It was a clear, sunny Saturday morning at Sparkle Bay Car Wash. The sounds of cars passing by blended with the rhythmic splish-splash of water hitting metal.

Greg leaned against the front of the yellow Camaro, arms crossed,  watching Cathy. His petite wife stood on her toes, scrubbing a stubborn water spot on the roof above the passenger door.

The tank top she wore—thin, white, and already damp from the spray of the hose—hugged her torso like a second skin. The nearly transparent garment did little to cover her perky tits, rubbing against the glass as she scrubbed. Her denim miniskirt rode up just enough to tease the curve of her ass.

“You’re missing a spot,” Greg drawled, his voice rough with amusement as he nodded toward the passenger-side door. He knew damn well she wasn’t.

Cathy paused to step back and wring out the rag, her nipples pressing against her top. She knew what he was really looking at. She shot him a smirk, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. A few strands of blonde hair pulled free from her messy ponytail and only served to make her more adorable.

“Yeah? Why don’t you come show me where?” she said before turning back to her task, swaying her hips just a little more than necessary. The movement was subtle, but it was all the invitation Greg needed.

He pushed off the car and grabbed the hose, the coiled rubber heavy in his grip. Without warning, he pulled the trigger, sending a sharp jet of water straight at her. Cathy shrieked, spinning around as the cold spray hit her square in the chest.

The thin fabric of her tank top darkened instantly, the water making it transparent, doing little to hide the stiff peaks of her nipples. She gasped, crossing her arms over her chest—but not before Greg got a good, long look.

“Asshole!” she laughed, breathless. Her skin glistened, droplets rolling down the valley between her breasts, soaking into the waistband of her skirt. “Give me that hose!”

She made a half-hearted lunge for the hose, but Greg sidestepped, spraying her again, this time aiming lower. The water hit her thighs, the denim of her skirt darkening, clinging to her like a second skin.

“Oh, you’re asking for it now,” Cathy growled, but her voice was thick with something other than anger. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath coming faster as she darted around the car, trying to snatch the hose from him.

Traffic passed by unaware of their antics as Greg chased her, the nozzle still hissing in his hand, spraying wild arcs of water that sent her giggling and dodging. She was fast, but he was faster—his fingers closed around her wrist, yanking her against him.

The hose clattered to the ground, forgotten, as he spun her and pressed her back against the cool metal of the Camaro’s side. Cathy’s laughter died in her throat as Greg’s mouth crashed onto hers. There was no gentleness in it—just heat and hunger, his tongue forcing its way past her lips, claiming her.

She moaned into the kiss, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his hands slid up her ribs, beneath the soaked fabric of her shirt, pushing it up to expose her perfect breasts. Palming them, his thumbs rubbed over her nipples, and she arched into his touch with a whimper.

He pushed her tits together and ravaged her nipples, holding them between his teeth and flicking them with his tongue.

“Ooooo, fuck, you’re driving me crazy, baby,” she moaned.

“I know, I can smell you. You’re wet for me, aren’t you, slut?”

“Why don’t you find out?” she challenged, her voice husky. She didn’t have to ask twice.

Greg spun her around, pressing her forward until she bent over the car, her palms flattened against the trunk of the Camaro. The metal was warm from the sun, the heat seeping into her skin as she braced herself. Behind her, Greg’s hands yanked her skirt up, exposing her bare ass to the open air.

The cool breeze hit her wet skin, making her shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Greg’s body as he pressed against her, his cock already hard and straining against his jeans.

“No panties?” Greg’s voice was a dark chuckle, his fingers tracing the curve of her ass before slipping between her thighs. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Cathy spread her legs just a little wider in response.

“So what if I did? What are you going to do about it?”

His fingers found her slit, already slick and swollen.

“Mmmmm,” she moaned as he dragged two of them through her folds, gathering her arousal before pressing them inside her.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he groaned, working his fingers in and out, slow and deep. “You like this, don’t you? The thought of someone driving by, seeing you like this—my slutty little girl, bent over a car, taking my fingers like a good whore.”

“Y-yes, I’m your whore,” Cathy stuttered, her hips rocking back against his hand. The words sent a thrill through her, her pussy clenching around his fingers. She could hear the distant rumble of engines on the highway, the occasional squeal of tires on wet pavement. Anyone could pull in. Anyone could see.

Greg didn’t waste another second. His belt jingled as he yanked it open, his zipper hissing down. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

He didn’t tease her—just lined himself up and thrust into her in one smooth motion, filling her to the hilt. Cathy cried out, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the trunk, her nails scraping against the metal.

“Fuck me,” she gasped, her body stretching around him, her walls fluttering as he bottomed out. Greg groaned, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as he pulled back and slammed into her again.

“That’s it,” he grunted, his voice rough. “Take my cock like a good girl. Let them hear you.” He snapped his hips forward, the wet slap of skin echoing in the bay.

“Yes, yes! Fuck me, Greg! Fuck me!" she cried.

Cathy pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, her tits bouncing with each thrust, her skirt still hitched up around her waist. The cool air hit her exposed pussy every time he pulled back, the contrast making her even wetter, her arousal dripping down her thighs.

“Greg—please—” she begged, her voice breaking. She could feel her orgasm building, coiling tight in her belly, her muscles trembling with the effort of holding back. “I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” Greg ordered, his hand snaking around her hip, his fingers finding her clit. He rubbed in tight, punishing circles, his cock pistoning into her relentlessly. “You come when I say you come.”

Cathy whined, her body trembling, her vision blurring at the edges. The sounds of the car wash—the distant whoosh of another bay’s hose, the hum of tires on pavement—faded into the background, replaced by the filthy, wet sounds of Greg fucking her, the obscene squelch of her pussy taking him again and again.

Then—headlights. A car pulled into the bay beside theirs, the engine idling. Cathy’s breath caught, her body locking up. They could see. Oh God, if they just turned their heads…

“Greg, there’s people, what if they see?” She pushed back to meet Greg’s thrusts, her juices running down her inner thighs.

Greg groaned, his grip on her hip tightening.

“Fuck, you’re clenching around me,” he hissed. “You like that, don’t you? The thought of them hearing you, of seeing you. You want them to see you, don’t you, whore?”

“Yesss!” she hissed as he thrust harder, his balls slapping against her with every snap of his hips, “F-fuuuck!”

Cathy couldn’t hold back anymore. His filthy words, the risk, the way his cock stretched her so perfectly—it sent her tumbling over the edge. Her orgasm crashed into her, her pussy pulsing around him as she came with a broken cry, her juices gushing around his shaft.

“That’s my girl,” Greg growled, his own release barreling down on him. He buried himself to the hilt, his cock twitching as he emptied himself inside her, his cum filling her in hot, thick spurts. Cathy whimpered, her body still trembling, her forehead pressed against the trunk as she rode out the last waves of her climax.

For a heartbeat, they stayed like that—breathless, sweaty, the world narrowing down to the feel of him still buried inside her. Then reality crashed back in. The car in the next bay was still running. Someone was there.

“Shit—” Greg muttered, pulling out with a wet sound. Cathy gasped as his cum dripped down her thigh, her skirt still hitched up. They moved fast—Greg tucking himself back into his jeans, Cathy yanking her skirt down, her fingers fumbling with the hem. She quickly pulled the tight, wet tank top down over her boobs.

They barely had the doors shut when a guy walked up to the car from the other bay. Cathy was mortified as Greg lowered his window to talk to the guy, feeling her face heat up as she blushed.

“What’s up, chief?” Greg asked. Her shirt was still transparent, her nipples visible through damp fabric, as the guy leaned down to talk to Greg.

“Y’all done here? The one next door is out of order,” the guy said, talking to Greg and staring at Cathy’s tits.

Cathy’s heart raced. She crossed her arms, looking down at the floor, as she felt the guy fucking her with his eyes.

“Yup, this one’s all yours, chief. See ya later.”

Greg eased out of the bay and chuckled. Cathy punched him in the thigh.

“One of these days, you’re going to get us caught,” she said, shivering at the thought.

Greg pulled out, and soon they were on the freeway, pressed back in their seats, the adrenaline rush of acceleration thrilling them.

The wind whipped through the open windows, cooling the sweat on her skin, but it did nothing to calm the heat still burning between her legs.

Greg’s hand found her thigh, his fingers digging in possessively.

“We’re not done, baby,” he murmured, “Not by a long shot,” his voice a dark promise.

Cathy turned her head, her blue eyes dark with arousal, her lips curved into a smirk, slow and dangerous. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

END