The Wash

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

Rounding the corner into the lot, Mike saw the length of the line for the car wash and immediately regretted his decision. He glanced in his rear-view mirror, considering simply backing out the way he entered. But there were already two more cars behind him blocking his exit. He was locked in now. Might as well take a minute, try to unwind.

What a miserable day. From running out of coffee first thing in the morning, to fishing his car keys from between the seat and center console with a coat hanger, to the office air conditioning failing on the first 90 degree day of the summer, to the landscaper's truck sloshing half a load of topsoil across the side of his car; pretty much everything that could have gone wrong, did. By six o'clock he was simply happy to make it out of the building. Now the fuel light was on, and the car needed to be scrubbed, but the air conditioning worked and he was on him way home, so if he had to wait in line ten minutes it certainly wasn't the worst thing to happen to him today.

Sunlight flashed in his eyes from the side mirror. Squinting, he shifted it away and inched forward to maintain the narrow gap to the car ahead of him. He eased the stereo volume up, drumming his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. It took him a moment to notice, but a few car lengths ahead, the road seemed to widen and there were markings on the pavement. He craned his neck over the passenger seat and peered around the car in front. There was an arrow, and what looked like three letters. VIP.

Mike crinkled his forehead. A VIP lane? That wasn't there before. He was a regular here and he was sure he hadn't seen it. In fact... He popped open the glove box and rummaged through the short stack of papers, retrieving a credit card with the name of the wash and the letters VIP stamped across the front. He was a member. It had been a few weeks since his last visit, but it hardly seemed long enough to install a whole new lane.

He kept a close eye on the traffic, and as soon as there was space, swerved into the open lane and cruised forward. There were now only two cars between him and the pay station, instead of twenty. He didn't remember how much he'd paid for the VIP membership, but today it was totally worth it. In about a minute he eased up next to the pay station.

Mike rolled his window down as the attendant approached from the booth, a strangely pleasant smile on his face for a college kid working a minimum wage job on his summer vacation. Mike presented the card, which the kid swiped through the back of his tablet. "Good evening Mr. James," he said, passing the card back through the window, "how are you today?"

Mike sighed. "It's been a hell of a day," he replied.

"I'll bet," the kid replied. "What happened to your car here?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Mike laughed. "I just want to clean it up."

"Well, since you are a VIP member in good standing, would you like to take advantage of our Diamond Wash Package this evening?"

"Diamond Wash," Mike repeated, puzzled. "Is that new?"

"New this season. We debuted it few weeks ago. Private professional wash, wax and polish, interior detailing, beverage, snacks and a custom-tailored entertainment package."

"Wow," Mike marveled, "that's...impressive. How much is it?"

"It's complementary for VIP members. Won't cost you anything—except maybe fifteen minutes or so."

Mike considered the proposal. He was tired. But a beverage and snacks sounded good. And the custom-tailored entertainment package sounded intriguing. At a car wash? What was that about? Like, PlayStation and batting cages, or, what?

"Hard to argue with complementary," he replied finally. "Sounds like a good deal."

"So that's a yes," the kid confirmed.

"Yeah," Mike nodded. "What do I do?"

The kid pointed to a translucent overhead sectional door off to the right of the main wash entrance. "Pull right up to that door there. When it opens, pull into the first available wash stall. An attendant will be with you right away."

Mike eased the car between two pick-ups across the wash lane and down the freshly paved drive the kid directed him to. As he pulled up the door opened, and he rolled inside. To the left were a series of angled concrete and fiberglass wash bays. To the right were a series of bright green entry doors (the accent color of the car wash logo) set into short angled protrusions in frosted glass and panel walls. The drive felt like a corridor between fancy hotel rooms for cars and high-end hotel rooms for people.

The first three bays were occupied by luxury SUVs, each being cleaned and detailed by a crew of three. He turned his car into the fourth bay and parked it in the center of the stall. Upon exiting he was greeted immediately by a young woman in khaki-colored chinos, sneakers, and a fitted two-color short-sleeved polo with the company logo embroidered on each sleeve. Wavy platinum blonde hair framed soft accented features and a bright smile.

"Mister James," she queried. Mike nodded. "Hi," she continued, extending a hand, "my name is Madison and I'll be taking care of you this evening." Mike shook her hand. "If you could please leave the vehicle key on the front seat and follow me, we will get the rest of your experience set up right away."

Mike dropped his key fob on the seat and shut the door. Madison turned and headed toward the door directly across the drive from the wash bay. He followed her, the sounds of air dryers and high-pressure water fading gradually behind him. The soft white glow behind the glass was strangely inviting for the setting. Madison pulled an access card from her pocket and tapped it against the reader on the door. The latch retracted and she pushed the door open, motioning for him to continue inside. He smiled and slipped past her into the room while she shut the door behind them.

The room resembled a hotel suite in size and layout, with an under-counter clear-front refrigerator, microwave, snack bar, large wall-mounted television and a comfortable chaise lounge-recliner combination. Close to the entrance behind a pocket door was a small half-bath, and at the far end of the room beyond the modern patterned carpet was another door to an undisclosed location. Madison motioned toward the chair. "Please, have a seat."

She stepped up to the refrigerator. The light inside switched on revealing a wide selection of beverages. Mesmerized, Mike made his way to the lounger and took a seat.

"Unfortunately, we are unable to offer alcoholic beverages," she explained, "but we do have a wide selection of soft drinks, juice, teas, and hot drinks to choose from."

"Do you have iced coffee," he asked. She nodded.

"Certainly. Cream and sugar?"

"Creamer please. Hazelnut if you have it."

"Of course. I'll have that ready for you shortly. What would you like to snack on?"

Mike surveyed the plethora of items arranged by type on the shelves of the snack bar. Candy bars, packaged cookies, snack cakes, chips. We waffled several times before finally deciding. "Cookies please. Chocolate chip."

Madison plucked a package from the rack, peeled the top open and handed them to Mike. "Enjoy," she chirped. "The TV remote is on the end table next to you. I'll be right back with your iced coffee and a menu."

She smiled and disappeared through the door to the undisclosed location. Mike leaned back against the chair. The upholstery was a bit coarse, but the seat was buoyant and the lumbar support adequate. It was actually quite comfortable. He pulled a cookie from the package and bit into it. Moist, chewy, heavy on the chocolate chips. Good cookie. He relaxed a little. Flipped on the television and surfed briefly before settling on a baseball game.

One batter into the inning, Madison returned, a tall to-go coffee cup in one hand, small tablet in the other. She perched on the open end of the chaise lounger, extending the cup toward Mike. "One iced coffee with hazelnut creamer," she confirmed.

Mike took the cup, sipped the drink. "Mmm that's good," he said. "You guys really went all out with this diamond package."

She smiled. "Service is what sets us apart." Turning the tablet over in her hands she powered it on. "This is the entertainment menu," she explained, swiping across the screen several times. "You can choose any two items from Column A and any single item from Column B, for a total of three items. To make your selection just tap the check box next to the item. Once you have completed your selections just return the tablet to me."

"Three items," Mike chuckled. "Do we have time for all that?"

Madison shrugged. "That kind of depends on you."

Bewildered, Mike took the tablet and examined the menu. At the first word of the first line in Column A his eyes leapt from his head and his heart thumped in his chest. He shot a glance across the lounger to catch her watching the game, like all of this - the coffee, the cookies, the lounger and the...menu was perfectly normal. He refocused on the screen; on the options he was to select from. He'd expected games, maybe a little sports betting, maybe even clips of some Netflix comedy specials. But none of those items were on the list. He read from the top.

Nude lap dance. Self-gratification. Mutual masturbation. Handjob. He shifted in the chair, attempting to conceal the growing bulge in his pants.

Tit fuck. Face-sit. Blowjob. He cast another glance toward Madison. Her thighs seemed tight and shapely beneath the khaki fabric. Her breasts strained against the weave of her polo. Her lips were smooth, full and pink. All things he hadn't paid much attention to - before now.

Missionary. Cowgirl. Spooning. Doggystyle. He sipped the coffee, but his throat remained dry. Images flashed through his head. Her lips parted, breathing heavy on his neck. The bubble of her ass bouncing against his lap. Her breasts swaying like pendulums beneath as he stroked her from behind.

He scanned the second column. Creampie. Pearl necklace. Swallow. He shifted again, sitting up straight, then leaning forward, holding the tablet in his arms over his lap. It would soon be impossible to hide his erection. He watched her in the corner of his eye, her legs crossed, watching the game, like she was settling in for a quiet evening at home binging her favorite TV series. All that was missing was the ice cream and blanket.

The clock was ticking. He cleared the frog in his throat. "Choose three you said?"

"Mmm hmm," she nodded. "Two from A and one from B."

Mike nodded. He scanned the screen one final time. In quick succession he tapped the check boxs next to three of the items with an unsteady finger and held the tablet out for her to take. He averted eye contact as she lifted it from his fingers, unsure of the proper etiquette for the moment. She reviewed the list. Smiled. "All right," she said, rising from the chaise and heading toward the snack bar, "let's get started then."

Mike watched as she set the tablet on the counter and opened the door of the cabinet above. From the second shelf she plucked a clear plastic bottle and set it next to the tablet. She turned to face him, leaning back against the counter. She tipped her head, silver hair falling across half her face. "Would you like to...help me?"

Reluctantly, Mike stood up, his...excitement plainly obvious. Madison looked him up and down as he advanced, ever so slightly arching her back and cocking a hip in response. He stopped just inches away, nervous, his hands still trembling. She took hold of them, guided them, placing one on each hip. He curled his fingers under the hem of her polo and as he lifted, she raised her arms above her head. The shirt peeled up and away from her body, revealing a filled-out flame-red bra.

Madison's hands disappeared behind her back. Mike watched, breathing deeply, as the bra tumbled to the floor. Her breasts clung to her chest, firm weighted teardrops, upturned slightly, nipples pink and taught. She caught him admiring them, mischief creasing the corners of her mouth. She lifted a finger to his chin raising his eyes level with hers. "You know," she said softly, gesturing toward his waist, "this only works if you're..."

"Right," Mike stammered, stepping back several paces. Reaching under his shirt he fumbled with his belt, twisting and tugging until it broke free. He flicked the button through the eyelet and pushed his pants and underwear to the floor. His hard-on protruded well past his shirttails, bobbing slightly to each beat of his heart.

That's better," Madison said, smiling. "Have a seat."

He stepped out of the pants and continued backing away until he bumped against the lounger and seated himself on the edge of the cushion. From the cabinet she snatched a hand towel from the cabinet, slinging it over her shoulder. She squeezed a generous amount of fluid from the little plastic bottle into her hands and rubbed them together. Approaching the chaise, she skimmed her hands over her chest, applying the lubricant the length of her sternum, then over, under and between her breasts. Her lightly tanned skin glistened as she knelt before him, between his legs. Not bothering to undo the buttons, Mike yanked his dress shirt off over his head and wrenched his arms free, tossing the garment to the floor beside him.

Madison wrapped both hands around Mike's cock. It flexed against her grip, sending a tingle up his spine and down through his legs to his feet. She pulled up, pushed down, twisting her fingers in opposite directions, coating the head and shaft, all the way down to the base of his balls. He drew a breath and exhaled over his vocal cords, a low, deep groan escaping his throat. Madison looked up. "It sounds like we're ready," she said.

She wiped her hands on the towel and set it on the end table. Scooching forward she pressed her tummy against the cushion, cupped the outside of each breast and squeezed his cock between her tits. Mike closed his eyes, leaned against the backrest, concentrating on the sensation.

Her nipples pinched in the crooks of her fingers, she gently lifted, then lowered her breasts, the head of his cock disappearing between the mounds, then emerging through the top, straining for her chin. She moved slowly, with a firm, steady pressure, the shaft gliding against her skin, the tips of her fingers tripping back and forth over the glans. Mike squeezed her torso between his thighs, her warmth radiating through his core.

He looked down as she looked up, her eyes requesting evaluation, asking for guidance. Mike nodded, his breath quickening. He lifted his hips, thrusting gently upward as her stroke came down, pressing his balls against the underside of her tits, bumping the tip of his cock against her throat. She smiled. Picked up her pace. There was a certain pride in her movements. A confidence that came only with the certainly of the quality of one's performance.

His cock throbbing, he reached out, teased his fingers through her hair. It cascaded over his thighs, the shape and volume changing with the rise and fall of her chest, the color a stark contrast to the dark fabric of the chaise. He watched intently, his body beginning to react on its own, attentive to input from his penis instead of his brain. His buttocks clenched and released, thighs relaxed, then constricted again. The soles of his shoes dug into the carpet.

She dipped his glans between her breasts, holding it there and massaging it with a series of short strokes between the slippery flesh and tight circles beneath her knuckles. Mike sank into the cushion, retreating from the intense sensation. She sank her tits into his lap in response, pushing his dick clear through the top of the crevasse to deposit a dollop of pre-cum on the tip of her outstretched tongue.

A shock of pleasure spiraled down through his cock, into his balls, threatening to force his cum back up the way it came. But he held on, willing it back down and pushing her gently away by the shoulders. She looked up, reading the squinting of his eyes and gaping of his jaw as her ques to move on to item number two.

Her hands on his knees she pushed herself to her feet. He gripped the base of his cock, holding it perfectly still and unstimulated while he watched her. She poked the button of her chinos out through the eyelet. Pinched the bright brass zipper between a thumb and forefinger, dragging it down to the base of her crotch. She hooked her thumbs between her waistband and her hips and shimmied her pants and flame red underwear down over her ass to the middle of her thighs. Her legs parted, her right hand finding its way down her abdomen to the fine, wispy blonde fuzz of her mons. Eyes locked with Mike's she curled her middle finger down between her lips and into her pussy. Moments later she drew it out, raised the hand to her mouth and sucked the glistening wetness from her finger.

Mike rose from the chaise, his cock engorged, his brain fuzzy. He slipped by and around behind her, his penis brushing her ass as he passed. He gripped the bunched fabric around her thighs and pulled it slowly to the floor, her buttocks only inches from his face. Madison stepped out of her clothes and stepped forward, easing first one knee then the other down onto the chaise cushion. She bent forward at the waist, folding her arms and resting them on the back of the lounger. Arching her back, presenting her ass, she peeked back over her shoulder, inviting him in.

He stepped up, pressing the front of his thighs against the back of hers, the bend of her ass cooling his abdomen, his cock flat against her mons. Juices trickled from her pussy, mingling with the lubricant coating his dick. He admired her shape. Her curves and her lines. Her contours and color. He palmed a cheek in each hand, gripping the flesh and squeezing the muscle. His penis twitched against her. He looked up, meeting her gaze. Her mouth fell open, spilling out two words: "Fuck me." He loaded his hips, aligned his member with her slit, and sank his cock into her pussy.

She gasped at the size of the intruder, holding him motionless inside while she adjusted. She was warm, and slick, and soft like velvet. Gradually she pulled away, then eased back onto it, repeating the action until she swayed with a gentle rhythm. He took over the motion, pushing deep inside and withdrawing to the tip. His grip on her ass tightened, using it as leverage, pulling her on and pushing her off his cock, building steadily toward the inevitable.

She threw her head back, pooling her hair between her shoulder blades. Working an arm free she reached back and gathered it, twisting it into a ponytail. She flicked it toward him. Again, when he didn't respond. Unsure it was what she wanted, he released her ass, leaned over her back and took hold of her hair with both hands. Hilting his cock in her vagina he gave the ponytail a gentle tug.

Madison gasped. Her legs stiffened and her back arched in a curve Mike didn't think possible. A guttural moan escaped her throat, her fingers finding their way down to her clit. Mike resumed thrusting, maintaining his grip on her silky silver locks. Her pussy squeezed his dick, slowing his pace but heightening his arousal. "Harder," she sighed, fingers flying between the folds of her sex. "Fuck me harder." He obeyed.

Yanking back on her ponytail he crashed his cock into her pussy, the sound of slapping flesh drowning out the ballgame. She moaned each breath, her ass rippling with every contact. Her cream oozed out around his shaft, smearing her thighs and clinging to his balls. She whispered more words, but Mike didn't hear them. He heard nothing but the thumping of his heart and the blood rushing through his ears.

A pressure began to build in his groin. He tried to will it down, but she felt so good inside he knew it was no use. He held onto her hair with one hand, reached around and clutched a swaying breast with the other, clumsily kneading it, rolling the nipple between his fingers. Her body trembled, slippery knuckles grinding against her button. His thrusting accelerated; the stroke shallower, more urgent. Semen churned in his balls, anticipating the moment fast approaching.