The Official Female Pedal Pumping Message Forum
pedalpumping Ticket | Today | Join | Member | Search | Who's On | Help | Sign In | |
pedalpumping > The Official Female Pedal Pumping Message Board > The Passenger's Seat-Your Stories Go to subcategory:
Author Content
  • Rank:CASHIER
  • Score:281
  • Posts:281
  • From:USA
  • Register:04/13/2016 6:22 AM

Date Posted:01/14/2019 12:19 AMCopy HTML

Diana leaned over the steering wheel as she tried to find a way to start the car. She had borrowed the small British car from her friend Kelly, but she left no instructions for her just handed her the keys and told her not to wreck it. She had found the ignition and turned the key on but she couldn’t find the starter button. She has pushed every button and knob on the dashboard and groped around with pointed toe of her pumps on the floorboard trying to find something that would activate the starter.


“Maybe the battery is dead… no the headlights work… I must be doing something wrong, but what?” Doubled over the steering wheel, she drew her legs to her and rubbed her hands over her nylon stockinged legs. “This is so frustrating! What do all these knobs do?” She began pulling them out, one by one and was surprised to hear the grind of the starter as she pulled one of them near the ignition key. 


Surprised she let it go and it sprung back to the dash and the starter stopped. She tugged on the knob again, sure enough the starter turned the engine over, but the car didn’t start. She pushed the gas pedal several times and tried again. The. Starter dutifully spun the engine but it gave no indication of starting. Diana jabbed the pedal again with her toe, but it slipped off the pedal. She squirmed in the seat so she could get her whole foot on the pedal.


The seat was very low and her knees were above the seat causing her silky dress to fall into her lap as she continued to pump the gas pedal. Diana ignored her dress and focused only on getting the car going, but it wouldn’t go. The dress was very impractical. There really wasn’t much to it; short, low cut with thin straps that constantly fell off her shoulders revealing more of her generous boobs than she wanted. Although at a time like this if there was some bloke around, her deep cleavage would come in handy to attract his attention, but right now her boobs just bounced freely under her dress as she bounced in the seat helplessly pumping the accelerator.


Okay Diana, what are you doing wrong this time? She always seemed to have trouble with her own car, but Kelly never had any trouble with the car. She pushed in the clutch and jiggled the gearshift lever, something has to be wrong. She checked the ignition key turning it off and on again and then pulled the starter knob. The car shook as the engine tried to fire, but it didn’t catch. Diana pumped the gas pedal and tried again. Nothing. 


She shut the ignition off and sank back into the soft leather seat, defeated by not being able to get the car started. She pulled her skirt over her knees and rubbed her nylon clad legs. “Stupid car, why won’t you start?” She leaned over the seat and pulled open the dashboard glove box, hoping to find a manual or something that would help her start the car, but there was nothing but junk in the box. She looked around the campus parking lot hoping to spot someone who could help her, but many of the students had gone home for the holiday, including Kelly who had gone home with her boyfriend to meet his parents.  No one around and now it had started to rain.


Damn it anyway. She really didn’t want to drive Kelly’s car, but her own car wouldn’t start this morning and Kelly had given her a ride to school and then asked her to keep the car until she returned late Sunday night. She set the controls once again and tugged at the starter, pumping the gas pedal more aggressively than before. “Come on car, just start!” Her plea must have worked because the little engine was trying to fire. “Oh good, keep going!” Diana pumped gas even harder than before, trying to get the engine to start. The engine was sputtering, choking on too much gas, but still able to fire on some cylinders, leaving Diana with a rough running engine that threatened to stall. She kept feeding it gas trying to keep it running, but the engine seemed destined to stall. 


“No, no, no… you can’t die!” She kept pumping the gas pedal trying to get the engine to run smooth, but it only got worse. She tried to floor the gas pedal but the engine would backfire and falter. “Oh, what is wrong with you, why won’t you run smoothly?” She became aware of black smoke surrounding the back of the car. “What is all that black smoke from? Why is it doing that?”


Thinking she had done something terribly wrong she shut the ignition off and sank back into the seat again. “What have I done?” the straps of her dress had fallen from her shoulders and the neckline had plunged, exposing her full breasts, but there was no one around for her to tease but herself. She began to massage her breast, exciting herself. She felt so helpless and stroking her nipples felt so good. 


Diana always used sex to resolve her troubles, absorbing her emotions by her sensual desires. Her skirt had fallen into her lap again and she slid her hand over her bared thigh under her panties finding her sex moist. She eased her fingers between the soft folds, pleased that she found something that she could finally start. She stretched out her long legs and sank back into the seat, forgetting about her troubles with the car.  


But her euphoria was short lived and as she gathered herself to restore some amount of modesty she cursed the car. She wanted to get home and finish this wonderful escape in the privacy of her room. She had to get the car running. Her emotions left her more confused than before and she couldn’t sort out the starting process.


She took a deep breath, trying to restore some calm to her rattled thoughts. She switched on the ignition and watched the needles on the gauges spring to life. “What do all these gauges mean, anyway?”  The only gauge that she understood was the gas gauge and it was pretty low, almost touching Empty.  “Am I out of gas? Maybe that’s what’s wrong.” She nervously pulled the starter knob again, wondering if she should continue to pump the gas pedal. The engine gave no sign of starting so she began pumping the pedal, slowly at first and then found herself matching the tempo of the starter motor as it spun the engine.


It wouldn’t start and now she realized that the starter had begun to slow. The battery was weakening. She released the starter knob as a sense of hopelessness overwhelmed her. She knew that she couldn’t let the battery die. She shut off the ignition and stared helplessly at the dashboard. Would one of those gauges tell her how weak the battery was; she couldn’t figure it out if they did. She had noticed that one of the needles swung all the way over when she was trying to start the engine, but she didn’t know what that meant. It was sitting in the middle now on zero. Did that mean the battery was dead?


pedalpusher Share to: Facebook Twitter MSN linkedin google yahoo #1
  • Score:349
  • Posts:322
  • From:USA
  • Register:09/28/2013 3:41 PM


Date Posted:01/14/2019 2:40 PMCopy HTML

Boomer: Another vivid description of what it might be like trying to start an MGA in the 1950's. Diana was obviously clueless about the use of a manual choke to assist. Even then, though fun to drive, these and other British cars of the era were by nature very cold blooded and could require up to several minutes to start when cold. I have previously written about a beautiful woman who, with her Navy pilot husband and two girls, lived next door in the 50's. She was on the cutting edge with casual fashions of the day, often wearing shorts and tight fitting tops as well as sandals on warm days. She generally drove a 1955 Ford station wagon which somehow was always giving her fits trying to start it when cold and even at times when warm (in retrospect I think the Holley carburetor feeding the V8 needed a rebuild). What I didn't say in the description is that the daily driver for her pilot husband was a 1956 MGA. I didn't often see her drive it, but one day when I was 10 yrs old she had agreed to give my brother and sister as well as me a ride in the car around the block. I'll never forget her sitting in the driver's seat hunched over the wheel pulling the starter knob while pumping the gas as the engine cranked and cranked with frequent chugs and starter wind downs. I heard her husband call to her from the gas "Use the choke!" "Choke's out.." she replied. By now I was seated next to her and could feel the vibration as the starter turned the four cylinder engine under the hood. This went on for a full five minutes until the engine, which I'm sure she had flooded, stumbled to life. The rest of the trip was uneventful but has produced a memory for life. Thanks for your wonderful story. Pedalpusher

Copyright © 2000-2019 Aimoo Free Forum All rights reserved.