It was Finn's first car. Though, he was getting one a little late in life. Not too late at least. Somehow he had made enough money to buy a decent one, and he was ecstatic to drive it. As soon as he got in it smelled so good, fragrant with fresh leather. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, releasing a pleased hum. It was so calming that he melted into the seat, the leather conforming just right. It was so comfortable and he felt at home in the car already.
He had to take a moment before putting the key in the ignition and starting it up. The engine sounded heavenly, smooth and subtle. And as he pulled onto the street the steering was just as smooth. It was perfect. As he drove he didn't even want to turn the radio on, he just wanted to enjoy the ride. Having the car was exciting and new and he took the long way home. The feeling of speeding up was exhilarating, the rev of the engine; the smooth climb from being idle to going thirty.
When he got home he got out, shutting the door gently before smoothing a hand down the sleek side as he walked, enjoying the bright, shiny red. His favorite color. He loved his car already, and he knew just what to call her. Darling.
He stepped back to take a picture with his phone, wanting to show it off online, and to simply keep it for himself. Though he could look at the car whenever he wanted to, he didn't even want to go inside, he wanted to just stare, and with the picture, he could. So he went inside and went about his evening, but couldn't get the car off his mind. He was happy when he went to bed, opening up his phone and staring as he wished he could have done all day. He had a longing to take it for another spin, but it would have to wait until the next day.
"Oh, Darling," he mused quietly with a sigh as he forced himself to put his phone away and try to sleep.
The next morning he did his daily routine, but he ate anxiously, he took a shower anxiously, he did everything in a rush, eager to get out to Darling. He had to go to work, glad he had a ride instead of having to rely on buses and taxis. But even at work he couldn't get it off his mind. And when the work-day was over he was thrilled. Once again he took the long way home. He didn't know what was overcoming him, why he couldn't stop thinking about his car. He chalked it up to being excited and happy, but as he drove he felt all too sentimental. He couldn't get enough of her.
Once he was pulled into his driveway he unbuckled and just sat there, sliding his hands along the steering wheel. He loved the feeling of it, hard plastic and just a bit bumpy. He felt something he might have felt from caressing a woman, a budding tension, filled with emotion. The movement of his hands was almost sensual, savoring the moment and the feel of the wheel. He wanted to feel everything. So he next felt the leather passenger seat, smoothing his hand along it just as softly, enjoying it. There was something building inside him and it confused him, but he couldn't stop. He realized his chest was heaving just a bit more as he moved his hand to the gear shift and gave it a languid stroke. A rumbling moan escaped him then and he felt a stirring within his pants. His other hand went to himself and he almost took himself out, but he halted, knowing that it was strange. He was getting aroused for no reason, at least no good one.
He pulled his hand from the gear shift and took a deep breath in to calm himself. He didn't know what that just was. So, shakily, he left the vehicle and went inside. He went about the rest of his day just as he had before, but now, instead of just thinking about his car, he couldn't get that feeling, what he had almost done, out of his head. He told himself he had just been horny, and that feeling the material felt too nice. But the truth was that he was stimulated by the car itself. He had accumulated a strong obsession with the thing, with Darling, and it was consuming him. Confusing him.
He tried to sleep that night, but once again, just the thought of the car made his member rise and he couldn't resist the urge to go back out to it. Once again he slid his hand over the side, more slowly and sensual. He hummed as he got in, closing the door gently. He closed his eyes and began to wiggle subtly into the seat, his hips rounded just slightly in arousal. He needed to touch himself. So he eagerly took himself out and began to stroke. He sighed, content now that he was relieving himself. The smell, the feel of the car, the fact that he was in the car, it became too much and he worked himself more surely. With a loud moan he tensed and came hard into his hand, careful to make sure none stained his precious ride.
He sat there a moment, shocked at what he had done. This was unnatural, to be aroused by a car. He shook his head as he got out, telling himself he had gotten his obsession out of his system. That it wouldn't happen again. When he got back into his bed he deleted the photo he had taken and felt better. He had to get over the feelings he was starting to have.
The next morning it was the weekend, so he had no reason to get into Darling. He told himself he didn't care, he was avoiding her anyway. He felt weird and it would be good to have a break from driving it. It was alright for a while but then he had the urge to go out. He needed something to do and he wanted to go to the bar. Almost hesitantly he walked out to the car and already felt like walking right back into the house. But he was determined to get to the bar, telling himself it would be strange if he got a taxi. He was only going to have one drink, anyway.
Sucking it up, he got into the vehicle and took off. He turned the radio on to distract himself, but as he drove his heart began to speed up along with the gas. He wanted his car, badly. That one time hadn't been enough. But he pushed the longing away as he went into the bar. After a drink he met a woman, flirted with her, and she agreed to go home with him. They got into Darling and he suddenly felt like he couldn't do it, he couldn't cheat on her. How strange. It wasn't like the car could care. But he did.
He turned toward the woman and pulled her into a kiss from across the space between the seats. He was glad to be kissing a woman and allowed himself to focus on the feeling. At least he was still in the car, and he knew then that he wanted to convince the woman to just fuck him inside it. So as he kissed her he reclined his seat and pulled her on top of him.
It was easy to fantasize that he was fucking the car in woman form. If Darling came alive, maybe this woman is how she would look. Just the fact they were in the car got him so hard that he could hardly stand it. Of course the woman thought it was her doing and grinned, pulling him out. He took a sharp intake of breath, subconsciously stroking the side of the seat. He groaned, loving the curve of it. He squeezed his hand as though he were groping a breast and his cock twitched happily. Then the woman was sliding down onto him and he bucked upward into her, already so worked up that he felt he might burst.
Holding onto the seat he rolled his hips up eagerly into her, staring up at the ceiling instead of into her eyes. He couldn't keep himself from moaning loudly until he finally came, calling out the car's name. The woman laughed, "Darling?"
He flushed in embarrassment, knowing he should have kept it inside. He cleared his throat and gently pushed her off of him, putting himself back inside, already regretting having sex with her. He ran a hand through his hair and his lips parted to speak. He didn't know how to let her down gently, so he simply said, "Get home safe."
She scowled at him and got out, slamming the door. He felt a pang in his heart, upset that she might have hurt his car. He gripped the steering wheel comfortingly, "It's okay, it's okay."
Now he was talking to his car and he wanted to slap himself. This was a huge problem now, he needed help, but it felt too good. He went to a local store on his way home because he still needed to relax, knowing he would be anxious at home. His eye caught a car magazine with models on the cover. He grabbed a couple and got back in the car, blowing air out through pursed lips. He once again felt he would be cheating on his car, but at least he'd be looking at women. Women were hot, they were good, they got him off, at least they used to.
Once in bed he flipped through the magazine, trying to look more at the models than the cars. But the cars were stunning, and he instantly got aroused. He began to palm at his member. Although he had just had sex he needed to get off again. He took himself in hand and stroked, it felt good, but not as good as it would feel if he were in Darling. But he made an attempt to come, tried so hard, but his release just wouldn't come. With a frustrated, "Fuck," he got out of bed and rushed to his car. He felt sentimental as soon as he saw it, a pang of something akin to love spiking in his heart. He eagerly got in and stroked himself again. He was so close, but he paused. He had the strongest urge to kiss it, so he bent his head down to pepper kisses along the steering wheel, moaning against it, "Darling... Oh, Darling..."
He kissed and stroked, brought his other hand up to caress. He was so overwhelmed with sensation and stimulation that his head was foggy and all he wanted was to share his arousal with his car. To share an intimate moment with it. He grew impossibly hard, yet he held onto the moment as long as he could, until he finally came so hard it surprised him and he called out an urgent, "Fuck!" shaking and feeling something he'd never felt before, a high flush of emotion.
He nuzzled his cheek into the steering wheel, "God, fuck, Darling." And then he uttered what he knew he should never utter to an object, "I love you."
