Fun at the Laundromat

If you are under age, or live in an area where reading tales of male sex is illegal, or if you're not into this, please leave. Otherwise, I hope you have some fun with this story. It took place in a time when all sex was safe so today's precautions were not taken. Please respect yourself and others enough to always play safe. Comments are appreciated.

I was 21 when I got my first apartment. It wasn't much. Actually, it was a slum, but it was all I could afford and I didn't want to have to deal with a roommate, so I took it. Having grown up in suburbia, I was kind of spoiled by the little luxuries in my parent's house. But what I really missed the most was not a luxury, but a necessity-a washer and dryer. How I hated going to the Laundromat to wash my clothes. It took a couple of hours, which killed an entire evening and was so boring. I'd usually wait until every single thing I owned needed to be washed, then I'd bite the bullet, grab a book and all of my clothes and go to the nearest laundry, about 6 blocks up the street. While my clothes were washing and drying, I'd sit in a really uncomfortable plastic chair and try to read my book, ignoring the other customers as much as possible.

Then one Tuesday night, my whole view of doing the laundry changed. I got there late, almost too late to start washing. There were only a couple of other customers there, just finishing up. I filled the machines with my clothes and went to the counter in the back for change. And there he was-the most beautiful blonde boy I had ever seen. He was about 5'6", 130 pounds and had piercing blue eyes. I actually gasped when I first saw him, and stuttered when I asked for change. When he handed me the quarters, he gave me the most beautiful smile, showing off the cutest dimples.

I got the machines started and then picked a chair facing his counter, sat down and tried to read my book, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. He picked up on it right away, and began flirting with me. The front of the counter was solid, except at one end where the counter top flipped up, providing the entrance to the area in the back. He stood at that end of the counter, so I could see him above the waist over the counter and below the waist under the counter. He had his hands in his pants pockets and definitely seemed to be playing with himself, smiling at me all the while. The only other customer left went over to the counter to ask him a question and he quickly stepped behind the covered portion. Once the customer had gathered her clothes together and left the building, he stepped back over to where I could once again see all of him. And all of him is what I saw. His pants and underwear were around his ankles.

I jumped up, crossed the room and reached under the counter to touch him. He let me grab his dick and fondle it for a few seconds, but then stepped back, saying it was too open there.

"Go in the men's room and wait for me while I lock up."

So I went where he pointed and waited a few seconds. He came into the room and was all over me, hugging me, kissing me, grabbing me. He was like a wild man. He practically ripped my clothes off me and stripped himself in a flash. As hot as he had been clothed, he was even better naked. Smooth, white, practically hairless skin, slender hips and the cutest little bubble butt. And his cock was one of the most unusual ones I'd ever seen. It was about 6" and average in thickness, but what a head! I've heard of mushroom heads and this was certainly one. The head had to be twice as thick as the shaft. It was just huge. I dropped to my knees and took it in my mouth, just licking and sucking the head like a lollipop. After a few minutes of head worship, I tried to take the shaft. I've never been able to deep throat long dicks, but I can usually take a six incher without a problem. But the head was a problem. It was so thick it wouldn't go very far back in my mouth. After struggling with it a minute, he pulled his cock out of my mouth and pulled me up and started kissing me wildly again. Then he quickly turned around, bent over the sink, grabbed his ass with his hands and spread his cheeks.

"Fuck me!" he demanded.

I looked at his tight pink pucker, looked quickly around the room for something to use as lube and not seeing anything, followed my natural instincts. I dove down and shoved my face into his crack and began licking and sucking on his hot little hole. I slobbered all over it, getting it as wet and slippery as I could.

"Enough," he panted, "I need your dick in me right now. Fuck me, please."

So I stood up behind him and placed the dry head of my dick against his wet hole. I figured he was little and tight, and at his age couldn't have been too experienced, so I was going to go slow. As I pressed the head into his hole, it was like a vacuum action took over, and my whole cock was just sucked into his ass in one swift smooth motion and I found my pubes rubbing against his cheeks.

"Now fuck me! Hard! Slam it into me! Fuck me!"

Who am I to refuse a reasonable request from a polite young man? Of course, I did just as he asked. I fucked him like a crazy man, slamming in and out of him as hard as I could, feeling his ass muscles grab and squeeze my dick every time I pulled out, then relaxing to let it slam back in. I reached around and grabbed his dick, stroking him in rhythm with our fucking. I yanked him as hard as I could, my hand hitting up against the underside of the mushroom head each time. I was afraid of hurting him, but he wasn't complaining. In fact, after just a few minutes of that, I could feel the first contraction in his dick, and he began shooting, over and over, five or six strong streams of teenage cum. And with each spurt, he tightened his ass, bringing me to the edge. I shot time after time into him, emptying my balls in his hot boy pussy.

After we had cleaned up, he helped me fold my dry laundry and we talked a little. He was a junior at the local high school (I had no idea he was that young) and worked there part time. His schedule varied, but he was always there Tuesday nights. Needless to say, I began doing my laundry on a much more regular basis, every Tuesday, as a matter of fact. And it was never a boring, wasted night.