Sock Fetish Discovered Pt. 02

I envisioned her socked feet on my shoulders, cock buried to the hilt inside her soaked pussy as my face was buried in her used socks, breathing in her musty odor. Furthermore, I imagined her straddled over my face wearing the same outfit she currently wore; bottomless while I swallowed her flowing juices. I couldn't take anymore, and my cock let loose its first spurt of a load that lasted 9 agonizingly pleasurable spasms and sent shivers through my body as I stood with her sneaker pressed to my face with the other hand. The tube sock was now tortured and wet, soaked with my load. The ribbed top stretched and disfigured from the brutally quick fucking I had just subjected it too.

I quickly realized that I was probably out of time. I dropped the sock back on top of one of my laundry bags and it landed heavily with cum. Quickly I replaced the sneaker as I heard the door at the top of the stairs open. A quick panic set in as I mentally checked if everything was back as it had been. I quickly zipped my shorts back up and sat, acting like nothing had happened. Kelsey returned from up top, and I realized as she returned to her baskets that I had dropped her gray Hanes sock into a different basket than I had taken it from. I hoped she wouldn't notice. Kelsey moved a load from the wash to the dryer and turned to the basket in question. I watched her pause, consider, then move the sock from one basket to the other. Close. She had noticed, but I told myself she'd just as soon think it her mistake. The light scent of smoke hit me, which wasn't bothersome. She didn't strike me as a smoker. I'd dated girls who smoked and was never bothered by it.

"So tell me, what's there to do around here?"

She turned,

"Honestly there's plenty, the most annoying thing is no 2 things are close together, there's about 9 bars and restaurants in a 7-mile area, but they're all quite far from one another. Just an example. What were you looking for?"

I considered that saying I was looking for spots to meet someone was probably a bad decision, so I kept it vague.

"Just somewhere to hang and meet people in the area. No real plan."

She nodded. We bantered back and forth in causally prodding conversation as the machines hummed loudly, and the radio played Fleetwood Mac's "Go Your Own Way". I kept glancing casually at her socked feet as we chatted and didn't think she thought anything of it or even noticed at all. I wanted to smell them so bad. Shove them in my mouth and run my tongue over them until they were soaked. In the back of my mind, I calculated I would never be here again. The machines would be delivered to the house and I would never have a reason to return to the laundromat. I segued this thought into silently steeling myself to ask for Kelsey's number as the conversation continued. We talked much over the next hour, sitting the usual distance two strangers leave between one another. Kelsey crossed her legs at one point and her sock and slide covered foot was closer to me than ever. I snuck glances from time to time. My recent release quickly being erased by more pent-up tension. I imagined I was getting whiffs of their scent, but knew the faint sour smell was probably a product of my longing imagination.

There was a silence in the conversation and I let it hang to see if it would get uncomfortable. It didn't, at least not for me. I figured I'd take the step and asked

"So any plans this weekend?".

Sensing the symbolism of the question, Kelsey's body language changed, and she replied

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. We should do something together. You can show me around a bit."

She made eye contact and I met her gaze with one that told of my non-platonic meaning.

"Sounds like a plan."

She played casual, but I knew I had probably surprised her a bit. We exchanged numbers and more details about our living locations. She was actually a few miles in the opposite direction from the laundromat. Kelsey gathered her now clean laundry, the freshly washed Nike's on the top of one of the baskets; still drying. We said our goodbyes with an open-ended "Talk to you later" and she made her exit as I watched her dirty slide and socked feet make their way to the stairs and ascend. I heard the door close and I was again alone, wondering what would come next. I did notice I had left the soaked tube sock on top of the trash bag it had been stored in; perfectly in plain sight. The stretched out three striped top pointed towards the ground and there was a thin drip of cum running a few inches down the side of the plastic bag. Had she noticed?

Kelsey's back had been to my laundry bags; so I figured not. I set to finishing my laundry, all the while researching on my phone where we should go when we met up next.

To be continued...