Slippery When Wet (A Romance Novella): Maybe Mandy 3

by Chris Genovese

  Still, my mind raced, conjuring up absurd thoughts.

  I imagined the company van with the words WESLEY’S CUNT SCRUBBERS stenciled on the side, and those tiny animated scrub brushes from the toilet bowl cleaning commercials smiling as they raced over a patch of pubic hair.

  Oh shit. What have you gotten yourself into this time?

  “You’re so quiet,” Wesley said.

  “I’m freaking out a little bit,” I admitted. “I think maybe we should go back to the party.”

  “I will absolutely turn this truck around if you’re not comfortable, but I like you, Mandy. I always have. I had a crush on you back in high school and I realized tonight that I have a crush on you now. I would never want to do anything to worry you or bother you. I promise you’ll have a good time tonight. Think of it as an intimate date with me. If you ever feel like you want to go back, we’ll end it all and I’ll take you to the hotel.”

  He reached out and took my hand. That’s what had been missing. He hadn’t touched me since we’d gotten into the truck, and I’d felt alone and worried. Now, feeling his large fingers rub against my knuckles, I felt much more at ease.

  “Show me what you want to show me,” I said. “Treat me like your woman and you’re in for a treat too.”

  He chuckled and I loved the sweet sound of it.

  The tension melted away like hot butter and I found myself wanting him. With one hand on the wheel, he used his other to pull off his tie. He tossed it into the back seat and undid his top shirt button. His chest was strong, making the rest of the buttons strain to keep it all together. I reached over and unbuttoned one of them, giving the poor things some room to breathe.

  He peered down at his chest and then over at me and grinned. He wasn’t the only one who could work the art of seduction. He had no idea who he was fucking with. I put a hand on his thigh and couldn’t help remembering the car ride with Braden on the way to the carnival. We’d flirted and played with our words until we’d almost put a halt to the date and just fucked right there in the car.

  I didn’t want that with this guy. I wanted to find out what he had in store for me. Braden’s idea had been to take me on a nonstop fantasy date that ended in full orgasm at the top of a Ferris wheel. Valentino had pounded my bare ass into the Mexican sand. What was Wesley going to do to me?

  Fuck, I’m horny.

  It came over me like a hot flash. Seeing his legs open the way they were, working the gas pedal, made me want him. I squeezed my thighs together, pinching my pussy and enjoying the slight ache I felt. It wasn’t enough, so I took hold of the evening, and by evening, I mean I grabbed his cock.

  “Whoa, shit,” he said, as he swerved a little.

  My buzz mixed with my desire to fuck mixed with my wanting to get a taste of the blond stud and HIS BUSINESS, made me act more forward than I’d planned, but I’d already set the flirting in motion and by the time we reached wherever it was he was taking me, I wanted him so fucking hard he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

  So I didn’t take his cock fully in my grip, but instead kept my hand straight and kind of ran it over the length of him, kind of like, “Good dog.”

  It didn’t take long for him to grow beneath my palm. That’s when I finally cupped my hand around him, the best I could over his slacks. He was a nice size, perfect for sitting on. I pinched his head and watched as his breathing picked up. With each rise of his chest, I saw the buttons fight to keep his shirt closed. I couldn’t wait to catch a glimpse of his bare, military-boy chest.

  “How do you feel?” I asked him.

  The question was purposely vague, testing him, to see how far he wanted to take things.

  Now, you guys have read enough of my stories by now to know that I don’t play around when it comes to sex. I like to fuck. It’s me, Mandy, and we know this already. If you’re into the shy girl, oops I might look like a slut kind of story, then this is probably where you should end my story. I’ve had a few mental negotiations, trying to decide whether I’m a hero or a whore and I’ve settled on somewhere in-between. I’m a thirty-something who wants, no, who deserves to have her pussy pounded from time to time.

  I can be the doting girlfriend when the time is right, I could wife-up if the right man ever came along, but let’s face it…Wesley is not my future husband. So…game motherfucking on.

  “How do you feel?” I asked.

  Sorry, taking it back a bit, just in case my interruption goofed up my story. I need you on track here. You with me? Good.

  “How do I feel?” he asked. “Like…like I’m happy I decided to come to this reunion. I needed to see you, to see if I had a chance with you, and…well, I’m…I’m happy.”

  Happy was not the word I was looking for.

  Happy how? Happy like I want to do a dance kind of happy? Happy like I just got a new iPad for Christmas kind of happy? I need to turn this up a notch.

  “Happy,” I repeated.

  I grabbed his zipper, slid it down, and reached into his pants, thumbing the waistband of his briefs and pulling it over the head of his dick. If he wanted to be happy, I was going to show him happy. He needed to study some new fucking adjectives because happy didn’t fit with this fucking moment.

  I pulled out his cock and held it in my hand. He gazed down at me.

  “Keep your eyes on the road,” I told him. “Get me where we’re going safely.”

  So you can fuck me like I need to be fucked.

  “Okay,” he said as he returned his eyes to the windshield.

  His cock was pretty. Smooth. The head was large, plump, and I knew it would feel great shoving its way past my pussy lips later. That was going to feel amazing. For now, I needed to make him want me even more. I needed Tommy Two-Tone to desire me, to want to eat me alive.

  I gave his dick a couple of light pumps, sliding my hand down to his balls and back up, letting my fingernails tickle him a bit. As I slid down again, I touched his balls with the fingernail of my pinky finger, stabbing it ever so gently. He twitched. Twitching is always good.

  I made a claw with my right hand and pushed the fingernails into his sack. He breathed deep and closed his eyes for a second.

  “Unh unh unh,” I said no like a school teacher telling him he’d gotten the wrong answer on his math problem.

  I dug my fingernails into him again and his ass clenched. His cock stood up harder and straighter than before. So that’s when I took it. I put my lips against the tip of his dick and kissed it gently. Then, with my mouth opened ever so slightly, I worked his head, massaging it as I opened and closed my mouth, puckering my lips against his smooth head. He twitched again.

  Each twitch was like a shifting of gears, it assured me I could move on from there. So I did. I took his whole head into my mouth and sucked on it, tilting my head to the side to let his tip slide into my cheek, grinding gently against my teeth, knowing the rough texture would set his nerve endings on fire. He twitched again and groaned.

  You’re fucking happy now, aren’t you?

  I repeated the motion a few times, knowing my face must look like the gesture of someone putting their tongue in their cheek to show the motion of a blowjob. I’d never thought about it before, but doing it the way I was now, I knew the head of his dick must be pushing out my cheek, making that exact gesture. I liked the thought of it.

  I opened up wide and straightened out, letting his dick finally make its way into the heart of my mouth, where it rested there, and I wrapped my lips firmly around it as I gave his head light dashes with the tip of my tongue.

  Licking the bottom portion, with attention on the vein that climbs up to the head, was doing the trick. He practically climbed out of his seat, trying to fuck my face as he drove. With my fist planted firmly around the base of his cock, I sucked upward while pushing my hand down, stretching out his skin. He slapped the steering wheel and I knew I was on the right track.

  I dropped my mouth and massaged his balls at the same time, then pushed his cock a
gainst his body and leaned down to flick my tongue at his scrotum. He was so trimmed it was almost unmanly, but I liked it. He was smooth and smelled good, like he may have given his undercarriage a spray of his cologne.

  My tongue coaxed one of his balls into my mouth where I swirled around it and pursed my lips against it until he was beating the steering wheel again and groaning. He wanted me.

  Fuck yeah.

  Scooping up his other nut, I sucked his balls until I thought he might scream. He seemed like he was about to lose it and as I licked along the length of him, making my way back up to his head, pre-cum ran down his shaft, meeting me halfway. I’m not one to get squeamish in these moments so I sucked it off and gave him a “mmm” to let him know I liked it before I took him all the way into my mouth.

  “I want you,” he said.

  “Mmm hmm,” I replied as I moved quicker, rising and falling in sync with my fist that was squeezing him tightly and yanking up and down on his throbbing cock.

  “Wait! Stop!” he said. “We’re here.”

  I would’ve been content with finishing him off, but he was excited to show me what he had in store for me, which in turn got me excited about it. Blinking pink and blue lights danced on his face when I glanced up into his eyes and wiped my mouth.

  As I adjusted my dress and raised up into my seat, I saw the flashing neon sign overhead. It said, “Bubbly Sleek” with a blinking picture of a man in a bathtub, big ol’ grin on his face as he cleaned his back with a long handled scrub brush.

  Interesting.

  “It’s open this late?” I asked, kind of a stupid question now that I think about it.

  “Yes, it’s only open at night,” he replied.

  “I don’t know about this. You’re going to take me in there with your employees around?”

  “Trust me, they’ll be busy.”

  I looked at the other spaces in the parking lot and most were full.

  ***

  Inside the building was a cozy waiting room, like you might see at a dentist’s office. The walls were adorned with framed pictures of famous people in bubble baths or covered in suds. Marilyn Monroe blew bubbles at me from the palm of her hand while to each side of her, male studs from the ‘80s soaked in foam-filled tubs with their ladies.

  Everything felt weird. Like I’d stepped out of reality and into an odd dream world. Slightly dizzy from the alcohol and horny from the drive over, my senses were a mess. Sitting in the waiting room was a woman and a man, side by side, holding hands. They patiently waited while the woman behind the counter flipped through a magazine.

  “Nadia,” Wesley said, clearing his throat to get her attention.

  She dropped the magazine onto the counter and smiled.

  “Wesley, what brings you in so late? Everything is running smoothly. You could have called.”

  Her accent was Russian I think, or maybe German…I fucking suck at accents so I’m not sure.

  Nadia was pretty in a fake kind of way. She looked like she’d had a couple of plastic surgeries, some work done on her face—maybe her nose and possibly her cheek bones. But she was still attractive and her lips, as big and fake as they were, looked like they’d be great at giving pleasure. I imagined she held more positions than just the front desk.

  “Are these people being helped?” Wesley asked, nodding at the couple waiting.

  The man of the duo spoke up in Nadia’s defense. “Yes, we’re fine. We’re waiting for Lucia but she’s with a customer right now.”

  “Excellent,” Wesley said. “Lucia is one of our most experienced washers. She’ll take great care of you.”

  “She always does,” said the woman sitting next to the man. “And Roberto is great too. We alternate.”

  Her man laughed and added, “We sure do.”

  The woman glanced at her man and it was clear they were in love. Whatever they were doing in the body wash only added to their relationship.

  “Any rooms available?” Wesley asked.

  Nadia stared at me and I could feel myself blushing. It was embarrassing. Everyone except me knew what was going to go on in this “available” room he was asking for. I felt like the drunkest girl at a high school party, the one everyone knows is going to get fucked before the end of the night.

  “Yes, we have two available,” Nadia informed him. “203 is the best though. Take that one.”

  “203 it is, thanks love.”

  With that, he pulled me toward the back of the house, down a dark corridor. When we passed the first door to our right, I could hear water running and some giggling. Sounded fun enough in there. No one was screaming in pain.

  At the next door on the left, intense moaning bellowed out. Someone was coming or was about to come.

  I felt my stomach rumble. Nerves crept up, not the bad ones, more like the excitement and strange vibration that runs through your body when you’re about to speak publicly. I’d stopped walking without realizing it.

  Wesley turned to me, took both of my hands in his and looked down at me, the way he’d done on the dance floor. I couldn’t see his face very well in the dark, but I could feel his smile. He was beaming down at me.

  “I promise you. You’re going to have a great time.”

  With that, he leaned forward and kissed me, parting my lips with his, and letting his tongue graze over my bottom lip. My pussy dripped and I was ready to go again. Wesley had a way about him, a sense of manliness, of control. He was the one calling the shots tonight and he wanted me. He’d wanted me since we were in school together. By taking me tonight, he’d check an item off his bucket list.

  That was fine by me. I have a bucket list too and if a body wash wasn’t on it before, it damn sure was now.

  We reached room 203 and he led me in, turned on the light, and locked the door behind us. The room looked a lot like a massage parlor. Bamboo reeds and Japanese style dividers separated the back half of the room from the front half.

  Wesley walked me past the divider and over to a large, soft table, similar to the kind used for massages but much larger. It was wider, big enough for arms and legs to be open wide on top of it.

  All around us were counters lined with candles, bowls full of round charcoal colored stones, and there was a wall with hoses and tools hanging from it. Everything was dry and sparkling. Below my feet was hard tile that slanted inward where a drain awaited. It was like the whole room was built over a gym shower room.

  “This will work best if you remove your clothes,” Wesley informed me.

  Just like that? No foreplay? This is crazy. It’s like one of those Hostel movies or something. I don’t know if I like this.

  “Wait, can you like, I don’t know. Like fill me in on what this is all about?” I asked, contemplating biting my nails, a nervous tick I’d dropped back in college.

  Wesley breathed deeply.

  “That couple that was sitting out in the waiting room? People like that come here to…well…be pleased. This is a body wash. Like a massage parlor, but with added…perks. They mentioned Lucia and Roberto, two of our finest. We have men and women working here. It’s all about sensually cleaning the customer’s body. Or, if the customer wants, they can clean the attendant’s body. It’s totally up for negotiation. But it’s all good, clean fun.”

  “Is there sex involved?”

  He laughed.

  “Are you FBI?” he asked.

  I do sound like a fucking undercover agent don’t I?

  “It’s all up for negotiation,” he added, leaving me to fill in the gaps.

  “So, um, you’re gonna wash me?” I asked.

  Did I wash myself good enough the last time? Is he going to be disgusted by me? What if he thinks I’m too fat? Or what if I don’t smell pretty enough. I mean…I’ve been dancing and drinking and giving him a motherfucking blowjob!

  “That is the plan,” he replied. “Unless, of course, you’d rather wash me.”

  I was blushing. I could feel the heat rise up to my ears and into my
cheeks and forehead.

  “Okay, let’s do it this way,” he said.

  He slowly began to unbutton his shirt and my heart punched my chest, giving me an internal beating before deciding it wasn’t getting out that way and traveled down to my pussy.

  Oh shit. He’s magnificent.

  He removed his shirt and draped it over the Japanese screen. His chest and arms were rock solid and he had tattoos covering one side of his chest and one arm. The Marines logo was on the other arm. I hadn’t gotten a good look at his eyes before. We’d been in the dark reunion and then in the dark car. His eyes were an odd kind of grey, almost like the fur of a wolf. Steel like. Fuck-me-with-your-face like.