It was probably the seventh straight forty-degree day. The weekend had been bearable, mainly because we’d spent all day at the beach, and then the evening in the pub. So had half of the city. It was packed.
Now it was Wednesday, and the tiny fan in Monique’s apartment just pushed the hot air from one side of it to another. The air conditioner had busted on day one, and getting someone to repair it was nearly impossible. It was the day before payday. Neither of us had any money to hit the pub with its air conditioning and cold beer.
Instead, we made do with wandering around nearly naked or sitting directly on top of the fan.
If that wasn’t bad enough, we were both as horny as hell. Monica had been away for two weeks when the heat wave started. Two weeks of messages telling me how badly she wanted me had gotten us both pretty keyed up. But our reunion sex was pretty much ruined by the oppressive heat. Sadly, the shower in her tiny apartment didn’t offer much comfort and definitely couldn’t fit the both of us.
So here we were, trying desperately to stay cool while watching each other’s sweat-drenched naked bodies wander around the apartment.
“Let’s go and wash my car,” Monica said suddenly.
“Really?” I asked, “why?”
“Because at least if I’m doing something, I might not think about how hot I am,” she snapped, “get some clothes on.”
She stood abruptly and went to her room, emerging a minute later in cut-off denim shorts and a white singlet. She threw me a pair of shorts and headed for the door.
The self-serve car wash was empty when we arrived. The whole city was dead. Anyone who could be was somewhere cool.
“Be a sweetie and grab me a Coke,” Monica pointed at the vending machine and handed me some coins.
When I returned with the cans, Monica was spraying the car with a hose. The water splashed back onto her, soaking her white tank top. The cloth stuck to her wet skin and nipples, making it see-through. She grinned at me as I put the cans on a shelf behind her. She kept spraying the same spot on the car as the cool water bounced back onto us.
I grabbed her and kissed her as the hose kept spraying water everywhere. Monica held it with one hand as she yanked down my shorts. My cock sprang out. She dropped the hose to work it with both hands. We are both cool and wet as her hands run along my cock. I try to take her shorts off but they are already gone, her legs naked and wet. I lift her light frame from the ground, placing her arse gently onto the wet bonnet of the car. I spread her legs and looked at her pussy, wet and inviting.
“Pass me the hose,” she yelled as I picked up the black plastic-triggered hose. She pointed it into the air, pulling the trigger that sent a jet of water into the air, falling on us like rain.
“Fuck me now,” she said – as if I needed to be told.
As we fucked on her bonnet, she shot streams of water into the air, cooling our bodies but not our passion.
Two weeks of pent-up passion and heat washed over us. Monica, normally loud, was deafening as she yelled and moaned. Her orgasm was strong and bold. I got carried along, shouting as I came.
Monica giggled as I used the car to hold me up, my legs had turned to jelly. It was as if all my strength pumped out of me.
We were wet, a bit cooler and happy.
“Do you want to wash the car or fuck me again first? Monica asked.
It was a tough choice, so she made it for me. She started soaping up the car and herself. I joined in the fun. Hopefully, we’d get the car done quickly.
