Anticipation Ch. 03

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A Good Day. What will she wear on laundry day?
2.5k words
3.96
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Part 3 of the 13 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 07/04/2017
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5thRing
5thRing
128 Followers

An active mind had always made me a light sleeper, which meant that I rarely got a truly satisfying night's sleep.

The only time I ever did was when I went to bed mentally exhausted. Unfortunately, becoming mentally exhausted usually entailed staying up until about five in the morning, which I could do only on Fridays.

I could not stay up quite that late on Saturdays, because I needed to eventually get back to my regular sleep schedule for work on Monday.

The past few weeks of extensive talks with Jennifer had, indeed left me mentally exhausted, on numerous occasions, but they were always tainted by the fact that I had to be away from her, when she went home every night.

That night was among the best night's sleep I'd ever had. I don't recall dreaming, but waking up was what I would later hold as one of my fondest experiences.

Her hand, lightly stroking my face, brought me peacefully out of my slumber. I was in the same position in which I had fallen asleep, which, in and of itself, was amazing, but at the moment, the only thing on my mind was her eyes casually moving back and forth from mine to where her fingers were touching.

I had absolutely no desire to move. I wanted only to cherish the feel of her finger along my jawline, my cheek, my nose, my forehead, my eyebrows.

"I don't want to go home," she said quietly with a slight sadness.

"Do you need to?", I asked matching her volume.

"I need to take a shower," she offered as a reason, though we both new what I was going to say.

"I have a shower," I countered.

"My clothes are dirty," was her next dilemma, albeit a valid one, as she was still wearing what she had worn to work the day before, not that I cared if they were dirty, but perhaps they were not comfortable for her.

"I'm doing laundry, today." I usually did laundry on Sunday, but I was quite happy to make that change of plans.

"What will I wear?" she asked.

It would be a lie if I tried to claim that no part of me wanted to say something like, "why do you need to wear anything", but a far greater part of me wanted to save seeing her nude body for much later.

"You can wear mine," was what just came out of my mouth, almost without a thought, and I swear I thought I saw her eyes literally brighten. The corners of her mouth shifted upward slightly.

She said nothing for a couple of seconds, but then replied, "Okay."

Hearing that filled my heart with an unexpected joy. Not necessarily the fact of it, but the way she said.

It was just as calm and quiet as what she'd said prior to it, but there was the hint of an additional element; a quality that revealed to me that, even though she may not have consciously thought it, it was something that she actually wanted to do. She wanted to be dressed in my clothes, instead of her own.

Ready to get up and proceed with the day, we rolled off of our respective sides of my bed. I opened my closet door for her, and then gestured a hand toward the chest of drawers, next to the laundry basket, against a different wall.

"Help yourself," I offered. "I'll be in the kitchen."

Wanting to be surprised by what she would choose, I left the bedroom and went into the kitchen. I did not want to start eating breakfast without her, however, so I busied myself with tidying and organizing.

We shot each other a smiling glance as she crossed the short hallway between my bedroom and the bathroom. I took note of the stack of folded clothes in her hand.

I did not keep a wide variety of clothes. My wardrobe was pretty much black cargo pants and black t-shirts. The only real variety was in what designs were on the shirts.

I was a person who just couldn't be bothered to worry about fashion statements and whatnot. To me, it was not something important in life.

A few minutes after she shut the door, I could barely hear the sound of the shower starting. I suddenly found myself with absolutely no interest in my kitchen activities.

I mindlessly walked to the bathroom door and placed my palm against it. Eyes closed, I just listened to the changes in the sound of the water.

Periodically, I would begin to imagine what she looked like showering. A picture of her nude, under the falling water, would try to form in my mind, but I would catch myself and erase it.

"Not yet," repeatedly quietly, in the back of my mind.

When the water stopped, I came out of my trance. I paid particular attention to the sound of the curtain sliding along the rail for her exit, but there were no distinctive sounds beyond that.

I opened my eyes and returned to the kitchen, to begin preparing two bowls of cereal for us to eat.

Soon she exited the bathroom, and made a quick stop back in my room to deposit her different pile of clothes into my laundry basket.

I poured milk into the bowls of cereal on the table.

She walked out of the lightless hallway, into the small dining area, and I stopped a moment just to take in the view.

We both exhibited a small smiles. Mine was the joy of seeing her wearing my clothes, and hers was the joy of me liking it so much.

I was a medium-build man, so while it was obvious that my clothes were not the correct size for her, they were not so large and baggy as to be cumbersome. She looked freaking adorable.

She had rolled up the legs of the pants just enough to not always be stepping on the hems. The toes of her black and white Chuck's peeked in and out as she walked.

I assumed she wore one of my spare belts to keep the pants from falling down.

Her still-damp hair was a delightful bonus. A lot of people look good with wet hair. A lot of people don't. She absolutely did.

Sitting across from each other, we did not speak as we watched each other eat. Both of us almost incapable of having anything other than a smile, of one size or another, on our faces.

I happened to have a spare toothbrush, so our individual morning routines carried on as normal, including a shower for me, and then we sat on the couch and watched a movie. I had no clue what time of day it was, and I didn't care.

What I cared about was that my arm was around her, and that she was leaning against me.

After the movie, I decided to go ahead and do our laundry.

I went to the bedroom to grab the basket, noticing that her jeans were on top, hiding her other clothes.

She followed me to the apartment complex's laundry room, which was thankfully empty. I set the basket on a table on the left side of the first machine, and she pushed herself up to sit on the machine to the right.

My attention was mainly on the task at hand, but I was compelled to periodically glance up to her. Sometimes I would look directly at her, and her gaze would shift to me in response, but sometimes a just secretly looked out the corner of my eye to see her just watching me.

I put in detergent, and then it was time for the clothes. Her jeans were first in, and then her own gray t-shirt.

Like me, she was not a flashy person. She liked simple, comfortable clothes. She wore jeans and t-shirts, and even though she did enjoy a wider variety of colors than I cared to bother with, they were typically solid.

When she was not working, she often enjoyed short, simple tank or tee dresses, and I very much enjoyed seeing her in them.

She had only three different pairs of shoes, and the beauty of her wardrobe was that all of her shoes looked good with everything she wore. Whether it was her Chuck's, her pair of flats, or her combat style black leather boots, she could wear anything, in any combination, and it looked great.

I lifted her white socks out of the basket. I guess not ANY combination. The socks would obviously not work with the flats, but it was a non-issue.

I tossed the socks in, slightly disappointed by the lack of underwear, but I moved on to my own clothes.

One black item after another, I transferred my clothes to the washer, and upon lifting the last article, I discovered a pair of small, dark blue cotton panties in the bottom of the basket.

My eyebrows raised slightly as I mindlessly let the shirt in my hand fall into the machine.

I shot her a brief, no pun intended, glance as I reached into the basket and pulled out the undergarment, shuffling it in my hands until I has holding it up by the edges of the waistband.

I kept my calm well enough, but inside I was titillated. I looked at her again, raising one eyebrow slightly higher.

Her expression did not change at all. There had been a little smile on her face the whole time, but now I understood something else behind it.

She was not looking at me expectantly or with embarrassment. She had taken the time to intentionally put them under everything else as a surprise for me.

The fact that her expression did not change told me that she understood that this meant that we had just taken another step.

My heart beat a little harder with thought of the potential, and, admittedly, for a second, I felt the urge to put the crotch of those panties to my nose and inhale deeply, but I resisted, even though I completely believe that she would have been okay with it if I had done it.

I dropped them into the machine, and then went about starting it up. After closing the lid, the water starting filling the tank, and I moved sideways around her knee to be in front of her.

Her legs were parted enough for me to stand between them, but she widened them a little further. Without a thought about it, I rested my palms on her legs, a little above her knees.

Her eyes were a few inches higher than mine. It was an interesting sort of role reversal. She was wearing my clothes, and I was looking at her from what was usually her perspective.

Feeling the material of my own clothing was a bit odd, but it was her bare leg that was the form beneath. My hands moved in a slow massaging motion, almost of their own accord.

While we continued staring at each other in silence, it began to set in that she was not wearing her panties. That meant that she was either wearing none at the moment, or that she was wearing a pair of my boxer briefs.

I found both prospects equally appealing, and for the first time in weeks, I developed an erection.

Because it started slowly, I thought it would just be something I could ignore, until it faded, but I was mistaken.

A few weeks is a long time to go without release, when you're used to it happening at least four times a week.

My dick suddenly blew up like a balloon, with such force that I had to close my eyes, lower my head and bend slightly forward at the waist to accommodate the sudden pressure, and I exhaled a quiet groan.

My heartbeat quickened , as did my breathing. I was almost afraid to move for fear of releasing a full ounce of pre-cum into my underwear.

It was a bittersweet torture when I suddenly felt her hands on either side of my face.

"Oh god," I breathed out, tipping forward until the top of my head landed against her solar plexus. My hands went from her thighs to either side of her hips and squeezed them in an attempt to regain some self-control.

I wanted so badly to do something, anything, with my painfully rigid penis, but that quiet voice was in the back of my mind, whispering, "not yet".

We both wanted to savor the little moments and the anticipation of what would eventually come, but at that moment, it was a very difficult objective to maintain.

When she started to massage my scalp, which was a major turn on for me, I began to feel a little dizzy. My head slid down her body in a side motion. My next awareness was my neck against her ribcage, and my arms wrapped around her waist.

Her hands slid up and down my back, which I can only guess was an attempt to sooth me. Whether it helped or exasperated the situation, I could not tell, but I remained in that positioned for perhaps a minute.

The engorgement subsided a little, and as I let go of her and lifted myself up, I could feel that I had definitely moistened the crotch of my underwear.

Her hands went back to the sides of my face as I looked again into her eyes, then down to her lips that were mere inches in front of me. I wanted to kiss them. "not yet"

I cupped her jaw lines in my hands and ran my thumbs across her lips, perhaps not as gently as I had intended, but to no harm. My erection was continuing to dissipate as I focused on other things.

I closed my eyes and pulled her forehead to mine, held it there firmly for about 20 seconds, until I was finally soft enough to walk normally, and then I pulled away.

"I need to go back inside for a few minutes," I said, looking into her eyes.

"Okay," she replied, understanding that I meant for her to stay in the laundry room.

She smiled, and I think I saw the glistening of a tear forming in her eye, but I did not stay to find out.

I returned to my apartment, grabbed a clean pair of underwear, and went into the bathroom. I was definitely in need of another shower, for more than one reason.

I stripped down to my underwear, and ran my finger across the rather large wet spot that was further back than I was able to see.

Carefully peeling them off, the pre-cum stretched in a line connecting the tip of my penis to the material. I broke the line, but as I stepped out of them, I dripped even more on myself and the floor.

I used the underwear to clean up, and to milk what remained.

After my shower, and a change of underwear, I went back out to the laundry room to find her sitting in a chair.

We continued the day as normal, not speaking of the incident for the simple fact that nothing needed to be said, but when we were watching more movies, back in the apartment, she was leaning closer into me.

5thRing
5thRing
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