The amber light of a streetlamp was not PR1V-4’s favourite lighting to be seen in, but the freight-hauler pushing her up against the wall behind a Stop-n-Gas didn’t seem to care too much how her optics reflected. She was an older model, bigger, built tough for long hauls, and her firm grip on the little courier’s hip actuators reflected that. A light squeeze brought a quiet gasp to her lips, and the older woman smirked, pressing closer to brush her own lips against hers.
“Component sensitivity turned up a little, huh Priva?” BRIG-37 murmured, the husk in her voice modulator sending tremors down Priva’s spinal mount as each bot’s supple thigh crumple zones slipped together and against each other, drawing a moan from each.
“J-just a little, Bridget,” whispered Priva, hooking her leg over the big-rig and hauling herself upwards, “You know, t-to get a better feel for the road, and all that…”
“Uhuh, sure~. Say, are you okay interfacing with a fembot that has a clutch? I was born a manual, after all.”
Priva’s response came in the form of a kiss, a deep, slow, lingering exchange of coolant, her engine revving as Bridget’s inefficient radiator delivered a flood of liquid, finally parting and leaving both of them slick with the warm, blue fluid. Swallowing greedily, Priva looked deep into the big-rig’s optics, answering a questioning look with her own needy gaze.
“I need you, Bree. Quickly. Please.”
The urgency of her plea brought Bridget’s exhaust stacks to red hot, her revs kicking up as desire overcame hesitation. Before she even knew what was happening, her gearbox was pressed up against Priva, slowly shifting into first with a drawn-out, ecstatic grind. Priva, for her part, leant her head back and moaned, exulting in Bridget’s passionate rush, the wheels in her forearms gripping at her partner’s shoulders, rubber against metal tingling along her onboard systems.
Bridget stood at nearly twice the size Priva did in humanoid form, a fact that garnered attention often when they were together out in public. But here, it only meant that Priva couldn’t have stopped Bridget’s hands from teasing open her bonnet in the centre of her chest even if she had wanted to. Priva’s engine sputtered, the sudden airflow nearly disrupting the strokes of her six cylinders, as its owner pushed it forward and against Bridget.
The courier’s hips set a steady pace, the groan of stressed metal accompanying Bridget’s breathless shift to second gear as those big, strong hands gently caressed Priva’s engine housing, enough power to haul 16 tons of freight around her living, beating heart. It was dizzying, intoxicating, her pistons firing harder and harder at the thought that at any moment, her life could be crunched short.
“M-more, please, more,” she begged, looking down at her open chest and those huge, strong arms buried in it. “Short-circuit me, Bree. Spark up my systems and make me purr for you…”
Just like that, the big-rig roared into third, rocketing through fourth and fifth, bolts and rivets rattling in their welds as she squeezed her precious cargo tight and put all her horsepower into one final rev. Bridget’s wheels screamed as her brakes held firm against all the torque her drivetrain could impart and her voice modulator crackled with ecstasy, one last cry of pleasure as her shift into sixth gear put her over the edge into orgasm. Priva giggled and pulled herself closer, the bots’ lips meeting once again in a passionate kiss.
A kiss cut short when Bridget’s fingers found the wire leading between Priva’s battery and the part of her positronic brain responsible for pleasure, and she tugged. Instantly, the courier’s headlights flickered on, then her high beams, pulsing in time with her jagged moans and gasps for air as Priva came on her lover’s fingers in a shower of warm, sticky motor oil. For an eternity of seconds, neither said a word, each absorbed in the bliss of mutual satisfaction and the smell of burnt rubber, metal shavings, and lubricant. Then, at last, Priva spoke up:
“Y’know, for a girl with a manual clutch, you sure know just where to touch an automatic~!”
Bridget laughed, lowering Priva gently to the ground where the smaller woman simply collapsed back into vehicle form* to recover. Sitting down against the wall, she picked the courier truck up and settled it into her lap, stretching and reaching into her cabin for a cigarette. “What can I say, love? When I go in for a lady, I’m in it for the long-haul!”
*Yes, cisformers can do that too!
