Cabin Affairs

Step 11. Full-Service Car Wash

Step 11. Full-Service Car Wash

Playlist: “River” by Bishop Briggs

“I just had a shower! I don’t need another one,” I protest. Although, my words hold little weight as I struggle in vain against his strong grip while he carries me bridal style into the cabin’s only bathroom.

Like the cabin, it is a simple, barely furnished small room. It was built for needs only. There are no feminine touches, except for the few items I left on the counter earlier.

The result of my need for scalding water when I bathe coats my face the moment we enter with a warm, sticky mist. The oval mirror above the single porcelain sink is still a bit steamed over at the top edges from my use not even two hours ago.

The plain white shower curtain is pulled back, revealing a basic tub tiled around in yellow, harkening back to the height of trends in decades past. When I say shower curtain, I am using the term loosely. It is merely a liner hanging onto a metal bar with rounded binder clips, another sure sign that this cabin exists for the occasional habitation of a few men only.

However, to Eric’s credit, this bathroom is very clean. Obsessively so, I should note. When Eric said he spent all day cleaning before my arrival, I assumed he had been exaggerating. Yet, his efforts are beyond my expectations. Even the showerhead and baseboards near the same unfinished wood flooring are impeccable, like they were just installed. Surely, these are visual details most men do not pick up on. The cleaning, the new pillows, the attempted breakfast in bed… he is trying his best to make me feel comfortable.

I can’t help myself. As potentially damaging as it may be, I let my mind wander down a hidden back road just a few seconds too long. Are these actions really the portrayal of a friend? Even a best friend? They feel more like that of…

“You sure about that, J? I think you could use a shower. You have been a pretty dirty girl lately,” Eric jokes, wearing a grin so big it amazes me it fits in this small room.

Nah, I think. This is just who Eric is and nothing more.

I shake my head in mock disbelief and cover my mouth with my hand as if deeply offended by his comment. “Excuse me? I know I misheard you. You were not possibly inferring I am anything other than a lady. Would you like to try that again?”

His eyes sparkle from our playful banter. “Oh, you heard me, little girl.”

The pair on this man! He loves pushing my buttons. If only he wasn’t so damned good at it, then I might just… what? Certainly, I don’t plan on leaving. That is out of the question now.

In fact, I want him to push my buttons. I want him to push more buttons than a mischievous kid on an elevator does to annoy the other patrons, lighting them all up one by one so that the elevator doors must open at every floor, making the trip up and down so excruciatingly slow. Go ahead, E, push all my buttons. I want Christmas trees to envy all those lights.

But I digress. I’m getting away from the point here. I can’t let him get away with these unfounded insinuations. Moreover, I can’t let him win an argument.

Eric sets me on my feet before I can think of an equally goading retort. He turns the water dial to a warm setting, and the shower head sputters to life. He yanks off his gray sweatpants and boxer briefs quickly with one pull, then steps into the tub before turning back to me. What a shame he didn't take longer so I could admire that…

Now, he stands completely naked in front of me with an unabashed confidence that I marvel at. I wish I could be that confident in my own skin. Of course, he certainly has all the attributes that lead to this unbridled confidence. My eyes slip lower of their own volition. God, the man is craveable.

He offers a hand out to me with that same full-bodied grin plastered across his chiseled jawline, framed with the light scruff of his dark brown beard. I’m staring at that mouth as it starts to curl at the corners and then move. “Unless, I’m wrong about you, J. Maybe you are still squeaky clean, after all?”

There it is! The dare that I just knew would come out of his mouth from the second we began moving towards the shower. As we know, I don’t back down from a dare. Alright then, friend, let me show you how dirty I can get.

I give Eric my most innocent smile with a curtsy for good measure. Then, I leave the bathroom.

Even above the low roar of the water heater kicking to life and the pressure spraying the tile surrounding the tub, I still hear Eric curse himself for pushing me too far. Good. I smile more genuinely to myself as I retrieve my cell phone from the living room and head back to the bathroom.

Pulling the shower curtain open again, Eric turns to me in surprise. I don't give him time to recover his high and mighty act. Instead, I grip his c**k with such force that his stance falters, and he sucks in breath at my action. His eyes are wide, but they meet mine. I hold them as firmly as I do his shaft while I work.

I snap a couple quick pictures of my hand bringing his d**k to a standing ovation for me, and I make a mental note to send those to Matthew later. Eric never protests. It is a happy coincidence that I used my left hand as my wedding rings make a spotlight appearance in the pictures. My husband will enjoy that, too, I bet.

There is only one more thing left to do before my phone is then discarded to the bathroom counter alongside my toiletries. I release Eric from my vice grip, causing him to stumble again, ever so slightly. He blinks a few times registering what just happened, but I am busy. I find the playlist on my app that has sensual music, and turn up the volume to be heard over the shower. Then, I wink at him, and set to my task. I only brought so many clothes, so there's no use in getting them all wet, right?

My jeans are the first to go. A button, a zipper, and a few twirls of my hips to the beat of the song, and his eyes follow every movement. I face the mirror, my back to him, then pull my shirt over my head. The lace green bralette and matching panties are the ones Matthew brought me home to pack for this trip, yet Eric is the first to see me in them. I bet the strangeness of that revelation should bother me, but all I feel is a warmth in my belly lit by Eric’s eyes trying to burn me where I stand… again.

Looking over my shoulder, I unclasp the bra and let it fall to the floor. The mirror hasn’t completely fogged over yet, so Eric takes turns admiring me from every angle. It takes quite some time before his eyes find mine again in the mirror’s reflection. Although, that may be my fault as I have been swaying and touching all my curves for the last three songs as he watched me. Every chorus, every tilt of his head, each parting of his lips and gulp of air he takes, makes me bolder in my striptease performance.

My cheeky lace green panties are the last item that needs shedding. I wink at him and tilt my head down to my hips, making his gaze follow my thumbs hooking onto the sides of the very thin material. With my back still to him, I hinge at the hips - thanks yoga - and bring my hands slowly down my legs and to the floor. Of course, the panties come with them.

I finally stand up and turn back to face my friendly challenger. From the expression on Eric's face, whatever he had expected of me when he carried me into the bathroom, this was not it. If possible, he looks harder than when my hand was wrapped around him. This right here, this feeling, it is… power.

So much for my make-up and hair blowout.

I clear my throat as one does to get the attention of the room, even though I am positive every part of him stands at attention already. “So, you gonna offer me a hand to help get in that shower, or what?”

His right hand extends to me, but I step in without it, leaving his hand hanging unclaimed in mid-air. Yes, another power move. Only when his playful smile returns at my antics, do I miss his expression of shock and awe. I want it back. What’s a girl to do? And a dirty girl at that, as he once called me?

I sink to my knees.

Eric's facial features morph back into a man who disbelieves his own eyes. Mission accomplished.

I wrap one hand around his shaft tightly, knowing that I can’t possibly take his length down my throat right away. This allows me more control over him anyway. I have not tasted him yet, and the pressure to do so is eating at me more than I even want him to eat at me. I stroke him generously, using the warmth and moisture of the water to aid me in cleaning him. My mouth will do the rest.

My tongue flicks over his head and then explores the rest of his length at my leisure. I spend ample time coming back to the underside, knowing how sensitive he is there. How do I know? I’m a grown woman. This is not the first time I have been on my knees in front of a man. Sure, my already sore legs are going to take another beating, but it’s worth it. I’m the one with my hand over the buttons now, and I have an itchy, itchy trigger finger.

When Eric has to grab onto the tiled wall on the side of the shower, I hollow out my cheeks and begin the real assault. He groans each time I take him deeper. His c**k twitches just a little against my throat, trying to extend further. I'm sure his next move will be to wrap his hands in my hair and guide me himself. However, I can not allow this. I am in control right now.

I take him as far down my throat as I can without triggering my gag reflex. I uncurl my lips so I can carefully bite my teeth down on him at the base. Not enough to cause pain, but certainly enough to short-circuit his brain. I look up at Eric with wide eyes, fluttering eyelashes, and a toothy grin over his c**k.

“You win. Whatever you want, whatever we’re playing at, you win for life, J,” Eric pants out. He is so close, I almost feel bad for teasing him. Almost.

I take a few more moments to suck and swallow down both his c**k and water to my own satisfaction. The heat of the water adds to the massaging effect of my throat as I swallow repeatedly.

Then, I pull my head back leaving only my hand in charge of his orgasm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, E. You mentioned my being dirty, so I got in the shower. I thought maybe you’d want to see exactly what dirty looks like on me. Although, I'll need your help with that.”

My hand strokes him with vigorous purpose, while my other hand starts rubbing my own breasts, pushing them higher towards him simultaneously. The scene of me wet and needy below him punishes - oops - pushes him over the edge. Finally, Eric covers my chest with a new warmth. I continue stroking him until I feel the tension leave his whole body and see his head fall back.

My legs shout at the strain of my standing up, but I have to face him. I place both my hands at the sides of his face, focusing the little energy he hasn't spent back on me.

His c*m is still dripping down my chest when I tell him, “Uh-oh. I guess I do need another shower after all.”