Washing day has become one of the grand perks of my recent, involuntary retirement. The real beauty of washing day for me is that, for the most part, the tenants in the apartments across the alley from me do their laundry on Monday. It's the day I get up early, set up my tripod, clean the lenses on my binoculars and clamp them on the tripod. I will then grab a towel, toss off my underwear, pull up a chair and prepare for the best erotic show in town. And it's all absolutely free.
It all starts in 4B, when the young housewife, perhaps twenty years old, opens her blinds from a weekend of perversion spent with her new husband and lets the light flow back into their bedroom. While the rumpled sheets might give me hints to the lewd and lascivious things her husband shoved in and out of her body, I concentrate on when she finishes up her wash. Rather than imagine what she might have done, I enjoy the simple pleasures she displays as she sets up her ironing board.
Though dressed in any assortment of ways while she moved clothes in and out of washers and driers, it's when she irons that she strips down into a scant pair of panties and a sleeveless tee shirt. With the ironing board in the sunlight she must dress so scantily anticipating the heat, but when she first starts, she is deliciously cold and her tiny breasts press against her tee shirt with such enormous nipples it seems I could almost reach out and touch them.
I'll zoom in my view as she begins ironing watching the fabric pull against the nipples as she moves, pressing her unmentionables. Often just seeing some of the things she'll iron and fold will send a quiver through me as I often would begin the slow stroking of my cock watching her.
After the pristine artistry of 4B's waiflike breast and luscious nipples, I leap into the mammary excesses of 6D. This housefrau is a sturdy woman of maybe six foot tall, with a proportionally large body, not really fat mind you, but stout. She will lift the ironing board and twirl it about like a baton while wearing just her bra and panties. Unlike 4B, these unmentionables are all seemingly old world style, with the granny panties coming up over her slightly rotund belly. The bra, if I read the size properly using my zoom, is a 40 DD, but is stretched beyond capacity with her treasures.
This is an apartment of possibility and I spend some time watching her large breasts slosh about, threatening to burst out of the bra and slap against the window. The oddity of it all is that this massive mammary excess makes me wonder what it might feel like to roll my cock over the mountainous flesh. As she irons, the sweat rolls down her curves and through my lenses it appears about to drip on my cock to mingle with the pre-cum pooling there.
Ah I can imagine the acrobatic sex that happens behind the blinds of 6F's apartment on the weekends. Her lean fit body must do marvelous things to any cock fortunate feel her from the inside. The ironing board here looks like it could double as a weight bench and I pump my own iron cock as she irons her sheets, folding them perfectly as the muscles in her arms flex. I want to hold her breasts as she flexes her chest muscles, I bet those nipples could put out my eye.
She wears a sports bra and tight shorts and irons with her back to me. I'll squeeze my cock extra hard as I watch her, imagining her doing crunches with my cock deep in her pussy. It's watching her that gets me so close to coming, but I hold off, fighting the urge to come all over her muscles.
Good sex like most everything is about a progression, a wonderful progression and for me, good sex on wash day is a progression of ironing boards, starting with the foothills of 4B progressing onto the mountains of 6D and onto the sinewy slopes of 6F to the wispy clouds of 8B. By the time I reach 8B the ironing board is in place, the towels and sheets folded and she is ironing her husband's underwear. I can't help but admire the way she handles the linen, as if he were still in them, first looking at them, letting her long, red hair cascade over the bulge in the front, then oh so gently ironing the crotch.
I handle myself accordingly as I watch her move wearing just a light sundress with, let me see as she bends to pick up... yes, no panties, just a hint of slit and the stray red curls I'd long to feel tickle my nose. She'll then iron some more, fold and once again bend just that certain way as my hand slides quickly up and down. Finally, when I'm certain that she is certain that I am getting close to popping my load, she will grab a pair of her husbands jockeys and begin rubbing them over her face. She'll then sit on her bed and lift her skirt running her fingers down her slit.
Then just as I catch a complete glimpse of the dense triangle of curly, red hair, see her lips begin to open as her fingers plunge into herself the blinds will suddenly close. The timing seems perfect as I am suddenly splashed by the warm arc of cum spurting onto my chest.
I take my towel, use it to clean up my cum and then toss it into my clothes hamper. I'll relax a bit in the afternoon, remembering the sights of all those ironing boards. Of course tomorrow I'll be gathering my clothes together and dragging out my ironing board because it's Tuesday, wash day in my building.