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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Can laundry rooms have ghosts? That’s a serious question. I’m normally not the superstitious type, but I’ve had some weird shit happen to me in laundry rooms. I mean, everybody knows that socks go missing, I guess it’s not fair to call that weird. Most people think they end up in the dryer vents, but I’ve always suspected it was something a little more nefarious than that. I guess if it was just socks, I could forget about it. But recently I’ve started losing something much more valuable: my panties.

Now, I’m not a La Perla kind of girl or anything, but panties aren’t cheap. I’m not out here wearing Hanes for Her. I like them lacy, satiny, and otherwise decorative. My ass deserves a nice wardrobe, okay? I’ve worked hard for that ass the past couple of years. After all those hours in the gym, I figured I’d treat myself. Not excessively, but a little. They’re five bucks a pair if I’m lucky, ten if I really liked them and they weren’t on sale. So, every time one goes missing, it’s like dropping a big fancy coffee confection without getting to take a sip. Not an emergency, but if it happens more than a couple of times, it starts to piss you off.

I first noticed it when my favorite pair went missing. I definitely didn’t take a full accounting of every pair of panties in my drawer, but the turquoise thong was a new acquisition, and it had a matching lace bra, so when I couldn’t find the thong I was confused. I’d moved into a new apartment complex the week before, and it was the first time I’d done the laundry there. I dragged it all upstairs to fold it, and the panties were nowhere to be found. I dumped all the clean laundry on my bed, folded every single item, and they just… weren’t there. I knew they should be in the load because the bra was there. Where the hell were they?

I went back down to the laundry room and all I saw was a quiet neighbor folding his impressive khaki collection on the big folding table. He’d been there when I’d gotten my stuff, but we hadn’t talked, we’d just given each other little jerks of the chin and then ignored each other. He looked like he was probably just a couple of years older than me, but he was dressed like some kind of business guy, and with the glasses and the bluetooth headset he was wearing, I just figured we didn’t have a lot in common. He stayed silent as I searched the bank of dryers, just in case I’d dropped it on the floor and someone had put it back in the wrong one. But it was nowhere. When I straightened up he was looking at me with a single raised eyebrow.

“Uh, lost a sock,” I lied, somehow not wanting to tell him it was a turquoise lace thong I was looking for. Seemed like an awkward first line to use on a person I’d never spoken to before.

He just nodded and said, “Sorry,” then kept folding. God, how many pairs of khakis did this guy own?

“Can’t find it,” I continued lamely, shifting from one foot to another. How come I hadn’t noticed this guy was sort of cute before? I should be paying more attention to my new neighbors. “I guess I’ll just go.”

He nodded again. “Sorry about your sock.”

***

All the way up the stairs to my apartment, something felt weird to me about that conversation. I was already parked in front of my TV eating a caesar salad when I figured out what it was. Why didn’t he ask what color the sock was? I mean, that would have been the normal thing to do, right? What if the sock was just trashing around the laundry room somewhere and he happened to find it? How would he know if it was my sock if he didn’t know what color it was?

I couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t asked. And it was a little messed up how offended I was that he didn’t want to help me find my nonexistent missing sock. I mean, yes, he didn’t know I’d lied to him, but… it’s not like there was an ACTUAL sock he was failing to help me find. But I still couldn’t help wondering why he’d acted the way he did, so standoffish.

Maybe he thought I was hitting on him and he didn’t want to encourage me? Though honestly it was hard to picture someone hitting on someone so aggressively boring. It was like he had cut a picture out of an Eddie Bauer catalog and put it on a mood board somewhere, and that was his life. I didn’t know what his job was, but it had to be something office-y, with the way he dressed. Probably he was some kind of accounts manager at a telecommunications company or something.

And anyway, why wouldn’t he want to encourage me? I was cute. I mean, maybe a little alternative for him, with my cat eye glasses and nose ring and ripped jeans, but come on. Surely even a bank manager mersin escort or whatever the fuck he was could appreciate the ass I’d worked so hard on. I was actually starting to get offended. I went to my kitchen and pulled a can of coke from the fridge and a half-empty bottle of Jack out of the cabinet. Screw that laundry room guy with his khakis and his lack of concern for the whereabouts of my socks. If he didn’t want to talk to me, then he didn’t have to. Next time I saw him in the laundry room, I wasn’t even going to give him the chin lift. So there.

***

The next week it happened again. Another pair of panties missing. This time it was a pair of satin leopard print bikini panties with a little black bow in the center. They’d been my favorites for a while, before my thong phase – they were cut just high enough to really highlight my ass; they were the first ones I bought after I’d started seeing results in the gym. I knew I looked great in them, and I was pissed that they were gone. And also starting to get suspicious.

See, the quality assurance specialist or whatever he was was there again that day. I guess he was an every Tuesday laundry guy, too. And that really wasn’t weird; everyone had to pick a night to do their laundry, right? But this time he seemed to be avoiding my gaze the whole time I was in the laundry room, which I thought was messed up. Like, what did I ever do to you, dude?

I knew it was insane, but I decided I was going to try to catch him in the act. I mean, sure, there could have been lots of explanations for the missing panties, but he’d pissed me off with the way he was acting, so I became convinced he was some kind of evil panty-stealer. What he was doing with them, I wasn’t sure, but I was going to find out. So the next week I arranged my laundry with several choice pairs of panties on the top of the basket – a pair of blue satin and lace boy shorts, a tiny gray g string with flowery lace, and a black lace thong with a wide waistband. They were some of my favorite pairs, but I was prepared to sacrifice one of them to find out what was going on. If it was a ghost, I was going to smudge the shit out of the place with sage before I did my next load.

The guy was there again that Tuesday night, again folding things at the table. This time it was a rainbow of polo shirts with little pockets. Jesus, it was like he’d had a seizure at a Ralph Lauren outlet store and somehow a whole table had ended up in his shopping bag. Maybe he used to work at one of those outlet stores, because he was folding those shirts like it was his job. The corners were so perfect I just wanted to walk over there and mess one up, just to see what he’d do. But instead I set down my basket of dirty laundry in front of the washer and then pulled out my phone like I’d just gotten a call.

“Hey, what’s up? Oh, right now? Yeah, just a sec, I’m in the laundry room. No, it’s fine, I can slip out for five minutes. No problem, we can talk.” I walked out of the room and let the door close behind me; it was one of those fire doors, no window in it, and so I paced around in the hallway for a minute, wanting to give him enough time to make his move. I figured he might hesitate a little just to make sure I wasn’t coming right back in, but I didn’t want to give him so much time that the deed would be done and I’d have no evidence. About 90 seconds after I’d left, I burst back into the room. What I saw stopped me in my tracks.

The guy was standing right next to my laundry basket, the black lace thong in his hand, pressing it against his face, which held an expression of tortured ecstasy the likes of which I had never seen before. His other hand was slowly rubbing an extremely sizable bulge in his khakis. His eyes had been closed, but when he heard the bang of the door opening, they snapped open. He looked a bit guilty, then, but nothing could erase the raw lust that had transformed him from business Ken doll to… I didn’t even know how to describe what he looked like now. Like a being of pure sexual desire wrapped up in business casual wear.

I pressed my back against the cold metal door, my eyes wide. I’d found exactly what I’d been expecting to, on one level, but on another, I was shocked as hell. Yes, my neighbor had been stealing my panties. But rather than angry, this revelation left me… aroused. Watching the way they affected him had made my skin break out into goose bumps. Fuck, he really was cute. It was hard to explain why all of a sudden I thought of him in an entirely different way. Maybe because kocaeli escort this incident proved he was more than the wrinkle-free separates and the bluetooth headset. Underneath the veneer he presented to the world, there was an animal inside, one he didn’t want others to see. One I was seeing right now.

He seemed to be having his own epiphany, watching me watch him. The guilt melted off his face, displaced again by the lust. He crushed my panties in his fist, taking one last long sniff and then dropping his hand to his side. He tilted his head slightly, eyeing me like prey. Where was the bland Eddie Bauer catalog model now? Nowhere to be seen. He’d been replaced by an alpha male who was taking steps towards me now, slowly enough to give me a chance to leave, but quickly enough to make his intentions known. I trembled against the door but made no move to open it. He got closer and closer, until he was right in front of me, his chest inches from my face. Damn, he was tall. And he smelled good. And… he reached out with his free hand and locked the laundry room door. The lock made a loud click and I flinched. What the hell was even happening here? Was I really going to let this happen?

I took another deep breath and my eyes rolled back in my head. Yes; yes, I was definitely going to let this happen. The pheromones washed over me and I dared to sneak a little glance down at the huge tent in his khakis. He was packing something very large in there, and I wanted to rub up against it.

I almost noticed how insane that was – I didn’t even know his name, after all, I only knew he’d stolen my panties – when he put a hand on my jaw and brought his mouth down on me. That pretty much destroyed any hope of objection – his lips were so soft and his kiss was so hard and his tongue was pressing inside my mouth just like I wanted him to press inside me, and I knew at that moment that I was about to get fucked by a panty-stealing stranger on the folding table of my new apartment building’s laundry room, and I couldn’t argue. It was inevitable.

He looped the panties around his wrist and put his other hand on my hip, pulling me against his erection, and I whimpered. This was definitely not the resolution I had imagined to my missing panty conundrum. I thought maybe there would be yelling, or accusations and denials, perhaps a little embarrassed groveling. I didn’t think I’d end up grinding myself on the thigh of my mild-mannered neighbor, getting wetter by the second as he pressed his cock into my stomach. I didn’t think his hand would be traveling up my waist, my ribcage, making me thrust my tits at him in a silent plea. I wanted his hands on me so badly. The way he was kissing me was making me crazy, and I was already very turned on by how much he apparently liked the way I smelled. I’d never imagined that would turn me on before, but now I knew better. It was like the panties had made him so hungry for me, and now he was finally getting a taste.

He finally broke the kiss and pressed his lips against my ear, whispering, “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” and I shuddered and let out a little gasp.

His cheeks had a good bit of scruff on them by that time of night – it was after 8:30 by then – and they scraped against my neck as his lips traveled downwards. “Please,” I gasped, not quite sure what I was asking for, but he pulled my t-shirt over my head and I realized that was exactly right. I needed my clothes off, and I needed them off now. He buried his face between my tits and squeezed each one in a big hand, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t know how much longer I can wait to be inside you,” he groaned, and every muscle in my body tensed. I couldn’t answer, but he seemed to understand that was a yes, because he put his hands under my ass and lifted me, walking over to the folding table and sweeping the pile of polo shirts onto the floor as he set me down on the surface. I chuckled a little as they hit the floor; apparently he wasn’t so fastidious when he was horny. But then my laugh caught in my throat as he stepped between my legs and ground his hard cock directly against my pussy. Sweet Jesus, the man was seriously endowed. Why had I been hating on him so much before? I couldn’t remember. I could only remember the feeling of his hands on me as he unhooked my bra and slid them over my tits. God, that felt good. Oh, god. This was definitely getting out of hand. How was I supposed to…

Never mind. I wasn’t supposed to do anything except squirm against his shockingly hard body and hope he was going to get inside samsun escort me soon. At least, I hoped that was all I was supposed to do, because it was all I *could* do. He managed to unbutton the striped button down he was wearing and I immediately buried my nose between his pecs. There was a light dusting of hair there and I just wanted to stay there forever, breathing him in and thinking about his cock inside me.

No, wait. I wanted his cock actually inside me. I squirmed against him some more and thrust my tits against his palms. When would he give it to me? He was going to give it to me, right? He let out a little growl and brought one hand down to unzip his fly while he kissed my neck. Oh, yes. This was going someplace good. I hoped very soon. Please be planning to fuck me soon. I knew he couldn’t hear me but I was practically chanting it in my head.

When he pulled his cock out of his fly I heard my own gasp out loud. Fuck, that was a big, beautiful cock. What was a guy like him doing hiding a monster like that in his pants? But no, I’d been all wrong about what kind of guy he was. He was exactly the kind of guy who should have a seven inch, thick beautiful dick. I just hadn’t seen it before. But I was seeing it now. I saw him much more clearly through the fog of hormones I was floating on with his hands and his mouth on me.

I’d gone to the laundry room dressed to tease in a short plaid skirt, and it was rucked up around my waist now. I wondered vaguely if I’d subconsciously considered this ending to the evening, because I’d put on one of my flirtiest pairs of panties – a pale pink mesh thong that left very little to the imagination. It was now soaking wet, and he rubbed the head of his dick against it and groaned into my ear. “Please say you’re dying for it. Because I want to be inside you so fucking badly but I promised myself I wouldn’t fuck you until you were dying for it.”

That pretty much broke me. “Put on a fucking condom,” was all I said, and he didn’t waste any time. He pulled one out of the pocket of his khakis, tore it open and slid it on his throbbing cock in about ten seconds. He reached out a finger and stroked my clit through the damp panties; I bucked against him.

“Can I leave these on while I fuck you?” His voice was hoarse and he sounded just about as desperate as I felt. I nodded frantically, wriggling back and forth. When would he give it to me? All I wanted was to feel it splitting me open.

He gently hooked a finger in the panties and slid them to the side, then slid his finger inside me. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders under his open shirt and clung to him, shaking. God, when was he going to give me what I wanted?

Then he was pressing it against me, sliding it in my juices to get it wet, pushing it inside. Oh, god, he was big. Was it too big? I had a sudden terrified moment when I thought it might not fit, and then he was sliding inside me, inch by inch. Fuck, it was so much. I could feel my internal muscles clamping down on him involuntarily, trying to expel the intrusion. It was too much, but it was exactly enough. He gripped me, one hand on my shoulder and one on the opposite hip, and I let out a hiss as he bottomed out inside me. Well, that answered that question. It did fit. Then he pulled it most of the way out, dragging that fat head over my g spot, and I stopped being able to think and just gave myself up to it. I knew I was making noises, probably loud ones, but I didn’t care. The laundry room door was locked, and I was getting the fucking of my life from a neighbor whose name I didn’t even know.

I don’t even know how long it went on. I just know that there were tears running down my cheeks and sweat slicking his shoulders where my hands were trying to hold on when he finally grunted, “I can’t hold on much longer. I need you to cum for me.”

He twisted his hips a little and slipped a hand in between us to graze my clit with his thumb, and suddenly I didn’t know how I could hold back any longer. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when, and on the next thrust I lost it, my whole body shaking as I clamped down on him inside me. This seemed to set him off, and I felt that incredible cock getting even harder as he lost his rhythm and jerked, biting down gently on my neck with a loud groan.

When I came back to my senses I was a little embarrassed to realize I was half naked on a table in the laundry room, watching a stranger tie off a condom and throw it in a tiny trash can. I didn’t know quite when it had happened, but I wasn’t wearing any panties, and there was a scrap of damp pink mesh hanging out of the pocket of his khakis. “What the fuck just happened?” is what came out of my mouth, and he laughed as he zipped his fly.

“You just met your coolest neighbor,” he said, and then he took a few long strides back to me and gave me a long, lingering kiss. “I think we’re going to be very good friends.”

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