By: Peter Puller
I was taking my El Dorado to the car wash, the one where the buffing is still done with a personal touch.
As a middle-aged man, married CEI, I realized that watching men in tight 501s and torn t-shirts was about as close as I was going to get to any of them.
Even though it was all the way across town, I loved this particular car wash the best, because of Julio. He was a new kid, just barely eighteen. I noticed him the first time about a month ago. And since that time I've had the cleanest Caddy in the state.
Julio must have noticed me too because he always managed to work it so he got my car. My favorite part was when he'd fly that little rag up in the air - signaling he was done - and I'd trot over and slip a fiver into his sweaty, callused palm, lingering for just a minute longer than I should.
I took my car in last week, the second time in three days, and, as usual, Julio was standing at the entrance with the vacuum hose. I pulled my car up to the white line and got out so he could vacuum the inside, front, and back. Then I got back in and pulled around the corner to the entrance of the wash. I rolled up the windows and retracted the antenna just as my front tires caught the mechanical tracks that would pull my car through the soap and suds.
Just as the first brush hit the roof of my car, Julio ran over and jumped in next to me, slamming the door behind him. He didn't speak any English, but I could see in his eyes why he'd come. According to my calculations, we had only about two minutes to get down to it. And we wasted no time.
We timed it perfectly. The bubbling hot suds enveloped the car just as Julio's hot, wet mouth enveloped my raging cock. The bristly brushes scrubbed my vehicle just as Julio's mouth scrubbed my veiny, throbbing eight-inch shaft.
The hot jets of water rinsed off the residue from the car wash as my pulsing rod cleansed Julio's throat and insides.
As the first rays of sunlight began to penetrate our artificial night, Julio finished slurping up my creamy load and quickly stole out of the car, running to his position on the lot.
I pulled the car out and parked right next to him, and he finished wiping off the windows and doors. Just as I was about to leave, I slipped him another fiver and nestled myself on the wet spot that he had neglected to wipe off my upholstery.
As I was leaving for work the next day, I couldn't help but notice that my car needed a good wash… and maybe a blow-dry!
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