Dirty Laundry

CW: Nonconsent, impregnation

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I looked both ways, as though I was about to commit a heist. Then, my heart racing, I tipped the last of my laundry into the washing machine.

I didn't need to be watching my back, strictly speaking. It was 1:13 a.m., and the laundromat was quiet, apart from the occasional distant car outside and the hum of machinery. I was utterly alone.

That didn't stop me from worrying, given what I was about to do. But the fear was almost excitement, as though they were two sides of a coin. Call it, I thought, as I took a deep breath--scared or horny.

I reached down beneath the black trenchcoat I wore. With a trembling hand, I slid my panties down and pulled them away, leaving me wearing nothing else - no bra, no shirt, nothing but the coat that fell halfway down my bare shins and some old flip-flops. I felt a rush of sensations--the adrenaline in my veins, the coarseness of the coat against my bare skin, and the cool air rising up my legs.

I didn't need to be this efficient, I admitted to myself as I deposited the panties into the open washing machine. I could afford to just wait, or to buy more panties. But I now had the added excitement of turning the machine on, and knowing that I'd have no way to get my panties back for an hour and a half.

I took a deep breath and pushed the button. The door locked, and I heard the rush of water into the machine, and I felt myself getting wet along with my clothes.

I walked over and sat down carefully, my heart racing. I had a book and my laptop but I didn't know how I'd manage to use them, or even how I'd be able to refrain from masturbating until I got back to my apartment.

I hadn't known how it would feel, once I pushed the button. I'd gone commando before, and enjoyed the tiny thrill of being both exposed and protected at once, but that provided more layers. The embarrassing yet exciting idea of tossing my last outfit in the washing machine and waiting for it naked had occurred to me a couple weeks back, while I was jilling off, and it had taken me that long to work myself up to it.

The jingle of bells at the door startled me out of my horny reverie, and I quickly straightened the trenchcoat to cover as much as possible. I opened my laptop, my heart racing, and tried to find something to make my apprehension less apparent.

I relaxed a bit when I saw that it was a young hispanic couple. The woman was maybe an inch taller than me and muscular, with choppy brown hair that she'd trimmed short on the sides and a colorful tattoo across her upper chest. The man was just a bit taller, with black hair that curled enticingly and a tank top that showed me the muscles of his shoulders. He was focused on carrying their three empty laundry baskets, but the woman gave me a probing look as they walked over near me, ending it with a sly grin.

"These three," she said, and showed the man over to three of the dryers not far from me. They each opened one and began emptying their dry clothes into a bag, and I breathed a short sigh of relief, thinking that they wouldn't be here much longer.

I pushed my legs together and tried not to sweat. I was mortally afraid that they'd realize I was nearly naked, but that fear and looming embarrassment occupied the same space in my brain as lust. Each time the woman glanced in my direction I felt a stab of fear, but I also felt my nipples stiffen against the fabric of the trenchcoat.

Instead of leaving, they walked over to the table right next to me and started pulling clothes out to fold them. I focused on breathing calmly, telling myself that the trenchcoat was up high enough that they couldn't see my tits, and that they'd be finished up soon enough.

The woman kept glancing at me, though. Each time I tried to look innocent, looking at my laptop or glancing back at her, and she grinned as though she saw right through me, or perhaps just through my trenchcoat. I told myself she'd be done folding in just a minute, and I'd almost convinced myself when she spoke.

"It's nice and quiet this late, huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Don't have to fight anyone for the machine, you just walk up and take it."

I nodded, a little too quickly. "Yeah, it's nice."

She matched a pair of socks, then leaned over towards me conspiratorially. Her boyfriend frowned, but smiled at the same time, as though the mystery of what she was doing was dear to him.

"When it's just you, are you ever tempted to toss your panties in?"

I blushed furiously and squirmed in my seat. "No," I insisted.

"Bullshit," she grinned.

Her boyfriend looked over at me, curious but amused. I tried to turn back to my computer, but I suddenly couldn't make the words make sense. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, feel the embarrassment flooding my veins, and feel my pussy wildly misinterpreting what I wanted.

"It's okay to admit it," she said. "No one else is here."

"I don't know what you mean," I insisted.

She knelt in front of me, then slowly pushed my laptop screen down until it closed. This close, as she leaned towards me, I could feel as much as see just how tall and strong she was. Her hand, the one that still rested on my laptop, was almost touching my thigh.

"Honey, you're wearing a trenchcoat," she said.

"I wear a trenchcoat sometimes," her boyfriend said.

"Yeah, and you flash me," she replied. "Do you want to flash us, sweetie?"

"No," I insisted. Her every word was embarrassing, and my body was reacting to her with growing excitement. I pushed myself past it, and put my hand on hers to push her back. "I don't."

"Look at me," she said, and I couldn't help but do it. Her deep brown eyes twinkled, and I couldn't tell if her expression was amused or predatory. I tried to look annoyed, but I could feel the blush across my entire face.

"You've never done this before, have you?" she asked.

I couldn't figure out how to respond - whether to keep pretending I didn't know what she meant, or push her away, or beg her to stop. The good ideas felt powerless and the bad ideas were exciting.

Her boyfriend cut in, interrupting both of us. "You're embarrassing her, cariño."

"She likes being embarrassed," the woman replied. "That's why she's dressed like this."

"I'm wearing more than you," I told her.

She grinned. "Are you, then?"

Before I could react, she moved my laptop onto the seat next to me and grabbed my hand, pulling me up. I tried to sidestep her, but she moved behind me, pulling my arm back until it was pinned behind me. I squealed and tried to push her away, and only succeeded in getting my other arm pinned.

"Stop!" I gasped. She was pressed against me from behind, and I could feel her every movement. Her tits pressed against my back, her breath was hot against my cheek, and my trenchcoat bunched up as I struggled in her grip.

Her boyfriend made no move to help me. He watched appreciatively as I twisted, but only spoke to her.

"What are you doing, cariño?"

"She says she's wearing more than me," she said. "Could you open her trenchcoat and check?"

"No!" I cried.

"Anything for you," he grinned, and reached for my buttons.

My chest was pushed forward by the way the woman gripped my arms. I shook my head as the man reached out to unfasten my top button, his fingers moving with precision even as my chest rose and fell swiftly.

"No," I murmured as he unfastened the top button, letting the front open enough to show the top of my cleavage. I didn't know where to look - my pleading expression did nothing to stop him, and it felt foolish to look away, but those were the only choices.

He unfastened the lower buttons, one at a time. Then, after an agonizing pause, he gripped the sides of my coat and opened it. The air felt cold against my naked skin, or perhaps I was just flushed everywhere. I squirmed, trying in vain to conceal something from him and succeeding only in keeping my legs together for the moment.

"Oh, wow," the woman said, her voice in my ear as she looked over my shoulder. "She's pretty."

Unable to help myself, I followed her gaze. My blush had spread across my chest, which rose and fell with every anxious breath. My nipples were hard, and I couldn't say whether it was from the cooler air or from excitement. I twisted in the woman's grasp, unable to hide my flat belly or pale thighs or black bush.

"She is," the man agreed.

"And I bet this is turning her on," the woman went on. "I bet you're hornier than you know what to do with."

I shook my head, unable to speak. She was so close that I could feel her hair brushing against my cheek, and hear her soft chuckle.

"No?" she asked, amusement in her voice. "This isn't getting your pussy all wet?"

"No!" I cried. "Let me go!"

"Do you think you could check that too?"

He didn't wait for confirmation, this time. I did my best to cross my legs, but he first reached for my breasts, cupping each one and gently caressing them with his fingers. I cried out as one thumb circled my left nipple, and I tried to keep my arousal from creeping into my voice.

I gave him a pleading look as his hands moved down, gliding down my sides to settle for a moment on my hips. "Please," I gasped, as he traced a line across my hip and down the bottom edge of my bush. "Please don't-"

I was cut off by the sensation as his fingers reached my pussy, sliding effortlessly up and down my lips. The pleasure, the sweetness and the wrongness of it, demanded every bit of my attention. I forgot to twist my hips and forgot to speak. I could only gasp for air as he traced my cleft, my wetness running out onto his fingers.

"Oh, cariño," he panted as two of his fingers circled my clit. "This is too much honey for one honeypot."

"I knew it," she crowed.

I forced myself to speak. "Let me go," I demanded, trying my level best to glare back at her.

"Not too loud," she grinned. "Do you want someone to come in and see you like this?"

I gasped. Of course my rational brain wanted a rescue, but the thought of another stranger walking through the door was mortifying. For all I knew they'd think I was a willing participant. I whimpered with shame, and the woman chuckled.

"You know, I was all set to fold laundry and go home, but then I saw you and I just knew you needed this," she said. She leaned in and kissed my neck, and I cried out at the sensation.

"Please," I moaned, trying to marshal my words. "I don't--I didn't mean for--"

"No, but you needed it," she said. "Somewhere inside you is a slut who likes the shame. And I wonder how deep down she is."

I wasn't in a position to argue effectively. Her boyfriend's caresses had shifted, his fingers slipping between my lips and entering me as his hand pressed against my mound. I was wet enough to make his passage effortless, and my shame at that knowledge only got me wetter. I tried to block out his touch, to focus my attention elsewhere, and managed to stagger my way back to speaking.

"No," I said, my voice wavering. "You need to let me go."

"We will let you go," she chuckled. "Once you cum for us a time or two."

"No!" I cried, not wanting her to see how close I was already. "Stop fingering me!"

She laughed and turned to her boyfriend. "Well, if you can't finger her, how are you going to get her off?"

"I have an idea," he said with a grin.

"Okay. Help me get her on the table."

I gasped as he moved his fingers away, but the reprieve was short. He wrapped his arms around my thighs and picked me up, and they moved back in unison to carry me to the table. They set me down on top of their clothes, with a stack of folded t-shirts beneath my hips and a pile of socks under my head. My bare pussy was facing the windows, but there was no one there to help, only the soft whoosh of a distant car passing.

"Let me go!" I cried. The man stared down at my naked body, unbothered by my protest, and I looked desperately up at the woman instead. She shifted her grip, bringing my arms up above me one at a time so that she could hold them above my head. She looked at me, from my wet pussy up to my pleading eyes, and she grinned.

"Try not to get any girl cum on our clothes, okay?" she asked. "We just washed them."

The man let go of one of my legs and reached down, unbuttoning his pants and sliding the zipper down. I should have kicked him, but instead I brought my leg up to block his view of my pussy for a moment. He let his pants and his boxers fall to the floor, and I caught a glimpse of his hard cock before I looked desperately at his face.

I couldn't read his smile. He might have been smirking at how helpless I was, or happy that his girlfriend had picked this as the night's entertainment, or just enamored by my face. I shook my head, but he hardly seemed to register it. He wrapped his arms around my legs, holding them up with my knees bent, and spread them.

I whimpered as I looked down to see his cock rest against my bush. My blush had spread across my tits, and even with him hardly touching my pussy I was still primed, ready to explode. He waited for what felt like an eternity, and also felt too quick, before he pressed forward.

I should have cried out as he entered me, but I couldn't manage anything more than a wordless gasp. His head parted my lips and his shaft slid inside, slowly but inexorably. I watched, my eyes wide, as his cock slid ever deeper. He filled me, from my lips to my innermost depths, and the sensation alone was almost enough to bring me to climax.

"No," I gasped as he rested a moment, his bush pressed against mine. "Please, you have to stop!"

"I think she's gonna cum for you," the woman chuckled. "What a little slut."

"I think she's cumming for you too," he said. He leaned forward and they kissed, swiftly but fervently, right above me.

I tried to hold it back, to not give them the satisfaction of setting me off. I couldn't help but think about how embarrassing it would be, though. They'd feel me let go, and they'd know that my body would do whatever they wanted, and the woman would laugh at me. The idea of that shame dragged me higher until I couldn't help but make it come true.

"No," I gasped, as the man drew back to thrust into me, the pleasure rising up inexorably as he moved. I squirmed, helpless before them, unable to stop myself from turning into a puddle under their gaze. I kept saying no, but it dissolved into incoherence as I fell apart.

I heard them both, even through the height of my pleasure as my pussy squeezed the man's cock and my eyes rolled back until I couldn't see. The woman was laughing, enjoying my shame and my pleasure, reveling in her power. The man was groaning in pleasure, lingering inside me with each thrust, and it took me a moment to realize that he was moaning for my pleasure more than for his own. He fell with me, exulting as my body welcomed him in, and sighing as the wave finally receded.

"There we are," the woman grinned as I caught my breath. I looked up at her, watching her chest rise and fall as my excitement spilled over onto her. I could see the tattoo across the top of her chest more clearly now - an angel and a demon, each with a weapon drawn, battling across her heart. I couldn't tell which one she was. She was forcing me, and laughing at me as she did it, but she was still giving me pleasure I hadn't known I could reach.

"Oh, yes," the man responded. I looked down, watching as he assessed the territory after my climax. He held my legs tightly, keeping my body open to him. I gasped as he thrust into me, watching his cock vanish inside me as I felt it fill my cunt. I could feel every detail of his shaft, and feel his balls against my thighs. I didn't know how to get away from him, and I didn't know how to get away from how good it felt.

"It's nice to come to the laundromat late at night, isn't it?" the woman asked him.

"It's not usually this nice," he said.

"I know," she admitted. She pushed my wrists together so she could hold them both in one hand, then reached down to caress my face.

"But I'm glad this laundromat has a horny slut that we could use tonight."

"Stop," I gasped.

She moaned in response, unconcerned with what I said as long as my words were dripping in pleasure. She caught my eye, and as I watched she moved her hand beneath the table, pushing her leggings down and lingering below. I couldn't see her pussy, but I could see the motion of her arm and the satisfaction in her expression as she began to touch herself.

"I don't need to hold you down with both arms, do I?" she asked softly. "You can't fight us when it feels this good."

I had thought about trying harder to escape. I was embarrassed by letting them do whatever they wanted, but I doubted I'd be able to escape them both, and trying to escape but failing at it would be even worse.

The man's pleasure was quieter, but no less passionate. He'd set a slow rhythm, sliding deep into my pussy and pulling back, holding my legs tightly to keep me exactly where he wanted. He had been watching his cock slide between my wet lips, marveling at the way I opened for him, but he caught me looking and matched my gaze.

"You feel so good," he whispered.

"That's it," the woman said. "She likes to hear how good she is."

I shook my head. I didn't trust myself to speak without moaning, and I didn't know what I'd say if I could. The man's cock felt wonderful and his hips were pressing beautifully against mine. My pussy was already beginning to climb a second peak, and if I let shame and horniness spiral on each other I knew I'd climax for them again.

"Your cunt is so wet, chica," the man said. "You must have needed this so bad."

I closed my eyes, trying to think of anything else, anything to distract me enough to stall my rising pleasure. I thought about my job, and the dishes I still needed to do, and the book I'd been reading. For a moment, while neither of them was speaking, it was enough.

The man couldn't stay quiet, though. His breathing grew heavier, until he gave a satisfied groan as he bottomed out inside me. I whimpered and bit my lip as I tried to take myself away again.

"She likes it when you moan," the woman said. "Cuz it means she's being a good little slut."

"No," I moaned.

She leaned in close and kissed me, first on the forehead, then the cheek. She hovered, her breath hot on my face, until I opened my eyes and looked up at her.

"Kiss me, you little whore," she said.

"No," I gasped, but she was already leaning in.

I'd never kissed a girl before, and never kissed upside down either, but she didn't seem to mind. She led, her lips caressing mine until I reluctantly moved with her. I could taste the cinnamon in her chapstick, and feel the rhythm of her masturbation in the way her head shifted against mine. Her tongue pressed between my lips, shamelessly exploring my mouth. It occurred to me that they were both using me, taking their pleasure from my body, and I was giving them both exactly what they wanted.

I whimpered as the shame and the pleasure rushed back, sweeping aside my feeble defenses. I felt everything I'd been trying to ignore - the way he held my thighs tight and caressed them with his thumbs, the touch of his hips against mine as he pressed into me, and the smile on the woman's lips as she felt me start to tumble. It was all too much, and I had no choice but to tell them so.

I moaned into the woman's mouth as the pleasure crashed over me. She kept her lips pressed against mine, and I couldn't tell if she was holding me down or catching me as I fell. Either way, I was utterly under her control, unable to do anything but share my pleasure with her.

The man held tight to my legs as I thrashed, and I could hear him groaning with pleasure even over the sound of my own helpless cries. My pussy squeezed him tightly, letting me feel every inch of his shaft and letting him feel how desperately my body wanted him. I was helpless beneath them, helpless before the pleasure they'd thrust upon me, and all I could do was let that pleasure out.