Butch wanted to come along to the grocery store with me. I could have just picked up whatever it was she needed: milk, bread, tampons, whatever; but I think she wanted a break from the post-Christmas disaster area as much as I did, so we stepped out together. The day was cold and grey, everybody else was still asleep, and the house looked like the collateral damage from a confetti cannon war. The strewn wrapping paper and ribbons were the casualties. We were both mildly hungover.
There was hardly any traffic on the roads, and grocery store was nearly deserted. So there was that.
“Dude,” Butch said, “Your car is filthy!” She was not wrong. My poor old CRV was filthier than the dirty piles of snow pushed up against the edges of the parking lot. You could barely see through the rear window. The divorce had been finalized in November. I thought I’d been holding it together ok for the most part. But apparently I wasn’t keeping up appearances.
“I know,” I said ruefully, “Let’s get some donuts.”
Oh, the illicit little sins of middle-age. We stopped at the drive-through donut joint on the other side of Route 9, and then, holding a powdered jelly donut in my mouth, I turned back onto the highway and pointed the CRV in the direction of Butch’s house.
“Hey, there’s a carwash up here on the corner,” she said. “Let’s get your car cleaned up. It’ll be fun! My treat”
If I’d been thinking, this would have struck me as odd. Butch is no neat-freak. I’ve seen her bedroom. But my car really was filthy, caked in salt, grime, and road grit. And I wasn’t thinking. So I obediently pulled into the carwash entrance.
It was one of those fully automated jobs, no human contact needed, which was fine by me. Butch handed me her credit card and told me to get the works. “Ooh, big spender!” I said, and pushed the button for the ‘Gold’ wash: everything and ‘Ultimate Underbody Wash and Wax’ into the bargain. All this for just twenty bucks!
“I used to love the carwash when we were kids,” Butch said through the last of her Boston Creme. “It was like going through a time-warp, like a wormhole into a whole different world. Did I ever tell you about making out with Katherine in the back seat of my dad’s Charger going through the car wash?”
“What? Katherine…?”
“Davis. Yeah, not Sokolowsky. She finger-banged me as soon as the water started. I kept
worrying that my dad would turn around, but he was rocking out to American Pie the whole way through.”
“Lucky.” I’d always been mildly jealous of Butch’s sapphic exploits. Not jealous of her per se. Jealous of her chutzpah.
I nuzzled my car up to the rails in front of the automatic roll-up door, and following the instructions, shifted the CRV into neutral. The lights flashed yellow and then green, and the door rumbled up.
The machinery pulled my car forward with a gentle lurch, the door rolled closed behind us.
“Holy shit!” Butch said suddenly, “Look at that! Is that a dickfor up there?”
I looked. “What’s a dickfor?
“Hahaha, you don’t even know what a dick’s for!” Butch punched me hard in the shoulder.
With a mechanical thunk and another lurch forward, the wash started. A dozen or so automated nozzles began hosing my car down with water from all directions. The sound was overwhelming and somehow comforting, and flashing neon lights added a weird vintage sci-fi element.
My shoulder smarted. Butch always punched hard. I turned to her to say something snarky, and promptly forgot whatever it was I was going to say.
The top two buttons of Butch’s red flannel lumberjack shirt had someone come undone, which put a healthy dose of cleavage on display as she leaned over in my direction. Our eyes met, and something clicked audibly, in the automated machinery, but also between us. My cock was suddenly hard.
Butch and I had never kissed, not ever. We’d never even come close. I’d know she was a lesbian since before I’d even known the word. I leaned over, meeting her halfway, and kissed her full on the lips. She kissed back, hungrily, fiercely.
She took my hand and guided it straight to her right breast. It felt large warm and soft through the fabric of her shirt. Until about 30 seconds ago I’d forgotten that Butch even had breasts. I hadn’t really thought about them or noticed them since she first started fooling around with the Katherines (I forget which one was first), but there they were, and quite sizable at that.
She broke off the kiss just as the nozzles finished their spraying thing. There was a clunk and another set of nozzles took over, covering the car in soapy suds.
“We gotta be quick,” she said. “Take off your damn seat belt and drop trou!” Butch was pulling her shirt and sports bra off over her head. Her tits, just for the record, were fucking gorgeous, more perfect than they had any right to be.
I was still fumbling with the fly of my jeans, wondering what the fuck was going on here? Butch leaned over me and took over, tugging my pants and underwear down, her boobs dangling pendulously down, swaying while she worked.
“Recline your seat, and scoot it back so the steering wheel isn’t so much in my way. Sheesh, haven’t you ever made out in a car before?”
Well, actually I had, but it had been several decades. Also, I’d always had at least a modicum of prior warning.
Now my pants were down around my ankles, and my seat was reclined as far back as it would go, and Butch had my erect cock grasped firmly in her hand.
“Bear with me,” she said. “I’ve never actually done this before.” She made a silly face, rolled her eyes, opened her mouth wide, and did her level best to swallow my cock whole.
The truth is I hadn’t had an actual blowjob, or really even any semblance of one, in a very very long time. Butch needed have worried. Whatever she was doing with her mouth, competent or not, felt great!
I’d been depressed. I realized this in a flash, as Butch slurped and gobbled and occasionally gagged on my dick. Ever since the divorce, probably since long before that, I’d been in a really bad place. I’d even fallen out of the habit of masturbating. I hadn’t had sex in months… I wasn’t sure when the last time I’d had an orgasm… and all of a sudden I also realized that if Butch kept up what she was doing, I was going to come in her mouth!
“Uhhh, ummm, ahh,” I tried to spit the words out, my hips humping involuntarily up at her face, just as she let my hard dick fall wetly out of her mouth.
“Holy Cats,” she gasped, “this isn’t as easy as they make it look in the pornos!”
The car was just finished being squirted down with clean water, and large rotating brushes were rapidly approaching from all directions.
Butch flopped back in to the passenger seat, reclining it all the way to horizontal.
“You’re going to fuck me, yeah?” she was struggling out of her sweat pants. Apparently she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “But I need you to touch me a little bit first, ok?”
The purple sweat pants were finally kicked clear, and Butch threw one naked leg up on the dashboard. Her pussy was crowned with a neatly trimmed triangle of brown pubic hair. And a small, very erect little cock. It sure looked like a cock anyway: it was two, maybe three inches long, just above her pouting pussy lips, bulbous little head pink and swollen, straining upward towards me.
Honestly, I didn’t even think twice. I dropped my head into Butch’s crotch and took her dick in my mouth. She moaned out loud, audible even over the sound of the spinning brushes, which I found immensely gratifying.
Inside my mouth, her cock didn’t feel nearly so small. I closed my lips around the base and sucked hard, pressing the flat of my tongue up against the underside of her cock and moving my head up and down on her.
“Oh shit, that feels amazing! Don’t stop, please don’t stop! Put a finger inside me, please!”
I did just that. Her pussy was tight, but very hot and very wet. My index finger slid right in as I kept on sucking her little cock.
“Oh crap, that’s so good! Put a finger in my ass too!”
My middle finger found her anus and pressed inside, past the tight ring of muscle, slick with saliva and vaginal juices. Butch made a purring noise and arched her back, pressing hard against me, her body swallowing both my fingers all the way to the knuckles.
The noise outside the car changed as the brushes withdrew, and huge fans started blowing hot air, sending droplets of water scurrying in retreat.
“Fuck me,” Butch gasped. “Now. Hurry.”
I withdrew my slippery fingers and let her cock flop out of my mouth. Her legs were spread wide apart and her pussy was splayed open like a lily in bloom. I’m not sure my dick had ever been harder.
I clambered out of the drivers seat, impaired by half a pair of jeans stuck around one ankle, and climbing on top of her.
“Fuck me,” she commanded. “Hard. Fast. We’ve only got a moment. Fuck my thing. Come inside me. Don’t be gentle.”
The car was shaking, buffeted by hot air. I plunged my cock straight into her cunt. Not my usual style at all. She winced as I penetrated her, but grinned up at me with bared teeth, “Fuck me.”
I fucked her hard and I fucked her fast. Her pussy felt beyond amazing on my dick, and it really only took a few seconds before I was slipping over the edge. I had at least the presence of mind to reach under my belly and grab her cock as I thrusted into her pussy. “Yes, fuck me hard!” she threw her head back, eyes scrunched tight, and humped back at me, hard, as I exploded, squirting semen deep, deep up inside her pussy.
The air blowers stopped and the neon lights stopped flashing. I extricated my softening dick from her juicy pussy and rolled back over behind the steering wheel. We both fumbled hurriedly for our clothes as the garage door rolled up and my car was pushed gently but firmly out into the cold hard light of day.
My pants were still down around my ankles, I could deal with that soon enough. I put the car into D, and pulled away from the wash, my much reduced dick still twitching and leaking between my legs. Butch already had her sweatpants pulled up, and was buttoning her lumberjack shirt.
“Did you get to come?” I asked.
She glanced over at me, gave me a look.
“You gave me my first ever orgasm, do you know that? I spied on you one time, down in the rec room. You were jerking off on that horrible old plaid sofa. It was adorable, you had your nose buried in some magazine, you were oblivious. I thought it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I went home and tried it myself. So, thank you for that.”
I cringed at the memory. “Oh God, I was probably thinking about some airbrushed Playboy model!”
“Well, what do you think I was thinking about?” she punched me on the shoulder, not as hard as last time.
Clouds the color of iron ore loomed low in the sky overhead. They felt heavy and I thought they contained contained threat of snow. I pulled my nice clean car out onto Route 9, and pointed it in the direction of Butch’s house.
“So,” she asked after we had gone half a mile in silence, “We cool?”
“Yeah,” I said. “We very cool.”
END
So Wrong (the collected pornographica of Elsie) 