Laundry Room:

I read this really juicy story online, and finished the second love scene, but I didn’t realize how much an effect it had on me right away…

Real quick: It was this true story about this war widow that got married right out of high school, because her sweetheart enlisted in the Marines, and they only did it once on there honeymoon. Then, she got news about Iraq, and she was afraid for her husband. So, his best friend came over to make her feel better.

They got drunk (She was 20, and he 21, so he brought the beer) one thing led to another, and they woke up together the next morning. There was this awkward scene after that, where they avoided talking about what happened, and I kept going back to what they’d done, because she felt guilty about it (Spoiler, it said Widow right in the title, but she didn’t know that her husband was dead yet) but she left out a lot of details, and just said that he didn’t make her feel like that when they made love.

Then this shadow moved across the doorway. It was this guy from my building, but I hadn’t seen him before. He just set down his basket, but even over the spin cycle, I could see his nostrils flare, and I could smell myself. I suppose I had been teasing myself, trying to fill in the details, because it was Young Adult. So, it wasn’t raunchy enough, she couldn’t come right out and say what was wrong with her husband, in bed. How his best friend surprised her by being so much better, even extremely drunk, which left too much to my imagination.

Finally, my load wound down in the washer, so I got up, and watched the timer. Waiting for it to finish so it unlocked the front door, and intensely aware of how much the whole laundry room stank of sex. It hadn’t come out from between my legs, because I had on pajamas, and my legs crossed to rub them together while I was reading, but they were very warm. Long flannel, really a winter set which is why they were clean in summer, and with the dryers running, it only got hotter in there.

There were hoses up from the back of the driers, to the floor of the alley, and those were hot. The sun shining down the stairs through the door didn’t help, and I tried wiping my hair out of my face, but some of it was stuck to sweat. I felt really self-conscious about how I must look, and there was a boy in the room with me. As soon as I moved my wet clothes over to the drier, he dropped his basket, and got started stuffing mostly towels, and bedding in the washer.

I wasn’t wearing any underwear, either. Bra, or panties, so I could wash those, and most of it was machine washable, but hang dry. Finally, I smelled his detergent, and sneezed, hoping that covered up the embarrassing smell, but he laughed to break the ice.

“You really have to keep an eye on your stuff, so it doesn’t get stolen?” I looked up at the sign on the wall, warning you not to leave clothing, or valuables unattended, and the management is not responsible…

“Huh, I just didn’t feel like going all the way up 4 flights of stairs, and back 3 times…”

“Oh, you must be the runner?” Turns out he was in the apartment right below us.

“Well, yeah. My dad got mom a treadmill, and he started using it too, but I guess that sounds lazy.”

“Oh, no. That’s not what I was thinking…” It got awkward, and quiet, while he punched buttons on the washer, and I stood there holding my underwear under my wet clothes. Finally, the latch closed loudly, for the washer to fill up, which reminded me.

“Well, the washer locks, so if you’re afraid of your laundry getting stolen.”

“Yeah, cool.” He just left his basket on the washer, and went back upstairs.

“Huh!” I relaxed, and started sorting out my delicates, so I could put the rest in the drier, and not worry about him seeing my underwear. Not that he struck me as the panty thief type, I wouldn’t know, but my dirty mind was in overdrive, and the whole situation was so uncomfortable because of it.

Now, I was making up scenarios in my mind about catching him with them, warm from the drier (Even though I couldn’t put them in the drier) and catching him with his pants down. Rubbing them on his face, and coming up behind him to touch his tushy. I had to make that up, because I never even looked, my back was turned the whole time, I was a hot mess, and I finished hanging everything around the basket, so I turned around.

“Uh!” He was standing right there, behind me. Looking at me, and smiling, my face was hot enough, but it burned up to my ears, and down my neck. I was afraid that it would start running down my legs (Even though I’d never literally been dripping wet, I’d read plenty of stories,) and he offered to keep an eye on the drier, if I wanted to go up, and change?

I looked down, and with my chest heaving, I jumped when I saw him behind me, so it must have been obvious that I wasn’t wearing a bra, but I just reached up, and my hands were shaking, but I shook my head anyway, and started unbuttoning my top. Like something slutty from one of the more explicit stories I’d found, telling myself I’d never do anything like that, but I was hot.

Literally, and figuratively, he wasn’t ugly, he wasn’t my dream guy, but I was a hot mess, and he could look past that to see the… Who the hell am I kidding? He was a teenage boy, I could have been wearing a used garbage bag as a rain poncho, and soaked in vomit.

“You’ve got nice things.”

I looked up, to see him grin, but he reached over my shoulder, and for a minute there, I thought he was complimenting my breasts, but he didn’t want to say tits, and then he held a bra up. Looked away just long enough to check the tag (30B)

“Thanks!” I pulled my top off, and took it, but there I was topless, and it was still damp.

“Maybe you should let it dry first.” I nodded, but looked up, and he got closer, so he was standing over me, and his chest looked so broad under his shirt, but he had to pull my hands down gently. Then he kissed me, before he touched my body, and I backed up against the drier so my basket bumped my back.

Then everything fast-forwarded, or seemed to happen so fast, but he picked me up laughing, and put me down on the table. I leaned back to pull him in with my legs, and my slippers slipped off. He went down to bury his face in my chest, snuffling like an animal, and I could feel how sweaty I was on his cheeks, but he squeezed them together, and turned back and forth to kiss, lick, and suck my nipples.

“Oh!” I pulled his shirt up, over his head, so he stood up, and took it off. I put my heels down, to slip my hips out of my PJs, and he pulled them out to my feet, but then he picked them up over his head, and ducked under.

“SH! You smell amazing,” he said, and then he buried his nose in my pubes for another sniff. I anticipated him kissing me down there, but instead, he stopped looking up, and closed his eyed to run his nose down. Splitting me wide open, and running it back up, taking a deep breath, and now that we let it out, my scent overpowered even his detergent.

“Oh god!” Finally, he kissed me deeply, and his tongue came out, to dig in. Wiggle down to my hole, which was already pretty wet, but as soon as his nose was back in my pubes, he looked up, and his eyes were framed in the valley of my breasts. So I felt up the sides, and cupped them together. Brushing my fingers over my nipples, damp, and slippery with sweat, and his mouth, so I couldn’t keep my eyes open as his tongue went deeper, and opened me up wider, so I tried my best to suck him in head first.

I just felt the most intense pleasure I had without actually climaxing, in all of my 15 years. I was a virgin, technically. So, not much of a judge of his oral skills, but it wasn’t so much his technique as how much he obviously enjoyed it. “Oh, take me now, get up here, I need you inside me.”

“I don’t have any protection, are you on birth control?”

“I don’t care,” I got my fingers in his pants, and yanked him between my legs to get the button open, and pull the zipper apart. “Huh!” I pushed him back so I could get down off the table, and if I couldn’t have him inside me the way I wanted, I settled for stuffing my face, and sucking the salty sweat off.

“ARLGH!” I let go of the shaft, just so I could stuff more in my mouth, and then I gagged, coughed, and almost threw up, but I barely caught my breath before he was behind me. Bouncing wetly between my legs, and I had to reach back to feel him up to the hole, but finally he was inside me. “Uh fuck! UH!” His hands found my chest immediately, and just held on for grip. “Give it to me, UH! FUCK! MEEEEEE!”

All of the sexual tension just exploded, and I think he just held on. Buried deep inside me, so I could feel the spasms, and really enjoy them. Especially against the head of his cock, bottomed out. Probably not even a minute after I gagged myself, trying to shove it down my throat.

“Oh!” He let me down gently, and the cold floor felt incredible, so I just squirmed on the hard bare tiles to enjoy the sensation.

“Hhuh!” He pulled out, at some point in there. I was gone, but finally, he’d gotten up by my head, and when I felt his balls brush my temple, I rolled over to lay back. Spread eagle on the laundry floor, my knees felt busted from it, but he backed up, so I could pull him down on top of me. Digging my fingers into his buttocks, and holding his spurting cock head on my tongue to rub it gulping his wad down as quickly as it came out, until he stopped.

Slipped out, and flopped on his legs soft, both of us gasping for breath, and laying naked on the floor.

“Huh!” I recovered enough to laugh, and say “Well, that’s definitely not how I imagined my first, um.” I put my elbow down, to prop myself up, and cross my legs. “This is awkward, but.” I offered my hand. “I’m Jill.”

He laughed. “Joel,” and shook his head. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Huh, yeah.” Jill, and Joel. I liked the sound of that…

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