Car Wash

"Oh, God!" Vince groaned as the alarm clock went off. "Fuck! Damn! Hell!" He managed to get the screaming square of timepiece off about then by fumbling at it repeatedly (he still wasn't familiar with the damned clock and the cut-off was this little button on the back he had to feel for and push over, nearly a two-handed job) and sat up on his bed, wearing only a rather ratty jock. The muscles he had built while in prison bulged above his slender, washboard stomach as he rubbed his face blearily, worked his mouth to try to work the worst of the bad taste loose. Ran his fingers through his hair and stood up, scratched his ass as he walked over to the bathroom. Not a long trip when you live in a one-room flat that had once been a motel or something. All he could afford for now.

All he could afford for some time to come, too, damn it! He ran some water in the sink and used it to wash his hands, and then his face with his still-soapy hands. Splashed water to rinse and looked in the mirror. "Shit, start work at the fucking car wash!" he grumbled. "What the fuck kind of life is this?" No wonder so many guys went back into crime, and back into jail. They called it recidivism, but hell, a man was supposed to build a new life and get a fresh start with a crap job and a crap life? Hadn't he paid his debt to society while in jail, hell!

For the rest of his life now, he'd have to check "yes" in the box about having been convicted of a crime. For the rest of his life, he'd have to search like hell for a job, any kind of job. Or lie, and then wait to be caught out just when he'd gotten his life back on track, and see it all taken away again.

Looked in the mirror again. He was twenty-seven, he was handsome in a football-player kind of way, not that he'd ever played such a pansy sport, but he had the broad shoulders, the square jaws, the wide frame that football coaches built their teams out of. And yet last night, that girl at the bar, the first girl he'd had a chance at since he'd gotten out, she'd been so pleasant and fun-loving until his money ran low, and he couldn't buy her another drink. Then she'd dumped him, leaving him with a raging hard-on and a lonely walk back to his hotel, and what was supposed to be a mattress-pounding welcome-home had been an unsatisfying meat-beating in the bed.

Scratched his crotch, his jockstrap was still stiff from the dried jizz of his nocturnal pleasuring. Ah, fuck it, he'd shower when he got home. Nobody at the car wash would care if he stunk some! He went to his bed and pulled on the damned yellow jumpsuit they'd issued him for the car wash, and then pulled on the cheap workboots he'd bought with the money he'd made in prison at the munificent rate of thirty-seven cents an hour. That is, second-hand crap shoes. Made a peanut butter sandwich (that was his meals for the rest of the week, he had just enough for three sandwiches a day for the next four days, and then it would be payday and a real meal! Not that minimum wage would let him buy much more than that. Still, his mouth watered at the thought, even as he scarfed down the peanut-butter sandwich on the bus ride to work.

Arrived just at eight o'clock. Got a sour look from the boss at that, which he ignored. AsVince figured as he took his place inside the roaring mechanism as the car wash opened for business, the boss didn't have any gripes, he was on time, wasn't he, even if barely, and hell, who wants their car washed at eight in the morning, anyhow?

Quite a few, it turned out. Businessmen would drop off their cars and come back at lunch to pick it up again, cleaned and waxed. Some guys got to drive those Mercedes and Porsches and Corvettes to their owners. That, for Vince, was the job he wanted. Some opportunity for advancement, wasn't it? Shit!

Even with his body still in excellent form, his muscles ached from the repetitive motions he was making. Around and around on the car's body, scrubbing the entire passenger side of each car as it came along. Another man on the other side did the same to the driver's side, and a third handled the hoods and trunks and roofs. Vince could at least stay nearly still and let the car crawl past him on the tow belt, but the third guy had to climb out and run back down the way to catch the next car. They'd wash the trunk and roof of the car ahead of them and the hood of the car behind them each trip. They had more area to cover, but it was all smooth metal, where Vince was stuck with door handles and tires and hubcaps with intricate designs. It all made sense, assuming you felt that a person could wash a car more effectively than a machine. And given the differing contours of the various car bodies, that was simple fact. Vince spent some extra time buffing away at a scrape on a Porsche's door, someone had opened another car door into it and while the door hadn't dented the Porsche (a minor miracle, that), it had left a gray stain. The gray was coming off, but he spent longer at it than he should have.

"Hey, new guy, uh, Vance!" came a shout.

Vince realized the guy meant him, looked up, hell, he was nearly at the wall to the rinse section.

"Get back to your post!" The guy yelling was a dark-skinned guy Vince would have called Latino, but he was as tall as Vince, a good six foot. Hell, Latinos don't get that tall, do they?

"I was getting a spot off the door!" Vince countered.

"That's the detail man's job!" the guy pointed out. "Keep up, I don't want to do your shit and mine too." This guy was their hood-and-trunk guy, but he was indeed working on the passenger side of the car next in line behind the Porsche.

Vince started to give this jerk a hot reply, bit it back. Fighting with another worker on the job was a sure way to get fired. He couldn't afford to get fired right now. "Sorry, and thanks."

He got back and took over the side of the car from this guy. "Just got distracted."

"Well, watch the line."

"I will." Vince said. "Let me get caught up here and I'll do a bumper or something for you." He'd learned that in prison where life itself hadn't taught him that, someone does something for you, you do something for them. Keep the scales balanced and you'll stay out of trouble. Mostly.

The guy seemed dubious but Vince was able to deliver on that two cars later and he was between the cars and scrubbing as the dark-skinned guy walked back. "Thanks!" the guy said to him, smiling now he saw what Vince was doing for him. Those teeth, so startling white in that dark face. When he smiled, that dun-tinted face was downright gorgeous!

Vince smiled back. "My pleasure."

"Hey, Dario, kiss your boyfriend on break!" came a sardonic voice. It was the driver's side worker, a blond-haired guy who looked like he'd built his body in the Army. Like Vince, he also had been battered some in life, but where Vince's face had taken its knocks on the streets, the blond guy looked like he'd done it on the gridiron or in combat.

"Why, Larry, you want a chance at the new fish too?" the Latino shot back.

Vince frowned. The last time he'd heard talk like this.... "Hell, you guys are ex-cons?"

Latino guy (Dario) laughed. "Who the fuck else would work in this shit job?"

Vince had to nod at that. "Fucking A. Who else would be dumb enough to do this?"

The job carried Dario away from him, but the blond guy (Larry) was staying where he was like Vince; only a car's width separated them.

"What were you in for?' Larry asked him.

Vince considered refusing the question, but the rules of prison ran deep in his brain still. "Burglary. You?"

"Car theft." Larry responded. "How long did they give you?"

"Ten years, but I made parole in four." Vince said.

"Fifteen, and they kept me for six." Larry smiled. "Welcome to the car wash. I'd say welcome to Hell, but I don't think Hell is this fucking wet!"

Vince laughed at that, not that it was funny, but shit, these guys were trying to be friendly. You have to give some latitude for that. "I know what you mean. Do these cars ever let up?"

"Not between eight and five-thirty except for breaks." Larry explained. "Lunch is an hour and we get two breaks, morning and evening, and that's just fifteen minutes. Long enough to hit the bathroom and smoke a cigarette if you got one. Boss don't care if you smoke here, but not when you're working, you got to move over against the edge so you won't get anything on the cars. For lunch, you got to eat in a hurry."

"Okay." Vince nodded. Checked his watch. Shit, only nine fifteen! "When is morning break?"

"Ten thirty-five." Larry said. "You'll know when they shut the water off as the last car comes out of there." He pointed to the wall of rubbery strips that hung down and kept the water and steam of the soap-and-water spray from coating them.

"God, another hour and twenty!" Vince moaned. "This totally sucks!"

"Welcome to the car wash!" Larry smirked. Well, maybe that was a smile.

Dario came running back down the strip. He grinned at Vince, and Vince smiled back and gave him a wave. Maybe he could get a loan or a meal out of these guys. His stomach already growled and only a single peanut-butter sandwich resided in the paper sack he'd left in the office on the table that held everyone's lunches. And one more back at his room. Hell of a life. Maybe he could shoplift something from the local market on his way home? Yeah, and get caught and end up back in jail for the remaining six years of his prison term? Better his stomach growled.

Or better that he played up to these guys. It had been like that in prison, too, you got yourself under the wing of one of the men with power, and your life in prison went from unbearable to merely miserable.

So he chatted. It was easy, the same subjects he'd talked about in prison. Girls, sex, prison experiences, life before prison, sex, payday, sex. Nothing in detail, just the sort of light information and witty repartee that made life slightly more bearable behind bars. It made life slightly more bearable in here, too.

The promised break rolled around and Vince went over to the wall and sagged against it in relief. Damn, his back was going to kill him by the end of the day. Prison work let you build muscles but did dick for your stamina.

Dario came over and offered a cigarette which Vince took gratefully. He had nearly a pack of cigarettes left, but for four days, that wasn't very damned many. He took the light Dario also offered and said, "Thanks, man. I fucking need this." He took a deep drag and exhaled slowly.

"You just get out?"

"Yeah, a week ago." Vince said. "Lucky my parole officer knew about this place. I'm barely going to make it until payday as it is."

"Yeah, nobody works here who's got any other options." Dario agreed.

"You got that the fuck right." Larry said as he joined them. "The only way this place isn't like a prison job is that they don't fucking care if you starve while you work here."

"That's for fucking sure." Vince agreed. "I got a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter, and that's three meals a day for me until payday."

"That is rough." Dario commiserated. "I got an extra apple in my lunch I could give you."

"Hey, thanks." Vince said, beaming. An apple, and it made his life seem brighter.

"And what will you give him?" Larry wanted to know.

He wanted to hit these guys up for a loan if he could. Vince said, "Depends on what I've got that he wants."

Larry pressed. "I got a sandwich, what would that get me?"

"Hey, I stopped selling my ass when I got out of prison." Vince said. "But in there, if you had wanted my ass, it would have cost you three packs of cigarettes."

"You look more like a one-pack man." Dario said, and Vince turned to him, startled. His price HAD been a single pack while in the slammer, where cigarettes were worth far above their normal value outside the bars.

"So what could we get for an apple and a sandwich?" Larry asked.

"Are you guys fucking joking?" Vince hadn't gotten any of this while they were working! They talked about girls and getting laid and such. "We're on the outside now, we don't have to do that no more, right?"

"Not entirely out." Dario said. "You seen your paycheck yet?"

Vince saw where he was heading and subsided, but Dario continued.

"You get enough money to pay your rent on a shit place to live, and buy a few groceries and pick up a few tokens for the bus, and it's all gone. How you going to get a girl on that?"

"Can't argue there." Vince sighed. With only four days on this first check, he'd be hard-pressed to even do that much! He had to walk fifteen blocks to work as it was, far enough to make the bus that went by very damned tempting.

"You're still locked up." Larry agreed. "You're just locked up with money instead of with steel."

"No money and danger of violating your parole." Dario added. "They make the best damned bars I've ever seen."

"Okay." Vince said. "I'm screwed. Now what."

"So what can we get for an apple and a sandwich?" Larry repeated. The roar of the waters started up again. "Break's over. Think about it when lunch comes around."

Lunch didn't happen until almost one o'clock. By then, Vince's stomach was growling audibly. Fuck, he couldn't make it on only three sandwiches a day! He'd have to resort to stealing food, and that would mean risk being caught. He couldn't do six more years. But the gnawing at his stomach for four more days wasn't much more attractive.

Larry and Dario were right, he wasn't out of prison, just in a different sort of one. Hemmed in with the danger of having to go back. Crap!

In prison, you did what you had to do to survive. Out of prison, with a minimum-wage job and few possessions, what would he have to do?

He wouldn't have minded sex with either of these two big men, he decided, if they had approached it with kindness instead of a commercial purchase. Vince had sold his body now and then in prison, of course, who hadn't? But he'd done it more often just for the joy of life that sex gave in a world where little joy was to be had. That lack of joy had extended beyond the prison bars, and so the need continued. But like this...?

One thing was sure, he decided. Growling stomach or not, he wasn't going to sell his butt any more!

When the line cleared, Vince headed for the office and grabbed his bag. Went over and sat down and pulled out his sandwich. Maybe if he ate it slowly, it would stick to his ribs longer?

"Hey." came a voice, and a foil-wrapped square poked at him.

Vince looked up and saw Larry there. Offering him the sandwich.

"We were just pulling your chain back there." Larry said. "You know, see what you'd do. Here, and don't worry, this is on the house."

Vince's pride said to say no, his stomach said to say yes. "Thanks." he said, his stomach winning the match handily, taking the sandwich. "I appreciate this."

"We're all ex-cons here." Dario said, offering the apple. "Everyone understands what you're going through."

"Forget about that packing a lunch the rest of this week." Larry put in. "We'll bring lunch for you until you get your first check.

Vince ate with a degree of comfort and warmth he hadn't known since...well, since well before. Maybe he didn't have to shoplift to stay alive on the outside. Maybe he could make it with the help from a few new friends!

He was surprised when everyone started putting away their lunches and going out the door at the half-hour mark. "Where's everyone going?"

"Got to clear out the room for the next crew." There were three car-wash lanes at this car wash, so breaks didn't mean cars had to stop coming in. "They need room to eat."

True, the table could only seat a bare dozen men and there were ten men to each lane. Vince followed Larry and Dario. Most of the men wandered outside to get some fresh air but Larry and Dario went back to the line and like a faithful dog follows his masters, Vince followed his co-workers. Not that he felt like a dog, but that he felt he belonged here, now.

You have to have everything taken away from you the way prison does, to know how precious belonging someplace is!

Inside, Dario offered Vince another cigarette. Vince waved it aside.

In prison, a tough guy had come to Vince's aid when a group of men wielding shivs had advanced on Vince intent on a gang-rape. Afterward, Vince had repaid his rescuer the same way he repaid the kindness he'd been given by these two men, that is, he stepped up against Dario's body with his own, put his arms around the big brown stud, and kissed him ardently.

He let go after, but only to give Larry the same treatment.

"Look, we really were joking about the sandwich and apple." Larry said when he finished. "And we'll bring you lunch without you having to do anything for us."

"Who said anything about that?" Vince returned to Dario and felt the crotch, a pounding erection waited inside that yellow jumpsuit.

Dario moaned as Vince's hand closed on it. "I didn't say anything." he gasped out as Vince released it.

"Good." Vince said. "I didn't think you would." The jumpsuit front had paired zippers, they met tail-to-head at the belt-buckle, a stitched on belt that couldn't be removed, but it could be undone and the zippers revealed to be unzipped. Vince took care of the lower zipper, and as he fished inside the opening to grasp Dario's prong, Dario moaned and slide his upper zipper down to detach at the bottom and open his suit from near the neck to below the balls.

Nine inches of deep-brown dong stared at him through one slime-smeared eye. Vince reached out and his tongue-tip poked that eye right in the socket, and the goo oozed from the slit and Vince licked it off with slow, loving motions of his tongue. From there, he greased the head with his saliva.

"Aw, man, aw, man!" Larry moaned. "How come he gets to go first? I gave you a whole sandwich, he only gave you a tiny apple."

Vince let go of the apple-sized glans long enough to answer. "Because you're the one who brought up the subject of paying for it."

"He's right." Dario added.

"Aw, jeez." Larry groaned. "But I get to go next, right? Right?"

"If we have time." Vince agreed, and Larry moaned again.

"Shit, hurry up, then."

Vince did hurry, but only because that hard Latino (but was Dario Latino? He still wasn't sure!) prick was beckoning to him. He'd sucked a couple of dark-skinned dongs in prison, but those had all been commercial transactions, unworthy of the term "making love." For the first time, Vince took a dark-colored prong and did it for the joy of it. That made the flavor of it all the more appealing! No funk covered this prick, it was clean and tasted only of a slight residue of male sweat borne from work, enough to salt the meat and encourage the glands of the skin to release their bounty.

Larry moaned and cursed them both alternately, and that just made the joy of nursing Dario better. Vince would give Larry his, he decided, but let the blond jock feel the frustration he'd visited on Vince for a while, first. Meanwhile, his mouth coated Dario's cock with a thick coating of saliva, building up a gray covering for the long prick, until it was a greasy love-column throbbing in his mouth, and Dario was moaning and cursing a bit, himself.

"Aw, man, come on, hurry up." Larry said after a time. "It'll be time to get back to work any minute. And the boss comes in to check that we're all on the job, too."

"I'm done." Vince said, letting go.

"Done?" Dario said in dismay. His cock was still hard, still potent, still loaded with unspent jizz. "But..."

"I mean I'm done getting you ready." Vince clarified. He'd unfastened and unzipped his own jumpsuit while he'd sucked on Dario, now he peeled it from his body, the oversized garment sliding over his boots easily (he'd had to roll a fair sized cuff on the legs and arms to make it fit) and he stood wearing only his t-shirt and the jockstrap. Turned as he lowered the jock and said, "Now you can shove it on in."

"Aw, man!" Larry groaned again. "Could you maybe get me ready while you have Dario fuck you, maybe? We got less than fifteen minutes until lunch is over!"

"You'll get your turn when he's done." Vince promised. And said nothing of when that would be.

"Fuck!" Larry closed his eyes in frustrated pain.

As Vince smirked at that, Dario's prod wove its way between his buttocks and found the nexus between. Vince's smirk morphed into a grimace as the huge pud plowed into his ass.

Vince leaned against the cold, moist concrete as grunts of his effort to take the enormous dick slipped from his lips. He could take a tool this big, he had before...but it still wasn't easy for him. Some of the men in prison could shove all kinds of things up their ass without flinching, but Vince wasn't one of those. He hadn't wanted to be one of those. He only wanted what he had now, sharing of his body with a good friend. So he gritted his teeth hard and he took it as it was crammed into his ass, stifling his grunts and when the plum-sized head knocked on his joy-button in his ass, his grunts became sighs. Yeah, that was the ticket!

"Aw, man, yeah, yeah!"

Larry burst into a near-maniacal guffaw. "You got him now, Dario." he urged his comrade on. "Come on, plow that butt and make him squeal."

"Uh, ah, yeah, fuck me." Vince added. "Come on, fuck me hard, cause I want to come before the lunch break is over."

"Lunch break?" Larry gasped. "Shit, less than ten minutes now. Seven minutes!"

"How fast can you make it?" Vince asked Dario. "Can you finish me in seven minutes?"

Dario's answer was a warm "mm-hmm" sound of affirmation, and he proceeded to prove the veracity of that answer by grabbing Vince's thighs on either side and using his powerful form to hump Vince with the vigor of a veritable rabbit! Rapid, thrusting rams into his ass that plunged the heavy length into Vince's butt, and then pulled it back again, both strokes in and out caressed Vince's prostate, and he threw his head back and moaned.

And Larry's moan was equally heart-felt, the blond stud could see that his own joy would have to wait. He was pumping his cock now, a frantic, desperate stroke that put Vince painfully in mind of his own stick-pumping the night before and for the first time, he felt felt some compassion for Larry. "Come on, blow that wad on me." he told Larry, "squirt me hard and when afternoon breaks comes along, you can take the whole fifteen minutes to work my butt if you're able. Can you do it?"

"Ah, ah, hell, yeah!" Larry gasped. "Ah, shit, yeah, blast it on you, yeah!"

"Come on, both of you, work's about to start again." Vince urged them. He didn't care about the work, but if that would make them cream quick, then great! "I need your spunk in me and on me, come on, plug my ass, Dario, plug it good, and we'll let Larry splatter the both of us!"

Dario was beyond responding, his vigorous humping was taking its toll on his body, he was moaning like a lost soul, a soul lost in rapture, and he moved to a tempo of thrusts that were both harder and slower, now he was ramming his cock in for maximum depth and stimulation, now he was working his cock for the final sparks that would set his fuck-log ablaze. "A-huh, a-huh, a-huh, a-huh!" he grunted as he pounded Vince's butt, and that prick in his ass did threaten to burst into flames, and Vince clenched his ass as he'd done in prison before, a talent worth having, and when he did, Dario howled and he exploded into Vince's ass!

"AH-AH-AH-WAAAAA-OWWWW!" Dario yelped as he hit his climax, and Vince felt the hot seed pouring into him.

"Oh, yeah, fill my ass, fill it, fill it, ah-AH-AH-GAH-HUN-GUNNHHH!" Vince squirted his own wads onto the cold concrete.

"Oh, man, oh, man, yeah, yeah, UH-KUHHHHH!" Larry's cock added to the salty spunk flying about, this landing on the two men locked in their climax, and in this way, Larry joined them in their passion, the hot sperm peppered Vince's body and he felt it sizzling on his skin and God, that felt good, so good, he wished there were a dozen Larrys around him, all of them plastering him with their jizz, coating his body, lots of come, lots of it, yeah, God yeah!

And as his ejaculation ended and Vince felt his brain settle down into post-orgasmic quietude, he heard another roaring in his ears. The line was starting up again! Now!

"Ah, ah, fuck, the line!" Larry heard it, too.

"Ah, ah, get dressed, now." Dario warned Vince with his gasps of breath forming words of a flickering and insubstantial nature. "The boss will be here any second!

Vince forced his body to obey and he was clothed though not zipped when the business' owner came through, a fine mist of water on his clothing from his trip through the already-on soap-and-water area.

"Time to get back to work." the boss man said. "Step lively, no fucking around on me."

Vince managed not to laugh aloud at that. Maybe the boss knew and maybe he didn't, but it was funny, either way. "Yes, sir." He said instead.

And the boss went on into the rinse area. He had a walkway that kept him from the worst of the water, but in an empty room, some water was sure to get him.

The first car poked its head into the room through the strips. Larry and Vince moved to catch it as it came out.

"Remember, soon as the afternoon break starts, that ass of yours is mine." he said to Vince.

"We'll see what happens." Vince said. The edge was off his passion, and he'd have to see if he felt like another round in a couple of hours. Maybe.

He looked at Larry and at Dario, and smiled. Probably.

Meanwhile, it was time to ply the rags over the Mercedes. It wasn't much of a job, maybe, but even working at a car wash beat the hell out of prison.

THE END
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