Scarlet men share their filthiest fantasies.
I like to take my girlfriend, Ella, to places she’s only imagined before. And I don’t just mean for the summer holidays…
A friend of Ella’s sends her an e-card of a woman having her car washed by a team of naked men. Ella shows it to me with the kind of laugh that says it’s only a joke, but she quite likes the idea.
By sheer chance, I come across the same picture a little while later, in a weblog. The picture comes with a note explaining that it’s from a real-life car wash that has hit on the idea of the service as a Ladies’ Special. The blogger reckons she’s been through it as a birthday treat, with her husband taking the photos – and she names the place.
It isn’t far away – a site on the ring road, obviously lined up for development, but meanwhile running as a no-machines car wash, staffed by a motley crew of recent travellers, teenagers and other evaders of the cards-in economy. My own lady’s birthday is due. I stop off there one night and have a word with the boss. Ladies’ Special? No problem. Forty quid for four or five guys for 10 minutes, behind a hedge at the back of the site. I can hear some splashing and laughing there as we speak and just before I head off, a Mini drives past me with two pink-faced girls in it, laughing fit to burst. It weaves its way off the forecourt and back onto the road. The boss smirks. I pay in cash and get a grubby card which I’m promised will be recognised as a voucher for a session.
Somehow, I think Ella guesses what’s coming when I find an excuse to get her out for a drive on her birthday. She’s dressed to undress, if you know what I mean, in a lacy top and miniskirt. It’s enough to get me hard before we even arrive.
When we get there, I ask if she wants to go through on her own. She says no. If I don’t mind, she’d prefer me to sit through it with her. I think that having got her into this, the least I can do is ride shotgun.
The lads do what it says on the ticket. They go into a hut and come out again, stripped off, and set to with sponges, while one of them uses a hosepipe. Every now and then one of them gets pressed right up against the soapy glass and my girl doesn’t look away. While the team as a whole is made up of a varied assortment of young men, they’ve definitely picked the best-looking ones for this job – and the biggest. Their pricks and bollocks jiggle heartily as they scrub industriously at the front and back of our car with the soapiest of soapy sponges. And while at first Ella is rather red-faced and slightly ashamed of her interest in them, after a few minutes it’s obvious the whole situation is turning her on. Slowly, she undoes her top and pops one nipple out of her low bra. The washers cheer and wave their pricks at us. Then one of them, a young guy, starts washing the roof above her head, with his cock and bollocks splayed against the side window. He’s moving his hard-on in the suds, the bell-end bulging out of his foreskin, and he obviously doesn’t want to stop, even when the foreman starts hosing him down.
As the suds drain away and he climbs off the roof, she turns the ignition key halfway, to activate the electric windows, and slides hers down. The lad’s yearning cock springs in over the edge of the window as it reaches his groin and she takes it in one pink-gloved hand. He’s almost there and after a couple of strokes, I can see him beginning to buck. With just a sideways glance at me, she pops her mouth over it and sucks and swallows through half a dozen spasms until he falls out of her mouth and falls back, giving us the thumbs up, while his mates roar approval. They’re fighting each other to be next to the window as she purrs it up and starts the car, driving smoothly out of the carwash.
“It tastes like I’ve been swimming,” she says.
I reach up her skirt. Her pants are soaking and it isn’t from soapsuds. In the very first lay-by she pulls up with a screech and turns to me, already unbuckling my jeans as the engine stills. She frees my aching cock from my pants and then scrambles to sit in my lap, pulling her thong aside to take me deep inside her, an expression of utter bliss covering her face as she slides down my shaft. It doesn’t take more than a few thrusts for us both to come with loud cries that ring across the luckily empty lay-by. We look at each other for a minute, and then both start laughing till our stomachs hurt, my cock still inside her.
We drive home with a shiny car and very grubby bodies and later she writes me a letter, letting me know what she wants next year.
