LaundryLaundry. by davistrell@aol.com
I'm pretty lucky. Urrgh. Beer belch. We got a laundry room. I don't have to go to the fershlugginger commercial laundrette. Not only I'm spared the trouble, of carrying my stuff but also don't have to wait, bored out of my mind, waiting, waiting for the damn stuff to dry. I can do it, lock the door, go back to my room, watch TV, get online, download, go back, change the loads, return to my room, wait, but do what I want, till the laundry's done. Much more convenient.
However, there's a hitch. Always is. It's when the person before you, has forgotten the stuff. You take it out for them, dump the load on top of the drier, stick in your load into the drier, and put in quarters, start the spincycle.
But today when I did that, I pulled out a pair of womyn's underwear. Black, lacy, the type they used to call saucy. If I had a babe, maybe she'd wear stuff like that.
"Hey what you doin'!"
"Hey I'm sorry, thought you'd forgotten, I had to dump out your stuff... I'm going out tonight."
"Oh, I see,... thought you were stealing my stuff."
"These your girlfriend's? She must be a babe."
"Yeh, she's that."
I got pictures, she's back East visiting her folks. You wanna come, check her out, pictures I got, while your doing your dry?"
"Hell, why not, I got thirty minutes to kill."
"She's a model, models nude."
Pause for manly innuendo.
That's what he told me, I followed him up the stairs, while he carried his basket of clothes, followed his ass up the steps, that led to his room.
In his twenties, a fresh growth of beard, hadn't shaved yet, and it was way past noon. He'd slept in his Tshirt and jeans, my nose told me so. Hadn't combed his hair and of course, not showered yet. Probably been on a bender, you could see the hangover in his eyes.
"Sit yourself down, sorry about the mess, I got Sprite, you want Sprite?" he said, and went to get Sprite.
There was a photo on the bookshelf, on top of the computer books, looked like him, maybe a cousin, maybe t be related. But not too much alike.
"Here's your Sprite," said he, and offered me the can.
"I got a photo album here somewheres else," he said and searched through the books, strewn in dishevelled bed-clothes; don't see too many blue-collar readers in this day and age. They watch TV.
"What's your name, mine's Max..." I said
"Hiroyuki."
Thrown for a loop.
"Hiroyuki.."
"Wha... you don't look Japanese..."
"Here it is....no, I was adopted, I was an orphan, got adopted by a Japanese couple...'s how I got the name. Weird, huh?"
"So what they call you?" I asked.
"Shido; it's the custom to use your last name."
He sat beside me, blond Shido, lit a cigarette, not attractive, and clutched the photo album in his lap.
"Which is your room? I've lived here for months haven't seen you before."
"I'm on the ground, got no reason to come up."
"Sounds lonely."
He stubbed out his cigarette, turned attention to the album, opened it up.
"Here's my babe."
It was the guy in the photo, that I'd just seen. He was naked except for black lacy panties, but from the crotch-cutaway dangled a mighty
sporty looking cock.
Laundry Part two davis Trell @aol.com
"Cute, huh?"
I'll say.
"We share this place together. Keeps the rent low."
The single bed didn't look so big, but you could fit two, in a tight squeeze. I spread out my legs, and sank a little deeper in the couch.
"Check out the back view. Check out that cute butt."
He turned over the pages, and lingered, showing me his buddy's relevant parts, and belabored the obvious, but I didn't mind.
"That's me and him. We did a a porn shoot, when we got low on bread."
He showed me his pictures, being blown, sucked and fucked, and the ones of him, blowing, sucking and fucking, doing all kind's of stuff.
"Bet that got you hard, huh? Wanna suck Shido's dick?" and he pulled out his whang, poking out hard from his pants, slipped his thumbs into his jeans, pulled his pants down, sliding them under his butt.
"'S big, huhn? Grab a feel, feel the weight of those nuts, c'mon go down and suck, get me off. If you do it right, I'll let you fuck me, after all, I'm an afternoon kinda guy."
So I gobbled on his cock, smelling of sleep, but hard, cock-hard.
Tasted pretty good, slippery wet with my spittome big-time, huge laundry load, tasted real good. Almost as his good as his ass, I spent a lot of time there, sucking that pucker, all this time his butt moving, enjoying my tongue on his ass, in his ass, no need of fingers. He got a little impatient and till my cock head pushed against his hole, burrowed in, filling his ass, and starting to move. Back and forth, in and out, again and again. Till I took a little rest, and started again. Technically they call this doggie style, but he's no dog; he's a man, I'm fucking him man-style. Just the way he likes it. I hope his room-mates going to be gone for a while.
I forgot all about my laundry, someone dumped my load, on the grimy floor. I had to do my load again, start the washcycle all over again. Went back to his room, to spend some time, needless to say.
Looks like I'm not going out tonight, after all.