Weekend at the Car Wash

"I'm telling you it's true," Eddie insisted. We were sitting over beers at the bar.

"I don't believe it," I replied. "You haven't even seen him with your own eyes."

We continued to argue amid the smoke and hubbub.

"C'mon, Eddie, you've got to admit it's a little hard to believe," I said, as we headed out into the night some time later. "I've heard of cruising the bars, the baths and the tearooms, but--a car wash?"

"Look, if you go down there you'll see it's the perfect setup. It's in that new strip that they're just starting to develop between the Business-I and the Interstate. They put in the road for condos but they haven't gone up yet. This car wash is there, sitting by itself, woods all around. And it's twenty-four/seven.

"Anyway, supposedly this guy drives in late at night on weekends and washes his car in the far stall wearing only cutoffs or Speedos. If he sees anyone giving him the eye he gets naked. Pretty obvious what he's after."

"Guess so, if it's true," I conceded.

"Later, buddy," Eddie said, getting into his car.

"You don't want to come back with me?" I said, but he was already pulling out.

I watched him go, horny and frustrated.

Eddie's story was worth checking out, at least. I went one afternoon later that week after work, driving down the access road by the interstate, then swinging off onto the newly paved spur. As yet it led mostly to nowhere. The car wash was on a small plot of land on the right, about a quarter of a mile in, halfway between the access road and the business thoroughfare. The sign on the pole was electric blue and white, out of place standing in the middle what until recently had been woody, undeveloped land.

The car wash was ugly and utilitarian. There were eight stalls made of cinder blocks set in the middle of a large paved lot, with the detergent dispensers, power hoses and other equipment installed on the left wall of each. A couple of giant vacuum cleaners were set up in back, against the wooden fence that went around the entire property, except for the entrance in front.

That made this wash different from others I'd seen. From the street you couldn't tell whether a stall was occupied. You had to drive into the lot to see.

What Eddie was describing to me could actually happen here.

I didn't see him Friday night when I went by the bar. Some of my other friends were there but hadn't seen him either. I left early, a little after eleven, and stood in the street. Finally I gave in to my baser self and drove toward the interstate.

The harsh fluorescent lights of the car wash glared at the side of the otherwise dark road. I pulled into the lot and saw that, contrary to what I had thought, this wasn't a totally unpopular time to wash a car. Three of the stalls had cars in them. All of the occupants were fully clothed.

This was sure turning out to be a dull Friday night, but I wasn't quite ready to give up and go home. My own little Honda was grimy. I drove into an empty stall and dug into the ashtray for loose change. I dropped it in the slot and went to work. Soon I was busy soaping, rinsing and scrubbing, trying to keep ahead of the numbers on the digital timer counting down the seconds. I really had to move, and barely managed to finish rinsing everything off before the machine shut down.

I stood, holding the dripping hose, panting from my exertions. Though the night air was cool, I was sweating. There were wet patches on my shirt from accidentally hitting myself with the spray from the hose. Washing the car naked wasn't such a bad idea.

The thought made me remember why I had come out here. Hanging up the hose on the wall hook, I walked to the end of the stall I was in and looked out to both sides. I was in the fifth furthest stall away from the entrance. I strolled down past the first four--they were now empty.

My ear caught the sound of spraying water and other activity at the far end. Someone was in the very last stall. If you were going to cruise the car wash, that was the best place--plenty of time to hear another car coming into the lot.

A grassy strip went all the way around between the asphalt and the tall wooden fence. I began to walk down the row of stalls toward the end, staying on the grass. Here the lights were not quite so penetrating and there were pools of shadow.

I kept walking forward until the last stall and its occupant came into view. The vehicle was parked so that its front was facing me. It was a large car, a late-model gas guzzler from the seventies, shiny and well-maintained.

The man washing it didn't see me at first. He was tall and slender, his chest and stomach hard and smooth. He was wearing a baseball cap, thongs on his feet and a pair of denim cutoffs, and that was it.

I looked more closely and saw an appetizing sight. The dark tip of his cock was peeking out of one leg of his shorts.

At that moment the man raised his head and caught sight of me standing in the shadows. He gave me a long, frank stare. I felt the heat rise in my own body and travel down to my crotch. My own cock stiffened in my pants and I cupped it in my hand.

The man continued rinsing the soap off his car, every so often casting another glance in my direction. I stood, rubbing myself, letting him know I was interested and waiting.

Finally, the timer beeped and the stream from the hose dribbled to a halt. The man in the stall hung it up and turned toward the driver side of his car. He opened the door as if to get in, and my heart sank. Was he just another cockteaser?

Just then, the driver turned to face me, his body partially hidden by the open door, his feet visible underneath. A smile slowly spread across his face. His shorts dropped to the ground around his ankles.

No one else was around. I walked rapidly forward and around the open door of the car. He stood, naked, his cock rising from his dark blond bush. I closed my right fist around it, a satisfying handful, and looked him in the eye for the first time.

Neither of us said a word as I stroked him to full erection. I opened my mouth, letting him see the tip of my tongue, and he nodded. I knelt, grasped his thighs, and began to suck, hard and intensely, moving my head back and forth, tasting the salty precum flowing into my mouth.

I heard his breathing quicken and deepen. He grasped the sides of my head and began to fuck my face, the cock banging the back of my throat. Between thrusts I quickly gasped in air, trying not to choke on this faceful of sex flesh. My hands roved to his hard, narrow butt, the muscles working as he continued to thrust into my mouth.

"Nice," he whispered.

I needed a break, so I backed off and began to lick his shaft with long strokes of my tongue. I washed his balls while I jacked him off with one hand. Soon, though, his hand pressed urgently at the back of my head.

"Take it."

I let him slide back into my mouth. He began to thrust with renewed urgency, so that I had to grab his butt to keep my balance. My eyes began to water but I stayed with him, thrilled by his need.

"Going to cum."

"Mm hmm," I said, indicating my assent. He thrust still harder, and I felt his cock come to life, the first hot spurts hitting the back of my throat. I swallowed quickly as cum filled my mouth. Some of it ran out and down my chin. I heard his gasps above me and cast a quick glance upward. His head was thrown back, his mouth open, his eyes closed in ecstasy.

His thrusts slowed and he released his grip on my head, letting his breath go in a heaving sigh. I kept his softening cock in my mouth, cleaning it with my tongue. Finally I released him, wiped my chin with my hand and looked up. He was smiling.

"Thanks," he said. I saw that he was older than I had thought at first, maybe in his late thirties, early forties. No matter--he was fine.

I reached out and squeezed his package. "My pleasure. Hot man. Hot cock."

He chuckled. "You're good for my ego."

"I'm serious. I want some more of this."

He shook his head. "I'm done for the night. Sorry." A roguish look appeared on his face. "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

I laughed. "You're going to have the cleanest car in town. Tell you what, it's a date--on one condition."

"What's that?"

"I'll bring a rubber."

He laughed. "Okay, deal. A little after midnight?"

Almost precisely twenty-four hours later I drove back down the darkened turnoff, wearing old Nikes, a loose pair of nylon gym shorts and a T-shirt. My mouth was dry with excitement.

I turned into the parking lot and headed for the last stall. He was there, all right, in the same old car, sitting in the front seat. He wasn't wearing his ball cap tonight and I saw that his hair was thinning. Somehow this made him seem sexier.

He saw me and waved, his lean, square-jawed face breaking into a smile.

I parked near the grass, got out and walked toward his car. The driver's side window was open. He had one arm propped outside and I saw that his shoulders were bare.

"Hey," I said, looking inside, then did a double take.

He was stark naked, stroking his cock. He grinned at my reaction.

"You washed the car like that?"

"Nope. Just decided to get a little more comfortable while I waited for you." He reached out and grasped one of my forearms, stroking the hair on it with his thumb. I shivered. "I'm glad you came," he said.

I was struck by his sincerity. "Sure," I said. "Why wouldn't I have come?"

"Lots of guys wouldn't have," he said. It occurred to me that he was probably right. We weren't friends or anything, just two horny men. We didn't even know each other's names.

"Well, I'm here."

He looked at my swelling crotch. "Looking good too. Let me put these on before I get out. I may be an exhibitionist, but I'm not stupid."

He got the shorts on over his long legs, opened the door and got out. "Follow me."

He started toward the fence at the back of the lot. I watched his butt muscles working in the Spandex.

One of the vertical slats in the fence had been knocked out and had one end resting on the ground. He lifted the board, revealing a narrow opening, and gestured to me with his head. I stepped through and he followed, being careful to set the loose board back in front of the gap so that we were hidden from view.

We were in an open field that turned into woods a short distance behind us. We turned to each other in the dim light, our breathing quickening. He pulled me into his arms. I felt his lips press against mine, his tongue flicking into my mouth. I kissed him back, my hands sliding down his back and underneath the waistband of his shorts, pushing them down his thighs. He pulled my T-shirt up, running his tongue over my bare chest and stomach, tickling my navel, then taking one of my nipples into his mouth. I moaned softly.

"Damn, you're hot," he said.

"So are you," I replied.

He kissed me again, pushing me against the fence. "Got that rubber?"

I took it out of my pocket and handed it to him, then let my own shorts fall. My hard cock sprang free. He knelt and blew me for a few moments, then stood up and tore the package open. He hooded his jutting pole and put his hands on my waist, urging me to turn around. I obeyed, bending at the waist and placing my hands against the rough wood of the fence.

His finger probed my ass, finding the lube I had applied before leaving the house. I then felt something bigger and blunter against my hole, then searing heat and fullness as his cock poked me. I bit my lip, gritted my teeth and waited for the pain to pass. He sensed my distress and waited a few moments before he pushed in further. Soon his full length was inside me, his pubes pressing against my butt.

He began to move then, sliding back and forth, at first slowly, then faster and faster until he was plowing my ass with brutal force. I was being fucked exactly the way I craved and loving every moment.

"Fuck me."

"You got it, stud," he said, reaching underneath and taking hold of my hard cock. He began to stroke it in rhythm with his thrusts. I couldn't hold out for long against the double assault. A few moments later I gasped harshly as I filled his hand with my hot seed. I heard his ragged breathing and knew that he was emptying his own load into the rubber buried in my bowel.

He brought his hand, filled with cum, up to my mouth, inviting me to lick it up. I obeyed, but before I was finished he spread his fingers and smeared the rest over my face. I cleaned his hand with my tongue, my eyes closed, grinning with delight. When I was finished he turned me around with an urgent pressure of his hands. Once more his face descended on mine, his tongue shooting out and licking my jizz off my forehead and cheeks. Then he kissed me again and fed me the rest of my load.

He backed me against the fence and leaned his full weight on me, his head resting on my shoulder. We stood, our chests heaving, our pants down around our ankles, my T-shirt pulled up to my armpits, both of us stinking of sweat and cum.

At last he spoke. "Damn, that was hot."

I chuckled. "You're telling me."

He raised his head and looked at me. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Troy."

"Troy, I'm Jim. I've been here a few weekends, but I've never met anyone like you."

I looked at him. "Never knew anyone who cruised a car wash. Got to give you points for originality."

He chuckled. "Funny guy. I live near here. Want to follow me home and have a beer?"

I kissed him lightly, then bent to pull up my shorts. "That'd be nice, thanks. Beats the bar for sure," I said, smoothing down my T-shirt.

"Who needs all that smoke and bullshit," Jim said. He pulled off his rubber, dressed himself and pushed at the loose board through the gap in the fence.

He stepped through first, then turned and offered his hand. I grinned and took it, completely won over. He kept hold of my hand in the darkness as we walked back toward our cars.

It was weeks before I went back to the bar, and when I did, I ran into Eddie. He was openly curious about where I'd been. I talked to him for a while just to be polite.

"By the way," I said, "Remember that car wash we were talking about? I checked it out."

"You did? Did you see the guy?"

"Yeah," I said, suppressing a smile.

"So what happened? Hey, where you going, buddy?"

I looked back at him. "I got a date."

I left him slack-jawed. I walked the bar and down the street to my Honda, sitting there waxed and spiffy next to the curb. I got in, started the engine, and headed for Jim's place.

I'm a lucky guy. My boyfriend is sweet, cute, hung, and handy with a hose. What more could a man want?

END

Revised version copyright 2006 by the author.