"I hear you have a live-in now Shannon, what's up with that?"
Brian stood behind me, leaning against the table in the common laundry room. Brian was my landlord's son, on leave from the Canadian armed Forces. He was huge! Broad, wide chest, large shoulders, narrow waist and pretty damn handsome to boot. Of course, he knew that. He had flirted with me from the first week I moved in and while I teased him, we never had a relationship.
"Why, are you jealous?" I asked, looking back over my shoulder to catch him leering at my backside. I hadn't dressed like this intentionally, I didn't know he was home. I wore oversized men's white shirt and white socks. That was all. And when I would reach to pull something out of the washer, the shirt would rise to just below my ass cheeks. If Brian bent over, he would have seen quite clearly the object of his desire.
"Fucking right I am! You're my gal!"
"Jeez, Brian, you still singing that tune?" I knelt in front of the dryer and began to pull out my previous load and placing them in the basket. Once they were out, I had to place the load from the washer in. While I was occupied, Brian reached down and pulled out one of my white polyester tanks.
"I would love to see you in this Shannon." I watched as he held it to his face and slid it along his skin. I was suddenly aware that his attentions were giving me wild thoughts.
"Better yet," I replied, "I'd like to see you in it." I said jokingly.
"Alright then." Brian began to strip his T-shirt off in front of me. I recall studying his chest in the summer time when he would sunbathe in the backyard. I think he had developed even more muscles. He slipped my camisole over his head and struggled to get his arm up into the tiny body.
"Give me that, you big dope, you're going to stretch it." I went to grab for it and we play struggled for a few seconds till Brian stopped trying to get his arm into it, and instead, he wrapped them around me, drawing me against his broad chest. The palms of my hands against his skin were hot.
"Brian, let me go."
"Not till you kiss me."
"Brian, don't be stupid, let me go."
"Just one kiss, just oneβ¦"
I just wanted to give him a peck on the lips, a quick kiss and then get my camisole off his neck. Why then were we lip locked for what seemed ages? Why didn't I pull away when I felt his cock jerking against my belly? Why did I drive my tongue into his mouth when his hands fell over my backside and squeezed? I don't know and I don't care. Years of watching this young men grow into a physical God was suddenly taking form as lust and I wanted him.