“Thank you,” he said.
“You didn’t!”
“No, I didn’t,” he replied. “But I did help.”
“But what about the female owners?” I asked. “Like that girl Nancy. She’s having a lot of sex and she doesn’t have a necklace.”
“You didn’t read everything in the welcome package, did you?” he asked.
I laughed and it was clear I didn’t.
“I started to,” I said, “But I didn’t finish going through everything.”
“Well if you had,” he said. “You would’ve gotten to the part where it says that owners don’t wear necklaces because they’re involved in a much more permanent procedure. You see this?”
He lifted up the sleeve of his shirt and turned over his arm so I could see the soft spot close to his armpit.
“Do you see or feel anything different there?” he asked.
I didn’t see anything but when I felt along his arm, my fingers ran over something odd beneath his skin. I traced it with my fingertips and found that something was implanted there. It felt like a small square.
“A patch is embedded there beneath the arm on all owners,” he said. “It makes us infertile and has the other qualities of your necklace only stronger.”
“So owners are even hornier than pets?” I asked.
He held me close to his chest again and ran his fingers through my hair.
“My horniness seems to never end,” he said.
In the distance I saw more horseplay going on over at the garage sale and it seemed the perfect break from our conversation.
“Can we go to the garage sale?” I asked.
“That’s where I was taking you,” he said. “Thought you might want to check out the other man’s trash. But hey, first…”
He pulled a phone from his pocket and held it up to the sky, lining us up for the perfect selfie.
“I’m happy,” he said. “And I want to remember this moment.”
He turned us so the cute older couple on the front porch could be seen in the background. We smiled and the old couple had no idea they were being included in our moment.
The garage sale turned out to be a joint venture between two neighbors I’d never met. Both ladies were in their mid-fifties and had helmet hairdos. They sat side by side on lawn chairs. One smoked from one of those ridiculous looking Holly Golightly(ish) cigarette holders while the other swirled a drink in her hand with one finger, even though the amber liquid had lowered to a level far beneath the finger. They both called out prices to onlookers.
We stepped up to one table and found a selection of books, most of which revolved around cooking or exercise and probably came free with the purchase of either pots and pans or a Thighmaster-like device.
Bastian busied himself with a table full of random tools and knickknacks. My attention was on the table to my right which was full of sex toys, bedroom enhancers as the handwritten sign explained. A glass dildo, two whips, a flogger, nipple clamps, a half-used bottle of strawberry scented lube, a basket full of thongs rolled up to resemble a flower of some sort. It looked like no floral arrangement I was familiar with. To me they looked like nothing more than a basket full of thongs rolled up to resemble a flower of some sort.
Most of the stuff on the table were things I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to buy used. My eyes were on the glass dildo when the whiskey stirring neighbor hollered out, “Five dollars! It’s fucking great! Great deal.”
She turned to her lawn chair companion and drunkenly whispered, “It is a great deal.”
“Thank you,” I said, “But I’m just looking.”
“How much for this screwdriver?” Bastian asked.
“Two bucks,” the Holly wannabe called out. “Everything on the table is two bucks. I’ll give you four for ten bucks.”
Bastian looked over at me with a wrinkled brow. She apparently hadn’t realized she’d announced the opposite of a good deal.
“Maybe I’ll buy them separately,” he joked and only I seemed to get it.
It was a great day. I wished Bastian never had to work again. He explained Monday in E. Mayberry was like a weekend outside the gates since the real world was always busiest during the weekends. Most of the owners in the neighborhood, if not rich by inheritance of some sort or retired, worked in a professional setting. Lawyers, doctors, dentists, bankers, and all other high-dollar earners not working in a popular entertainment field, made up the careers of most owners. It wouldn’t pay to have an actress or a recording artist living behind the gates. Any chance for that kind of possible publicity wouldn’t be beneficial to the community.
“I have an idea,” Bastian said. “Stay here for a second.”
Before I could ask for more info, he took off in the direction of our house. I watched as he jogged away, his strong calf muscles on display as he made his exit. I wasn’t the only shopper to gawk at my man. The others weren’t shy about it.
“Now that is a piece of ass,” the whiskey swirler said.
“Channel 303,” someone else called out.
My house, channel 303. I’d have to remember to keep the fucking TV turned off from now on.
A couple of minutes later, Bastian drove up in his car, rolled his window down and said, “Hey beautiful stranger, want a ride?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” I replied as I climbed into the passenger seat.
“Go get him!” someone yelled from the garage sale.
Bastian drove away with a honk at the onlookers and before I could ask where we were going, we were already there. The sign read: Car Wash.
I hadn’t walked far enough the other day to see that the community had a gas station. The garage where typical maintenance would take place was transformed into a car-wash station of some sort. Other than that, the place was empty aside from soapy water that ran from the garage door down the driveway.
“A gas station?” I asked. “How do they get their gas if you don’t want anyone to know about this place?”
“We,” he reminded me again. “We don’t want people to know about this place.”
He flashed me a smile.
“Maintenance professionals are called in,” he said. “We do need to have the phones fixed and electrical issues solved. We experience the same problems any neighborhood would. We try to solve most of our own problems. We have quite a few handy men and women living here. What we can’t do ourselves, we contract out, but we have to be very careful how we behave while their workers are here in the neighborhood.”
“So that old couple can’t fuck on their front porch if there’s a powerline down nearby,” I said. “Got it.”
A bubbly girl who looked barely older than a teenager jogged out to our car wearing a white and pink baseball jersey that read: Bubble Bath Car Wash. Her necklace popped out of her shirt as she approached the car but she tucked it back in and held a clipboard up at Bastian’s window.
“Dr. Bastian,” she said. “And…”
“Sunshine,” he replied. “My woman.”
He hadn’t said “my pet.”
I wanted to jump his bones for allowing me the pleasure of hearing anything other than the typical introduction around here.
“Hi, Sunshine,” she said. “I’m Amber.”
Of course she is.
“I run the Bubble Bath Car Wash. What would you guys like? Baby bath? Hard Scrub?”
“How about a Double Deluxe,” he said.
“Oh,” she said with a wink. “Good choice.”
She scribbled something onto her clipboard and Bastian handed her a twenty. She didn’t offer up any change.
This is an expensive fucking car wash.
Bastian rolled up his window and drove into the garage.
“You’re gonna like this,” he said. “Trust me.”
He rolled his seat back and turned off the car.
“Watch,” he said. “And put your panties in the glove box.”
I looked at him for a moment and wondered if he
was kidding. He wasn’t. I kicked off my shoes, slid off my panties, and put them in the glove box.
“Ready?” he asked.
“I think so.”
I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I was nervous. The lights went out and Bastian put his hand on my leg. He was good at sensing my discomfort. Sparkles illuminated the air, a swirl of brightly colored lights and I leaned forward to peer through the windshield to see a disco ball hanging above the car, its lights shining down over the car.
A disco song I was unfamiliar with suddenly blared from speakers hidden somewhere in the walls. A door opened and outstepped shadowy figures hidden in the darkness at the rear of the room. Then a spotlight kicked on and standing there in front of the car were two naked women, their hair pulled back into ponytails. One had a slim body with a somewhat flat chest, the other was much curvier, with a big ass, a belly button ring on her soft core, and big beautiful tits. Neither of the girls were perfect nor fake looking. That made them so much sexier. They were real, naked women, with hoses and squeegees in their hands.
Movement next to the two women hinted at someone else in the room. Then a second spotlight kicked on and two men stood by their side. One was a large, muscular black man with a bald head and nicely toned body. His cock was flaccid and pretty (if you can call a cock that). It was smooth and looked more like a big fashion accessory than a sexual tool. Next to him was a long haired white man with a goatee and tattoos. His cock was slightly smaller than the black man’s, but was thick and veiny. His looked much more ready for action.
If you’re not getting it, I was extremely turned on by seeing all this naked goodness. Bastian was too and when I looked over at him I saw that his thumb was sliding back and forth over his shorts, stroking the outline of his hardening cock beneath the fabric. So I did what any good woman would do and swatted his hand away. His zipper couldn’t come down quickly enough. I reached in and enjoyed the sigh that escaped him as my cool hand wrapped around his cock and pulled him through his zipper hole.
Everything happened so quickly. Sex seemed to be that way in this place. There was no second thought of “what if someone sees us” or “maybe we should wait until we get home.” No, I wanted to feel his cock so I did. It’s that simple.
When I looked out the windshield again, the women were spraying the men with the hose and the men were dousing themselves in soap, smearing their own chests and thighs and cocks with the suds, pulling the women into them so they could share in the cleaning process. Lips locked and tongues met. Nothing about it seemed dirty. It was like they were engaged in a soap fountain erotic dance.
“It’s so sensual,” I said. “Even with the old 70s porn music.”
“It’s disco,” Bastian said as he breathed deeply along with my strokes.
One of the women walked away from her man, sprayed the windshield, and walked around to spray the rest of the windows. Her man squirted the soap in a trail behind her. The flat chested woman climbed onto the hood of the car and did the splits. Her soapy pussy was spread open wide, her clit a substantial size, larger than most, and dripping water.
“Do you like that?” I asked Bastian.
He looked at me, clearly trying to gauge how honest he should be. When he didn’t answer I pointed at the woman’s pussy.
“Look at it,” I said. “It’s so fucking wet and it’s dripping. Do you like seeing that?”
As I asked, I squeezed my grip harder, putting more pressure on his cock.
“I do,” he said.
I didn’t mind his answer. It didn’t bother me at all and that surprised even me.
“See how her pussy drips,” I said. “That’s how mine drips for you.”
We both looked back at the windshield and the woman sat back a little, propping her pussy up where we could watch as she slipped two fingers inside. The way she gripped herself, like she’d put two fingers in a bowling ball with her thumb clenching her clit was so fucking hot. But what made her scorch even more was her face. The way her mouth hung open in desperation and her eyes opened to only a slit, watching us through her horny gaze as she finger fucked herself for our viewing pleasure.
A SPLAT sound caused us both to jump and when I looked over at my window, the girl with the big tits had smooshed them against the glass, using them to soap up the window. She moved over and the guy with long hair put his cock against the window, wiping it back and forth like a windshield wiper.
I laughed out loud, ruining the moment but I couldn’t help it. Never would I have believed seeing a man’s soapy dick swishing back and forth in front of me would be a turn on. It doesn’t even sound attractive really. It sounds childish. Yet it wasn’t. Oh no. It so wasn’t. My laughter stopped when Bastian suddenly lowered my window.
“Take him in your hand,” he said. “If you want to. I’m okay with it.”
When I looked back to see if he was kidding, I felt something nudge my ear. I glanced right and the man’s cock was at my ear, tickling me by accident.
“You want me to touch it?” I asked, feeling somewhat ashamed.
“I think it will turn you on even more and I want to see that,” he replied. “I want to see what it does to you.”
Without taking my eyes off him, I reached up and took the cock in my hand. I ran my fingers beneath it, down to his balls and back up to his head. The woman outside with him slid her hand through the window and joined mine, cupping her hand over his head and massaging it while I fondled his balls and up around his base. With my other hand I fisted Bastian.
He loved it. Seeing me touch the other guy’s cock seemed to turn him on even more. It was odd and I wasn’t sure how to react to that so I kept going. The dick in my hand grew quickly. It was definitely hard enough to fuck and it seemed the other woman sensed that. She pulled him away and replaced him in the window.
Bastian put the window up slowly and she backed away enough to let it rise. Then she put her soapy nipples against the glass again and held them together for us to see. We watched as her tits jerked and I had a good idea what was going on. Behind her, the long haired man came into view. He slapped the woman’s ass and drove into her again, mashing her tits against the window.
My attention was drawn back to the windshield where I watched as the girl in front of us turned over onto her back. The black man approached her and sprayed her pussy off with a hose. Then he dove into her, plowing his mouth into her snatch, sucking on her clit and pulling at it so the protruding nub could clearly be seen pursed between his lips. His eyes met mine and he fixed his intense stare on me, not letting up as he tongued the girl’s pussy.
“Do you like that?” Bastian asked.
When I looked over he was looking down at his own cock where I’d begun to jerk him too hard and too fast. My heart was racing and my pussy was pouring. I needed to fuck.
The man in front of us continued to tear into her pussy, thrashing his mouth around as she howled out in pleasure.
Beside me, the sound of the woman’s cries as the man fucked her was like a puppet master pulling strings attached to my clit. It pinched. It hurt in my pants. I needed to be fucked.
“You do something to me,” Bastian said. “Seeing you in control like that is such a fucking turn on. You didn’t even hesitate. You just took his cock and controlled it.”
“No,” I said, “This is controlling it.”
I lifted my dress and moved to straddle him.
“Fuck me,” I heard myself say.
He stopped me.
“Face the windshield. I want you to watch them fuck while I bury my cock inside you.”
With my hands gripping the dashboard above the steering wheel, I hovered over him and he directed himself into me. His head slid right into me, straight in, and I fell down on top of him, skewering myself with his cock. It felt fucking incredible. His hands went up into my dress and under my bra, pushing the wire cups up over them. It hurt but his hands closed around my tits, making it worth it.
He gripped my tits hard a
nd thrust into me. I couldn’t help imagining Lilly scowling at me and saying I was doing it all wrong, that you never allow your man’s cock to rub against the zipper teeth, but I hadn’t thought to unfasten his pants. I sat on him and took it all.
Beside me, the woman cried out as the long haired guy plowed into her.
“Oh fuck!” she yelled, planting her face against the glass, her cheek flat and green looking against the tint. Her mouth was open and stretched over her teeth as she hissed through each jolt of his cock.
Welcome to E. Mayberry Page 13
