She's always depended on the kindness of strangers

Danielle ignored the men. After all, it was hardly the first time she had ever been catcalled. Unlike most women, she found cat-calling to be largely harmless. If anything, she viewed it as a public confidence booster.

To be honest, Danielle was happy to get attention for her ass instead of her world-class tits, for once. Being the born cock-tease she was, Danielle wiggled her hips a little to give the gawking pervs a show.

The sounds of their laughter and lust-filled moans from the men in the car sent her into a fit of giggles. Being appreciated for her assets filled Danielle with a sense of pride. She worked out religiously to get this figure, and it was nice that, for once, it was being appreciated. Or, at the very least, the way the cotton orange material stretched over her taut, bronzed half-moons was being appreciated.

With her front torso still under the hood, she heard what sounded like the car pulling over to the side of the road. Despite her egregious misplaced confidence in her abilities, she couldn't help but get a thrill from getting a strapping, handsome man to do fix the car for her. She smiled to herself and decided to have a little fun.

She slowly stood up straight and flipped her golden blonde hair over her shoulders, her massive sidewinders wobbling from side to side. Danielle knew from experience that when she wore her Hooters top, her succulent cock-melons could be seen from behind. The sound of riotous applause as the men hooted and hollered at the show was all the proof Danielle needed that she had them right where she wanted them.

Danielle seductively turned around, gently stroking her screwdriver with her slender fingers as she gave her best sexy pout. Her plump cock-sucking lips turned into a cock-hardening frown. That was until she got a look at her would-be "rescuers." Far from being strapping or handsome, these were the ugliest-looking geeks she had seen since high school.

Danielle shivered at the memories of being hounded and stalked by those love-struck losers in her teenage years. Their persistence was annoying. But more annoying was that they thought they were even close to her league. Danielle didn't mind being a shameless flirt to get what she wanted, but she had some standards.

There were four of the scrawny losers piled in the rusty old minivan. Three of them stayed in the car while the driver hopped out and waved excitedly at the buxom goddess in distress. Danielle rolled her eyes and cursed her luck.

Tall, gangly, and buckteeth with braces, the nerd filled with her revulsion on sight. His short red hair was cut into a buzzcut, his face was littered with pockmarks, and a thin river of snot seemed to run from his nose.

Danielle felt the first few drops of rain as it began to sprinkle. "Fucking great," Danielle muttered; the light shower was followed by an icy cold wind. Something that made her nipples come alive and poke through her Hooters top. "Of all the days not to wear a bra," she muttered. "Fuck my life," she added.

As he drew closer, the mere sight of him made Danielle want to wretch. He was clearly not a fan of bathing with his greasy hair and a disconcerting number of dark patches on his skin.

The man spoke; his reedy voice was akin to nails on a chalkboard to Danielle. "Hey there, m'lady. My friends and couldn't help but noticed you seem to be a damsel in distress. Could we be of service?"