Arriving Drenched

The car was sputtering as if it was ready to stall. That roll backwards and the unexpected slamming on the brakes nearly overwhelmed the very aged big block v8 motor. It had not been subjected to such a work out in a while and it was just reacquainting itself with it’s demanding mistress. She was not one who took disobedience very well.

As she sat recovering from the shock of the buzz she got, she looked bewildered out of the windshield at the daunting ramp that was a head. There was a very thick patch of rubber that had been laid near the midway point of the ramp where she had stood still moments before. The ventilation system was very efficient and was pulling the cloud of blue smoke quickly out of that narrow passageway. Whoever designed this must have anticipated idling motors and lots of burnt rubber.

Judging by the amount of dark lines that all blurred into each other suggested that many a car had spun their tires going up that ramp. If for any reason rain got on this ramp, climbing up would be nearly impossible, not that she knew that for certain.

All she knew was this… the clock on the GPS was counting down and she had to be at the next location before the time would end. Having had many years of driving this tank, she knew all about the capricious ways this motor ran. It seemed to only behave when under lots of pressure from her right foot. However, it was a bit prone to power loss when it got a bit hot. Tonight, the only challenge up ahead was this one ramp. On the other side would be whatever surprise her man had cooked up.

As she readjusted herself back into a more comfortable position for the climb, she slipped the car into neutral and revved the motor a bit to clear it out. The loud throaty bark of the exhaust was still there. The small pops as the motor descended the revs made her smile. Sure, some called it backfire, but she likened them to small rattling fire of an angry rifle that was slightly muted as to not upset the neighbors. That small hesitation moment before the motor came to life was still there, but this time around, it felt more like a cough than a pleasant hesitation. But after all these miles, what could one expect.

Once she was sure that the motor was running smoother, she returned back in gear and whispered a short “here goes” before releasing the brakes to inch up to the foot of the ramp. Had she thought about it better, she would have gotten a running start to make the ramp’s distance as most frequent user of this garage had learned. However, she was not wanting to have the chin of the tank smash into the ramp, something she had done a time or two in her rookie years.

Once at the foot of the ramp, she assured herself that all the power of her v8 was still very much available and wouldn’t let her down. Setting her super-heeled foot firmly on the gas pedal, she extended her leg as far as she thought half throttle would be. The motor did it’s customary cough before twisting the chassis in it’s famous rock motion… then lifted the nose up as the power started to build and push the car up the ramp.

The squeal of nearly lost traction reverberated loudly up the ramp as the car started to launch. She instinctively applied more power to accelerate out as she saw the garage door start to open for her. The tires under great strain started to lose their struggle to maintain grip and started to spin away. As the progress of the climb slowed, she eagerly and hungrily reached out for more power. The response was instant. The car’s power surged as the carburetor opened and gulped in copious amounts of air feeding plumes of exhaust out the rear. Hot expelled gasses chasing the increasing tire smoke that was building up.

The probe started to buzz with increasing intensity to match the ever increasing amount of pressure on the pedal she was exerting. While her mind was not understanding the direct link between the actions of the pedal and the vibe, her libido understood and responded with authority. Taking over the commands of her foot, the internal sex drive started to play with the throttle to orchestrate a salvo of oscillating frequencies of buzzing. The results shot intense waves of pleasure that blurred her mind’s ability to focus on the task at hand. She wanted to ease up and stop the tire’s from spinning so she could finish the climb, but the buzzing demanded she press harder on the pedal.

The balancing act was not an easy one to maintain, as she didn’t want to flood herself with too much pleasure all at once, as she was getting extremely turned on by the massively intense waves. She wanted more. She needed more. But she also had to climb out. But she needed. So she planted her foot as hard as she dared and the response was instant and strong. She started cringing and clinching to hold the coming eruption in check, but the intensity overwhelmed her.