Heatwave Temptation

My car sputtered to a halt on that sweltering afternoon, the engine coughing its last under the merciless sun. At thirty-six, I prided myself on handling anything alone—big breasts straining against my damp top, my round ass shifting as I stepped out to inspect the damage. The road was empty until a knock rattled my window. There stood Berto, the seventy-six-year-old toilet cleaner from the nearby shack, his bald head glistening with sweat, uniform stained and reeking of dirt. "Car trouble, miss?" he rasped, voice like gravel. I pinched my nose against the wave of odor but answered, "Yeah, it just died. No signal either." He offered his one-room house for shelter, noting the brutal heat and broken AC. Against my better judgment, I followed, heels clicking as his skinny frame led the way. The place was a stinky mess—one sagging bed with filthy sheets—but the single fan hummed promise. "You take the bed," he said, tossing a cleaner sheet over it. "I'll floor it." We lay awake, chatting to pass time. "You always this helpful to strangers?" I teased, voice sharp. "Only the pretty ones who don't run from an old man like me," he shot back with a wink. His dry-stick hand brushed my arm accidentally while reaching for the fan switch. A spark ignited despite the filth. "Careful, Berto—my skin's soft, not for grabbing," I quipped, but didn't pull away. The heat made us both sweat; my white body glistened, ass jiggling as I shifted closer on the edge of the bed. Dialogue flowed wittily: "This dump's got nothing on your curves," he chuckled. "Flattery from a sweaty skeleton? Bold," I replied, feeling my pussy grow wet from the isolation and his unexpected erection pressing against his pants. Accidental touches turned deliberate—his fingers grazing my thigh, my hand steadying on his bony shoulder. "We could forget the smell and just... feel," he murmured. Horny tension built as I leaned in, lips red and parted. Soon, clothes shed; his hard cock sprang free, veined and throbbing. I took control, strong and unyielding, straddling him. "Don't think this means submission," I panted, lowering onto his length. My pussy enveloped him, dripping wet, ass bouncing with each thrust that made it jiggle wildly. He groaned as I rode, then slid down for a blowjob, tongue swirling his cock until he came, cum spilling hot. We switched positions, him entering from behind, hands on my big breasts, both sweating and panting in the stuffy room. My orgasm hit hard, pussy clenching as I came again, bodies slick and intertwined regardless of everything. The fan whirred on, but our heat lingered. "Round one down—imagine what tomorrow brings if the car stays broken," I whispered, already craving more.