Chapter 3

It’s not a busy street, but there are enough passers-by to make it edgy. Mm, someone might see my large dark nipples through the thin fabric or catch me squatting with my knees opened wide.

If the exhibitionist car washing isn’t enough, I’ll hold the high-powered sprayer handle against my crotch and rinse the car. The vibration will take me close, and then I can finger myself over the edge, knowing that at any second, someone might catch me.

Do I really want to get caught, and if I did, then what? That’s a question I never ask myself while the pleasure chemicals are coursing through me, filling that void.

I shut the roof and windows, got out of the car, and listened. There was someone else washing a car. At a distance, the drive-through car wash was humming away. My pussy tingled. I grabbed a scrunchy off the seat and collected my blonde hair into a ponytail, picked up the Ziploc baggy with the quarters, and closed the door. It was time to get dangerous.

After spraying the car, I pulled my shoulders back and pushed my chest out. The damp material made my nipples stiffer. Perfect, my shirt was transparent. I squatted, sitting on my heels, to wash the rear wheel. I duck-walked forward, spreading my knees to get close enough.

The stretchy skirt did what they do, it rode up to my cheeks and hips. I looked down. The sight of my exposed pussy sent a rush of nervous excitement through me. None of my girlfriends understand and when I have tried to help them, they got giggly with embarrassment, so I stopped including them in my exhibitionist outings.

For me, this can be more satisfying than any sex I’m gonna have with a high school boy. So far, every one of them has left me feeling like something was missing. And I don’t mean just because their small cocks popped off before I even got warmed up. No matter how many of them I tried, there was always something missing.

I glanced right, left, right and touched myself. A car was coming down the road. I stuffed a finger in my pussy and watched it go by. Even if the driver had their head turned my way, they wouldn’t have noticed. I got my skirt up around my waist, turned toward the street, and squatted again.

Someone could turn into the parking lot or walk right into this stall, I told myself, but it was encouragement, not a rebuke. My clit stiffened. It would only take a few strokes to send a quivering climax through my body, but I didn’t touch myself, not yet.