Hammering On the Chrysler by NJBootGuy

 It was a cold, cold day in southwestern Virginia, and most of the town’s public buses wouldn’t even start. As such, the off-campus students had no way of getting into school, so classes at college were actually closed for the fourth day in the school’s 115 year history. NO SCHOOL!

Mike was pumped like hell for a day off from school, and out having nothing but fun with his 1973 Chrysler Town & County wagon. OK, maybe it wasn’t HIS, but it was his for school for this, his final quarter in college.

The Chrysler had been in the family since it was new in 1973, and now, at the ripe old age of 14 years, it was still in meticulously clean shape, thanks to Mike’s dad’s good sense of making things last. The wagon was huge, a nice metallic red with the requisite-for-the-era woodgrain siding. An ivory vinyl split bench seat with dual armrests graced the front of the interior, with a folding second seat and a rear-facing third seat. From the driver’s viewpoint, it was a LONG way back to the rear of the car! Instrumentation was limited to a fuel gauge, ammeter and speedometer, and the interesting thing about the Chrysler’s gauges is that the needles were anchored at the top, and the pointers swung downward across their sweeps. The speedometer ran to 120 mph, and Mike already knew the big mastodon could get well into triple digits and continue to climb. That was thanks to the mighty 440 cubic inch 4-barrel carbureted V8 tucked under the hood. As large as the engine was, it looked like a dwarf in the cavernous engine compartment. With only 72,000 original miles on the odometer, the engine was in superb running condition, emitting only the slightest puff of blue smoke on start-up, and that only if the car sat for the better part of a week without being run. The only thing that Mike regretted about the car being a ’73 was the fact that up through ’72, the Town & Country wagons with 440s were fitted with dual exhaust, as opposed to the ‘73’s single system. But the single exhaust made a great reference point to watch the smoke roll when he hammered on the accelerator, as he loved to do. It exited diagonally out the right rear corner of the wagon, and the tailpipe had the Chrysler hallmark level pipe, with an upsweep and then a downturn, pointing the exhaust toward the ground. The passenger side exterior rear-view mirror had long since been adjusted right at the point the exhaust would exit forcefully from the big pipe when Mike stood on the accelerator!

The 21-year-old Mike was really looking forward to heading out to the edge of the small college town and having some fun with the big wagon before returning home and surrendering the car back to his parents. Mike had the wagon at school simply because he wouldn’t be able to pack his clothes, books, bed and small desk in his ’78 Volvo 242. That was with dad back home. But truth be known, Mike really liked having the big wagon. He’d always said there was no such thing as ‘too big’ a car, and he’d loved the Chrysler from the day his dad had picked it up. So before retiring the car, he would have some fun with that huge V8.

Mike loved the cold, because it allowed him to wear his 16" engineers boots that he loved to wear. So he pulled them on over his jeans, pulled on his black leather jacket and heavy winter gauntlets, and made his way to ‘the cage’, the large parking lot down the street where all the on-campus students had to park their cars during the week.

Mike got to the car, unlocked it and sat down. He turned the key, pumped the accelerator to the floor twice, and cranked the engine. The big 440 sprang to life effortlessly, the ubiquitous ‘COLD’ light on the dash illuminating in green until the engine came up to normal operating temperature. The engine idled fast and smooth, a long plume of white steam billowing from the tailpipe in the bitter cold winter air. After a minute or so, Mike kicked the pedal hard once, and the engine settled down to a slower, but still fast, idle. After another minute, the ‘COLD’ light blinked out, and Mike kicked the pedal yet again, and the engine slowed to its normal, smooth and quiet idle.

After 20 minutes of gentle driving (something rather uncommon for Mike to do in the big wagon), Mike found himself at the dead end of a small, deserted road on the far edge of town, a bit up in the hills, and a place he had found some months before while out driving enjoying the last of the late summer weather. There were no signs posting it as private or municipal property, so Mike had made a habit of just going and sitting there, and even hiking around to be sure no one was lurking about. As he approached the dead end, he turned the big wagon around, facing down the road, and shut the engine off. Pulling on the hood release, he got out and made sure everything was in place to have some fun! The oil was up to snuff and fresh, the fan belts tight. Mike unscrewed the wingnut on the air cleaner and looked at the carburetor’s four massive throats. Hmm.. sooty black.. a clear indication of running rich. ‘Gonna have to do something about that,’ Mike thought menacingly as he refastened the air cleaner lid and slammed the hood.

Mike sat back down, and tugged on the lever to slide the power seat forward a bit more. He looked down at his size 10 engineer boot resting on the pedal. He slowly pushed the accelerator to the floor, crushing it into the carpet relentlessly as he applied more and more pressure to it, until his knee was locked. Seeing his boot slamming the pedal hard into the carpet began to get his juices flowing like nothing else could! He let up on the pedal and SLAMMED it back down. The tall black boots made him feel powerful, and he was going to dominate the accelerator and engine with them! He began pumping the accelerator hard and fast, slamming it to the carpet on every stroke, his booted foot flying on the pedal in order to really flood the big V8. When he finally smelled the raw fuel, he triggered the key and began cranking the engine. The engine turned over quickly, clearly flooded, so he slammed his boot to the floor. As the engine began to sputter, he started furiously pumping the accelerator again, viciously pounding it to the floor over and over, and soon the engine was cranking in the manner of a well-flooded V8. Again he nailed his boot to the floor, but this time he held it there hard.

The big 440 begin to spit and sputter, trying to come to life. Mike knew that when it did, it’d roar in anger! The engine shook violently as it gasped for life, and as it did, Mike turned his gaze to the passenger-side rear view mirror. Thick black smoke was beginning to blow onto the ground and waft up into a thickening cloud. He held his boot hard to the floor as the engine finally caught. He released the key, but kept his boot nailed to floor. The engine begin to catch, and rev faster as it furiously cleared itself of the excess fuel. The exhaust was blowing a huge cloud of thick black smoke, and as the engine continued to race faster and faster, the smoke just got thicker and thicker. Finally the engine was clearing, and Mike estimated it was up to about 4000 rpms, yet STILL he held the accelerator to the floor. His eyes shot back and forth between his heavy boot standing on the accelerator and the thick black smoke pouring from the exhaust. The cloud behind the wagon was immense, entirely blocking his view of the woods behind the car. The air was still, and the cloud hung in back of the car. Finally, with a roar, the mighty 440 screamed up to and past its lofty 6000 rpm redline, and the exhaust smoke changed from thick black to a rich grey. Mike began to pump the accelerator hard and fast, revving the big V8 over and over, watching as the exhaust smoke continued to pour out of the pipe. The sound of the 440 revving its heart out was music to his ears, and to his crotch. He reached down with one gloved hand and began massaging his now raging cock. When the big engine had finally cleared enough to continue running, he got out and walked around to the rear of the wagon.

The smell of exhaust was rich and overwhelming, intoxicating Mike to a level he’d never experienced. His hard cock leapt in reaction, and he knew he’d found a new lust in his life…thick, powerful exhaust smoke! He reveled in the scent of it, sharp and acrid, and wondered how he could find a way to be in the path of the exhaust with someone else revving the hell out of the big 440. That was something he’d have to work on. He noticed the engine was still loping, and the exhaust was still putting out some black smoke, even at idle. He chuckled and said, "What’s the matter, big fella? STILL haven’t had enough? Well, OK.. you asked for it now!"

As he walked back around to the driver’s seat, he unzipped his jeans and freed his massive, pulsing cock. Precum was leaking heavily and it lubed his leather glove as he began stroking it. He closed the driver’s door, and on a whim, cracked the driver’s window and completely lowered the tailgate glass. A slight breeze began to blow, and the exhaust cloud began to enter the car. The engine loped, until Mike rammed his boot mercilessly to the floor, and began revving the big 440 harder than he’d ever dared in the past. The exhaust screamed, all the louder now for the rear window being open, and the exhaust began to billow into the car. He floored the pedal furiously, stomping his boot on the accelerator with all of his strength in rapid succession, keeping the engine hovering right at its redline, and the exhaust was blowing hard and fierce. He could feel the cum beginning to build, and he revved the engine faster still. The exhaust was changing from black to grey again, and he knew the engine was loving the thrashing it was getting. He fisted his cock furiously in time with his merciless pumping of the accelerator and revving of the engine. The engine was screaming and howling as he pumped the pedal ever harder, holding the rpms higher and higher. He could hear the screaming of the exhaust pipe, the blasting rush of exhaust being forced out into the cold air and blown into the car. He took one deep breath, and crushed the pedal hard into the carpet, holding it there. The big 440 let out a scream of fury unlike anything he’d ever heard before, the exhaust going pure grey as Mike began to shot his pent-up load. Shot after shot of cum volleyed high into the air, landing on the seat, the steering wheel, the dashboard and the carpet. He kept the pedal slammed to the floor, the V8’s battle cry building to a fever pitch as he continued to cum like he never had before. As his load began to lessen, he began pumping the pedal again, in time with his remaining shots. As his orgasm finally subsided, Mike let the big engine idle, and it was as smooth and quiet as ever. He cleaned up the interior of the car with a towel he’d brought with him, and then walked to the rear of the car. Looking on the ground, he saw a huge black and grey spot directly below the exhaust pipe, indication that the mighty V8, like he himself, had just shot the biggest load of its life.

Mike drove quietly back to campus, both he and the Chrysler clearly eager for the next time the session could be repeated.