Garage Lust: Quickie with the Neighbor.

The garage smelled of motor oil and unspoken desires. You leaned against the workbench, the fluorescent light casting harsh shadows on your face. I stepped closer, the air thick with tension. “I shouldn’t,” you breathed, but your eyes told a different story. My hand grazed your thigh, and a shiver ran through you. The sound of the closing garage door echoed, sealing us in our private world. Clothes were shed, inhibitions lost. A frantic, raw encounter unfolded amidst the tools and forgotten projects, a symphony of moans and gasps filling the space. It was quick, dirty, and unforgettable.