Free Erotic Stories

The Local Laundromat

Only two people were able to get the better of her schedule today: an elderly black woman with a hunter green multipurpose cart, and a teenaged girl, demonstrating complete disinterest in her surroundings as she stares at her own bright orange fingernails. The scent of kebabs wafts through the air, emanating from the styrofoam box on the counter next to the middle aged proprietor.

"Hi, Mo. Quarters, please?"

He silently nods in the direction of the change machine the brooding adolescent is sitting next to. The handmade "Out of Order" sign is not up this week. Becky stakes her claim at the washers directly across from the good dryers and rummages through her billfold, searching for a ten dollar bill crispy enough to not be rejected without requiring digital acrobatics. The depressed teen looks up as Becky approaches, and just as nonchalantly, looks back down again. The machine parts with thirty nine shiny new quarters, and one dirty, blackened one.

As she makes her way back to her corner of the laundromat, Becky notices additional patrons have entered, two regulars and one new face. Being the ever observant people watcher, Becky knows all of the regulars. This face belongs to a newcomer. A very pleasant face, indeed.

She places the gallon container of Tide onto the yellow Formica folding table from yesteryear and begins to fish delicates out of her collapsible laundry bag, gingerly placing them into the front loader. The washer door closes with a muffled click of the latching mechanism and she sets the options to delicate wash.

The humming of the dryers affords Becky the perfect white noise needed to immerse herself in a good E-book. She usually relishes this sort of opportunity for me-time, but the long, drawn out work week has taken its toll on Becky's patience... And mood.

She makes her way to the bank of chairs across from the heavy duty washers. The furthest is occupied by the pretty face, an urban type sporting a Fidel Castro style hat and deep forehead lines à la Luke Perry. Instinctually, she feigns interest in the poster hanging above him and checks him out head to toe in one discreet motion. He sports an olive G-Star button down with a white muscle undershirt, faded jeans, and tan Timberlands.

Always a fan of the classic urban look, she took the second seat away, instead of the seat furthest away from her ruggedly handsome new neighbor. This man is beautiful, and she wanted him.

It was just the previous Tuesday that Becky and her friend had been talking about this exact subject. "Being single in the city for too long takes a toll on anyone", she would complain. The already hectic pace only becomes more stressful when you add in the physical frustrations of a sexless existence, she would go on to lament. "I could really, really use a good roll in the hay."

Until now, Mister Fidel Hat hadn't looked up even once. His nose was pointed downward, concentrating deeply into the fold of a periodical.

Becky clears her throat: "I need to check on my load, can you watch my detergent for me?"

Fidel Hat looks up from the glossy pages with bright, electric hazel eyes. He acknowledges with one nod, and uncrosses his legs. The strong, silent type, yum. She makes her way back to the washer, safely behind the folding table out of view, and waits for fifteen seconds, then returns to her chair. He glances her way, as if to symbolically return the bottle to her custody with a look. Becky smiles wide, showing teeth. "Thank youuu.."

It's almost demeaning to have to resort to these middle school ploys to garner attention from men, she's known for saying, but most are so clueless that unless a girl doesn't mind waiting around for only the raunchiest of pick-up lines from drunk, dirty men at bars, she would be best served throwing a soft pitch to a nice, hot guy every now and then. She mentally calculates it will take at least one more big hint that she is interested before this beast of burden will consider the possibility of striking up a conversation.

It's also a toss up, living in Midtown. Very often, the handsome single ones turn out to be gay.

Becky is halfway into the second paragraph of her E-book when she feels the weight of his stare. Forcing a half-smile, she looks his way. He returns hers with a lazy, crooked smile of his own. A five o'clock shadow accentuates his strong, square jaw. He puts his borrowed dog-eared copy of Time down.

"These dryers don't work too well", he starts, pointing. Becky chuckles in response.

"Yeah, no, they don't. That's why I use the ones on that side."

"Dustin", he introduces himself, extending his right hand in her direction.

"Becky", she takes his hand. "You new to the area?"

"Yeah, I was living in Brooklyn, but got tired of the commute. So now I'm on 46th."

"Welcome to the area! I'm on 48th." Unclean thoughts begin to cloud her judgement. She would rather welcome him in a much more intimate way.

"Nice, maybe we can get lunch sometime." It's now that they both realize Dustin is still holding onto Becky's hand, far longer than socially appropriate. This might not be so difficult, after all. Becky's new acquaintance is eyeing her tanned, slender legs, and makes no effort to conceal his lust.

"Maybe" lowering her voice an octave, "I can be your lunch" curling her lips upward and narrowing her eyes. At this, he looks into her eyes.

Becky is prepared to hold his stare for the five long, drawn out seconds usually required for the mental midget that is the common man to fully process the implications of such a direct come-on as this.. Much to her relief, it turns out to not be necessary.

"I am pretty hungry, now that you mention it."

"Hungry enough to grab a snack right now?" Now she's teasing him. There's no way this guy will call her bluff.

The squeaking wheels of the older lady's passing laundry cart cause Dustin to pause before replying, instead he takes her right hand from the handshake to a massaging position. He considers his reply before delivering it.

"I would thoroughly enjoy that", he responds, stressing the adverb with a slower cadence.

Becky glances across the still practically empty laundromat. The "secret" restroom behind the supply closet at Tubs'n'Suds is an old neighborhood secret passed along from local to local. This keeps the restroom clean, as only good willed locals use it in need, and everyone makes an equal effort to keep things tidy. It hadn't occurred to her until just now that this room could have other possible uses.

Feeling a sudden flood of endorphins intoxicate her uncontrollably, she stands up and tugs on his hands to stand him up. He does so without hesitation, and after both parties look around for possible witnesses, he follows her. As they round the only corner in the small, dimly lit hallway, he pushes her against the paneled wall, raising her left arm above and behind her head, and lowers her right to his waist. They are now face to face.

"Nice to meet you", he mumbles.

The back of her hand rests against his belt loops, but as she lowers her hand to a more comfortable position, she notices a large, warm protrusion in his jean pockets. She sighs softly, smiling.

"Do I turn you on?"

Instead of responding, her new friend sniffs the base of her ear, and kisses her neck delicately. She can feel his hot breath as it warms her in the otherwise cool, drafty passageway. She pulls him closer to her own body, their pelvises are at equal heights, and as he closes the distance between them, his rigid member now aligns with her now moistening sex. Only a few thin layers of cloth separate them from instant gratification.

She disengages her left hand from his right, and fumbles for a doorknob to her left without looking. Unlocked!

"Let's..." She whispers.

Only too happy to oblige, Dustin releases her slender frame and follows her inside.

The ceiling light is motion activated, and the unexpectedly large room comes alive with a hazy, yellow glow as the low wattage, long, fluorescent bulb wakes up with a steady buzz. At the base of the room is a supply cabinet, next to a large cart with a heavy duty induction motor and what seems to be the internals of a long since decommissioned change dispenser. Across from the groping couple is a sturdy looking cabinet sink with a mirror above it much larger than needed for the space. They make their way slowly, Dustin pushing her along as she walks backward toward the sink. A filament in the bulb falters, and the already low lighting is further reduced by half.

Now that she has nowhere else to back up, Dustin holds Becky's head delicately by the sides and closes his eyes, kissing her top lip. She stands motionless, allowing him to suck her lip. She reaches around his muscular midsection, clasps her own hands together, and pulls him in toward her. The kiss deepens, becoming a full-on deep kiss, their tongues finally meeting. She slips him the tip of her tongue, and this excites him even more. His kiss turns more passionate, his hands roaming the front of her chest now, caressing her modest, perky breasts through a bra and white tee she'd gotten at a concert from the year before. Like a child just given a new toy, he becomes engrossed with her splendidly formed fleshy mounds. She'd been told before how picture perfect they were, but it was still hard for her to accept just how much the men she'd been with would always enjoy sucking on them, playing with them, giving them their full attention for as long as they would. Not that she would mind, they were especially sensitive to a man's strong touch, and the perfect way to make her stand at sexual attention at a moment's notice is to kiss and caress them.

Her sexually agitated partner commences removing her shirt, and she assists him in this endeavor. Once the shirt is removed, she's shocked to find that he'd already unclasped her bra, and it falls to the floor on its own. How did he do that without her noticing? He wastes no time with teasing, and begins to nibble on her right nipple with deep, slow sucking motions with his cheeks, while his right hand is gently massaging the whole of her left breast, her left nipple squarely in the center of his large palm. She arches her back with this overwhelming sensory overload, and he moves his head upward to match her movement. She lets go of his back, now supporting herself against the cabinet to compensate for her weight shift.

Becky's self-styled jean shorts have become inexplicably uncomfortable all of a sudden, and she feels an overwhelming desire to have this man take them off. But before she can find a way to mention it, she opens her eyes to see him already beginning to lower himself to his knees, kissing her cleavage as he descends. She caresses his head, grabbing chunks of his thick, luscious hair. His Fidel cap slips off the crown of his head and stays in her hands as he moves lower, finally resting on his knees. His eyes are closed, and he's licking the inside of her belly button, tickling her, causing a giggle. Meanwhile, his fingers have become occupied, negotiating the tight jean shorts' button and too-tiny zipper. After what feels like entirely too long, he manages to unbutton the shorts and starts to lower them down, around her hips. To help this along, Becky rocks her hips side to side, lowering the waist of the cutoff denims one inch at a time. His eyes are trained on hers, looking up hungrily.

"What are you doing down there?" A mischievous smile purses her plump, succulent lips.

"Mind your own business up there." He grins, licking his own moist, kiss-softened lips. It seems he wants to take control. This is not something Becky is quite ready to give up.

Her shorts finally fall to the floor around her ankles. She's now standing against the countertop with nothing covering her body but her blue cloth shoes, and rainbow colored boy short panties, already moistened in the middle by the gentleman's welcome attention. He presses his face against her wet, supple mound lightly, breathing in her scent deeply. She can feel the bridge of his nose against her engorged clitoris, and starts to grind herself against it without realizing it. She feels her knees starting to buckle. This was exactly the kind of response the eager man on his knees before her was hoping for. He stands up partway to a squat, reaches behind her legs and picks her up enough to sit her on the edge of the bulky cabinet with ample counter space. The jean shorts, hanging on by the toes of her blue Toms on her dangling feet, have now fallen to the white tiled floor. She allows him to pull the waistband of her panties down, far enough to see a small patch of pubic hair peeking out from under the top. This is the furthest he can remove them without some work.

"How bad do you want your lunch today?" To tease him, she fondles her wet self through the rainbow striped panties while she looks intently at his reaction. Now back on his knees, he's staring at her fingers as they cause the wet spot to grow slowly. His mouth agape, eyes round and dilated, she is reminded of a puppy being teased with a treat. She slips her fingers under the remaining inch and a half of waistband covering her damp pussy and starts to finger herself with her index finger, moaning in delight. He inches forward, but she denies him by lifting her left foot to his shoulder blade and keeping him back.

"How bad, hmm?"

"Very bad."

"Show me."

He shifts his gaze from her wet crotch to her eyes, biting his lower lip. "How?"

"Take your cock out of your pants, and show me how bad you want to eat your lunch. And I'd better see it hard and ready for me." She speaks slowly and deliberately, as if instructing a toddler, pausing between clauses. His eyes seem hesitant to expose himself so early on. Becky shrugs her shoulders, raises her eyebrows and purses her lips, and begins to raise her panties back in place. Dustin jumps to his feet, already undoing his low-rise designer jeans before he's fully standing up. Jeans unzipped, the head of his larger than average sized penis is already poking out of the top of his bright white designer briefs.

"What's going on in there?", she asks, pointing to it. "Let's see."

His left thumb is used to lower the elastic waistband and reveal his already very stiff member. Released of its cage, his cock falls down and bounces up a few times before coming to rest at a balance, still pointing upward, directly in Becky's direction. Her mouth begins to salivate. It's almost too much for her, she almost gives in and demands that he fuck her now. But it's not enough for her to lose her composure. She makes a fist and simulates masturbation. "Come on, big boy. Show me how much you want it." The lights flicker again, and the bulb regains full life. Perfect, she thinks to herself.

With his right hand, her sex slave grabs his hard cock at the base and starts to stroke himself, with slow, determined strokes. It's not a half-hearted attempt, either. By now he is so aroused, every movement feels great.

"Nice. Very nice. I'll allow it. Come closer, get on your knees." He does as he is told.

"Slip these panties off." He reaches around her backside from his kneeling position, and pulls them down past her buttocks. She supports herself for a half-second on her hands while lifting herself from the counter. He finishes removing them, and lets them fall to the floor. She is now completely naked in front of him. She motions to him with both her hands for him to come forward as she opens her legs wide. As his head nears her reach, she takes his head by his hair and pulls his face close to her wet pussy.

"Do you like my pussy?" It's more of a demand for an answer, rather than a question. His affirmative nod garners a light swat to the top of his head from her left palm. "I can't hear you!"

"Yes, I love it."

"Now, eat it. Don't touch me with your dirty hands." Dustin can clearly see the wetness, almost dripping from her dilated vagina, and sticks his warm, smooth tongue into her beautifully formed hole. To this, she shudders, pulling his face in even closer to her. With a straining tongue, he begins to tongue fuck her, as deep as possible, deeper still with every forward movement. Her pleasurable moans excite him to no end. He slides his tongue up her waiting snatch, never once retracting his tongue from within her. The change makes her shift on her cute, trim ass, impatient for him to regain a rhythm. He continues to slide up closer to her waiting clit, first circling it with a rigid tongue several times, a warning of what was to come. On the fifth or sixth slow circle, Dustin lays his tongue flat on the clitoris, gently pushing its hood up and revealing more of the hardened, wet love target. In the same breath, he creates closes his lips around it and creates negative pressure inside his mouth by taking the air into his lungs, drawing her already very sensitive clitoris into his mouth, in between his lips. Just a little harder than Becky is comfortable being bitten on the most sensitive part of her perfect body, she tugs on the handfuls of his full locks she has in her grips and chastises him. "Ouch, you'll pay for that!" She wraps her previously dangling legs around his head, bending at the knees and draping over his shoulders. This causes him to come in closer and lower, now closer than ever to the most intimate of her femininity. "Make me cum, you dirty motherfucker!"

The lustful eater takes this as his cue to give it all he's got: licking furiously just below her clit in a repetitive circular motion, he holds this position for close to three minutes, though his neck is straining under the pressure of the woman's body weight thrashing about over him, alternating between drawing circles and licking up and down, and sucking it out from under its hood. From her point of view, all she can see of him is a full head of hair bobbing up and down. Up until now, the totally nude woman sitting atop his face has been moaning, but now she becomes quiet, eyes closed, focusing intensely on the pleasure being delivered by her new friend. She now reaches up to her breast with her right hand as she holds herself up with her left, and starts stroking her breast and pinching her nipple, at the same rhythm and speed as her fleeting lover sucks on her. Her legs begin to quiver, and her spine shivers with excitement. She feels a deep, internal quaking within her loins, and she holds her breath as every stroke of his tongue against her now pulsating clitoris becomes almost painfully intense. With every down movement, fierce, pleasurable shockwaves overtake her lower half, and travels up through her body into the tips of her nipples, escaping into the air like radio waves. At this, she releases a soft, long moan, almost a whimper, followed by a deep sigh of relief. She collapses back onto the counter, against the too-large mirror, and closes her eyes for just a moment.

Knocking on the door startles them both.

"You OK in there, miss?"