White Cadillac, Wet Dreams, Perfect Shine

The Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham gleamed under the garage lights, a testament to my dedication and my wife’s surprising appreciation for classic automobiles. I’d just finished detailing it, meticulously polishing every curve and creasing, restoring it to its former glory. The scent of fresh wax still hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of my detailing products – a sticky reminder of the hours I’d spent ensuring its perfection. It was a low-mileage beauty, untouched by collisions, the leather seats pristine, and the interior smelling delightfully new. My wife, Amelia, a woman who rarely admitted to enjoying anything beyond sensible shoes and quiet evenings, had just walked into the garage, her eyes widening in genuine appreciation. “Wow! The Caddy came out great!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with an enthusiasm I rarely heard directed at me. “Thank you, dear,” I replied, offering her a quick, appreciative kiss. “You’ve really worked hard. You’ve spent over five hours on the car. You deserve a reward.” She considered this for a moment, a thoughtful furrow in her brow. “What do you have in mind?” she asked, her gaze lingering on the car’s distinctive front bench seat. “You know, this car has an old-fashioned style front bench seat,” she continued, a subtle glint in her eye. “Yeah, so what’s your point honey?” I responded, a playful smirk spreading across my face. “Let’s put it to good use!” I declared, already anticipating the delight that was to come. She began to move away, a silent signal that she understood my intentions. “I’ll be back in ten to fifteen minutes,” she said, disappearing through the side door.

As she left, I busied myself putting away my detailing equipment, a small sense of anticipation building within me. I made my way outside to ensure the hose was turned off, then returned to the garage, closing the double bay door behind me. I was dressed in my usual detailing attire: a white t-shirt, black swim trunks, and a pair of flip-flops – the fastest drying combination, perfect for this kind of work. A quick freshen-up in the bathroom followed, a necessary ritual to remove the sticky residue left behind by the detailing products. Returning to the car, I performed one last meticulous inspection, removing any lingering wax or imperfections.

Just as I finished, a distinct sound echoed through the garage – the click of high heels on the concrete floor. I looked up, my heart quickening, and there she was. Amelia, clad in a white blouse with the first few buttons undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. She wore a checkered short schoolgirl skirt, leaving her legs bare, and a pair of black Mary-Jane heels. “I figured you’d like this outfit?” she said, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Oh, you know I do! Now come over here!” Her voice held a playful challenge, a direct invitation to the adventure I’d anticipated.

She moved towards the right front passenger door, and I opened it with a courteous bow, allowing her to enter. As she settled into the seat, she commented, "Hmm? Somebody has put the seat all the way back." I smirked back, savoring the moment. I moved to the driver's side, removed my flip-flops, and closed the door, determined to keep the freshly vacuumed carpet pristine. I adjusted the tilt and telescoping steering wheel to give myself more room beneath the column, a small comfort in this situation. "I don't know why, but we've never had sex in this car before and I figure today is as good a day as any," she said, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “You know, you’re right. I wonder why we haven’t either?” I responded, my voice laced with a mixture of excitement and intrigue.

We turned to face each other, a shared smile passing between us as we prepared for the encounter. The initial kisses were slow and gentle, a prelude to the passionate frenzy that was about to unfold. Soon, our tongues explored each other’s mouths with increasing intensity, the air growing thick with desire. The garage, once a sanctuary of automotive perfection, transformed into a haven of lust and pleasure. The temperature began to rise, fueled by our combined heat and the friction of our bodies. As we continued to kiss, I subtly reached for her blouse, finding her left nipple. I gently caressed it, and the intensity of our connection escalated dramatically. Simultaneously, she reached out with her left hand and began rubbing my crotch, her touch both playful and provocative. I reciprocated by nibbling on both sides of her neck, a well-known pleasure she cherished, and her horny reaction was immediate. In a blink, her left hand continued its assault on my crotch, while I continued to fondle her nipples and nibble her neck. "I love playing with your nipples," I murmured, my voice husky with desire. “And I love when you do it! And you know how much I love when you nibble my neck!” she replied, her breath catching in her throat. I paused our playful antics for a moment, taking a deep breath as I unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the full extent of her beauty. She then removed the blouse entirely, tossing it into the back seat, her eyes never leaving mine. “Now I see those wonderful breasts!” I exclaimed, my gaze tracing the curves of her chest. Leaning forward, I began sucking on them, alternating between left and right, savoring every sensation. As she resumed her rubbing of my crotch, I increased the intensity of my nipple stimulation, continuing to nibble on her neck, creating a cycle of escalating pleasure.

After a while, she pulled away, her body trembling with the afterglow of our initial encounter. She leaned against the passenger door, her back resting against the panel, and began stroking her pussy with her left hand. With her right hand, she raised her right breast towards her mouth, licking and teasing her nipple. Her body writhed in ecstasy as she moaned softly, her movements becoming increasingly frantic. I watched, captivated by her unrestrained pleasure, as she continued to explore her own body.

As she reached her peak, she withdrew her hand and shifted her position, spreading her legs wide and high. Her feet dangled free, brushing against the headliner, a playful touch that sent shivers down my spine. I took the opportunity to approach, my own anticipation building with each passing second. I slid my hard cock into her waiting embrace, a silent declaration of my intent. The ensuing friction ignited a fire within us, a primal force that demanded release.

Driven by the heat and the mounting pleasure, we began thrusting, our bodies moving in sync with a shared rhythm. Her moans intensified, echoing through the garage as she succumbed to the overwhelming sensation. As we reached the climax, I pulled out, savoring the lingering heat and the feeling of complete satisfaction. Amelia, breathless and flushed, leaned against the door, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

The tension broke as we both returned to our seats, a comfortable silence descending between us. I turned on the ignition, lowering the windows, and we resumed our passionate embrace, lost in the moment. The heat intensified, and the scent of sweat mingled with the lingering aroma of detailing products.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the garage floor, we decided to break the spell. I turned off the ignition, and we stepped out of the car, a shared smile passing between us. The fresh air felt cool against our heated skin, a welcome respite from the intensity of our encounter. As we made our way towards the house, Amelia whispered in my ear, "You know what? I love a freshly detailed car too!" Her words, laced with affection and admiration, sealed the night's experience in my memory.

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