Monthly Archives: October 2017

Wife Does Bikini Car Wash for Urban Youth Fundraiser

By Gustav Jorgenson

Excerpted from “Exhibitionist Wife Tales

My wife Molly had worked with troubled youths as a counsellor for years before taking a job with a non-profit providing career counselling for disadvantaged youth in Oakland, CA.  She did feel a little awkward being the only white woman working there, but she was determined to fit in.  So one night she invited some of her coworkers over to our home for dinner and to plan some upcoming fundraisers.  They asked me to sit in since I have a background in finance, and I might be able to offer some guidance around fiscal matters.

I was sitting around our dining room table with Molly, Trevon, the director, Shanice, the associate director, and Jada, another counsellor.

“Of course our most popular fundraiser is always the bikini car wash,” said Trevon.  He gave Molly a devilish grin and my poor wife blushed immediately.

“Oh gosh,” stammered my wife.  “Yes, I heard about that.”

“Girl, you gonna be banging with those boobs and that booty of yours,” chuckled Jada.  “We gonna teach you how to twerk it!”

“Uh, I’m not really getting the premise of this,” I said.   I wasn’t sure I understood what was being suggested, but it didn’t sound too savory.  I loosened my tie uncomfortably.  I was feeling a slight tightness around my throat.

“Oh, right, Connor” said Trevon, addressing me.  “Let me explain.  See, each year the female staff dress up in bikinis and wash cars in the parking lot of the center for cash.  The youth who attend the center join in and stand by the nearby intersections waving signs to attract customers.  Definitely one of the highlights of the year in terms of fun and we always raise a good amount of funds for the center as well.”  He made a point of eyeing Molly’s cleavage and she pulled her blouse closed in response, blushing even more.

“Girlfriend gonna bring ALL the boys to the yard with HER milkshake,” teased Shanice.

“Most definitely,” growled Trevon.  I didn’t like the way his gaze was fixed on my wife’s breasts.

“But, that sounds a little, um, inappropriate, isn’t it? I don’t mean to suggest that it’s necessarily sexual in nature,” I said nervously.

Molly gave me a strange grimace of discomfort that I couldn’t fully understand while her coworkers broke out laughing.

“Oh, you white people,” giggled Jada.  “Of COURSE it’s sexual, how you think we raise so much money?  We be puttin our tits on the windshield, butts against the window.  That’s how to get the BIG tips, my brutha.”

“You mean the customers sit inside the vehicles and pay extra for, for,” I was stuttering, unable to believe my ears.

I could feel the blood draining from my face and Molly reached across the table to grab my hand.  “Connor is a bit old fashioned, so I think it will take him some time to get used to this idea.”  She laughed self-consciously.  “Honestly, I am pretty nervous about it myself.”

“How come, girl?  You got nothing to be ashamed of,” chimed in Shanice, eyeing my wife’s figure judiciously.  “The mens gonna get in LINE to have you wash their rides.  You gonna make, BANK!”

“And the boys from the center gonna be HOWLING to see Miss Molly working it,” agreed Jada with a smile.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” admitted Molly.  “Most of my clients are young men in their late teens.  They are uh, sexually mature, and it seems that it will be, um, challenging to maintain a professional, err, ethical…” my wife was struggling to find the right word.

“Ah, Molly, this goes back to this question of cultural competence we were discussing the other day,” said Trevon loftily.

“Yeah, during the car wash we have a little time out on the professionalism and stuff,” sniffed Jada.  “I let them boys get up on there and get to grinding on my booty, it’s all good, it’s all good.  Sometime they get a little naughty, but that’s one way to build bonds with your fam, you feel me?”

“Grinding on your booty?” I asked.  I didn’t like the sound of that.

Shanice pointed at me and covered her mouth, tittering mockingly at me.  “Check out Connor, he don’t know WHAT the fuck you talkin’ bout.”

“Check this out,” said Jada, pulling out her phone with excitement.  “This a video from last year.  You wanna see me work it?”

She slid over next to me at the table and showed me the video on her phone.  My eyebrows shot up when I saw the tiny images.  Jada was standing in a parking lot surrounded by black teenagers.  She was soaking wet and had her back to the camera, bent over with her hands on her knees.  She had on a thong that completely revealed her buttocks and was doing some sort of gyration and that was making her butt cheeks bounce up and down madly.  In the background a lowrider was bouncing along on it hydrolics, mimicking her dance.  The teenage boys were clapping and cheering and one bold fellow leapt forward and started grinding his crotch up against Jada’s exposed rear as though he were copulating with her from behind.

“Good GOD!  What is that young man doing?” I gasped.  Sweat was beading on my brow as I watched this primal display.

“He trying to pop it,” said Jada with a shrug.  Then she noticed my sweaty forehead and gave me a sly grin. “You like how he doing that?  You want me to teach you how to do that dance?”

“Oh, girl, you bad, you bad,” laughed Shanice.

It was my turn to blush and Molly laughed along with Trevon at my discomfiture.

Jada jumped up out of her chair and started doing the twerk dance with her big rump pointed at my face.  I stared open mouthed for a moment while everyone laughed at the expression on my face.  I could feel my member swelling at the animalistic display by Molly’s shameless coworker.

“Don’t just sit there, get up and get behind me, fool,” scolded Jada, she pulled me to my feet and Shanice gasped when she saw the bulge in my trousers.

“Easy, Jada, Molly’s man got a stiffy for you,” commented Shanice, pointing at my visible priapism.

“That’s what I’m talking bout,” said Jada eagerly.  She made a face at my wife as she turned her back to me and thrust her round buttocks forcefully against my erection, grinding herself insistently against my manhood.  I had to grip her hips to keep from falling over.

“Connor!  I didn’t know you had it in you,” gasped my wife.  She was laughing along but seemed a bit disturbed by the whole situation.

“I don’t, I mean, I’m not,” I babbled, backing away from the playful Jada and covering my crotch with my hands as I dropped hurriedly back into my seat.

“Why I think you enjoyed that,” said my wife in amazement.

‘Sure he did,” laughed Shanice.  “You better watch Jada, she going after yo man.”

“I’m just playing girlfriend,” said Jada primly as she took her seat again.  “But from what I felt back there, I’m guessin Connor keepin’ YOU happy.”  She and Shanice broke out in cackles of laughter while I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat.  Molly tried to force a smile but I could tell she was a little annoyed.

“Anyway, Jada’ll teach you how to twerk,” put in Trevon.  “Call it cultural literacy training.”

“You got a little bikini, girl?” asked Shanice of my wife skeptically.  “I mean a LITTLE one with a thong?”

“Not really,” admitted my wife.

“Well we can take you shopping, I’ll help you pick one out,” said Trevon.

The black women broke out laughing at the expression on Molly’s face when she said, “Um…”

“Don’t be so uptight, girl,” teased Jada.  “He’s gonna see you in it anyway.  EVERYONE is gonna see you in it.”

“Huh, yeah, I guess so,” agreed my wife miserably.  She was normally a modest woman and usually wore very conservative one-piece bathing suits.

“You are going to take my wife bikini shopping?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes, do you have a problem with that?” replied Trevon.  He seemed defensive.  “If I were WHITE would you have a problem with that?”

“Yes, probably,” I affirmed without much hesitation.  “I mean, I’m not really comfortable with this entire idea.  I don’t want my wife putting her breasts on some stranger’s windshield for tips.  It’s not proper.”

Jada made a sour face and put her hand up.  “Check your puritanical privilege please,” she said, clearly pleased by her spontaneous alliteration.

“I don’t want to seem puritanical,” admitted my wife.

And so it was agreed that my charming little wife would participate in this urban youth car wash fundraiser over my stifled grumbling.

Once her coworkers left, I confronted my wife about it.

“Surely you can’t be serious about this, Molly?” I demanded.  I was feeling agitated and was pacing back and forth and waving my arms.

“I’m certainly not thrilled about it, especially getting half naked around my clients.  They are very, uh, excitable young fellows,” she whined unhappily.  “But you heard Trevon.  He considers this a show of cultural competence.  And sensitivity to the cultural norms of the community we are serving is extremely important in social work.  It’s fundamental.”

“Cultural competence!” I spat with disdain.  “Doing a booty dance for a bunch of drooling teenagers and letting them dry hump you from behind is cultural competence? Balderdash!”

“Oh dear,” said my wife, putting her hand on her cheek as she envisioned the scene.  “Well, I know you won’t like it, but it’s just something I have to do,” she said.  “It’s hard enough for me to fit in, being the only white person at the center.  If I make a fuss over this, it will only reinforce my differentness.”  She patted me on the shoulder.  “You know what they say, darling.  When in Rome and all that.”

“Bah,” I complained and headed off to bed.  But as I lay in bed that night, I couldn’t banish the image of my pretty wife in a tiny bikini exposing herself to a bunch of ghetto hooligans from my mind.  And the more I imagined the various scenarios, the harder my penis became until I had to sneak to the bathroom to masturbate as I pictured my wife covered in soap suds while a virile black teenager mounted her from behind and his compatriots cheered him on.  Then I pictured Jada’s tight bum pressed up  against my penis again and I climaxed strongly spurting cum all over the bathroom wall.

I was ashamed of myself but also strongly intrigued by the idea of Molly becoming a shameless exhbitionist.  She certainly did have a wonderful body.  It bothered me too that I was excited by the idea of other men seeing my wife half-naked or worse yet actually grabbing her and trying to hump her.  And they call it a dance, the grind, but it’s really just a shameless pantomime of coitus.  And she has to do it in the name of cultural competence.  I was growing hard again as these thoughts raced through my mind.

The day of the car wash, Molly packed up her tiny string bikini and I drove her over to the youth center.  My wife was nervous and pensive on the ride over, she didn’t say much.  As we pulled into the parking lot where they were holding the car wash, I was taken aback by the scene before me.  There were dozens of black and brown teenagers milling about.  I was frightened by the sea of dark faces before me, I had to admit.  I had never seen so many people of color in one place before and I started to appreciate how they must feel surrounded by white faces all the time.

There were young men twirling big signs shaped like arrows to draw in customers on the corner.  They stood shirtless in the hot sun, showing off their physiques.  As we pulled into the lot, we got a lot of hard, aggressive stares until people recognized Molly and then everyone’s face lit up, all the young men and young women seemed to recognize my wife.  The lot was already half full of big old cadillacs and other ghetto vehicles, hoopties or lowriders or whatever they call them these days.  Young black women in scandalously tiny bikinis were bending dramatically over the cars, spreading suds onto themselves as much as the car while gangs of young thugs stood around hooting, hands on their crotches as they watched.  The girls were really hamming it up, they seemed to love the attention.

“Well, looks like everyone is already having fun,” said my wife.  A DJ booth was set up nearby pumping insanely loud beats from two towers of speakers that had been erected right in the parking lot.

I found a spot at the back of the lot to park the car and we got out.  The smell of marijuana smoke hung strongly in the air.

“That’s pot smoke, isn’t it?” I asked Molly.

“The center has a relaxed attitude toward marijuana during events like the car wash.”  My wife seemed a bit nervous, holding her handbag with her tiny bikini inside.

Jada, Trevon, and Shanice emerged from the crowd and approached us, waving.  I couldn’t help but stare at the shockingly small bikinis the two black women were wearing.  Both women were actually quite pudgy and each had a little pot belly, but their boobs were so big and so boisterous that I hardly noticed.  It was amazing that their tiny tops were able to constrain those bosoms at all.

“My eyes are up HERE, Connor,” teased Jada.  I blushed and my wife laughed weakly, but she seemed in no mood to joke around.

“Molly girl, you look sick as hell,” said Shanice.  “You feelin’ ok?”

“Well, you two are just very comfortable with your bodies, but I, uh, feel really self-conscious.”

“Oh, I know what goin’ to calm your nerves,” said Jada with a wink.  

Shanice and Trevon looked at each other and said “The chronic!” in unison.

“Oh, I really haven’t smoked since college,” said my wife.  She looked at me with trepidation.

“Surely you aren’t suggesting smoking marijuana!” I gasped.  “That’s illegal.”

“Now, now, Connor, technically, this is a grey area give the local and state statutes,” said Trevon.  He took my wife by the shoulder and lead her toward a large tent.  “Come along Molly, you come have a little puff to relax and then let’s get you changed.  Did you bring your bikini?”  My wife held up her bag with a weak smile.  “That’s fine, you’ll feel better once you’ve got a little buzz on.”

I tagged along as the four of them headed toward the tent, I was distracted by the sight of Jada and Shanice’s exposed buttocks as they strutted along in their thong bikinis and a bunch of young black men noticed as well and they were howling out, shouting crude compliments and offers of intercourse.  All these rowdy black people were making me uncomfortable.  I was literally the only white man in the entire crowd of hundreds.

I tried to join the group as they entered the tent, but Jada barred my way.  “Oh no, you gotta wait out here, white boy.  You gonna wreck the vibe up in here.  Molly gots to get changed.”

“But, but, Trevon is in there,” I said.  “My wife can’t get changed in front of him.”

“Why not?” Jada asked me with a laugh.  “Is her booty sacred?  Just relax, you makin’ her more nervous than she needs to be.”  Jada closed the flap and zipped it up and I was left standing there in the parking lot, seething with frustration.

All the black and brown faces that passed gave me malicious stares.  I guess I couldn’t blame them.  They didn’t have much reason to love white men I suppose.  I was starting to fear for my personal safety when I smelled the pungent scent of pot smoke coming out of the tent.

“There you go, baby,” said Trevon in a smooth voice.  “Now take that shirt off and put this bikini on.”

“Uh, maybe could you look the other way?” asked my wife. I could tell from her voice that she was already in a daze from the drug.

“No need to be bashful, girl,” Jada told her.  “Let him see what you got.  He gonna see it all later anyway once you start putting your boobs on the glass.”

“I wasn’t really sure if I was going to do that part,” said my wife.

There was a minor uproar in the tent as everyone started shouting at once.  It seemed that my wife’s coworkers were all browbeating her to get naked and stop stalling.

“Ok, Ok, jeez,” complained my wife.

“OH YEAH,” shouted Trevon.  “Them’s GOOD titties.”

I could feel the blood draining from my face as I realized that my wife’s big black boss was ogling her bare chest in this changing tent.  What nerve!

“Stop IT, Trevon, you are making me blush,” giggled my wife.  She sounded much looser now.  The cannabis was having its desired effect.

“Lemme see that pussy,” urged Trevon.

“Trevon, please, that’s too fresh,” scolded Molly.

“Get out the way, you two,” cried Trevon in annoyance.

“Naw, naw, nigga, you might see that pussy later, but let her have a bit of privacy now,” insisted Shanice.

“Ok, there, she’s changed.  You look good girl, how you feelin’?”  Jada asked.

“I feel really stoned,” laughed Molly.

The tent unzipped and a huge cloud of pot smoke hit me, making me cough.  My wife emerged first, blinking with red bloodshot eyes in the bright California sun.  She was practically naked in her tiny bikini and I nearly choked at the sight of it.  A hoot of excitement when up from the crowd gathered round and my wife was whisked away by a gang of rowdy black teenagers.  She was laughing along as they hustled her toward the car wash area, her pale white skin a stark contrast to their black skin.  I was embarrassed at the way her buttocks were so completely exposed and how her nice breasts were practically spilling out of her tiny top.  But it was certainly a sexually arousing sight and I could feel my pecker growing stiff.

One especially lusty young man took my wife in his arms and tried to kiss her.  He had his own shirt off and his muscular torso shone in the hot sun.  But Jada rescued my wife and pushed the excited youth back with a smile.  

The music changed to just a simple beat and the DJ shouted a greeting to my wife over the loudspeaker.  “Miss Molly in da house.  Give it up, people, our newest counsellor is here to represent at the car wash.  You know her as mild mannered Miss Molly in the classroom, but now we get to see her freaky side.”

Everyone cheered, the young black men were nearly hysterical as they jumped up and down pumping their fists and my wife stood flanked by Jada and Shanice, cringing under all the attention.  She waved awkwardly at the crowd.

“And you know what?  Word on the street was that Miss Molly got some booty on her.  Wazzup Miss Molly, what you got going on?” shouted the DJ.

My wife seemed confused for a moment until Jada took her by the shoulders and turned her around so that the crowd could see her bare white ass.  The hooting and jeering grew to a feverish pitch.

“That looking GOOD, but typical of a white girl, she don’t know how to SHAKE it.”  The DJ teased my wife and everyone laughed as she tried to awkwardly shimmy her gorgeous bare ass from side to side.  “Oh well, we ain’t mad at her, she’s not even DRUNK yet!” Personally, I thought my wife’s bum looked simply marvelous even if she couldn’t twerk like the rest of them.  But then Jada and Shanice bent over to expose their bare black asses.  They were trying to teach my wife how to twerk and their butts started bouncing up and down.  Their spines started undulating in a serpentine motion and I could feel my erection growing even harder from their animalistic display.

Of course the crowd exploded with shouts and a bold young black man came running up and got behind Shanice and started grinding on her.  His erection quickly formed a huge bulge in his shorts and Shanice was shamelessly rubbing her buttocks against the young man’s stiff rod while the crowd cheered and pumped their fists in the air.  She pursed her lips and turned her head from side to side, clearly enjoying the feeling of his manhood pressing against her crotch from behind.

My wife and Jada stopped twerking to watch.  Jada was clapping her hands but my wife just stared open mouthed at the brazen display.  Her eyes were glassy and she seemed stoned.  Another shirtless dark skinned young man came over and put his arm around my scantily clad wife and handed her a big bottle of malt liquor which she took and drank mechanically out of as they watched Shanice getting aggressively prodded by the horny disadvantaged youth.  Molly drank a surprising amount of the liquor and her acquaintance laughed when she handed it back to him empty and motioned for his friends to bring her another.  My poor inebriated wife shakily accepted the next bottle and started chugging away on that one as well.  I was a bit nervous about that, but it would have been impossible to intercede at that point.

Shanice broke away from the young man dry humping her and fanned her face while her grinding partner waved his grotesque erection around for the crowd to see.  Molly was staring at it in drunken fascination and the young man quickly got behind her and started prodding her with it.  The crowd loved this and cheered.  My nerdy wife started twerking again, but this time her awkward movements gave way to a smooth rhythm as she ground herself onto this young hooligan’s boner.  I was quite shocked and aroused at the sight, and I watched with amazement as my wife’s cheeks flushed redder and redder as the young man thoroughly explored her crevice with his dong.

Jada and Shanice were watching my expression with knowing smiles when a bright orange Cadillac pulled in slowly behind my wife and her friends.  To me, it looked quite silly, it’s wheels or rims were much too large for the car and gave it an unbalanced appearance with a very high center of gravity.  Also the paint was a glittery and garish hue.  When a tall black man emerged from the car, a fresh cheer when up from the crowd to greet him.  He was wearing what I can only describe as a “pimp suit” as he waved graciously to acknowledge the crowd.  It was a shiny red material, cut like a zoot suit, with an outlandish hat with a huge yellow feather.  He really looked ridiculous if you asked me, but I suppose I lacked the cultural sensitivity to appreciate such things.

“The BIG DAWG has arrived people,” shouted the DJ over the loudspeakers.   “The boss playa, shot caller, mack daddy of them ALL, SMOOVE WILLIE!”

The garishly dressed pimp tipped his hat to the DJ with remarkable poise.  Jada and Shanice pulled my wife away from her young interlocutor and presented her to Smoove Willie.  The young man took hold of his straining erection and slunk back into the crowd, outmatched by the glamorous pimp.

“Oh my yes, this a FINE looking little car washer, isn’t she,” said the tall man in a surprisingly effeminate voice.  He looked my wife up and down with a critical eye.  “You can wash my car baby.”

Molly stared up at the big man with doe eyes and I grew annoyed.

“He looks preposterous in that outfit,” I complained to Trevon who was standing at my side drinking some sort of purple concoction from a red plastic cup.

“You just don’t understand our culture,” said Trevon dismissively.  “Also, keep your voice down.  Smoove Willie will smack the shit out of you if he hears you talkin’ smack on his threads.”

Jada grabbed a hose and handed it reverently to the pimp.  He immediately turned the hose on my wife, making her squeal in surprise.

“Got to get you nice and wet,” he said.

“That other boy already got me wet,” giggled my wife drunkenly.

Everyone hooted and laughed at that, but I just smiled sickly as Trevon smirked at me.

“Well get to washing,” Smoove Willy instructed my wife.

She picked up a sponge from a soapy bucket of water and bend obediently over his preposterous car, pointing her bare buttocks right at him.  The crowd catcalled her as they enjoyed the view of her ass for a while and then Willie directed a spray right at my wife’s vagina, barely covered by her skimpy thong.  She shrieked again and turned to face him.  The big man adjusted his crotch brazenly.

“Ah, yeah, I think it’s time for you to put those titties on the glass, baby,” he told my wife.

“On the glass, on the glass,” chanted the crowd, in a frenzy now.

Jada came up behind my wife and untied her bikini top without further adieu.  Poor Molly gasped in surprise and held her top over her boobs in embarrassment as Smoove Willie climbed back into his car for the show.   Jada pulled my wife’s top away, and motioned for her to swab Willie’s windshield with her bar bosoms while Willie watched from within.  Molly hesitated at first but then she gave me a strange disoriented grin and proceeded to do as instructed.

“Mmm, yeah,” called the pimp as my wife clumsily rubbed her bare boobs on his soaped up front windshield.  Boys and girls of color were shouting with excitement and crowding closer around Willie’s car to get a better look at my topless wife.  I was nearly choking with shame, but my cock was stiff in my trousers.  Luckily, no one was looking at me.

“Come over here and help me with something in here,” called Willie.  He had the driver’s side window rolled down and motioned to my wife to come closer.

“He got his fly open!” giggled a teenaged girl in front who could see into his car.

“Now hold on, that’s going too far,” I cried, but Trevon just put his hand on my shoulder.

“Now now, this is all just part of the fun,” he cautioned me.

I watched in shock as my wife stuck her head in the window and gasped.  “It’s so big!” she cried.  Everyone had a good laugh at that.

The next thing I knew she was bent over, with her entire upper body inside Willie’s car, here head bobbing up and down in his lap.

“She sucking it, she sucking it!” cried the girl in front.

“I’m sure she’s not, it’s a just a game,” Trevon assured me with a shake of his head.

“But uh, she is topless there,” I stammered.

“Well that can’t be helped,” he told me with a shrug.

“Ok, come on, you get in the backseat,” grunted Willie after a moment.  His voice was growing deeper and more guttural, stripped of it’s effeminate lisp.

My wife pulled her head out of the car and blinked at the crowd, blinded by the bright sun while her luscious tits bounced for all to see.

“Quite nice breasts,” commented Trevon, taking a sip of his purple drink while young black men took pictures of my wife’s bare chest with their phones.  Shanice opened the back door of the Caddy while Jada helped my wife climb in.  Willie came out of the driver’s side with his bare cock in his hands and I had to admit, it was an impressive member.  The crowd was in a frenzy as he climbed into the backseat on top of my wife, her pale white legs splayed to either side.

“I think my wife is a little too drunk for this,” I gasped, pushing forward through the crowd.  But Jada stopped me and held me back from interfering.

“Naw, naw, just let her have some fun with Willie,” she told me.  “Best not to watch, you might get an inferiority complex.”

But I did watch, and so did the teeming crowd of disadvantaged youth.  We saw the back of Smoove Willie’s garish suit as he pumped up and down and my wife groaned and begged him to fuck her deeper.  She was really quite shameless.

“See, she likes it,” Jada told me smugly.

“Oh god,” I said, tried to hide my erection.  I couldn’t believe this was happening to me, but there would be plenty of video footage on vine later to review judging by the number of kids recording the event.

Soon Smoove Willie had emptied his load inside my woman and he got out and thrust his arms into the air triumphantly to cheers of adoration from the crowd.  The young fellow who had been grinding on my wife earlier quickly took his spot and soon the entire car was rocking back and forth on it’s suspension as the younger man humped her enthusiastically.  I head Molly’s signature whimper as she climaxed and my gut twisted with jealousy while my face burned with shame.

I suppose a few other fellows had a crack at my wife, it all sort of passed in a daze.  At one point she was paraded totally nude and covered in cum through the barbarous crowd like some sort of pagan offering to the fertility goddess.  Shanice hosed her down and helped her put her bikini back on and somehow she and I were back in our car together and driving slowly out of the lot past the hooting heathens who pounded the hood in merriment as we went by.

Molly was barely conscious and I was numb with shock.  

“Well, so much for cultural sensitivity training,” she told me with a smile before falling asleep in her seat.

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