Dirty Laundry

The woman held the kiss as long as she could, until I fell away, panting for air. She smiled, her breath wavering with her own rising pleasure, and kissed my forehead.

"There you are," she sighed. "Is it embarrassing to cum for strangers like that?"

"No," I whimpered, hardly knowing what I was denying.

"Do you think she's got one more orgasm in her, then?" she asked her partner. "Maybe that one will embarrass her more."

"She'll definitely have one more orgasm in her soon," the man groaned.

"No," I insisted. "You have to stop!"

The woman moaned as I looked down, watching the man's pace rise. His arousal was as obvious in his expression as it was in the rocking of his hips, but his gaze was fixed on his partner. She bit her lip as she watched me move back and forth with the man's thrusts, and grinned slightly as a pair of folded socks fell on the floor.

"You know I want you to do that, right?" she asked him. "I want you to cum in her."

"You can't," I moaned.

He pushed my legs towards my chest and leaned forward, pressing ever more swiftly into me. I gasped at the change in angle, hoping that he'd defy her and pull out, and hoping that the embarrassment would end even though it was exquisite.

"She'd love it," the woman panted, her arm shaking as she drew closer to her own climax. "Imagine how embarrassing it'll be for her to walk home with your cum dripping out of her."

"Oh, cariño," he moaned. His cock plunged into me, and he gasped for enough air to keep up with his lust. I could feel the rising tension in the way he gripped my legs, the desperation of his thrusts, and the tightness of his balls. He looked at her, his expression half pleading for his release, half hoping to provoke hers.

"And just think about what happens when you get her pregnant," the woman rasped, her breathing uneven and desperate.

"No!" I squealed.

"Yes," she cried. "Her belly will - oh - swell with your baby, and she won't be able to tell anyone how it happened without getting wet..."

She trailed off, her eyes suddenly wide, wordlessly begging him. Her pleasure stretched out across the moment, and he groaned in shared ecstasy.

"Do it," he whispered.

Her words failed her as she tipped over the edge. She cried out, half in triumph and half in a helplessness as profound as mine. She moved up, suddenly standing on tiptoes as she chased the pleasure, and I could feel the tension and the release in the hand she kept on my wrists. She scrunched her eyes shut, her expression tossed around like a ship in a storm, each wave of pleasure pushing her further. She fell, and for a long moment I could do nothing but watch her.

"Yes," the man gasped. He had slowed for a moment, and I had assumed he was basking in her pleasure, but I realized he was trying to prolong his own, too. I could feel how close he was in the shake of his hand, and hear it in his ragged breath.

He looked down at me. I could feel my own desperate breathing, as my body gave me nothing but pleasure to work with. I tried to force it down enough to speak.

"Please," I said.

"You feel so good," he replied, punctuating the statement with a deep thrust. "I'm gonna cum in your pussy."

"No," I moaned as his cock plunged into my fertile cunt, his shaft stretching me, his balls drawn in tight as his climax built. I closed my eyes, trying again to send myself away from the pleasure and the shame.

"Look at me," he whispered.

I shouldn't have done it. He had no way to make me, and it was the only pleasure I could deny him. But I was hopelessly under their power, and my ability to resist had been worn down to nothing. Submission was shame, and shame was arousal, and I couldn't fight them any better than I could fight my body. So I looked up.

He took my gaze and wouldn't let it go. Everything that I felt, I could see reflected in his dark brown eyes. He moved faster and faster, his hips pressing against me as his cock plunged into my wet cunt, and his brow furrowed with the intensity of his desire. The woman murmured softly to him, and I saw his eyes crinkle with a smile as she did. I was helpless before him as he looked at me like he saw every bit of me and controlled it all.

"Yes," he gasped. "Oh yes!"

I watched his eyes grow wider as the pleasure rose up to overtake him, and he held nothing back. I saw his ecstasy as he buried his cock in my pussy, as surely as I felt it pulsing to fill me with his seed. I saw the relief as he finally reached the peak he'd been pushing towards, and I knew that my body had brought him there, and without meaning to I fell with him.

The ecstasy was so sudden and sharp that I couldn't even brace myself against it. Every detail of the moment fought for my attention - the sound as my wails of pleasure crashed into his moans and filled the laundromat, the way my pussy squeezed him and his cock twitched in response, the way my muscles shook as the pleasure crashed over me. I fell into his eyes as he claimed me, letting him see every detail of my climax. Even here, at the height of my ravishment, my shame gave me no choice but pleasure.

"Beautiful," the woman sighed as the man collapsed onto me, finally closing his eyes as he caught his breath. She reached a hand up and caressed my cheek, her fingers still wet from her pussy. "Oh, she is such a good slut."

"She is," the man sighed. He kissed my neck as he leaned against my shoulder.

"Please," I whimpered. "Let me go."

"Oh, cutie," she said. "Of course we will. You just have to wait for him to recover."

"You know," he said, still leaning close, "when you said you wanted to spice things up I didn't know this was what you meant."

"Neither did I," she admitted. "But this little slut needed someone to make her blush and knock her up, and I couldn't do it alone."

He smiled. "Happy to help."

They rested on me for another few minutes, letting their tension fade and enjoying my weak struggles. At some unseen signal, the woman patted my leg and the man stood. I gasped as he withdrew his cock, still dripping with my wetness, and stood back to admire me.

The woman released my arms, and I hesitantly stood up. I could feel my sweat against the cool air as I stepped away from them, back against the wall, and I pushed my trenchcoat closed to keep myself warm and stop them from seeing any more. As the man pulled his pants up, the woman pushed their clothes into the baskets.

They each gave me a final look before they took their clothes and walked out the door. The woman's was a smirk, an appraising glance meant to remind me of everything she'd seen, and it only failed to get me wet all over again because I didn't have enough left in the tank.

The man's glance lingered a bit longer. He met my eyes, reliving everything he'd seen reflected in them, before his gaze strayed downwards. I was covered, by then, but he peered at me as if he was trying to pierce that clothing and see beneath. I couldn't tell if he was just remembering how my pussy had felt, or if he was imagining my belly and hoping he'd left his mark there. Instead of telling me which, he gave me one last smile and vanished out the door.

I stood there alone, listening to the hum of the washers and the silence of the road outside, trying to figure out what to do. I wanted to prove them wrong, but I couldn't find many opportunities. The thought of talking to the police wearing nothing but a trenchcoat that now smelled like sex was mortifying, so I had to wait. And even once my underwear was dry, I was afraid of what kind of interviews or tests they'd do. The thought of telling a strange cop what had happened was bad enough, but the thought of getting wet while I did so was too much to bear. The man's cum was not dripping down my leg, which was a relief, but that probably meant he'd left it too deep for that.

So, once my clothes were dry, I threw some of them on, and staggered back to my apartment, and collapsed.

I tried to do the smart thing, when I woke up - go buy a morning after pill and take it. The problem was that the woman had been right about one other thing. I knew it would be hugely embarrassing to be pregnant with a stranger's baby, and even the idea of that embarrassment was enough to send me spiraling into a horniness that demanded attention. Once I'd spent the first two hours of the morning jilling off, imagining them holding me down again, I felt too foolish to do the smart thing. So, instead, I cleaned and went to work, and tried to put it out of my mind.

That was seven months ago, and now it's awfully hard not to think about. Every time a stranger on the bus looks at my pregnant belly, every time the ob-gyn nurse sees that the father isn't there, and every time I get kicked in the ribs by tiny feet, I'm brought back to that night in the laundromat. I remember how brightly I blushed, and how much they enjoyed me, and how despite my best efforts I enjoyed them too. I contain that shame and horniness all day, and spend each night letting it out.

I wonder sometimes if they're thinking of me, wherever they are. A part of me likes to think they're watching me from afar, smirking as they watch me carry their baby. But it's just as well if I was nothing more than a night's entertainment for them. Being a side piece isn't as embarrassing as being used like a cheap slut, after all. And for all they did wrong, they knew exactly how I feel about airing my dirty laundry.

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I want to thank Sylvidoll for her editorial help.