A Food Truck Foible

Emily almost choked and had to suddenly get up. Quickly, she slid out from under him and sat up, then managed to gulp down the contents in her mouth. The washing machine let out another loud beep to signal the start of the spin cycle. She bent down to lick the last few drops off Mark's dick, then spoke, "Now both of us are clean."

"Uh, huh."

"Wait, I think this was also too small for you to clean properly -" she pointed to her vagina "- I think we should use this -" flicking his dangling rod "- to make sure it's spic n span."

"Oh, ok."

Emily reached out to her handbag and pulled out a little pouch. She ripped it open and wrapped the latex around Mark's rod. "That's a sensitive area. We need to be careful," she explained. "It's just like wearing rubber gloves when doing the dishes."

This time, she rolled Mark over on his back and straddled him. She spread his legs, rested her pussy on his dick and rubbed it gently. She instructed him to hold her breasts for support (she forgot that his fingers were supposed to be 'soiled'). Once his shaft was pointing straight to the ceiling, Emily carefully positioned herself and pushed straight down. Mark screamed in pain, squeezed her boobs very tightly, and Emily let out a very loud gasp, both much much louder than the whirring and knocking of the washing machine. She began wondering if anyone was walking down the hallway at that time of the day.

Nonetheless, she began a slow rocking motion, waiting for Mark's pain to ease up a little. Gradually, she built up so much speed that his testicles were rising to slap her arse. Emily continued humping Mark, her eyes tightly closed out of ecstasy, his out of agony. Within minutes, both were sweating profusely. Emily gave a few rapid jerks and felt Mark's pain ebb and rise. She came before him and shrieked. She was about to stop out of fatigue when Mark came, too. Emily collapsed on to Mark's chest, his hands still clutching her boobs.

They both got up and Emily used the hand towel to wipe off the sweat off both their bodies. She took off the condom and disposed of it in a waste basket, then held out Mark's boxers for him to wear. They were silent and everything was back to as normal as it could be.

The washing machine gave a final beep and came to a halt. Mark opened the lid and tried pulling out the entangled clothes one by one. Emily helped him get through it. The clothes were still slightly damp, but wearable. Of course, they were horribly wrinkled. They both got dressed, got their belongings and walked out of the apartment building.

"See you around, Mark, and thanks! I won't forget this." waved Emily.

"Goodbye. I need to get back to work."

Mark was 30 minutes late when he punched in at the warehouse. "Where were you?" the floor manager demanded to know. "I was getting worried. I even went to the fountain to check if you were there. Another half hour and I'd have called the cops."

"I'm sorry. I got into an argument with a girl at the food truck."