Fluff 'N' Fold

It had been a slow night, but finally, it was 9:45 — Only 15 minutes ’til I could lock up. The last customer had left over an hour ago. I guess most people have better things to do on a Friday evening than laundry, and normally I would too; but tonight my mom wanted to look in on a neighbor who wasn’t feeling well, so I told her to go ahead and I’d close up the store.

It’s true, the machines were making a racket, but I guess I was paying more attention to the hot goings on in Fantasy Forum than to my immediate surroundings, because I didn’t even notice the door open. The vibrating washer wriggling with its steady, mechanical pulse beneath me, combined with the steamy story I had been reading, had thrown me into a fever of sensual desire, that I guess was all too obvious by the libidinous expression which now colored my face. I think I must have turned about 14 shades of crimson when I looked up to see the dark-haired stranger who stood smiling before me. There was no way to know how long he had been watching me.

“Am I too late?” He asked with something more than just amusement.
“I beg your pardon?” I answered, licking my lips.
“The sign says you close in 15 minutes,” he replied, pointing to his sack of laundry, then fixing me with a lustful stare.
“Well, normally, we do close at 10:00 sharp,” I said, jumping down from the machine and into the steely grip of his Arm & Hammer embrace, “but if you don’t mind being locked in while I straighten up, I think we might have time to get to your load.”
“It’s pretty big,” he warned.

I reached my hand down to measure the hard protrusion now straining beneath the fabric of his Levi’s and replied, “I’m sure we can accommodate you… We’ve even got triple-capacity — if you’re up for it.”

“I hope I brought enough quarters,” he said with a laught.

I locked the door, flipped over the -CLOSED- sign and drew the shadws. “Come here,” I commanded, “and let me make change for you.” His deep, proving kiss sent shivers along my spine, as his strong hands began to explore my sex-starved body, inch by hungering inch.

“You’ll be wanting to wash these, too, won’t you?” I asked as I unzipped his tight, black pants.
“Mmm…” he replied with a happy groan.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I answered, pulling his pants off the rest of the way — and his underwear for good measure. I don’t know how, but I did manage to throw all his clothes into the machine and get it turned on before we got too turned on ourselves. Though once I heard the purr of the machinery, I turned my full attention back to the naked stallion whose exposed and visibly agitated member awaited my inquisitive mouth and fingertips. In an instant, he relieved me of my clothing as well, letting it fall in a small heap on the tiled floor.

His tongue sought out my breasts, tantalizing the straining nipples with expert liquid caresses that sent me reeling. He sank back against the rumbling washer and pulled me astride him. I pulled my “in case of emergency” condom from the pocket of my cut-offs, tore open the package and rolled it in a flash onto his now towering sex.

As his huge, hard manhood penetrated my steaming core, I cried out with ecstatic pleasure. The steady, lurching gyrations of the washers echoed the slapping cadence of our flesh as we swung into our own final spin cycle, driving the lusty orbit toward its inevitable climax. A moment later, we screamed with joyful release as mindblowing orgasms rocked through first my body and then his.

“Oh, my goodness,” he said in mock-horror when we finally caught our breath, “we forgot to put in the fabric softener!”
“How careless of me, sir,” I whispered close to his ear, caressing it with a quick, hot flick of my tongue. “I guess we’ll just have to run them through one more time.”

“Or maybe two,” he answered.
“Why, Mr. Maytag,” I exclaimed, “do you think you’ll be able to deliver on that guarantee?”
“They don’t call us the dependability people for nothing,” he said.
“We’ll just see about that,” I replied huskily, as I squeezed his revitalized member between my palms. “We’ll just see…”

“That we will, my beautiful laundress,” he assured me, then added with a laugh, “Will that be your soap, or mine?”

Copyright, Desolation – 2003.

No portions of Fluff ‘N’ Fold may be used without expressed, writen permission.