In the Laundry Room

The tumbling of the large industrial laundry machine in our building's laundry room made so much noise that I didn't hear Mr McIntyre before he cleared his throat, which turned into a quick bark of a cough.

That startled me and I let out a little shriek, turned around, holding the towl I had been about to fold up like a shield in front of me.

My neighbor smiled. "I hope I didn't scare you, Miss Wagner?"

I flushed and answered with an embarrassed smile myself. "To be completely honest, you kinda did, Mr. McIntyre. I couldn't hear you come in." I vaguely gestured at the washing machine and the dryer. "That's my last load of laundry, won't take much longer. You don't mind throwing it into the dryer when it's done, do you?"

Mister McIntyre waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. Slowly, he walked over to the large wooden table where I had spread out my now clean laundry - some folded up, some still in a heap as I had taken them out of the dryer, but all warm and smelling amazing. He sat down on the high chair with one of those typical old-man-groans and said: "Don't worry, I can wait a bit. I don't mind. Especially not in company that nice." I smiled and grabbed another towel to fold it up. "Here, let me help...", he said and before I could say anything he had already grabbed a few pieces from the pile of dried clothes. Again, I flushed because of all the things in there he had managed to grab several of my panties. Well, at least they were clean.

I protested: "You really don't have to, Mr. McIntyre", but he had already folded up a few of my panties with quick, practiced motions and put them into a neat stack at the edge of the table. "Come on, miss, no need to flush - we're all adults here. And besides... I've seen several of these things already anyway."

I stared at him. "How... what... what do you mean, Mr. McIntyre?"

"Well, you know that our living room window is just across from yours. And occasionally, I have seen you walk in your underwear from your bathroom to the kitchen or vice versa. Just the other day I told my wife: 'Hasn't the view drastically improved since the young Miss Wagner has moved in?"

I started to feel a little offended - had my neighbor just confessed that he had been a peeping tom from his appartment? "Mr. McIntyre, you're not spying on me, are you? I wouldn't have taken you for a dirty old man!" I offered him a smile to soften the insult. "But maybe I should thank you for the compliment?" "Oh, you're welcome. Too bad that your blue underwear isn't here, I am particularly fond of that." I threw the folded towel onto the stack and grabbed the next one. "Well, you're out of luck, it's not in the pile. I'm wearing it right now, so nothing for you to see." Mister McIntyre raised his bushy grey eyebrows. "Oh really? And I'm supposed to just believe you?"

"I don't see what else you could do!" I chuckled, turned my back towards him and bent over to pick up the laundry basket. Then all of a sudden I felt his hand on my butt. My first instinct was to protest, but somehow I had frozen and could only stand still and wait. I felt his second hand on my other buttcheek, could hear him get up from the chair and got close behind me. He pushed my denim skirt slowly up to my waist, inch by inch, until he finally had the full view of my blue panties and my butt.

"Oh, you did say the truth," he said, his voice rough and hoarse. He ran his fingers along the edges of my panties, dipped a finger under the fabric. pulled it back and let it snap back on my butt cheek. I couldn't help it, but I moaned softly.

"Most people love red underwear. But I truly love that blue." He dug his fingers hard into my buttcheeks and I twisted, lost my balance, half turned and fell down on my ass. My head was now on a level just above his knees and looking up at him I could clearly see a massive bulge in his pants, then his belly hanging over his belt and half his face. There was no more friendliness in his eyes, no longer the smiling neighbor who would help out with onions or coffee when I ran out of them, I only saw lust and greed.

"Look, what you'd done. How am I supposed to leave here, now, hm? What would the other neighbors think if they saw me like this? What would my wife think?"

I felt dizzy. I didn't quite know how I had ended up in this situation. But I had an inkling what would happen next. "I'm... I'm very sorry, Mr. McIntyre."

My neighbor sighed, opened his zipper and revealed a surprisingly large and thick cock that sprang forward as it was freed from the constraints.

"Nice tits, nice ass, but an empty head, hm? Well, that can be fixed." He grabbed my long blond hair that was bound into a ponytail and pulled my head upwards and closer. I had to switch from my ass to my knees to support my weight and when I opened my mouth to - well, what exactly? To acquiesce? To protest? To cry for help? - he pushed his cock deep into my mouth, grabbed my head with both heads and started to fuck my face with long, slow, deliberate strokes.

"Yes, you fucking tease, close your mouth, make it tight... that's good. Let me feel your whore-tongue on my sack... yes... very good. I always thought you would have a very fuckable facecunt."

I pushed my tongue out under his thick shaft and tickled his hairy sack with the tip. We both had found our rhythm now and he kept degrading me as he fucked my face. I had regained my balance enough that I could use my right hand to gently stroke his balls while he kept fucking my mouth. He was moaning with every stroke now and I could feel him getting faster, pushing deeper. I gagged a few times and tried hard to time it right, to take this massive old cock all the way, once, twice... finally I caught him at exactly the right moment, I swallowed, relaxed my throat and I felt his cock slide deep into my throat, my nose pushing against his pubic hair, his belly pressing against my forehead.

"You fucking dirty little cunt aaaahhhh.... aaaAAAAA" he moaned. I felt his balls tighten up and an instant later his cum shot down my throat directly into my stomach.

He remained like this for a moment, then he pulled his cock abruptly from my mouth and I almost fell over while greedily sucking in air.

My neighbor milked the last drops of cum into one of my panties he had folded up earlier and used it to wipe the juices from his cock.

"Well done, mouthslut. Haven't had a blowjob like this from a slut in a long time. Practice or talent?"

I was still sucking in air, but I had enough of it to grin at him defiantly and answer: "Bit of both, I guess." He looked at me with a stern look. "What are you supposed to say when someone offers you a compliment, you stupid facecunt?"

I swallowed and lowered my eyes. I wasn't used to be talked to like this, to be degraded like this, but I could feel my pussy twitch with every degrading and offensive name he gave me. "Thank you, Mr. McIntyre."

He patted my head. "Very good. Now pack up your stuff, you're in my time slot. I'll put the last load into the dryer for you and drop them off when it's done, understood?"

I stood up, my knees shaking and thanked him again, grabbed my dried laundry and my laundry basked and stumbled out of the laundry room.

It wasn't before the elevator was on the way up to my apartment before I remember to push down my skirt again.