The Laundry Room

Continuing from The Appraisal, part 4

It was early evening by the time I had cleared my schedule to respond to your alluring invitation. I mounted the steps of your porch with the picture of your sweet ass missing your panties all day. If you were as excited in anticipation of our meeting again as I was, your crotch was surely wet with longing.

You answered the door a millisecond after I pressed the doorbell, as if you were waiting for my arrival and watched my approach through the street.

“Well, hello, sir,” you grin like a predator ready to devour your catch, “are you here to see the house?”

“I just stopped by to express my thanks for your generous gift in a more tangible way.” I said, “Your masterpiece has already engendered a great deal of remarks in the office.”

“Positive comments I hope!” you reply, “What are they saying?”

“I think my administrative assistant already suspects the source of the painting. It made as much an impression on her as our bodies made an impression on the canvas!”

“Well you caught me not only with my panties off, but with a few chores undone. Come down to the basement with me and I’ll finish up a little laundry before we play.”

You led me down the stairs where three days before we had frolicked and fucked with our bodies covered in paint. Now the hum of the dryer and smell of humid lint filled the room. A pile of folded clothes was waiting on a side table, with another basket of sheets waiting to be folded.

“Here, lover-boy, help me fold these sheets. After all, you soiled them earlier this week!”

I held two corners of the square sheet as you stretched your arms out with the opposite ends. Folding them together, and then folding again, we approached each other to continue folding the sheet lengthwise.

As our corners met, your eyes caught mine, and you tipped your head up to mine, giving me an inviting kiss. Impulsively, we both dropped the sheet and embraced passionately, our building lust finding its expression in hot devouring kisses. We were twirling our tongues and pressing our mouths together as if we somehow could swallow each other.

I thrust you up against the running washer, which had just entered the spin cycle.


The washer pushed back against our bodies as we longed for a more complete union. We began to peel our clothes off one another: you loosen my silk tie; I unbutton your red blouse; my buttons almost pop off as you remove my oxford cloth shirt; my eager fingers finding the zipper on your A-line skirt; you hurriedly unbuckle my belt and slip off my trousers. Already my insistent cock pressed out of my paisley boxers, and I could see your hard nipples push through your lacy brassiere. Of course, as promised, you were wearing no panties, and as I reached down between your thighs I feel your anticipatory wetness begging for attention.

Your ass pressed hard against the cool enameled surface of the washer, throbbing with mechanical precision.

“Lift me up, lover,” you gasp through our kisses, “Lift me up and let me feel that spinning!’

I reach around your torso and deposit you on the washer lid. Spreading your legs, I go down on top of your wet cunt and tease it open with my zealous tongue. Your lips open eagerly and I press deeper inside, making my tongue firm and long to penetrate you as deep as I could.

The vibrations of the spin cycle were reverberating through your pelvis, and I could tell that it was urging you on quickly to a climax. While I circled your clit with my tongue, I thrust my finger up into your wet cunt, curving it up into your g-spot and spurring you on to more gratification.

You begin to rock your torso back and forth in sync with the shaking washer. I feel your undulating vagina respond to the pressure of my finger. You are going to erupt soon. The spinning of the washer shifts into higher gear, as you begin to squirt with enthusiasm.

Arching your back and placing your hands behind you on the washer console, you gasp out, “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!’’ As pulses of your cum jet forth over my beard and face, I am drenched by your orgasmic streams.

“Jesus! You don’t hold back!” I said, drying myself on a still-warm hand towel, “That was quite a ride!’

“I always wondered what it would feel like to cum on this washer,” you grin slyly, “you can’t imagine how many times I’ve leaned on this and masturbated while I was waiting for a load to finish.”

“Well I have another load for you if you want it,” I said eagerly. “How do you feel about seconds?”

“Is seconds all you’re offering?” you ask with a hungry look, “I could go all night if you have the time. It’s just you and me tonight. Come here, you. I think you’re going to like the next round.”

Jumping off the still spinning washer, you reach for the dial and adjust the cycle back to make it last a little longer.

“Here, get up on the top,” you order me, “I think you will like this little ride.”

The white enamel still warm from your ass print, and I feel the puddle of your passion on my balls as I hop up on the shaking washer. Leaning back to enjoy the ride, I feel you reach for the shaft of my cock, and you begin to gently stroke it as I respond to your attentions.

“My, my, my, look at him grow!” you smirk, “Let’s see how long I can make this sausage stretch!”

Taking my swelling head in your mouth, you begin to suck on me and tease me with your tongue. It almost feels as I imagine a baby might suckle on her mother’s nipple, ravenous and demanding. Your sucking begins softly yet soon encompasses more of my shaft, as you swallow me hungrily. Working up and down my member with your hands, you reach under my balls with your other hand and squeeze them softly, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from me.

I reach around with my two hands and cradle your head, supporting your in-and-out motions as you suck and swallow me toward my orgasm. You hum with delight as you devour my erection, and the spin of the washer urges me on to the inevitable heights of delight that you have in store for me.

The rhythms of the rotating washer seem to synchronize with your moving hands and delightful mouth. Rotating my head around with the sensations, I finally let go and fountain into your voracious mouth. Pulsing down your eager throat, I hear you begin to swallow my milky seed.

“Don’t be greedy!’ I caution, “I thought we always share!”

You withdraw your velvet mouth from my spent member, and with a satisfied grin, you put your arms around my shoulders and kiss me enthusiastically, letting my cum dribble through your teeth and down my throat. Sharing the fruit of your labor with me gives us both a warm feeling, and I draw you close, reveling in the wonderful chemistry we have in common.

“Let’s go upstairs,” you invite me affectionately, “I don’t want this to end.”



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