Saturday Morning At The Laundromat

"I'll trade you," the woman says, as I glance around the laundromat for the owner of the panties in my hand.

It is not uncommon to find a sock, wash-cloth, or other small article of someone's wash inadvertently left behind in one of the dryers at our campus coin-laundry. Nor is it unusual for me to recognize, even fully-clothed, a woman with whom I have performed my very favorite act, or for the woman to recognize me.

I have a reputation around campus, at least among a certain group of students, as a cunnilingus addict, someone our co-ed population can use to fulfill a particular need, with no names exchanged and no strings attached. And I keep myself fairly busy pursuing my endeavor.

The woman whose pretties are in my hand has enjoyed my company on more than a few occasions, and knows my rules very well: my clients must hold my head with at least one hand while I am doing the deed, and I keep the panties after I have finished.

As I mentioned, I am often recognized by my clients, whether in the lecture halls, student union, library, elsewhere around campus, or even in the laundromat, and we sometimes exchange a slight nod or wink of acknowledgement or a secret grin as we recall our intimacy. Occasionally, I am discretely propositioned for further service.

A typical Saturday morning at the campus laundromat, the small flow of students pass through without anyone giving much regard to the panties in my hand as I load the dryer with my wet clothes, or to the woman with the yellow laundry basket approaching me.

"I couldn't keep a pair of panties I didn't earn," I say with a shrug as I place the silky unmentionables into her outstretched hand.

"I have the van this morning," she nods toward the door, setting her basket on top of the dryer and folding her panties, which strikes me as both sexy and unnecessary.

Once a week she drives the community service van and delivers boxes of leftover food to a local food bank.

I follow her out to the van and we both climb into the back. There are several boxes of food covered with a wool blanket, and she spreads the blanket on the bare floor and unties the drawstring of her sweatpants.

"Let me do that," I say, kneeling in front of her and lowering the waistband of her sweatpants past one hip at a time.

She is wearing a pair of pink cotton panties with white lace around the waist and leg-bands, and I gently push her back onto the blanket as I move my face in for a closer examination.

She helps me slide her sweatpants over her smooth legs as I inhale her incredible female essence, then lifts her hips and wiggles out of the newest addition to my vast collection of panties, which I hold to my face for a wonderful moment before stuffing them into my pocket.

With both hands on my head, she directs me to my task, and I begin kissing and licking her external genitalia as she lifts her hips to meet my hungry mouth. I separate her labia with two fingers and enter her delicious vagina with my tongue, her gentle pats and caresses of my head indicating I am pleasing her.

I suck and drink her womanly nectar and find her engorged clitoris with the soft underside of my tongue, directing my attention there as she clamps my head tightly between her thighs and bucks rhythmically.

I reach my open palms between the wool blanket and her firm backside and lift her wet, excited womanhood closer to my eager face, slurping her secretions noisily as her breathing and bucking quicken.

With a low, monosyllabic moan of pleasure, she grips my head tightly and rides my lips and tongue to an explosive orgasm, her exudate dripping down my chin and pooling on the wool blanket despite my best effort to swallow her entire load.

I smother her drenched labia with several loving kisses as she holds my head stationary, then I spread my hands, still cupping her backside, and extend my tongue for a quick taste of her forbidden zone as she giggles and runs her fingers through my hair.

"Too bad the dryer only runs for half-an-hour," I whisper as she pulls my face up to hers for a passionate kiss. "I could do this all day!"

It always turns me on when a woman kisses my mouth after I have swallowed her vaginal secretions.

"I have this food to deliver anyway," she smiles, waving a hand around the back of the van at the boxes.

"And this blanket to wash," I add with a smirk, reaching her hand down to the wet spot we created.

"Would you mind?" she asks, sucking the breath out of me with a deep kiss before I can answer.

"You might have to wash it twice," she adds with a wink, running the fingertips of one hand along my thigh and making a couple of pumping motions in the direction of my ever-present bulge.

"You know me very well," I say quietly, eager to relieve the pressure in my loins. I reach my hand down to touch hers but do not remove it from my thigh.

"And you know how to give me what I need, just when I need it most," she sighs, resting her face on my neck, "but I was thinking. After swim practice this afternoon, a few of the girls are meeting in my dorm room for a little stress-relief."

She pantomimes a drinking motion with her free hand.

"Maybe you could meet us there," she continues, taking my face in her hands and kissing me on the mouth, flicking her tongue rapidly in and out to imitate my favorite activity.

Then she adds teasingly, "You don't mind a little chlorine, do you?"

"I'll wash your blanket twice and bring it to you then," I say eagerly, hugging the wool blanket close to my body with the sexy wet spot pressed against my face.

Then she kisses my forehead and I walk back into the laundromat, clutching the blanket and imagining the afternoon ahead, and the chlorinated treats I will be enjoying.

I am pleased to notice the bathroom is not occupied!