Laundry

I'm a salesman and as I travel around I've learnt a few tricks that save me the odd dollar here and there. Take motels, for instance. They generally have a common laundry that's free for the tenants and they don't check to see if whoever is using the laundry is a tenant. If you have a load of laundry, and you're away from home, just drop in on some large motel and use their facilities. Saves you the Laundromat charges which seem to go up every time you turn around.

This was one of those occasions and I'd dropped in at a place I knew. I've used them before. The motel is one of those big ones with the laundry in the basement. Quite a big laundry, too, so I was almost guaranteed to get a machine, especially around lunchtime.

I fronted up and headed down to the laundry. If you just walk in as though you own the place everyone assumes you're a tenant and they just don't see you. I loaded my laundry and then sat back to read while the machines ran. I was the only person there, which didn't really surprise me at lunchtime on a sunny day.

I'd barely opened my book when this sweet young thing came waltzing in. She didn't notice me sitting in my little corner. I hadn't chosen the seat so as to be out of sight, it just happened to work that way. If she had really opened her eyes and looked she'd have spotted me. Perhaps she should've.

I idly watched as she loaded her washing into the machine. She was a pretty young thing. It wasn't until she had apparently finished loading the machine that things got interesting. The soap powder had been added and she was about to close the lid when she hesitated. A quick glance made sure that no-one else had entered, although she still failed to spot me in the corner. Then she reached up the shift she was wearing and pulled down her panties and dropped them in the machine with a giggle. A little bit of wriggling and her bra joined the panties. Presumably she'd wriggle back into them when they eventually came out of the drier.

Lid down, machine on, and the young lass picked up a book from her washing basket and looked for a seat. She spotted the chair up against the far wall and headed towards them, finally spotting me sitting there, looking amused.

She faltered to a red-faced stop, obviously wondering what, if anything, I'd seen. I politely rose to my feet, and indicated that the choice of seats was hers.

"Hi. I'm Thomas," I said, smiling.

She just looked at me, apparently struck dumb.

I laughed, gently.

"Ah, that is your cue to tell me your name, how old you are, how you like being on the Gold Coast, how long you're staying, your cat's name and what a beast your brother is."

That finally got a rise out of her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You startled me. I didn't know there was anyone else here. I'm Cynthia, I love it here, we'll be here for another week and I don't have a brother or a cat. Oh, and I'm eighteen. Yesterday was my birthday."

"Well snap," I said, my smile bigger than ever. "I'm a little older than you, thirty six, but my birthday was also yesterday."

"What are you reading?" I asked and she blushed as she showed me the book. I'd have called it a bodice ripper, but the young lady on the front had already not only lost her bodice but all her clothes. Her hands were bound behind her and a piratical young man was looking her over with great interest, the rags of a gown in his hand.

I lifted my eyebrows up and down a couple of time, giving a lecherous smile.

"Tell me, does the young lady get rescued in the nick of time, or does she find herself entertaining the pirate in a number of interesting ways."

"He's not really a pirate," Cynthia assured me. "He's undercover, fighting the real pirates."

"Uh-huh. And you neatly dodged the young ladies fate."

"Well, he didn't have much choice, if he's acting as a pirate, but he didn't hurt her."

"Fair enough. Just dragged her to his bed and had his wicked way in a gentlemanly fashion."

"Not really," said Cynthia, giggling. "They didn't make it to a bedroom. There was a convenient couch and he had his wicked way there. In a gentlemanly fashion, of course."

"Of course. I'm actually more interested in knowing if she resisted or succumbed to his charm."

"Succumbed to his charm. She's fated to marry him as her one true love and she knew that as soon as she saw him."

"And when was that? When he was tying her up or when he was ripping her dress off?"

"He didn't rip her dress off."

"Yes, he did. Look at the picture. He's holding her torn dress in his hand, having just ripped it from her quivering body. She's mortified and trying not to look at him."

"Well that's not how the book goes. Call it artistic license."

I grinned and placed the book on one of the chairs. With the same motion I took hold of the bottom of her shift and lifted it straight up. I had it up past her breasts (her naked breasts, remember) before she even realised what was going on.

I held the shift above her head, bunched in my hand. Cynthia's arms were tangled inside it and her head was covered. I just held it there, watching her wriggle, her nude body twisting suggestively below the shift. With my free hand I reached out and lightly brushed a nipple with the palm. A very light touch and I promptly repeated the touch with the other nipple.

Cynthia was squawking indignantly, her voice muffled by the shift. The squawking became faster and louder when a finger ran slowly across her mons.

"Cynthia," I said, loudly enough to be heard. "If you keep wriggling like that you'll tear your dress. Stop struggling about and think of what you're doing."

Oddly enough she had enough common-sense to actually listen to what I said. She stopped wriggling, and then pulled first one arm free and then the other, finally pushing the shift up off her head, leaving her standing in front of me, naked but free.

"You, you, how dare you do that. Give me my dress."

"The undercover pirate would have had a problem with you, wouldn't he," I said, tossing the dress to one side.

"No, don't go grabbing for it." I caught her as she reached for the dress.

"We'll now transfer my earlier question from the book to you."

"What questions?"

"Basically, will you be rescued before I have my wicked way with you and are you going to struggle or succumb to me charms?"

The look on her face went from angry to wary. Until that moment I don't think she realised that she was in danger of more than a bit of friendly groping.

"You wouldn't," she said carefully, more in hope than belief.

"Consider it a belated birthday present for both of us," I said softly, and my hand gently cupped a breast.

She looked down at it, and there was quite a contrast to my tanned hand and her white breast. Before she could push the hand away my other hand held her other breast. She grabbed at my hands and tugged on them, but it was easy to see that she was going through the motions. She just seemed to pluck at my fingers, not even trying for a firm grip.

"Stop it," she gasped. "I don't want this and you can't just grab me like that."

"Is this better?" I asked, one hand sliding down to cup her mound.

"No," she said, and now she was squeaking slightly. "Just let me go."

Unfortunately for Cynthia, she was too fascinated by what I was doing to put up a determined resistance. Hell, all she really had to do was jump back and run. Or scream. Instead she just kept making feeble little protests and trying to push my wandering hands away.

She must have felt she had won a minor victory when she managed to pull my hand off her breast, but quickly realised otherwise when I unzipped.

"Oh my god," she gasped, a touch of horror in her voice. "Put that thing away."

That thing, indeed. It was quite a nice erection. Obviously Cynthia needed to be more appreciative of the good things in life. I slid both hands around her, closing on her bottom and drawing her against me. My erection was now pressed firmly against her.

With Cynthia snuggling up against me I could slip a hand down her bottom and between her legs, teasing her flesh from an unexpected direction. Pulling away from my hand she found herself rubbing against my erection. Pushing away from my erection and she was pushing her pussy firmly up against exploring fingers.

I let Cynthia dither for a few moments, pressing alternatively against my cock and then against my hands. Finally she tried to stand still, only to find my hand now urging her closer to me. She was cursing me softly, defiantly, but still under my control.

I sat down, erection jutting up proudly. Cynthia looked down at it, swallowed and looked away. I pulled her forward to she was standing straddling me. One hand on her bottom held her where I wanted her while my other hand was exploring her, fingers dipping inside her.

She protested and pleaded. She explained why I couldn't do this. She pointed out the consequences. She slapped at the hand invading her privacy. She did everything a good girl should do to show her reluctance. Except scream and run away.

She was wet inside, my fingers sliding along the dampness. She was also hot and sensitive, writhing gently under my touch. I couldn't help but feel that she was pushing herself against my touch more than she was trying to pull away.

I moved my hand around to her bottom again, pulling her even closer to me. My erection was now between her legs, and she was just the right height for the head of my cock to brush against her lips. A little rocking on my part and she could feel my erection brushing back and forth along her slit, just touching the sensitive flesh.

"It's time," I said softly. "Lower yourself slowly, taking it easy while you settle onto me."

"Do you really expect me to lower myself onto your erection?" she gasped.

"Yes," I said simply. "Who knows better than you that it's not going in too fast? Would you really want me to just plunk you down upon it? Come on. Slowly does it."

At the same time I pushed up just a little, while my hands tightened on her bottom. Cynthia pressed down to meet me, protesting all the time. I felt her lips close over me, and then felt her pause again when my cock pressed lightly against her hymen.

"I can't," she whispered. "I won't."

"Take it easy," I murmured, my voice just as quiet. "I'll help you."

Her eyes widened slightly, but before she could protest I pushed up the little bit required. She gave a small scream as her hymen gave way, but by then it was too late. I steadied again.

"OK. That's the hard bit," I reassured her. "Just let yourself sink down now. Feel me rising in you. You'll know what to do."

Cynthia said a few more nasty things but she was slowly sinking down onto me. Her hands were on my shoulders, helping her control her descent. Inch by inch she slid down and I could distinctly feel each and every inch as I rose within her. From her gasping and the look on her face, so could she.

Cynthia came to rest upon my lap with my cock firmly inside her. The look on her face was something wonderful. She was excited but nervous, aroused but ignorant. She didn't want this, but neither did she want it to stop. At least, not yet. It was the ignorance that was troubling her the most, I suspected. She had a cock in her and didn't know what she was supposed to do with it.

"Bounce," I murmured.

"Wh-what?"

"Bounce. Slide up and down, feeling my cock rubbing inside you, setting you on fire and lifting you up. Bounce. Slowly."

Nervously she started to do just that. She forced herself up, lifting slowly off my cock, her eyes opening wider as she felt it dragging against her.

"Now back," I said, hands on her hips pulling down gently.

Back she came, this time settling onto me with a rush and a squeal. Then she was lifting herself again, getting interested in the game. I let her play, enjoying the feel of her sliding up and down my cock. Also enjoying the play of emotions across her face as she felt me inside her, massaging her internally. Her breathing was coming faster and she was sliding up and down with more determination.

The whole thing was exhilarating, and I let it go on as long as I could, but I wanted more control. I wanted to dominate Cynthia, show my power over her as she headed towards a climax. Picking my moment, Cynthia started to rise up off my cock and gave a startled squeal when I rose with her, staying firmly inside her. I was standing and holding her firmly in place.

"Put your legs around me," I told her, and she did so with some haste.

With Cynthia clinging to me like a limpet I crossed over to one of the washing machines, deliberately walking heavily so that she bounced upon me as I moved. Reaching the machine I used it to prop Cynthia up while I unwound her legs and then forced her to rotate, making sure we stayed joined at all times. When I finished she was bending forward over the machine while I stood behind her, still in place. Running my arms around her, I took hold of her breasts, massaging them.

Everything in place I started the action again. Basically the same as before but with me in control, dictating what would happen. And what was happening was me driving home into Cynthia a lot harder and faster than she had been bouncing on my lap. I squeezed her breasts in time to my thrusts, hitting home hard and fast. After a few squeals and protests and some false starts, Cynthia got the message. My cock was in control and she was supposed to do what it wanted. She did so, pushing hard to meet me, squeaking and gasping, her bottom thrusting hard against me, eager to take me as deep as she could.

I pounded her, feeling tensions gathering inside me and knowing similar tensions were growing inside Cynthia. She was squeaking almost constantly, little lustful noises that twanged on my nerves, encouraging me to try harder. So harder I went, listening to Cynthia appreciate the effort, driving happily towards a grand conclusion.

Then I was letting loose with my seed, while Cynthia wailed, crying "Not yet. Not yet." Then her wailing changed to a shout of shock as her climax caught up with mine and she shuddered under me, body eagerly reaching for my seed.

I leant against her, recovering my breath, feeling her lean limply against the washing machine. I withdrew, letting her stay there to recover.

Something was nagging at me and I ran my mind over our surroundings, trying to catch what had tried to get my attention. It came to me. I'd dimly heard the ding of the dryer I was using, signalling the clothes were dry.

I opened the dryer and stuffed my things into my bag. Folding could wait. Picking up my bag I departed, leaving by the side entrance. My last view of Cynthia she was pushing herself away from the machine she'd been leaning on, looking for her pirate.