Carwash, with Extra Wax

5 – Cleaning the Trunk

“That guy is such an ASSHOLE!”
Tristan thundered. He jerked open the driver’s door and groped
under the seat for the trunk release.

Joey pulled the trunk open, then went into
the garage to get upholstery cleaner, a scrub brush, and another
handful of clean rags.

“Well, Tris, rich people are different
than mooks like us,” he said philosophically as he came back
out. He surveyed the pudding-speckled brown carpet lining the trunk.
"What a mess."

“Bullshit. Rich people eat and sleep
and piss and fart just like us.”

“Buddy, no
one farts like you do,” Joey said as he
leaned in to dab cleaner on the little dried blobs. “Man, that
stuff went everywhere.”

Tristan stretched his arms across the roof of
the limo and rolled the can of car wax back and forth.

“Hey, you’re gonna hurt my
feelings one of these days.”

“You have feelings?” Joey quipped
in mock surprise.

“Sure. In fact, I have a feeling I’m
gonna have to come over there and pound your ass.”

“Pfft. More idle threats.”

“I wonder what his problem is?”
Tristan mused. “Tight ass.”

“You should like him then,” Joey
muttered.

“What?” Tristan came around to
watch Joey attack the blobs with the scrub brush.

“Nothing.” He blotted his work
with a rag. “Eh, he probably hasn’t been laid in years.”

Tristan snorted. “If ever.” He
watched the line of Joey’s back, and the shorts stretched tight
over the blond’s slim ass as he leaned in to work on a far
spot. “Probably has no idea how it’s done.” He
unscrewed the lid of the car wax, sniffed it, looked at the
ingredients, then smiled. “I think we ought to give him a
demonstration.”

“What?” Joey said, and
straightened up, banging his head on the trunk lid. “Owww,
shit. Aww, no, Tris, I said not in
front of the cameras.”

“Hey, it’s mainly my
ass he’d see anyhow,” Tristan said,
snuggling up behind him. He reached around in front and slid his hand
inside Joey’s shorts, stroking him. “C’mon, you owe
me after that fart crack.”

“You owe everyone on the bus
for that string you cracked off this morning,”
Joey said weakly, leaning back against the taller boy. “You
ain’t gonna take ‘no’ for an answer here, are ya?”

“Nope,” Tristan admitted
cheerfully. He pulled Joey’s shorts and boxers down. “Put
one foot inside the trunk.”

“Aw.” Joey pulled his left foot
out of his clothes and did as ordered. Tristan twisted around to
address the security camera. “This is how it’s done,
asshole. Take notes if you want.”

He laid the open tin of car wax within reach
inside the trunk, scooped up a generous fingerful, and inserted.

Joey sucked in his breath. “Give a guy
some warning next time, woncha? Geez.” He bent forward and
wrapped his arms around his knee, gasping in pleasure as Tristan’s
finger slicked him up and touched his magic spot. As usual, it didn’t
take much for him to be ready and then more than ready.

“Showtime,” Tristan said, and,
lubricated with another gob of car wax, slowly pushed into him. Once
their rhythm was established, the car rocked forward and back in time
to Tristan's thrusts. Joey briefly wondered if the parking brake
would hold, then rational thought was wiped out as lava climbed his
spine. He grabbed one of the clean rags and bit it to muffle his
groans, and kept another rag handy as he stroked himself in time to
Tristan’s pounding. One mess in the trunk was enough.