After a long day of riding, Nastymac213's bike needs a thorough cleaning. As the suds slide down the chrome, Nastymac's mind wanders, imagining strong hands lathering up their body instead. The friction of the sponge against the metal begins to feel like something more, and soon, Nastymac's hand finds its way beneath the waistband, stroking the growing bulge. The water cascading down the bike now mirrors the wetness between Nastymac's legs. With a final, shuddering stroke, Nastymac's release coats the bike, a testament to the power of a simple cleanup.