Car Wash

I made a sandwich, and showered for a long while, even though I hoped to get all wet and soapy shortly. I needed the time to rather presumptuously trim up down there. I completely shaved my balls and underneath, while trimming the hair above and around my cock down short and close. It was the look I had determined, after some informal experimentation, that most women seemed to appreciate the most.

It was a look that my summer of homeownership's mostly empty social calendar had caused me to let slide. If I had a chance to turn fantasy into reality some time over the next few evenings, I didn't want to be all hairy down there, nor freshly shaved and looking rashy.

I sat around like cat on a hot tin roof, not wanting to go out to the carport too soon and look pathetically eager like I actually was. But at ten 'til two, I could resist no more and went out to pull my 2019 Buick Encore back into the driveway under the shade of the largest maple.

There were plenty of high plantings at the end of both driveways, and given how both drives curved, this spot was the least visible from the road. This exact placement for my car had been the subject of half an hour's furious mental calculus the night before. It was clear that both of these girls had at least little bit of an exhibitionist streak in them, and the more effectively hidden we were, the more I could hope for at least a few really good flashes.

The question foremost in my mind was, would Willa go right on ahead and wear her new, see-thru-when-wet bikini top again, now that its properties were an established variable? If she showed up in that same bikini, my optimism would skyrocket.

Pulling the car out to that perfect spot used up all of one minute, leaving me standing around nervously for the next nine, looking like an idiot, I was sure. At two on the nose, there was no sign of them. I fretted and went back to the carport. I took out the five gallon blue bucket I had bought at Lowe's the night before, then carefully distressed to not look new anymore. I filled it with water, the five sponges I had bought along with it (a few extra for throwing), and too much of my own all-in-one car shampoo and wax sudser.

Still no girls. I was anxious that they might be inside Gina and Ron's, peeking out the laundry room window to watch me stew. Wenches. Or worse... maybe they were standing me up, and had gone to the beach after all...

That thought had me bereft, but just as I started to panic, out the side door they both popped with a wave.

2:07.

I brightened involuntarily, and waved back. But I had to admit to a little disappointment when I saw how they had dressed. They still had bikinis on, though both were different from the day before. But both also had voluminous, white, Property of Northwestern Athletics, cotton teeshirts on, tied tightly at the bottom, about halfway from waist to bust, which would keep those shirts from being dislodged by any mischievously misdirected sprays of water. It was still a hot as hell look, especially since both bikini bottoms were at least as small as the day's before, but it was just as clear that there was an extra layer of fabric to interrupt my eyes' roving.

Their exhibitionist streak might have been over-taxed the day before, alas.

Apparently, my droolus-interruptus was visible on my face, as they both laughed as they approached my crest-fallen visage.

"What's the matter, Dr. Owen Voss?" Reggie teased. "Don't like today's outfits?"

"Sorry, we don't need the sun today," Willa added, "and after yesterday, we thought that 'bikini car wash' was little over the top as a trope, don't you think?"

"A little too eighties soft-core summer movie," Reggie added in the sage manner only undergrads can affect.

What did these two girls know about eighties soft-core movies?

I mean, I'm a male who has had the internet since it was a thing, so of course, I've seen Bikini Carwash. I've even seen Bikini Carwash 2 too, though it sucked. But where would they have heard about it?

"I am just happy for the help getting this dirt-laden beater cleaned up, thank you," I said with a smile that hid my pain.

Their hose wouldn't reach over to my driveway, so we only had mine. But neither girl would trust me with my own hose, which I thought was unfair. Most of the watery hose shenanigans had been committed by them the day before, not me!

Fine. I could scrub my dirt-encrusted SUV with all my multiple sponges. And so could they.

I might have been denied a direct view of their mammalian curves by the teeshirts they wore over the bikinis, but the suggestion of shape and plentiful movement within those tightly tied tees was still making me happy enough.

Really.

I'm easily satisfied.

All I need is two smoking hot women in next to nothing, and I can usually soldier on...

I was happy enough that I often had to keep my groin pressed against the steel of the vehicle body to keep certain of my own contours from making themselves evident... All I had worn this day were a different, less heavy-duty pair of shorts than I had the day before.

The whole experience was proving to be a little frustrating though. The girls were chatting along happily, and honestly, both were very entertaining to talk with. They seemed to pepper in just enough innuendo here and there to keep me on edge, but otherwise, they were fairly bland in their conversation.

"You know, I think this is our first semester since eighth grade that we have no classes together," Willa observed at one point.

Reggie stopped a moment, which at least allowed me a good view of the swell of her breast under the teeshirt. "Shit, you're right! How'd we let that happen?" she asked in genuine surprise.

"By you majoring in journalism," Willa scoffed, her voice dripping with scorn. "Since you gave up actual scholarship, we had to drift apart in our class selection."

"Bullshit, Sis," Reggie retorted. "Journalism is The Search for Truth!" With that, she threw her sponge, her wet, soapy sponge, at her sister. It hit Willa right on her considerable chest, spattering her teeshirt, white with the big N of Northwestern University, with soapy water.

It took my reptilian brain about two microseconds to recognize that Willa was not wearing a bikini top under the cotton shell after all, as I had formerly assumed. Spots here and there clung to her body, turning quite sheer. Most importantly, there was one particularly well-placed and large patch right over that left breast I had first enjoyed through the bikini top the day before.

Cotten teeshirt fabric becomes even more sheer when wet than the prior day's bikini had.

I had become so in love with that tantalizing left nipple after the prior day's events and now this, I might have been induced to ask it to marry me had I been pressed.

Willa looked down at her chest. Rather than cover herself, she just squinted at Reggie. She didn't even spare a glance at me. "Oh, so it's on, is it?"

Reggie just laughed.

"You got a big clot of dirt over there on the fender," Willa observed, pointing at a big glob of caked mud on my left fender, left there from a muddy day's driving into a pine farm to recalibrate an instrument. "I'll help you get it wet," she added in a flat voice the import of which I missed. Reggie did not.

"Hey, wait..." she started to say.

Willa had the hose.

With a squeeze, she directed the spray at full volume, not at the dirt clod, but at Reggie, taking her full in the face, then chest. The blast of water in Reggie's face had her rubbing both hands to clear her vision. That left her teeshirt-clad chest clear to view...

She also clearly had no bikini top on under her tee. The fabric plastered to her chest, revealing over all its expanse a bare and spectacular torso beneath.

Willa just laughed at the sputtering Reggie, then grabbed a sponge and began to furiously scrub my car. Her sister recovered and also began to wash my car like a laughing maniac.

Well, this was fun. My thoughts that they had exceeded their exhibitionist limits the day before were obviously mistaken. They were quite clearly premeditated in today's show.

Life was good.

Meanwhile, despite my eyes' efforts to keep me from being the least bit useful, I had kept scrubbing, and I realized I had exhausted the suds on my sponge. Reggie was next to the bucket and I tossed my sponge to her. "Reggie, can you toss me back a fresh wet one?" I asked, wanting to work some more on the front grill, and keep up the illusion that there was nothing going on.

My eyes were very, very invested in simply keeping them alternately in view, as if there was nothing unusual going on.

"Need another sponge?" Reggie asked for some reason. The two of them looked at each other.

Then, again, in that weird, not-twins-but-seems-like-it way, the two of them looked at each other, then they both pounced like lions.

In a flash, before I could respond, both girls were on me with their own, wet, soapy sponges. Not on my car. On me.

I stumbled back a pace in surprise as two sponges squished suds all over me. Mostly my chest at first, especially my pecs and nipples, but then they started moving around. One, I'm not sure which, slid their sponge up over my face, blinding me. The other slid their sponge down, and my pants were swiftly soaked. I was, even before that moment, painfully aware of my own erection, but now my shorts were fully plastered against the throbbing evidence.

"Oh yeah, Reg. Check that out!" caroled Willa.

"Oh yeah," came Reggie's reply, as one of them, I was still soap-blind and couldn't tell which, rubbed the sponge on my crotch some more.

I am sure it will not shock you to hear that this behavior did nothing to relieve the tumescent swell in the front of my shorts that they were talking about.

All this was great, but suddenly both of them pulled away from me. I shook my eyes clear of suds and saw that Willa still had my firehose-style spray nozzle. She was holding it menacingly.

"Don't you..." Reggie growled, then was cut off by the Full Stream setting of the nozzle, directed at her by Willa's gleeful hands. Water absolutely blasted into Reggie, hitting her first right in the crotch, then sweeping upward to spray back and forth over her chest, smashing the fabric of her tee into near invisibility over her chest.

Fuck, those were fantastic tits. Not huge, just sensational.

Whatever coordination between the two there had been was gone now.

It. Was. On.

Reggie's foot kicked the hose, and she bent swiftly to grab it. With a yank, she freed the nozzle from Willa's hands, then pulled the hose toward herself.

"Hey! Wait just a minute," Willa protested. Too late.

Reggie grabbed the still blasting at full power nozzle and absolutely hosed down Willa. Within seconds, her gloriously big, delicious tits were just as effectively bare as Reggie's. They bounced and shivered under the high-pressure blast of the hose and Reggie kept sweeping it back and forth.

Who wears white teeshirts with nothing underneath to hand wash a car? The best neighbors ever, as far as I was concerned.

Awesome as this was, I had a sudden, about be revealed as unwise, urge to be an adult. I stepped over next to Reggie, and grabbed the hose. "All right, that's enough marvelousness for..." was all I got out before they both fell on me again. I was pushed the ground by them both, and they rode me down. The hose was still going full blast and one of them, I was again disoriented and couldn't see, nor did I care which, began to spray me full in the face and chest with it. The other had a sponge and was vigorously doing to me what we were allegedly supposed to be doing to my car.

I no longer gave a shit about my car getting clean, if I ever had.

Still, I was pretty sure I was supposed to be struggling, so I did. I tried pushing them away from me, which I felt was the best possible way to struggle. It was best because it involved placing my hands on a breast each and massaging eagerly while pushing very, very weakly.

I wanted to struggle. I did not want to win...

We were piled up on each other. Fortunately, they had borne me to the grass next to the driveway pavement, rather than on it, or the fun would not have been so sustainable. Still, the newly awakened suburbanite in me recommitted to improving my lawn. I could just feel the weeds making my back uncomfortable among the soft blades of grass.

My hands slid around their chests, exploring all four of the fabulous tits bearing down on me. Willa's were each far beyond what a single hand could encompass, letting me move and slide my fingers all around while always seeming to just encounter more soft flesh no matter when my fingers went. Reggie's tits were indeed smaller, but only in comparison. They still fully filled my eagerly groping hand, and when I squeezed one gently (and repeatedly), it was clear that they were firmer.

The hose remained between us, spraying madly. It was inconvenient, but I think we all likes the continued soaking, and it was an excuse. As the water sprayed, keeping our vision a little bleary, I felt a tightly clutched sponge swabbing my groin, absolutely soaking through the thinner shorts I had chosen to wear. The sponge disappeared, and a moment later I felt another hand, sponge-less, caress my bulge and squeeze. I only knew it was a different hand, but not whether it was a different girl.

I groaned involuntarily.

"Jesus, Reggie! He is so fucking hard," Willa said, sitting up at last. It was her hand that was on my cock. Reggie sat up too, and her hand slid down my chest to stroke me in alternate motions with Willa.

I no longer was in a position to 'press them away', and while I was pretty sure I no longer needed an excuse to explore those wet, sort-of-exposed-but-not-quite tits above me, I let my hands fall away in accordance with the game. But my eyes remained riveted. All four nipples were erect and firm, with an irregular little circle of white cotton surrounding each peak, where they tented the cotton a few millimeters away from the skin.

The hose was momentarily forgotten by them both, so I seized it myself and started spraying both girls madly. In principle, a guy usually does not try to distract women who are exploring his penis, but I was beginning to be, um, fairly confident that they intended more exploration regardless, and would not be put off completely by my recreational use of the hose.

Shrieks of outrage greeted my assault, and both of them leapt to their feet. This did indeed end the exploration of my erection, and gave me one helluva view of their tits bouncing almost wildly as the girls rose above me. It had been years since I'd seen a genuine wet teeshirt situation, and never one where more than one girl was so spectacularly overqualified for the endeavor. I had forgotten the simple joy of it all. I indulged myself in continuing to spray them from my prone position. They continued to preen under the stream.

"All right, enough!" Reggie suddenly said, with an authority that cut through my tit-induced haze. I dutifully shut off the hose. It wasn't like the view was hurt by that. "We still have to finish washing your car, Owen," she giggled.

"Oh wow, yes," Willa said, bending to grab a discarded sponge. As she bent, those generous tits dangled nicely... "Owen, you keep the hose while we scrub. You just keep us, I mean whatever part of the car we are working on, nice and wet," she ordered.

"Good idea," Reggie giggled and ran to get a fresh sponge from the soapy bucket.

Good idea? Best idea ever.

We actually had most of the job done already, car-wise at least. The two made quick work of the rest of the visible dirt, while I kept them both good and wet. Without the direct, head-on distraction of those four glorious, visible-but-not-exposed boobs, I spent my freed up mental bandwidth on appreciating their long legs and hunger-inducing asses, which were being rocked and wiggled more than strictly necessary.

Reggie was wearing a bottom that day that tragically covered more of her perfect little backside than the day before's near thong, while Willa's current bottom exposed a helluva lot more what she had sported Friday. It was pink, and was a true string bikini--just a modest triangle in front and back, tied over each sweeping but not overlarge hip with an egregiously long string in a dangling bow. The back had a little scrunchy gather right in the middle that pulled the fabric into the top of the crack of Willa's ass as an accent.

The last of the visible dirt was gone now. They were just working on a gleam the four year-old beater did not deserve, and which it would lose on Monday when I drove out to the Ag Department's cow pasture to check the Feldman Array. This was all fine by me, I was just enjoying the show, and the girls seemed content to continue providing it. And the water did feel good to all of us. The day had become beastly hot, the kind of day in August when Summer has gotten in a groove and is pushing its limits.

I was worried that the wet fun might be coming to an end though, as Willa in particular started looking around us.

But then she said, "More suds, Reg," and as her sister turned for the bucket, Willa's fingertips flicked at the small knot she had tied in the bottom of her teeshirt to keep it tight around her abdomen. It came loose, and she quite casually pulled it off over her head. She was standing directly side-on to me, and I was treated to the spectacular sight of her profile as her magnificent breast was tugged upward by her rising arms, then bounced free as it escaped the shirt. Her breasts settled in place entrancingly as she lowered her arms.

Reggie turned back, holding the bucket and gasped. "Whoa! Really?"

Willa just shrugged, smiled, and dunked her shirt in the sudsy water. She splashed her chest as she pulled it out, then slapped the sudsy cotton onto my car and began wiping vigorously.

Reggie was actually surprised by Willa's strip off, which must not have been part of whatever plan they had had. But not that surprised. She looked at me, and almost sheepishly said, "She has kind of gotten into showing them off this summer."

"Do you blame me?" Willa giggled smugly.

I could not help myself. "Hardly," I chuckled. But I kept my eyes on Reggie. "You should get into it too," I said softly.

"Me? I don't have those assets," Reggie said, with just a hair of uncertainty.

"Please," I scoffed. Then I paused. "No, seriously. Please," I entreated.

She liked the way I begged, I could see. "You and my parents have neighbors, you know," she temporized, looking around the area herself.

I let myself look too. It was hard to move my eyes, but I managed. I really had chosen this spot well, though. "It's too hot for yard work by anybody else this afternoon. And we are well-screened from any passing cars right here."

"And if some guy is looking out one of the windows I actually can see?" Reggie said, a little more boldly.

"Then he's a happy man right now. About to be happier?" I added hopefully with a grin.

Willa just slapped her sodden shirt against Reggie's chest. "Come on! We didn't bring rags, and we need to get this thing gleaming."

She was so gung ho! I admired her... commitment to excellence.

Reggie grinned, fairly easy to convince. Yeah, they both definitely had an exhibitionist streak a mile wide. She looked around again, just for show, then grabbed the bottom of her shirt.

Okay, Willa's shirt removal was spectacular. Reveling those wonders was a show I'd watch anytime it was offered.

But Reggie knew how to take off a shirt.

She took her time with her own knot, twisting her torso back and to as she tugged at it for longer than I knew she needed to. With the bottom loose, she tugged upward. With just the bottom curves of her tits coming into view, she tugged at a sleeve and pulled her right arm back and inside the shirt. This display of limber flexibility let her push the shirt up over her shoulder, a firm, bouncing breast popping into clear view. She leaned forward just a little, leaving the free boob dangling and wobbling as she struggled with the clinging shirt. She worked her head out from the neck, and now only had the shirt with her left arm still in the sleeve, her left breast maddeningly still hidden.