textfiles/sex/EROTICA/L/laundry.txt

Copyright 1997, Studs Manly,   ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without
the written permission of the author.  This story may be freely
distributed with this notice attached.  The author may be contacted
through mrdouble@airmail.net.



(C)  Studs Manly

			Clean Fun
	Bob and I had spent the day moving into our new apartment.  Even
though friends had helped us with the furniture and heavy stuff, we were
still exhausted.  And to top it off, the boxes with our bed linens had
gotten messed up when someone overturned a potted plant on them.  Dirt
and water everywhere. And I won't sleep on a bare mattress. Which is why
Bob and I were in the complex's laundry room at 1:30 in the morning.
	Bob carried the dirty sheets; I had my purse and change.  We were
both tired and sweaty and a little punchy.  Since it was the middle of
August, both of us were dressed in shorts.  I was wearing a white
t-shirt, no bra.  Bob was wearing a football jersey.  Both of us keep
fit, so we look more like college kids than our actual 30 years of age. 
And when we're hot and tired and sweaty, I guess, like most people, we do
crazy things.
	Bob got some change from my purse so he could buy a cold soft
drink.  Before he opened it, he held the cold can to his forehead and
sighed at it's cold feel.  And when he held it to my forehead, I, too,
whimpered at the feel of the cool water droplets on the can.  The heat
and humidity in that laundry room had both of us sweating more than we
did earlier in the day.
	That's when Bob gave the can a quick shake and popped the top,
which resulted in a spewing fountain of sticky soda soaking my shirt and
shorts.  Even damp you could see my breasts through the t-shirt I wore,
but wet the thing was damn near invisible.  And the cold soda also made
my nipples instantly erect.
	I was pissed but too tired to get really mad, y' know?  I was
soaked and I knew the shirt would have to be washed, so I just grabbed it
at the bottom and whipped it off, tossing it into the machine as it still
was in the rinse cycle.  My denim shorts also were wet with soda so I
just unzipped them and stepped out of them.  
	Bob was just staring, amazed that I'd stripped right there in the
laundry room.  I was feeling mischievous and horny, too.  Just standing
naked where someone could conceivably walk in really got to me.  I
quickly tossed the shorts aside and told Bob to take off his shirt.  He
did that quickly, but he didn't want to take off his shorts.
	That's when I gave him that look.  It's the look every woman
gives her man when she wants him.  She can fix him with that stare in a
restaurant or across a crowded room at a party, or when they're alone,
and she knows that he's putty.  Except for that hardness growing between
his legs.
	And as my brown eyes watched Bob, he started breathing faster and
the muscles in his face relaxed.  His gaze was drinking in the image of
me standing naked in this unusual place.
	"Take off the shorts," I told him in that throaty voice that
comes with The Look.  Like a zombie, his hand unfastened his shorts and
tugged.  His cock was only half-hard, but seeing it made me shiver, even
in that hot room.  I knew what would get him up and ready,  I quickly
lifted myself onto the vibrating washer behind me and spread my legs.
	My pussy hair is slightly darker than the blonde hair on my head.
 It was matted with a mixture of sweat and my own secretions.   I spread
my wet, swollen lips with my fingers, showing him my scarlet flesh.  My
fingers rubbed my erect clit and shuddered again, rocked by the sweet
sensation as well as the strong thrumming of the washer.
	"Pull up a chair," I said.  "I want that mouth of yours right . .
. here."  Bob grabbed a chair and sat it down in front of the machine. 
When he sat down, his mouth was level with my furrow.  His gaze was still
glued there and his tongue licked his lips.  I put my hand on his head
and he leaned forward.  He blew a gentle wisp of cool air onto my hot
flesh and then . . .God, my thighs locked on his head and I let out a
resounding, "Yes!" as his lips and tongue began to work on my simmering
sex.
	I love to have my pussy treated to wonderful oral delights and
Bob is a Connoisseur of Cunt, a Gourmand of Gash.  His tongue works magic
on my slick folds and delves deeply into me.  He sucks on my clit with
just the right press for just the correct amount of time to drive me up
the wall time and time again.
	I was shaking all over from Bob's oral attentions  as well as
because the washer had clicked into a spin cycle.  As much as I loved
what he was doing, I pulled his head from my fork and leaned to kiss him.
 My tangy taste clung to his lips and I sucked his tongue as it slithered
between my lips.   His tongue then circled my lips.  He flicked the sweat
from my chin as he kissed around my face, then his tongue trailed a wet
path downward.  He licked my neck as I groaned and clawed his back  He
licked the perspiration from between my breasts before his tongue circled
first one nipple, then the other.
	I was almost crazed with lust.  I had to catch my breath and
recover myself so I told him to sit on the washer.  Bob's cock rose from
his brown pubic curls like a purple-headed snake, swaying hypnotically
above his cum-filled balls.  It was my turn to lick my lips hungrily, and
I rested my open hands on his thighs as I bent my head toward his wand.
	As my tongue tip touched the swollen head, Bob gasped and a
droplet of pre-cum oozed from the slit.  Thirstily, I lapped it up.  I
took hold of his shaft with my right hand and opened my mouth, lowering
my head and letting that smooth knob slide between my lips.  My tongue
welcomed the familiar visitor by darting back and forth, concentrating on
the nerve bundle under the head.
	As I engulfed more of Bob's cock, my hand cupped the heated sac
that held his bloated balls.  I squeezed them gently as I sucked on him
and I could feel them move inside the sac.  When my lips felt his pubic
hairs, I pulled away, letting his saliva-shined cock slide from the
warmth of my mouth, then I quickly enveloped it again.  Bob just moaned
and hung on.
	I could tell when he was close, but I wanted him inside me.  I
love sucking my man off, you understand, but at the time I craved
fucking.  I stood up, put my hands on his shoulders, looked him in the
eyes and as if he read my very thoughts, his hands cupped my ass cheeks
and lifted as I pulled.  In seconds my pussy was hovering over his
straining cock and then I lowered myself.  The flared knob spread my lips
and I sighed as his pole slid inside.  I fit him like a tight, hot, moist
glove.
	I sat motionless in his lap relishing the full feeling od Bob's
familiar cock deep inside me.  I clenched my inner muscles and felt his
cock swell in response.  I hugged him tightly, my breasts mashing against
his sweaty, hairy chest and a low growl rose out from deep within me. 
His hands squeezed and massaged my ass until he helped me slide up his
cock until only the head remained inside, then I slid down to fill the
emptiness.  Up, down, faster and faster we moved, spurred by the powerful
vibrations of the washer, urging us to that pinnacle of pleasure.
	It was all I could do to keep from screaming when I felt him
shooting salvo after salvo of sticky cum into me.  I went over the edge
and my pussy spasmed, milking his cock of man-juice.  I hugged him as
tightly as I could, sobbing as the waves of pleasure racked my body.  
	When we had recovered, we scurried back to our apartment.  My
clothes were in the washer, so I wore only Bob's jersey.  We decided to
leave the wash in the machines and to continue our love-making in cooler,
quieter surroundings. 


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