this? So fucking wrecked and begging for more?"
"No," she panted, pushing back against his hand. "He never made me feel this filthy."
"Course he didn't." He slapped her ass hard enough to echo off the walls, then grabbed her wrist and guided her own fingers between her thighs. "Now play with yourself. Rub that swollen little clit while I watch. Show me how a desperate married woman touches herself when her husband's too far away to matter."
Aisha whimpered, obeying, her fingers circling her clit as Omar stepped back, stroking his slick cock with one fist, dark eyes fixed on her. Her hips bucked against her hand, shame and heat twisting together into something electric.
"That's my girl," he rasped. "Faster. Make yourself drip. Then I'm going to shove my cock back in and fuck you until you scream my name louder than you ever screamed his."
She moaned, fingers working frantically, the wet sounds filling the workshop as Omar's dirty praise poured over her like hot oil.
Chapter 6
“Enough,” Omar growled, grabbing her wrist and pulling her off the car hood. Her slick fingers left a glossy trail on the metal. He dragged her toward the office, his grip iron, and kicked the door shut behind them. “Bend over the desk. Hands flat. Don’t move a fucking muscle.”
Aisha obeyed, her trembling palms pressing against the cluttered wood. He stood behind her, one hand sliding her torn abaya and shirt all the way off, leaving her naked and goosebumped. “You think I’m just going to fuck you and be done? No. I’m going to take you apart slow.” He pressed his thumbs into the knots at her shoulders, grinding circles. She moaned, arching into the pressure.
“That’s it,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear. “Let go for me. I’m going to worship every inch of your back, then I’ll work my way down until you’re begging for my cock again.” His hands kneaded down her spine, rough palms spreading warm oil he’d snatched from a shelf. “You’re so tight here. When’s the last time someone actually touched you?”
“Months,” she breathed, a sob catching in her throat. “Khalid never—”
“Fuck him.” Omar’s fingers found the swell of her ass, not squeezing, just tracing. He dropped to his knees behind her, biting the flesh of one cheek, then soothing it with his tongue. “Tell me what you want, Aisha. Say it dirty.”
“Your mouth. On my pussy. Now.” She whimpered as he spread her open from behind, his beard scratching her thighs. “Please, Omar.”
He obliged, tongue plunging into her soaked cunt, nose buried against her ass. She cried out, pressing back, the desk skidding. He ate her with filthy, wet sounds, two fingers slipping inside to curl and fuck her while his tongue lashed her clit. “Gonna make you come on my face,” he muttered against her. “Then I’m going to bend you over and fill you up until you scream.”
The vulgar promise sent her over. Her thighs clamped around his head as the orgasm ripped through her, a guttural moan tearing free. He lapped her through it, then stood, spinning her around and lifting her onto the desk. “Now my turn.” He notched his cock at her dripping entrance and slammed home in one brutal thrust. She screamed his name, clawing at his back as he fucked her hard, their bodies slapping together until he buried himself deep, groaning, hot cum flooding her channel.
He collapsed against her, panting, forehead pressed to hers. After a long moment, he kissed her dimple softly. “Stay. Just like this.” She nodded, boneless, clinging to him as their breathing slowed.