When I was in college a few years back, I lived in one of the men's dorms on the campus of the state university that I attended. Since I was too busy with my schoolwork to go back home to do laundry, I usually ended up at the dorm Laundromat, down in the basement of our building.
Next to the men's dorm in which I lived was a women-only dorm, and the two buildings were attached to each other at the ground level, where they shared a common lobby, public restroom, and vending machine area. But the women's dorm was smaller than our building, and they didn't have their own Laundromat. So from time to time girls would come across to our laundry room to wash their clothes.
One weeknight I was having trouble sleeping so I ducked out of my room at about 3 a.m. and headed down to do some laundry. Around the dorm I usually just wore a t-shirt, sweats and socks with no shoes, and tonight was no different. I went down on the elevator to the basement with my laundry basket in hand, and padded over to the laundry room in my socked feet.
I was surprised to see someone else in the Laundromat at such a late hour, and was even more surprised to see it was a girl. She was wearing a blue fleece pullover, a tight pair of gray sweats, plain white socks and a pair of Birkenstock sandals. She was no doubt wearing the pullover because of the cool, fall air outside, and because she had to walk through the usually cold lobby to get here.
She heard me walk into the room and turned, making eye contact. It was then that I recognized the short, blond-haired girl. Her name was Kelly, and we had met a few weeks back at a frat party on the campus.
She had been walking around the party looking bored, shrugging off most of the advances sent her way. I had been bored myself, sitting on a couch trying not to look like a dork. We made eye contact then, and wound up chatting on that couch for a couple of hours before things turned romantic. We made out for a little while at the party, and then she made up an excuse and left before things got heavy. We hadn't seen each other since then, but I still remembered her beautiful face.
When we made eye contact this time, we both smiled awkwardly. I muttered a greeting, and she did the same. I walked over to a washing machine and began loading my clothes in, and she continued doing the same with her clothes. I sneaked a glance back at her a couple of times, and I noticed her looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
Then, just as I had started my only load of clothes, I turned around to see her finish loading one of many she had brought. She gave me a sexy smile, reached down and grabbed her pullover, sliding it up and over her head. As she pulled the fleece shirt off, I saw she was wearing a white tank top underneath. The pullover snagged on one corner of the tank top, pulling it up slightly as she tugged the shirt over her head. The tank top lifted up enough for me to see the bottom of one of her breasts before sliding back down. She was obviously not wearing a bra.
After she tossed the pullover into the washing machine and started the load, she looked back at me again, as if to say, What are you doing all the way over there? Then she hopped up onto the washing machine, her legs dangling in the front, and began reading a paperback romance novel.
Her sexy looks were too much for me to stand, so I bravely made my way over to her side of the Laundromat. We made small talk for a little while, and she dropped more signs to me than any ten girls ever had.
"I missed you," I finally said to her. "I really wanted to see you again after that party."
"I really missed you, too, hon," she responded, and then leaned forward and threw her arms around me, pulling me towards her. "I have wanted you so bad since that night. I never forgave myself for leaving without you!"
With that, she dove right in, kissing me even more passionately than she had at the party. We played tonsil hockey for several long minutes, during which we both got very aroused. Her nipples were plainly visible, poking out of her white tank top. My hard-on was sticking straight out from my blue sweatpants. She looked down at my swollen crotch and giggled playfully.
"Happy to see me, baby?" she chuckled, and then lifted her legs up from where they dangled, letting her sandals fall to the floor and bringing her socked feet up to my groin. Her soft, cotton socks rubbed on my dick through the bulging fabric as she giggled like a 14-year-old high schooler. After a few moments of that, she pulled me closer with her hands and slipped her feet behind my back, tugging my entire body close to hers.
"I want you to bring that thing over here," she said lustily, then she reached one of her hands down and slid it into my sweatpants. She slipped her hand into the boxer briefs I was wearing underneath my sweats and wrapped it around my swollen cock. She teased it, sliding her hand gently up and down the shaft while I moaned.
My own hands went searching, sliding up her tank top and cupping her perfect C-cup breasts. We made out with her hand down my pants and my hand up her shirt for a few minutes, with us both coming up for air every once in awhile and both of us moaning steadily. Then she pulled her hand away from my crotch and pushed my hand away from her tits, and then slid forward on the washing machine before jumping down.
She knelt in front of me, pulling my sweatpants down around my ankles, helping me out of them. Then she stood up and pulled my t-shirt over my head, leaving me in just my black boxer briefs and a pair of white tube socks.
"Hop up there," she said, gesturing to the now-vacated washing machine. Her load of clothes was now well into the cycle, and the machine was on the spin cycle. I hopped up on to the top, dangling my legs over the front like she had done. She got in front of me, and pushed me back until I was almost at the very back of the machine.
"I want to rub up against the machine while it rocks," she said to me with lust in her eyes, "And I want to suck your cock while I do it."
