Laundry Delivery

Her mouth was gagging on all the foam coming from her electric toothbrush. She could never understand how tiny, little bits of toothpaste would foam in her mouth to a hundred times their volume. She couldn’t spit fast enough to deal with that ever-expanding mess in her mouth. And it was running down her chin, down her hands, and all the way down her elbow to drip everywhere. With her other hand, she wiped the copious fallout off the sink into the water stream. For sure, the stuff was falling on her T-shirt, which she would have to change. The sound of the door opening was behind her. She was confused.

Her mind was already in lightning-quick mode for work. Of course, it was the laundry guy. Damn! Her laundry bag was still in the bedroom and not ready! He was early! He must be in a hurry to get going. She knew that she had to fire fight this one. She spat as much toothpaste out of her mouth as she could. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. There was probably still a lot more, but she had to speak. She tightened her towel around her body.

“I’m so sorry! It’s in the bedroom! Can you grab it!” she called out to him.

“Okay,” she told herself. “Where is the rest of the used clothes that needs to go into the back.” She heard him walking through the living room. She wiped the foam of her hands with a hand towel without rinsing them first. There was no time for that. Her eyes looked like that of a scared animal on the run. “Get your shit together!” she inwardly yelled at herself.

When she turned to go her bedroom, he was already standing there with his street shoes, black working man boots. He was pulling the string to her pink laundry back closed. “No! No! No!” she called out a little too intense like someone afraid to be left by a departing train. “I need to put in some more things!” She remembered her thong on the floor next to the bed from last night. He watched her run around in her towel with another towel wrapped around her head. She squatted down to pick up her pink G-string. She squat-walked to find the black satin bra a few paces farther. She was low below him. He looked down on her, watched her from his towering height.

He got to see all the intimate details of her bed, the way how it was unmade and the sheets were tossed into a crumble. He got to see the exact style of her underwear. There was also more in the gym bag. Oh! When she opened the gym bag, a strong musky, sweaty smell shot out of it to further embarrass her. He held the mouth of the laundry bag wide open to reveal all of her other crumbled-up laundry. He watched her hands carefully and investigated every piece of intimate wear. She was melting from how humiliating it was to have Alonsito witness all of that. She kept carefully adjusting her towel to avoid it slipping down or riding high on her butt. When she had to lean forward to drop the items into the bag, he didn’t slide back but made her come really close to him to where he could smell her mint body wash and looked down the top of her breasts. She knew he was doing all that, but she couldn’t stop him because it was her who was late with the laundry.

When he was gone, she let herself slink onto the kitchen counter chair in exhaustion. She felt humiliated and embarrassed. There was something deeply emotional about the way how she had to crawl around squatting while he was watching her, how she had felt desperate and embarrassed. Her eyes roamed and caught another pair of underwear no the living room floor. It was a black pair of panties. She quickly grabbed it and ran out the door and down the stairs, barefoot with her two towels. He was so fast. She had to not think and run hard.

She caught him on the sidewalk under a barren fall tree, squeezing his way in between two parked cars that were stuck to each other so tightly that he had to pull his legs in between them. New York City drivers have to find parking any way they can. “Hey!” she yelled at him. He turned around already slamming the backdoor of the van shut. He looked surprised. He looked like he was completely spaced out in some dream. It seemed like he was in a trance. She almost wanted to teas him, calling out, “Hello! Earth to space cowboy!” However, she was in too much of a desperate rush.

“I forgot something,” she called out.

“Okay. I’ll put it in the bag for you,” he said politely.

Well, it was a pair of underwear. It wasn’t quite what she wanted to place into his bare hands. He didn’t know that. Saying it was embarrassing. Then she remembered why the pair was in the living room. She had watched a romantic comedy with steamy sex scenes. They had made her cream so much that she had switched panties before going to sleep. All the must have been caked hard right now. She inhaled to check. Yes, she could even smell the musk making its way out of her closed fist. This was very embarrassing. It also seemed silly to turn around now.

He looked at her like she was crazy and holding up the train. She realized that the more she delayed it the more awkward any of her choices would grow. She handed him the balled-up black thong. He reacted like it was normal, not knowing what it was. He figured that it was simply a shirt. Women’s clothing is so small. That little ball was probably enough for a t-shirt. He was so clueless about women’s clothing despite his profession! He waved to her and closed the door behind him.

He pretended like nothing was out of the order as he watched her naked under the towel in the street laden with trees that crowned across the street. He could smell sex. He made a couple of turns and then pulled over. He looked at what was in his hand. He unfolded it. It was long and stringy. He couldn’t find the body to it. It was all string. Then he realized it was a black g-string. There was a lot of white stuff on it like someone had spilled a yogurt on it. She seemed like a klutz. She had toothpaste all over her face, forearm, and towel. He kind of liked seeing her messy that way and imagining it was his cum on her.

Then he smelled it. It was her pussy juice! There was so much of it! He had never seen a woman get that horny! She was a daredevil walking up to him in the street and handing her that. She definitely wanted to be banged badly. He placed the panties with the white part on his nose. He reclined back in the seat so that people wouldn’t see him. He kept taking deep inhales. This was his aroma therapy. Her aroma was so lovely. The overall note was very light - like nothing rancid or repulsive. However, when you smelled deeper, she had very pungent notes. They were harsh in the type of smell, but smell in volume. It was like - imagine listening to Death Metal at whisper volume. You really have to sniff into it and then you can tease out the scent of violent savagery.

He texted his boss that he was having a morning coffee. Then he spent the next fifteen minutes with his eyes closed deeply inhaling her panties, savoring life, and feeling how his emotions changed. His whole body got invigorated. He felt richness in his soul. The very shape of his thoughts started changing so much and so deeply impacted the scent his being. However, eventually, he had to roll them up, crawl into the bag, and seal them with the rest of her laundry.

He had to do something. That bitch was so ready to be fucked! He was simply such a wimp. He psyched himself up to be a man. He pictured himself grabbing her the next time. She’d go limp and moan in surrender. She was begging for it, right? He was so uncertain and worried about trouble. But seeing her that morning and the soaked panties in her hand was more than a sign.

So three days later, he packed three condoms in his back pocket. He stepped up the stairs with strong stomps. He was going to do it. He so wanted to chicken out, which is why he yelled at himself so hard inwardly to throw her on the floor and take her. His hands were shaking when he turned the key. He felt the desire to chicken out very strongly. So he focused on grabbing her the moment he saw her. The main space of the apartment was empty. “Isabell!” he called her. There was no response. He found the pink laundry bag tied up in the bedroom next to her commode.

He laughed to himself about how much he had worked himself up for nothing. He looked around the room to find a nanny cam. There were no plush toys. It was all pretty clear. There wasn’t an alarm clock with a hidden camera. She probably used her phone to wake up. His eyes did another careful sweep through the room. He was all in the clear. If there was a nanny cam in the main space, he’d only have a couple of minutes before it appeared suspicious.

He went straight for her bedside drawer. There was a sleek dildo made from a soft, velvety material. The shape was some bizarre artsy shape that didn’t seem to mimic a penis but some kind of female anatomy pleasure research. There were a few white tablets, a mix of different pens, and what seemed like a pair of emergency pajama shorts in dark colors to cover period stains. Most notably, there was a notebook. He opened it to the last hand-written entry. She wrote in print letters. They were relatively clear, neat letters, but every tenth letter or so had some kind of unique styling like she were a graphic designer.

“I love falling asleep to fantasies about Alonsito. In the last one, he was staring at me from the darkness of the bedroom entry at night. I slept peacefully and didn’t notice him. Only when he came closer did the sixth sense of another person roused me awake. He quickly shushed me with a finger on my mouth and told me to be still. Then he guided my hands overhead and tied them with my own pajama top to the bed. He proceeded to kiss me all over my naked body until I squirmed and begged him to…”

He knew it. All the evidence was here. He snapped quick photos of the entry with his phone. Then he placed everything back. He should have checked if she had placed a hair over the book like he had seen in spy movies to detect if someone had messed with it. She seemed to be gone on a business trip legitimately. He left the apartment with the pink laundry bag.

Four days later, he returned to drop off the laundry. He caught her warming up a soup in the kitchen. She was dressed in jeans with a presentable top from a work video call. Her attitude was very unperturbed like she had forgotten the whole incident last time. Being on a trip seemed to have taken her mind away. She even asked him how his day was going in casual chatter as she nodded towards the other side of the room where the pink laundry bag waited for him.

They had a little banter about how the first snow was going to fall soon. She laughed at how people laugh at not even funny things, simply to be friendly. Little by little, it dawned on her that something was different about him. He seemed more severe. His emotions didn’t lift and change with the conversation. They stayed heavy like a cat focused on a mouse. She didn’t like it because it felt dangerous. She also liked it because it felt manly, like a strength that she wanted to surrender to. And then he popped a completely out of the place question. “Will you be sleeping at home tonight?”

What a question! Why would he ask that? Why should she tell him? And she knew that he knew for sure. She cleared her throat, watching him clear-headed, understanding the full gravity of what her response was going to be.

“I’ll sleep alone at home tonight,” she told him.

The way how he held her eye contact strong, she knew that she was going to visit him tonight. When he closed the door behind him. She closed her eyes and held the air in as deeply and as long as she could. She knew that she had invited him to romantically rape her tonight. As ambiguous as the question had been on the surface, they both knew the subtext.

She was a good girl. She lay down in her bed like she does every night. She wore the same pajama shorts and bra like she does every night. She didn’t create any extra defenses at the door. She went to be at the exact same time. She closed her eyes. Her mind wanted it to happen and let her fall asleep instantly.

Suddenly, the busy dream of bicycling down Key West bridges turned into her feeling a dark figure moving forward. She wanted to scream, but her body was too frozen to let any sound come out of her mouth. Then she felt a hand on her mouth telling her to be quiet. She recognized Alonsito’s voice.

He took her slender arms overhead and wrapped his big wrist around both her hands. She waited for him. He pulled her pajama head overhead. The opening slipped over her nose, ears, and hair. He got one hand out to get the pajama around the bar at the top of the bed. Then, he twisted the fabric around her wrists. The fabric tightened around her wrist. Then, he could feel her do a big pull on the loose end to bring it around. That’s when she knew that he had read her journal because she had described in her fantasy how he needed to apply a specific sailor’s knot to make sure that it was impossible for her to escape by loosening or wiggling out of the bondage.

He proceeded to kiss down her wrist, the length of her arms, nozzled on her armpits, traversed her front, sidetracked on her boobs, and suckled on her belly. While he worked his way down, he pulled her pajama bottoms with him, bit by bit as he inched down her thighs, taking a liberty sniff from her crotch. Her bottoms off, he kissed every one of her toes. She felt herself being split naked in the low night light. She was ready for him to take her. Her pussy had already been moist as it had the habit of being when she awoke from vivid dreams.

But he followed her fantasy to the letter. He showered her body with gentle kisses all over until she was all tingly all over and broke the silence to beg him with a quivering voice, “Take me already!” However, he ignored her. Those delicious like chocolate kisses kept showering her and finding new places reminding her of how much there was to her body that she forgot in everyday life.

“You’ve done your thing! You can fuck me now!” she told him sternly with a somber voice like she was breaking out of the play. Yet he kept kissing her gently, finding the skull bone behind her ear to trace her hairline. She shook her hands in protest, but the pajama tie cinched only more snug. She was unable to free herself and remained at his mercy. He followed her commandment to make her beg.

“Please, put your dick in me!” she pleaded.

“Please, please, please!” she cried with her foice pitching higher.

“Oh, fuck me already!” she cried with her voice breaking up.

She realized that he was sticking with the torture of teasing kisses.

“You can put it in without a condom!” she waited in futility for his response.

“You can do anything you want to me, but stuff me already! I mean anything!” she begged. She knew she had to offer more.

“I’ll be your slave. You’ll own me! My pussy is so hungry for your cock! You can visit me any night. You can page me at any moment and I’ll suck your dick if you only put it in now!” he relished all the offers she made her for his cock.

For a while, she whimpered and cried. Then something burst through her.

“You can do anal. You can fuck me up my ass without lube. If you put it in now, you can visit me every night and take me. You can bring your friends. I’ll be your sex slave to hand me out however you want,” she begged him with anything she could think of. He had to smirk picturing all the offerings he got and the power he wielded over her as he spiraled his kisses from the outside of her belly towards the belly button. Her skin was on fire all over her body from the gentle kisses. She felt like she was burning like kindling on a winter night in the snow to light up the entire mountainside.

Finally, he paused, “No condom! In the ass! Any time I want! Any sexual service I ask of you! Any friend I want to use you!”

“Yes, I’ll be your sexual slave to be used and ordered however you want and handed to the service of your friends however you want,” she whimpered. Speaking the words had turned her pussy into the Red Sea and the spreading of juices down the inside of her thighs into the flood of the Nile. “But you must put your dick into me right now!”

“You must swear by your ancestors!” he ordered her with a dark and commanding voice.

“I swear by my mother and my grandmother's grave that I’ll be your sexual slave at your utter pleasure without any reservation,” she whimpered.

He placed the tip of his cock at her entrance. She was so slick that the tip kept sliding off. She could feel the subtle touch and imagined the hardness behind it so close to her flame.

“By this action, I seal your worn oath,” he said, as her journal had asked him to.

“Yes,” she whimpered full of heat and the realization of all that she had given to him. Her journal entry hadn’t spelled out what she had to offer. It had only said to make her beg. She had no clue that she would get carried away so far and turned on by it so much. She loved the sense of finality of given herself over into a pact that would bind her and push her way beyond her limits. She wanted to be pushed beyond her limits. It was not what he made her do but she wanted to feel that someone was pushing her beyond. She wanted to feel that little fear, that little resistance, and then the big release when the thing happened and it wasn’t as bad as she had feared.

His dick sunk into her all the way. Her belly tightened. Her entire body convulsed at the intense sensation of being entered. Oh, she was so horny, aroused, and ready to be fucked. Her groin received his thrusts hungrily to guide his cock inside of her to where it felt the best. She was like a hot little vixen wriggling under his body and devouring his cock with her pussy.

He followed the script. He told her to open her mouth. He spit in it. He slapped her cheek after that. Her cheek rouging, she bit her tongue and stared at him with intensity she was going to fuck him up badly and really liked it at the same time. He kept yelling out “¡Bacán!” on repeat because he had never felt a pussy that slick and slippery before. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last holding back because she was the hottest and most sexual woman he had been with.

The journal entry had said to squeeze her nipples hard to let her know he was close so that she could come with him. They wrote about how much she liked to feel pain in her nipples and how that sent electricity to her clit. Her pussy felt so slippery and wet. He thought he would already come but managed to delay by just another second. His fingers clamped down hard on her pussy trying to hurt her as much as possible because she needed to come. And she was screaming at him in ecstasy. He managed to hold out another second and added another twenty Newton per square inch of pressure to her paper-thin flattened nipples. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Only white glimmered between her eyelids.

“Come with me!” she commanded him.

He let his semen squirt into her belly. He had never experienced a partner having such an intense orgasm before. Her body tightened into a hard board. Her head started shaking like an epileptic. His dick was squirting and squirting.

When he fell on top of her, they felt how slick their bodies were. He untied her. He cradled her in his arms. She had written about how she would cry and sob while he calmly caressed her hair and held her. A complete emotional release came out of her that left her exhausted and falling deeply asleep. That’s when he carefully pulled himself back, found his clothes on the floor, and walked out of the apartment. That’s how her journal entry ended.

He wondered if he could call on her pact or if it was a role play. He checked her drawer for new journal entries. There was a new fantasy. They developed a relationship where he would deliver and pick up her laundry. They’d treat each other like regular customers, but he’d snoop out her journal entries, which precisely laid out the fantasies that she wanted next. They never talked. That was part of the rules to keep the magic going.