I was reading Philip Jose Farmer's Image Of The Beast.
Not a book that most people would think I'd read. But during the day, I kept such a cool demeanor, that it was almost needed to read some alien bizarre sex shit every once in a while. A girl's got to get her kicks somehow.
And I was sitting on top of the dryer. The little laundry mat of the apartment complex where I lived was very small ... only two washers and two dryers. And there weren't many apartments. But something about it was extra nice. Like knowing about people who lived there and not having to talk to them. Sure, it may seem sort of contrite to keep to myself (without sounding redundant), but I'm far too weird to unleash in my full glory upon an unsuspecting populous.
As I was saying, though, I was sitting on the dryer and reading. It was one of those wonderful Oklahoma nights ... the perfect warm temperature and semi-moist air, and a light breeze that flitted through the screened windows on the other side of the small laundry room. I suppose I would have been perfectly happy to have done my laundry and spent the rest of the evening reading while Esthero played in the background.
My night, though, was to become far better.
The door to the laundry room opened, and I nearly fell off my perch. I was about to shoot the intruder my Glare From Hell, but the only expression I could manage upon seeing who entered was a curious raising of one brow.
"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to scare ya." The guy who'd entered was carrying an off-white round basket of (what I assumed to be) dirty laundry. And he was also the dark-haired dream sex machine I'd been fantasizing about all my life. He had the same dark eyes, the same shortly cropped in the back and long on top hair. Hell, even the Bruins jersey he was wearing was right.
That's why it took a full ten seconds before I responded proper. "Uh, s'okay. Just reading." And that's why I don't talk to people. I sound like a retard. I even waved my book for emphasis, hoping he didn't know the title.
"Ah," he said with a grin, plopping some quarters into the slots on the washer and dumping in a capful of Super Wash! Detergent. "Farmer ... good book. Read it a couple of times."
Lovely. He'd read it. Either that, or he was lying to try to get me into bed. "Did you like it?"
"Sure. Though the first few chapters were boring. I just liked to read the weird alien sex shit in the middle. Well, and that whole anal suppository thing ... that was interesting." He flipped a charming grin my way and closed the lid on the washer.
This was way too fucking weird. "Huh. I thought I was the only person in the world who'd read this book." I was blushing, though. My cool demeanor was certainly not going to fly with this guy.
He shrugged, slightly, moving to lean against the same washer that I was sitting on. I felt his shoulder touch my elbow, and moved away instinctively. He didn't seem to mind. "I've read a lot of books. You can learn a lot of things from books."
"Yeah, well, I don't think you're going to be able to walk down to your local E-Z Porn Mart any time soon and buy a suppository that..." My sentence was shortly cut off by the whining, half-dead buzz of the dryer announcing that my clothes were done. Rather than continue and embarrass myself further, I slid off the dryer and folded one of Image's pages over to mark my place. "My clothes are done." Thank you, Ms. Obvious.
"So they are," he agreed, rocking happily on the balls of his feet and looking me over.
I tried not to look at his ass, but it was impossible. It was a nice, round ass. The kind of ass that's perfect for pushing. I scooted my pale blue laundry basket in front of the open door of the dryer, and prepared to scoop the clothes into it, and that's when it happened.
He'd moved behind me as I'd bent over, and I felt his hand, pressing lightly into my crotch slide slowly back and forth between my legs from behind. I froze. He was rubbing my crotch through my clothes, and I froze like the frigid chick I was. "Uh, what are you doing?" I croaked.
He chuckled from behind me, and I could see from his shadow he shook his head. "Do you want me to stop?"
Of course I didn't want him to fucking stop. But what would my mother have thought if she'd seen me then, bent over an open dryer door with some guy rubbing my pussy gently through my clothes? One word, people: whore. I didn't answer him, though, leaving me certainly ambiguous. But I didn't move away, either.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked again, his voice softer, crooning. I felt his index finger poke around a little through the material of my sweatpants, finding the entrance to my pussy and rubbing there a little harder. I'm sure he could tell I was already becoming wet.
I shut my eyes; he couldn't see that, at least. I suppressed the shudder that threatened to run through my body, and finally whispered, "No."
"Good girl." I could hear the amused smile in his words, and suddenly felt a little humiliation. But there was no way in hell I'd tell him to stop now.
His large hand continued to caress my pussy through my clothing, and I felt him shuffle a little back there. The cool fingers of his other hand slipped through the opening between my hanging T-shirt and the smooth skin of my abdomen, crawling slowly to the curve of my bare breast. His fingertips traced the outline, stopping at my nipple and pinching once. I could feel it harden at his first touch.
And still his fingers worked through my clothing, teasing my pussy without a direct touch. The crotch of my sweatpants had developed a soaked spot in the middle. I stood there, half-hunched over my load of quickly cooling dry clothes, eyes shut, trying to suppress a shudder of pleasure.
The fingertips that had been toying with the nipple of my breast slowly worked their way in a tickling trail to the waistband of my sweatpants. Removing his hand from between my legs, the stranger whipped them down in one swift motion before I could voice a protest, exposing my bare ass and dripping pussy to his full view.
I couldn't move, really. I just sat there, half scared out of my wits that someone would come in and see this obviously sexually perverse act and call the cops, and half aroused out of my tiny mind.
For a few minutes, he did nothing, and I felt myself cooling down a bit, that heat of pleasure dissipating a little. I raised my head to turn around and see what he was doing, but he tugged my shirt tail a bit and cleared his throat. "Uh-uh, honey. No turning around. You can lean on the top of the dryer if it's easier for you, though."
I didn't protest. I felt I should have, in some part of me, but I didn't. I slid my torso on the top of the dryer, having to stand on my tippy toes a bit, and pressed my cheek against the cold metal surface, waiting to see what he would do next.
I felt my sweatpants being pulled down some more, and heard him say from behind me, "Step out of them." I did as he asked, rather tentatively, swallowing audibly in the emptiness of the washroom. He threw my sweatpants and underwear into a pile next to the dryer, and then I felt his fingertips on the inside of my thighs, pulling my legs outward slightly. "Open."
I couldn't believe I was doing it, but I widened my stance.
His hands slid up from in between my legs, over the round cheeks of my ass, and then settled in a firm grip on my hips. I didn't know what to expect next. I felt him hover over me a little, the heat of his chest pressed close to my exposed ass cheeks, and then he let out an exhale of hot breath into my hair, rubbing his nose in the tresses that tumbled over my back.
"You smell nice," he mumbled, one of his hands moving from my hips to my ass again, squeezing and kneading the flesh, sometimes slipping into the crack, sometimes slipping dangerously close to my still cumsoaked pussy, though never actually penetrating. Meanwhile, he was kissing down my back through my shirt, occasionally taking some of the material into his teeth and tugging gently.
As he reached the small dip where my lower back met my ass, I felt his working hand dip into the wetness of my cunt, and let out a small, alarmed gasp, then clenching my teeth. As he bit at the bare skin at the end of my tailbone, the tip of his finger poked just into my wet pussy, wiggling, teasing me with just a little of pleasure. Every once in a while, he would pull it all the way out, smearing my juices along my slit, rubbing my very swollen clit for a moment and then dipping into my hot pussy up to the first knuckle again.
My hands were gripping either side of the dryer, white knuckled and hard. My breath was already coming in harsh, tortured pants.
Then he plunged his finger all the way into my pussy, at the same time moving his lips lower and biting the left cheek of my ass -hard-. I let out a surprised moan, eyes opening all the way and thrusting my body up a little on the dryer, before moving back down. I pressed my pussy onto his immobile finger, wiggling my body with a few wanton whines, biting my bottom lips almost to bleeding.
"Surprise." He said, obviously getting a bit worked up himself. Instead of moving his finger in and out of my aching cunt, he removed it entirely with a wet slurp, and took a step back from me again. I heard the distinct sound of his zipper, and the jeans joined my sweatpants in the pile on the floor.
I almost turned around to peer at him again, but he made that 'tsk-tsk' noise with his teeth, smacking my ass one good time with the palm of his hand. "No peeking."
It seemed like an eternity. I was beginning to wonder if he had just left the room and me standing there like a jackass with my ass in the air hugging the dryer, when I felt him take me gently by the hip again with one of his hands. Then I felt his cock pressing into the raised piece of flesh between my legs as he rubbed the slit against my swollen clit. It was already slick with precum.
He didn't say a word, but only teased me some more. He moved the head of his cock in a slick, wet line from my throbbing pussy, to the little pucker between my ass cheeks, to my swollen little nub. I shuddered and panted against the metal of the dryer, whining with the torturous pleasure my body was being put through. Finally I couldn't take it anymore, and I whispered harshly, "Put it in me," still shy, still subdued.
I could hear the amusement in his voice when he replied. "Don't say it like that. Tell me what you want me to do. Exactly." Amused, yet calm. He was rock hard, I could feel it every time he swirled our juices together down my slit, and his voice was so calm.
"I want you to," I hissed, whining a bit as he allowed almost the entire head of his cock to enter me for a moment, before teasing me some more, "stick your cock into my pussy ... now ... please ..."
"Better," he said, now showing a slight bit of wavering in his voice. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on my hip, and I felt him stepping closer, before his hips thrust forward suddenly, burying his cock deep inside me. He grunted, sucking in a sharp breath. "Fuck," he whispered, swallowing once. "That what you wanted?"
I only nodded, whimpering a little, my fingers squeaking a bit on the sides of the dryer.
His other hand moved to my other hip, and he began to thrust his cock in and out of my dripping pussy, burying himself to the balls before pulling out nearly all the way. Each time he thrust into me, my face pressed into the little dial for the dryer, but I hardly even noticed.
His fucking soon became more urgent; we had both been worked up for quite some time. His hands pulled my hips into his cock, pressing himself deeper into my cunt. I heard him whisper, "Touch yourself for me," and removed one of my sweaty hands from the side of the dryer to rub my own clit hard, gasping for breath at the sensations of pleasure going through my body.
The whole dryer began to rock back and forth with our fucking, but I didn't give two shits if anyone heard us at this point. I could feel him getting close; could tell he was hard as a rock inside my pussy, getting ready to spurt his cum, and that's what drove me over the edge. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt my pussy contract around his cock, could feel the hot, wet flow as I came dripping between my own legs.
Almost at the same time, he let out a gasping shout, digging his fingernails into the flesh of my hips, jerking his hips into mine so hard I could feel his balls slapping against me. And then the sensation of being filled with his cum, his seed filling me up and his cock jerking inside as the last droplets spouted out.
He collapsed over me on the dryer, sweaty face sticking to my hair, hot breath raining over my shoulder and mingling with my own pants. After a few moments of post coital bliss, he slid off of my back and I felt his shrinking cock slip out of my pussy, the wet mingling of cum running down the inside of my thigh, warm and thick.
I shut my eyes, finally able to catch some of my breath, letting loose my one-handed death grip on the side of the dryer. I'd never had an orgasm like that before in my life, but I certainly didn't want to keep it just to one encounter. As he reached for his jeans, though, I heard him say, still amused and very satiated.
And I knew this was only the beginning of more days than I could count.
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