|
|
Rev it
up! |
|
|
Cranking Fetish by San
Diego Biker
I got my first car, an old Dodge, in high school as a
sophomore. I had this friend at the
time that I was exploring with sexually.
I remember taking him in my car when I first got it. It was raining a ton outside and we drove
up to this river to see all the water go over the edge of this
waterfall. There was a ton of brown
water going over the edge. It was a
serious downpour. We watched for some
time and I was afraid we had gotten too close to the water and might be
stuck. I went to start my car and it
cranked away dutifully but wouldn’t start right away. I cranked away on the starter for some
time hoping it would start. I was
embarrased because my car wasn’t starting.
I tried several times and noticed that the whole car was shaking as it
and I were trying to get it started.
Then I looked over at my friend and he looked at me with this
intensely sexual look, as if the car was performing some sexual sort of act. I eventually got the car started and we
drove off. I wasn’t hard and we
didn’t mess around immediately. However, down the road, so to speak, I developed a bit of a
fetish. I remember a few years later
in college, I was working late in a computer lab with one other student, my
roommate’s friend Scott’s older brother.
Come to think of it, I think it was raining that night as well. Well, I come out to my car and notice this
amber glow from my headlights. I
realized I had left the headlights on but figured I try and start my car
anyway. I turned the key and heard a
very weak moan / groan as the starter motor cranked ever so softly,
hesitated, and then turned a few more rotations. I knew the car wouldn’t start but was for some reason somewhat
devastated. I really wanted my car to
start and since it was late on a Sunday, I felt pretty fucked. For some reason, I kept the key turned and
listened to the battery grow weaker and weaker until all I heard was the
solenoid clicking away. At this point
there was no denying the fact that the car was not going to start. I got out and walked sheepishly back to
the lab to ask Scott’s brother for a jump start. At this point I had a RAGING HARD ON. Scott’s brother was still there and told me I was totally lucky
I had caught him as he had almost left when I showed up. I felt pretty humble as we were walking
down the hallway, he noticed my stiffness bulging out of my tight jeans and
he said, “Oh THIS is VERY INTERESTING!!”
At this point I was embarrassed but it was like a bad dream and I just
wanted my car started. He helped me
jump start my car and we went our separate ways. Summer school ended and I don’t think I saw him much after
that. As I was not attending my first choice in colleges, I eventually
transferred to a school in California.
I was living off campus, and I used to see and hear a guy have a
really hard time starting his truck.
I’d be sitting there eating my oatmeal and I’d hear the starter motor
grinding away. It would crank away
for a while and then there’d be silence.
Then more cranking. And more
silence. It would become evident to
me that the guy wasn’t very successful in getting his truck started and I’d
get really turned on. I remember
sneaking off to my bedroom where I had a view of the truck. I’d close my bedroom door so my roommate
wouldn’t be onto me and I’d sit there on the edge of my bed and masturbate
while the guy was cranking away on his truck. I’d stop when he stopped.
He’d try again and I’d pump some more. I’d get close and he’d either stop or his battery would get
weaker and the starter would crank more slowly. I’d pump more slowly, keeping me right on the edge. Eventually I wouldn’t be able to take it
anymore, or I’d have to get ready for class and I’d just go past the point of
no return, clean up and rush off to class.
This happened several times. I
never told my roommate, lover or anyone else. In that same apartment, I’d sometimes hear this guy trying to
start his motorcycle. At first I’d
hear it and it would sound strong and yet soon I could tell it wasn’t
starting right away. Then there’d be
some silence while the guy waited, I guess so the bikek wouldn’t be flooded
any more. By then I would have
forgotten about the bike and I was back into my studying. I would hear the bike struggle to start
again, only this time it would sound somewhat strained. I would look out the window and see the
headlight was on and rather dim.
Then, nothing for several minutes.
Later, more cranking, only this time the cranking sounds from the bike
were even more strained and the headlight was even dimmer. More silence. More cranking. The guy
would crank on his bike until nearly all the life in the battery was gone,
similar to the way I did when I had done that rainy night when Scott’s
brother finally came to my rescue.
This would turn me on as I’d imagine how frustrated the guy was,
trying to start his bike, and think of all the tension he was building up and
needing to release. I’d relieve
myself of my own tension pretty quickly after that. This also happend on several occasions. Again, I never told anyone about it. I remember going over to my first lover’s parents house early in
the morning, right after his parents went to work. He gave me an intense blow job and I think I returned the
favor. Afterward, as I was driving
home, my car stalled and I knew it was out of gas so I didn’t even try to
start it much. My lover had already
left for school. I tried to call
another friend but he wasn’t home either.
I had to walk about a mile or so, buy a can of gasoline, and carry it
back to the car. When I finally
returned home I called my friend and jacked off while describing the
situation to him on the phone. I never told him or anyone else about this. I remember walking on campus one time with this gay friend of
mine. He was very blunt and would
often say, let’s just go in the woods and fuck our brains out. Anyway, this other guy was trying, you
guessed it, to start this gasoline-powered golf-cart like vehical. The starter motors on those things were
especially loud and I was embarrassed just walking by the think, knowing
about my associating the cranking sound of a starter motor with sex. All of a sudden my friend started
pretending to jack himself off and he was doing it to the rhythm of the
cranking of the starter motor! You
may be thinking he knew about me and was trying to embarrass me. But remember, up until quite recently,
I’ve been extremely private about all of this and he did this years ago. There was no way my friend could know
about me and I didn’t think this for a second. I realized he had made the association himself. I was still embarrased though, because it
was so blunt and exactly what I was thinking. I was not hard at the time. I don’t wish car troubles of any other kind of troubles on
anyone, including myself. But if I
have trouble starting my vehicle, I can’t help but imagine some guy coming to
help me and how helpless and weak I’d feel, yet it arouses me. And if I see / hear a guy having a hard
time starting his vehicle, I feel a sense of duty to go over and help him and
I feel like he is helpless and weak (and needs me) and it arouses me. About 3 years ago I decided I had always wanted a
motorcycle. I had forgotten about the
one I mentioned earlier. Anyway, I
had always wanted one. I’ve always
thought that the guys that ride them are so hot and look so great on
them. Plus I just love the way they
look and how they sound, as the guys rip through those gears or as the
thumpers thump. My favorite is the
dirt bike or enduro bikes I sometimes see on the freeway. Anyway, I buy this used bike. It’s a Yamaha and I’m riding it home. I had taken a class so I knew how to ride
but I had never ridden across town before.
Wouldn’t you know it. I get
almost all the way home and the thing completely dies on me. I’m sitting there, across from this
church, cranking away on this thing and my body is shaking all over with
embarrassment and some shame. I’m on
my new bike and I’m stranded. Well,
not really. But it felt like it. As I sit there on the bike, all I can hear
is the choir singing gospel in the church.
I pushed the bike to this house and was able to call a friend who
followed me as I pushed the bike home so I was safe and could see as it had
gotten very dark. Nothing sexual came
of it and I wasn’t even aroused. Another time, however, I had ridden that same bike to work. It had acted strange on the way to work so
I knew something was up. I left work
early and was heading home. It died
on me once but I was able to get it started.
I was coming up this hill when it died again. I pulled over and cranked away on it for a
long time. It wasn’t starting. I tried over and over and over. I knew it wasn’t starting but I couldn’t
believe this was happening. I tried
again and again and didn’t stop until I was hard and heard the solenoid clicking,
signifying I had reached the bottom.
My lover at the time picked me up but had to go to class. He dropped me off at home, where I
immediately proceeded to jack off all my tension. We went by the bike later that evening with a can of gas and it
fired right up. Boy did I feel silly! There have been several other occasions where my bike has failed
to start or hesitated to start. Times
when I’ve had to ask for a push.
Times where I’ve given a push. I was going up a hill on the freeway on another bike of mine
that ran out of gas right near a yellow call box on the side of the
freeway. I remained calm and called
for help. This Red Nissan Pathfinder
stops about 200 yards ahead, and proceeds to back up. I’m thinking well it doesn’t look that
official, but hey. By now, I’ve seen
almost everything on wheels pass me up.
So I start walking toward the guy in all my garb. Hot leather jacket, boots, 501s, etc. I walk up to the driver’s side, thank the
guy for stopping and ask him if he’s with the city. He says no. He’s
extremely cute. Short military
haircut, collegiate sweatshirt, cute face, etc. I asked him if he had some sorta gasoline can. He looked back as if to see for himself,
then said, “Well, not really.” When I
told him I really probably should wait for whomever was paged by the city, he
said, “Are you sure I can’t help you out?”
I didn’t know what to say. He
was SO CUTE. But my conscience (and
reasoning—afterall, I did want to get my bike home) got the best of me and I
sent him on his way, wondering at the time and even now, if that was the best
thing to do. A guy with the city showed up, not nearly as attractive, but
nice. He gave me a free gallon of gas
but the bike STILL wouldln’t start! I
was a little embarrassed but I asked him if he had jumper cables. He helped me jump the thing and after
cranking away on it for quite a while it finally fired up. Nothing came (so to speak) of it but to
this day I wonder what would have happend with that college student
dude. Hmmm... As you can see, I’ve always been a little bit embarrased about
this fantasy / fetish and have been pretty quiet / reserved about it. One time I went to test drive this motorcyle that wouldn’t start
because there was something wrong with the starter. The solenoid would click once, but that was it. The owner of the bike was this straight
guy with a family and he was kinda butch.
He was a construction worker and he said he’d “bump” the bike for
me. He’d just run along side the
bike, sit on it and pop the clutch and it would be running. I rode it around for a while and then went
home. He wanted more money than I had
at the time and said the starter would cost about $300 or more, new and at
least about $180 used. I found myself
calling him up and talking about the starter and how much it would cost and
how I could just “bump” the bike for a while, just because I was horny. He would talk with me at length about the
starter, and what he had done to try and rebuild it, etc. I even started to describe to him, some of
the noises my starter motor had made in the past on a few occasions. I set the phone down as I was hard and
fetched the lube. I came running back
and picked up the phone to hear gnashing sounds coming from him. I asked him if that was a solenoid sound and
he said, no, that’s the sound that it makes if the gears on the starter motor
don’t mesh right with the fly wheel.
I quickly proceeded to jerk myself off, quietly as we continued to
“talk shop.” I like to have phone sex sometimes where I talk about how my car
or bike won’t start and how the battery is weak, etc., while I’m stroking my
dick. This usually makes for a pretty
intense orgasm. I rarely, if ever,
let the other guy know that I’m getting off at the time, however. I usually just call up a sex line and tell
the guy how I don’t know if I’ll be able to come over because of my
predicament. If the guy asks me why
it won’t start and talks to me about it or says he’ll come over and help me
start it, that really turns me on. I’ve mentioned this fantasy to my lover but he is somewhat
uncomfortable with it and consequently I am a little embarrassed about it
around him. I’ve mentioned it to a
few friends and I hope to eventually meet a guy who will jack me off and let
me jack him off, while taking turns, cranking.
|
