The Apartment Laundry Room

The Apartment Laundry Room

I nervously buzzed his apartment. What was I getting myself into? My heart was racing, my hands were clammy, my mouth was dry ... and my dick was starting to stiffen without even touching it.

Logic dictated that I back out, but my dick demanded I go through with it.

“Yes?” he asked statically through the intercom.

I recognized his voice from his telephone calls. It had taken three phone calls, which had followed seven emails, for me to work up the courage to follow through. He had placed an ad on Craigslist: “Young Dom Likes Putting Guys in Daring Situations.” In his ad, he described how he loved to play with exhibitionists, especially budding exhibitionists, to get them to push their limits. In our talks, I had described my experiences (mostly vanilla, except for a few bathhouse experiences with an ex-boyfriend who fucked me in the middle of the showers while a crowd of guys watched and jacked off on me).

We had set up a scenario that scared the shit out of me. But I had also jacked off imagining it at least a dozen times.

And if his pictures were even remotely accurate, he was hot. So hot. Late ‘20s, looked like he was still in a frat, lean and fit without being overly muscular. So out of my league. Someone I could never expect to go home with at a bar. But he had seen my pictures -- and they were legitimately recent ones -- and was totally into the scene we talked about.

“It’s ... it’s Edward,” I said.

“You’re sure you want to go through with this?” he asked. He never said his name, but his email address said it was John.

I hesitated. My heart was pounding a million beats per minute. It would be so easy to just say no and go home.

“I’m sure,” I found myself saying.

“Totally sure?” he asked. “Once you come in, the ball’s in motion. It will be out of both of our control.”

Another opportunity to back down. Perhaps I should just go home, I thought to myself. My dick twitched.

“Totally sure,” I said.

My dick had won.

“Take the door on the left wall to the laundry room,” he said. “Then when you’re ready, take the elevator or the stairs to right of the elevator to the third floor. Room 308.”

He buzzed me in.

There was no lock on the laundry room door -- or, rather, there had been one, but it was clearly broken. Four washing machines on one wall. Four dryers on the other.

I cocked my ear to hear if anyone was coming. Not that they were likely to. It was 11:30 p.m. on a Saturday night and a sign in the laundry room clearly stated not to use the machines after 10:30 p.m.

Hesitantly, I pulled my t-shirt over my head and carefully folded it, placing it on the table in the center of the room. I hadn’t worn a sweatshirt or jacket of any kind.

Still no noise. I kicked off my ratty old tennis shoes and slid my holey jeans to the ground. I folded the jeans and put them on the table. There was nothing in the pockets. Cell phone and wallet were left at home. A spare house key was at home in a lockbox latched to the electrical meter. Just in case.

Still no noise. I slid off my old underpants and carefully folded them up, too. Now I was completely naked, except for my socks. I put my old shoes back on.

Now what?

My instructions were to leave my clothes and make my way to his apartment on the third floor. I would have to sneak through a large apartment building totally naked, hoping not to get caught. But I was also risking that my clothes might be taken while I was upstairs. The clothes were old and expendable. They were old things too worn to donate. I was going to get rid of them anyway. But losing them here, now, would mean a six block walk home. A long,

naked

six block walk.

In the city where I lived, there was no local ordinance prohibiting mere public nudity. (There is one now, but there wasn’t one at the time.) State law prohibited sexual activity in public, but mere nudity wasn’t illegal. I wasn’t risking arrest, but that didn’t mean I actually wanted to be seen naked in public. My fantasies were about the

risk

of getting caught, not the actuality of it.

The idea scared me shitless. It also got my dick hard. Every time I jacked off thinking about this scenario, it always included finding that my clothes had been stolen.

But fantasy and reality are two different things. There was no reason for anyone to come into the laundry room this late, but why tempt fate leaving my clothing in plain view? Despite being instructed to leave my clothes folded on one of the washing machines, I decided to try to mitigate my risk. I hid my jeans in one cabinet behind some cleaning products. The t-shirt went in another cabinet buried under some rags. The underpants went behind one of the washers. If someone came in, they wouldn’t readily see any of my clothing. And if they happened to stumble across one item, I’d still have two others left to make my way home in.

Now, naked except for socks and tennis shoes, I peeked through the doorway into the lobby. No one. Stairs or elevator? Elevator would get me to the third floor faster, but could leave me totally exposed if it stopped on the way and someone stepped in, or if someone was waiting on the third floor to come down.

I inched my way over to the elevator and pressed the call button. The lights above it flashed. Fifth floor. Fourth. Third. Seemed to pause, but picked up again before I had time to panic. Just as the elevator reached the lobby, I heard voices inside. I snatched the stairwell door open and leapt inside the stairwell just before the elevator door opened and a bunch of female voices exited.

Stairwell it was. I crept up half a flight, then around a corner to go up another half-flight to reach the first full landing. The door was marked “1.” Shit! One of those buildings where the lobby was its own floor and the first was above it. Two more flights to go.

As I reached the second floor landing, I heard the first floor door open. Shit, shit, shit! But the voices were fortunately going downstairs. There would have been no way to hide if that had happened just a few moments before. I waited for the lobby door to shut behind them before creeping up the final flight.

I peeked my head in. No one in the hallway.

I inched into the hallway. There were two wings branching off from the central elevator foyer. Room 308 was off to my left.

I knocked on his door, one hand cupping my dick. The wait was excruciating. I had no doubt he was stalling, keeping me exposed in the hallway as long as possible.

When he opened the door, I gasped. John’s pictures didn’t do him justice. He was about 6 foot tall, sandy blond hair, piercing blue eyes, barefoot, wearing navy blue basketball shorts and a gray sweatshirt with the letters of a fraternity on them. I’d never been in a frat so the letters were, pardon the pun, all Greek to me. But the idea of undergoing a pledge hazing was making my dick stiffen in my cupped hand.

“Move your hands so I can see you naked,” he said.

I dropped my hands to my side.

“Put them on the top of your head,” he said. I obeyed.

“Now turn around, slowly,” he said. I rotated so that he could see my naked body from every angle.

Just then, I heard a door open farther down the same wing. Voices.

Girls

voices! My hands jumped down to cover my crotch and I stepped forward, expecting him to step aside so I could quickly enter his apartment.

“Put your hands back on your head!” he commanded. I reluctantly obeyed and stayed standing in the hallway.

“Oh my God, he’s

naked!”

one of the girls shrieked. They were coming closer, giggling the entire time. I stared straight at John, refusing to look at the girls. He wouldn’t step aside to let me in. He didn’t care that his neighbors were seeing me naked, or that they were girls.

As they passed on the way to the elevator, one of them smacked my ass. They ran down the hall, shrieking with laughter. I heard the bell of the elevator and finally they were gone.

He looked at me. “You aren’t naked,” he said.

“What? Yes, I am.”

“You’re wearing shoes and socks,” he said. “Naked means naked. Totally naked. Head to toe naked. Barefoot naked.”

I looked down at my feet.

“Take them off,” he commanded.

Still standing in the hallway, exposed to anyone who might see my nakedness, I kicked off my shoes and then reached down to remove my socks. Now I was truly naked. The texture of apartment hallway’s carpeting on my bare feet helped accentuate my nudity.

“Now you have one of two choices,” he said. “Choice one: go back downstairs and leave your shoes and socks in the laundry room.”

I already expected that would be one of the choices.

“Or choice two: there’s a garbage chute at the far end of the opposite hallway. You can throw your shoes and socks in that. Saves you a trip down to the laundry room -- and back -- but it also means your shoes and socks will be gone for good. You will be walking home barefoot.”

My heart sank. They were crappy shoes, of course, old ones that I was prepared to risk losing. But I also hoped to keep them, if only to not end up barefoot on the street.

But did I want to risk more exposure with a roundtrip to the laundry room and back, or make a quick trip to the chute?

I walked back to the elevator and passed it, heading down the far corridor to the garbage chute. I shoved my socks into one of the shoes before throwing both shoes in. Now I was stuck. No matter what, I was walking home barefoot.

I walked back to John’s apartment, my hands still on my head. I figured he’d punish me if I didn’t. He looked me up and down again before stepping aside. “Come in and go to the living room,” he said.

The living room was easy to see from the entryway. I walked forward to it to see some sort of metal restraining device on a small, wooden platform. It had a bar stretched out with leather ankle restraints at either end. Another bar connected to the middle, which led to a metal post connecting to an elevated third bar with a metal collar in the middle and two leather arm-straps at either end. The middle bar also had another post halfway up with a padded rest to support my chest leaning on it. It was designed to keep someone on all fours with their hands, feet, and head fully restrained.

“Get on your knees,” John ordered. I stayed there, kneeling and facing away from him, while he rustled about behind me. I couldn’t see what he was doing and knew better than to turn to see.

After a few minutes, he stepped around me so that his crotch was just a few inches from my face. I could see the contours of his stiffening dick through his basketball shorts.

He walked over to an ottoman and sat on it. “Get over here,” he ordered.

I started to stand up.

“No!” he barked. “Hands and knees.”

I crawled over to him on my hands and knees.

“Grovel,” he said. “Kiss my foot.”

Still on my hands and knees, I bent my head down and kissed the top of his bare foot.

He lifted his foot. “Suck it.”

I kissed his big toe and then enveloped it with my mouth. Without waiting for his next command, I moved on to worshipping his foot with my tongue and mouth, sucking on each toe and licking in between them. I moved my tongue down the sole of his foot, kissing and licking my way to his heel.

John grabbed me by the hair and moved me over to the restraints. He pushed my head down onto the collar and closed the top half over the back of my neck before latching it shut. He didn’t use a lock, though there was a place for one, but it would take using hand to unfasten it. And my hands were down being stretched out to the leather restraints that were being buckled around my wrists. And then my feet were fastened by the ankle restraints.

I was on all fours, naked, ass in the air, unable to move my head much, nor my hands or feet. I was completely vulnerable.

John walked in front of my and pulled his now-fully erect dick out of his shorts. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. He pushed his dick to my lips, and then into my mouth. I sucked his dick as best I could. It would have been easier if I could have used my hands, or even just moved my head more.

After a few moments of this, he pulled out. I could taste his pre-cum in my mouth.

He moved behind me and bent over. His fingers danced lightly on the soles of my bare feet, and I yelped. But I couldn’t move much no matter how much I squirmed, and couldn’t stop him from tickling one foot and then both simultaneously.

He moved away. I heard him rustling about behind me. What was he doing?

Thwack!

A paddle smacked down on my bare ass. I screamed in surprise and, to a lesser degree, in pain.

Thwack!

He smacked me again with the paddle.

Thwack! Thwack!

His smacks weren’t too hard, just enough to sting. He knew from our previous conversations that I wasn’t really into pain, but he still had to assert his dominion over me.

He came around to my front again, this time holding some sort of satin eye mask -- the kind an aging actress might wear to bed in an old movie. He fastened it over my eyes. It was comfortable, and the satin was cool against my eyelids, but it was completely dark. I couldn’t see a thing.

He started to run his fingers up and down my back, and my sides, and my ass. Just lightly enough to feel good, but right on the verge of tickling.

And then I froze. I had just realized that I was being touched in too many places. Too many hands. Someone else was here.

John saw me stiffen, and he laughed. I heard another, deeper voice laugh as well.

“My buddy lives in the building. I invited him over,” John said. “You don’t need to know his name. You don’t need to see what he looks like. Just submit.”

I felt something cool and wet splash onto my ass crack, and then fingers were working lube into my ass. Slowly, gently, a dick slid into my ass.

I felt another dick press against my lips, and I opened my mouth. I was sucking one guy while getting fucked by another. Normally my dick needs direct attention, but I was the hardest I’ve ever been without anyone touching it.

I’m not sure how much time had passed while I was being fucked by one guy while sucking off another before they both withdrew. Neither had come, and neither had I. I heard some splashing from the bathroom as they cleaned themselves up. And then they were back, a freshly-cleaned dick making its way into my mouth while the other one -- bigger than the last -- entered my ass.

It didn’t take long until one of them was ejaculating into my ass. The other one whooped and simultaneously started to cum in my mouth. I heard them high-five over me as they pulled their dicks out, their cum dripping out of my asshole and the corners of my mouth. I swallowed as much as his cum (which one’s cum?) as I could.

I heard one of them in the bathroom cleaning up while the other one was caressing my back. I still hadn’t cum and I was aching to be finished off. For a time, there was quiet while it was just the two of us. Then I heard the other guy come back into the room.

For a time, they both caressed my body. Then they stood up and I heard them kiss.

“See you soon,” I heard John say. I heard them both walked out of the room towards the front door. Some murmurs I couldn’t hear, and then Jack came back. I assume the other left, but the front door was too quiet to hear from the living room.

“Ready to finish off?” Jack asked. He unstrapped by feet, tickling my soles a little while he did so, then came around and removed my blindfold before opening my collar and releasing my wrist restraints.

I stood up slowly while Jack supported me until he was sure I was steady. He was still naked. Fantastic, lean body, naturally smooth.

He had me lie down on my back and start to jack off while he stood over me stroking himself. He had already cum -- whether within my mouth or my ass, I never knew -- but it didn’t stop him from getting hard again. As soon as I began to ejaculate, he started to cum again as well, cumming all over my chest and face.

He grabbed a hand towel and mopped me up before leading me to the bathroom. He watched me while I rinsed off in the shower, and then grabbed a towel to dry me off.

When I was dry, he took my hand again and guided me to the front door.

“Now for the fun part,” he said, winking. “Now you get to see if your clothes are still there. And you’re going to walk home, with or without them.”

I gasped. I had forgotten that part. And now that I had cum, the adrenalin that had fueled my exhibitionism was spent.

Mostly.

My dick started to stir a little. I guess I was still excited about making my way down three flights of stairs to the laundry room.

He gave me a kiss goodbye while opening the door, and then slapped my bare ass as he pushed me into the hallway.

“Good luck,” he said. “And don’t come back tonight. If your clothes are gone, too bad. It’s either walk home tonight without clothes, or walk home in the morning...also without clothes.”

I said goodbye and made my way to the elevator. I heard it ding just as I got there and managed to dash into the stairwell just as the elevator door opened. I heard a mixed group get off the elevator as I slipped down the stairs.

It was after midnight, I assumed, but that didn’t mean people wouldn’t still be coming home. Fortunately, I made it to the laundry room without anyone seeing me.

I checked behind the washer for my underwear. Nothing. Not even dust. A stab of fear shot through me. I checked under the rags in the closer cabinet for my shirt. Nothing. Terrified, I checked behind the cleaning supplies for my jeans. No jeans, but there was a note.

Sorry, Jared --

I was just checking to see if you had followed instructions. I was going to leave everything on the washing machine, but it look like you tried to cheat. Let this be a lesson: cheaters never prosper. Maybe I’ll give them back some day. For a price. But in the meantime, have a nice walk home.

Ha ha!

Jack

I froze. Fuck!

Fuck!

If I had just left them in plain sight, Jack wouldn’t have taken them. But now I was naked,

completely naked,

head to toe, and it was a good six blocks to get home.

I crept out of the laundry room, my bare feet on the cold tile floor of the lobby making me ever so aware of my nudity. Should I go back up? Should I call him?

I slipped out of the front door and held it open with my bare foot while I used the intercom to call John. It rang and rang and rang before he finally picked up.

“Is this the cheater?” he asked. He knew it was, of course. The intercom rang his cell phone, but he could see that it was the front door calling. And there was an app that allowed him to see through the building’s video monitors.

“Please, I’m sorry,” I said.

John laughed. “But isn’t this what you wanted?”

I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was too much. But I had had this fantasy so many times. Maybe I had cheated hoping to get punished. My dick twitched.

“Okay,” I said.

John laughed again. “Good night, Jared. Text me in the morning. We’ll talk later about what happens next. I’m going to bed now, and my phone will be muted except for emergency contacts.”

I said goodnight and hung up the intercom. Cars were coming and the lights from the foyer were totally exposing me. I rushed out to the sidewalk and crouched behind a parked car to hide from the cars driving by.

But there were too many cars, and there were voices coming down the street. Pedestrians. I had to make a run for it.

I jumped up, hands covering my dick, and rushed away from the voices, my bare feet slapping

so loudly

against the sidewalk. I heard a girl shriek with laughter, and a deeper male voice shout something indecipherable. I dashed around the corner and smacked into another group of young hipsters.