I’m still sweating, panting, and palpitating as I type this, not because it’s 85 degrees right now in my apartment and not even because I’m wearing sweatpants and a wife-beater, having climbed up two flights of stairs only a few moments prior while carrying my load of laundry. No, not caused by any of the aforementioned conditions stated above.
After transferring my four other loads of clothes from the washer to the dryer, I pace back and forth in the laundry room waiting for the last one to finish in the wash, secretly hoping nobody else would come in and realize that I once again have monopolized all the machines, leaving only one dryer available for use. One of my favorite things to do when I pace is simultaneously dip down into lunges, as there is never a moment to waste when it comes to performing rigorous physical activity!
While whistling the latest by Rihanna (Where Have You Been), purposely doing so off-key as a means to further amuse myself in my boredom and continuing to bend my left, then my right, then my left leg forward, I hear a faint, almost-undetectable giggle come from behind me. Embarrassed from having been caught in an entirely too intimate moment with myself, I whip around and immediately feel my face and groin flush with shame and sheer arousal, as I’m now faced with a tall, brown-haired, beauty of a boy, smiling and giggling endearingly as he stares and shakes his head at me, his gaze still fixed on mine. FUCK. Of COURSE it’s some gorgeous mother fucker walking in on me doing this. Unable to keep eye contact, I purse my lips together and hang my head, hunching my shoulders forward and grabbing my elbows as I make room for him to walk past.
Laundry Lad: *still giggling and teasingly in a thick Italian accent* Oh please, miss…do not let me interrupt you *making his way to the back of the laundry room*
Me: *still too embarrassed to look his way* No…it’s OK. I’m done.
Laundry Lad: *realizing almost all of the machines are in use* Umm…are you using all of these? *slight annoyance in his voice*
Me: (Oh shit! DOUBLY caught!) Uhh…yeah. My bad man, there’s actually one dryer open on the top *pointing to the empty dryer above the other empty dryer on the bottom that I had already staked claim by putting my dryer sheet in*
Seeing that he does in fact have one dryer available, Laundry Lad’s eyes soften in relief as he presses his lips into a smirk and nods my way, now turning back to the washer to collect his clothes. With his back to me, I instantly lift up my right arm and then my left to check what kind of stench I must be emanating, as I CANNOT for the life of me stop sweating in this moment. WHEW I fucking REAK OH NO!! Surrendering to the fact that there’s nothing I can do about it now, I quickly dip my right hand into my bra and under my left tit and then my left hand to my right tit, making sure I at least have enough ample cleavage exposed to deter him from any scent he may not be able to bear through; breasts can do that. Turning around and facing back towards me, Laundry Lad stares at both open dryers and then to me
Laundry Lad: *a look of concern and amusement on his face, nodding his head at the two dryers* So…are you on the top or the bottom? *the corner of his lip rising into a wicked grin*
Me: *my knees weak and buckling from the dirty innuendo he thrust my way, now shifting uncomfortably from the obvious double meaning taking place between us* Umm…haha…uhh *shaking my head and somehow lost for words, as I’m usually the one spewing out dirty dialogue to innocent men* Well if you wanna be on the bottom we can switch cuz I don’t mind being on top *only now realizing how solidifyingly sexual my response is, my jaw and gaze dropping at my own shock in what’s been said, my face and whole body hot as I blush uncontrollably*
Laundry Lad: *smirking at how uncomfortable I must obviously look* No, no, it’s fine, miss. I’ll just get on top *smiling salaciously, continuing to fix his gaze on mine, and looking very pleased with himself at saying so*
Completely uncomfortable with having my own advances used on me, I giggle and back away, turning to some random furniture ad on the wall next to me and pretending to be entranced with reading it as he begins to put his clothes into the top dryer. Stealing a gaze his way, I notice that he’s in swimming shorts and still a bit wet. Well, that makes both of us. Standing at about 6 feet tall, Laundry Lad is thin and lean, all exposed flesh of his cut and defined. Not too skinny, but no extra bulging muscle mass at that. His damp brown wet hair is long enough for me to tug on while he fucks me unrelentingly, however, short enough to stay firm in place. God damn. Feeling my studying stares, he glances at me out of the corner of his eye as I immediately revert back to the ad on the wall. DOH! Caught again…I’m so creepy.
Finishing up with his clothes, Laundry Lad closes the dryer and studies the rest of the machines, turning back to me and making his way past as he very coyly states, “See you in an hour, miss” referring to the amount of time we both have left on the timers. Turning to jello once again, I press my lips tightly together to keep from blushing and nod in reply, refusing to make eye contact and now crossing my arms, as if doing so would keep me from throwing them around him and jumping on top of him to tear off his dripping wet clothes and bite, suck, claw and gnaw at his lean Italian flesh. Purposely and patiently waiting a couple seconds after he’s gone, I disappear behind the dryers and frantically SCREEEEEEAM and stomp my feet and flair my arms around as a means to release all excitement and pent-up arousal built up from the previous 3-minute interaction.
The mere recollection of it is enough to have me gasping for air as I type this. It’s been an hour now at this point. Time to head back down.