Car Wash 2

“Paul, turn the water on again, will you, Babe?” I ask, getting ready to rinse the soap from the roof of the car.

I could have gone to the car wash--it would have been faster--but I had the time, it’s such a nice afternoon . . . and it occurred to me that we could have some fun, if I can get some help.

Plunging the sponge into the soapy water, I go to work on the hood. Leaning waaaay over, I can feel the crotch of my cutoffs wedge securely between the globes of my ass, exposing my alabaster flesh to his glance.

In an effort to reach across to the center of the car, I stand on tiptoe, one foot off of the pavement, making sure that my thighs are parted so that he can get an eyeful of my freshly-shaven pussy from the back.

Paul’s reaction is almost immediate. “Here, Candace, let me help you with that,” he murmurs into my ear. His body presses against mine, his broad chest pushes against my back, forcing me against the wet car. His crotch is insinuated against my ass, I can feel his erection--Jesus, it’s already so hard--pressing between my cheeks. I push back against him, wiggling my butt against his hard-on, turning to grin at him wickedly.

“What’s that in your pocket, Paul?” I ask playfully.

“It’s a specialty tool, made for working in the cracks and crevices of the chassis,” he responds, pushing his cock against my ass again, just in case I missed the point.

His arms encircle my waist, his hands find my breasts, kneading them, playing with my nipples, pinching, twisting, enjoying the way I’m starting to squirm against him.

“Paul, don’t! Not in out here in front where everybody can see!” I squeal.

“You’re the one who wanted to wash the car dressed like Daisy Mae--don’t wimp out now. You’ve got to learn to finish what you start, you little tease!”

He grabs the waistband of my shorts, tugging upwards sharply, effectively “pantsing” me, the crotch pulled up firmly against my cunt lips, making my pussy and my clit throb with an almost painful intensity.

I feel the fingers of his right hand slide between my asscheeks, teasing my rosebud. Despite my concern about being observed, I can’t help but savor the feel of his probing fingers and involuntarily I press back against his hand.

Putting both hands on the sides of my hips, my lover turns me to face him, his glance taking in the now transparent t-shirt which is clinging wetly to my braless breasts. Nipples hard, areolae plainly visible, I feel more conspicuous than if I were naked.

But my self-consciousness is diverted by the lump in the crotch of his jeans. My hand reaches out to stroke his turgid rod and after a moment, my fingers find the tab of his fly and pull the zipper down. Before he can stop me, my hand slides into the opening and my fingers curl tightly around his thick cock. I lean into him, my face upturned, lips parted, preparing to kiss him and . . .

“Hey guys, want some help?” Bob, Paul’s neighbor, has decided to lend a hand.

“No thanks, Bob, we’ve got everything under control,” Paul replies cheerfully.

“Oh, come on. It’s no trouble. It always helps to have an extra pair of hands, you know.”

“You may have a point,” Paul concedes, looking at me speculatively.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about Paul, but whatever it is, just forget it,” I hiss.

“What’s wrong with you? The man just wants to help, Candace. Jeez, you’re so paranoid!” Paul whispers teasingly.

Bob grabs the extra sponge and goes to work on the trunk of the car.

Not wanting to expose myself to his neighbor, I turn away and continue washing the hood, acutely aware of Paul’s body still pressing against me. His prick, pre-cum oozing from the head, has worked its way from the open fly of his jeans and is now sliding up and down between my legs, rubbing against me from my soaking pussy to my asshole.

Bob grabs the hose, rinses the trunk and starts to wash the side rear panel of the car, seemingly oblivious to our carnal play. “The key to a good car wash is to use plenty of water,” he comments idly.

“Yeah, it makes a big difference when everything is really wet,” Paul mutters as he pushes me against the car again, sliding his cock into my sopping wet cunt. “Take it, you little bitch. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he whispers in my ear. My pussy automatically starts to contract around his hardness.

Paul’s hands grab my ass and roughly move it back and forth against his swollen cock. I hear him grunt as he thrusts into me.

“Come for me, Candace. Let’s see if you can have an orgasm without disturbing ANY of the neighbors. Don’t take too long. Any minute Bob is going to look up and see you with my cock inside of you. What are you going to do if he decides that he wants some of your hot pussy, too?”

The thought simultaneously stimulates and terrifies me. I move against him more rapidly, one hand reaching behind me and into his open fly, my fingers finding his tight balls. I start to squeeze, to massage, to caress his balls as best I can. My hand comes forward, my fingers encircle the base of his cock, squeezing, tugging, stroking, desperate to feel him shoot his jism inside of my hungry pussy.

Paul’s hands cup my breasts again, pinching my nipples, pulling them away from my tits, twisting them between his thumb and forefinger. “You like this, don’t you, you little cunt? Come for me. Come for me now, Candace. Come for me or I’m going to ask Bob if he wants some of this too. I know that he’s a breast man. I’ve seen him checking you out. Maybe he’d like to slide his dick between your full tits while I fuck this hot cunt of yours right here.”

The last suggestion sends me over the edge. Pressing my hand to my mouth, I manage to stifle my cries as my orgasm overtakes me, the churning, crashing release making my knees weak and causing me to slowly slide down the side of the car until I can sit on the pavement.

Paul’s hands grasp the sides of my face and, while I’m still in the throes of my own climax, he thrusts his still-hard prick between my lips, fucking my face savagely. I suck his cock greedily, silently willing him to come, wanting to taste his salt. The tip of my tongue darts into the head of his cock, seeking his essence, then slides to the underside of his tool, flicking back and forth with lightening speed against the sweet spot just under the head. His thrusts are faster now, I know that he’s about to go over the edge. I increase the suction of my mouth, I purse my lips even more tightly around his erection. I start purring deep in my throat, knowing that the vibrations are traveling from my larynx to the head of his cock and up the length of his shaft.

Looking up into Paul’s eyes, I see his orgasm overtake him. “OH FUCK, OH FUCK, OH FUCK FUCK FUCK” no sound comes from his lips as he mouths the words. His white gold shoots down my throat, fills my mouth and spills over my lips while his prick continues to thrust between my lips. I hold him in my mouth waiting for his orgasm to subside. Reluctantly, I relinquish my oral hold on his cock as he tuck it back into his pants.

“Ready to rinse again?” Bob’s query intrudes as, without waiting for a reply, he turns the hose on the car, soaking the two of us.

“Oh no,” he cries as I jump to my feet, t-shirt completely soaked. “Oh, man, oh, Candace, I’m really . . .” his voice trails off as he stops to stare at my breasts. Paul’s hands, back on my hips, prevent me from turning away.

“I guess you’ll want to change . . . or something,” mumbles Bob, shaking himself from his reverie. “Hey, I think I hear Cindy calling me--I’m sorry to cut out on you. But I’ll tell you what. If you decide you want to detail the car later this weekend, I’d be glad to help you out. I just got this great kit--”

“Thanks for the offer, Bob,” I reply. “But Paul’s got some great equipment himself.”

“Okay, well let me know if you change your mind,” calls Bob, clueless as ever, as he walks away.

We exchange amused glances.

“Where’s your chamois?” I ask. “We need to hurry up and finish this job before you end up with a bunch of water spots.”

“Fuck it. I’ll just go to the car wash in the morning,” Paul replies, a familiar grin spreading across his face as he grabs the back of my soaking wet t-shirt, pulling it off of me in a single fluid motion. “There’s a much more important job that needs to be finished right now,” he calls after me, as I run into the house, arms covering my chest, squealing with laughter.