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Subject: {ASSM} Laundry Night 01/04 {Maddogg} (F solo exhib interr)
Date: Thu, 14 Aug 2003 07:10:07 -0400
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"Laundry Night" - 01/04
  by Maddogg


"Ring Dammit!" exclaimed Pam Stone, directing her anger at her
obstinately silent telephone. After a moment she sighed,
dejectedly accepting, if it hasn't rung by now, it wasn't going
to.

She glanced at the clock. Eight thirty on a Saturday night. No
plans, no prospects. Pam had left messages for at least a half
dozen friends over the past couple of days trying to connect. Not
one had extended the courtesy of calling back. She hated the idea
of another Saturday night alone with NOTHING to do.

Well, not really nothing. She knew she could always go out alone
and hit the bars. She hated going out alone. She also hated the
kind of guys she met in bars. Oh, she had no problem going home
with a guy for sex, but, eventually they always seem to want to
talk to her. See her again. Call her. Date her. Sometimes fall in
love. No, hitting the bars tonight is out of the question.

She was still young, only 24. She wasn't interested in any type
of relationship just now. Her life was too complicated. Her
career was still in it's early stages. She had other interests
that took up her time too. She wanted to taste life before she
packed it in to become someone's wife.

Why couldn't she just find a guy who would fuck the shit out of
her once in a while and go about his business? She knows these
guys exist. Her girlfriends are always talking about them.

"Ah well," she muttered to no one, "I guess I have to get it over
with." She couldn't put it off any longer. She was of course,
referring to her laundry.

It had been nearly 3 weeks before she had gotten around to it.
She wasn't making enough money yet to send it out. Her real
reason for wanting to hook up with a friend tonight was to avoid
the inevitable. She knew she had to do the laundry and was
looking for an excuse to put it off another day.

It really was for the best. Even the T-shirt she was wearing had
a tea stain on it. She couldn't change to a clean one because she
didn't have a clean one. She began the task of getting her bags
of dirty clothes together along with her laundry supplies and
headed to the laundry room in the basement.

She really wasn't worried about security. She lived in an upscale
building in New York City. There was a doorman in front all the
time. Her only concern was, it was hot down there. The laundry
room wasn't air conditioned. It can get hot and humid in July,
especially in the laundry room. She had complained about this
fact to Mr. Jones, the building super. He just shrugged his
shoulders and walked away muttering that there wasn't anything he
could do about it. To aid her comfort a little, she shimmied out
of her jeans and pulled on a pair of short cut-offs.

As was her habit when she changed clothes, she looked at herself
in the mirror. She had black shoulder length wavy hair. She wore
a 36C bra. At her age, her boobs had not yet started to sag. They
stood straight out. She thought for a while she could stand to
lose an inch or two off her tummy and her ass, but she rarely got
complaints. Besides her ass also hadn't started to sag either.
She thought the two round globes of her ass firmly jutting
outward looked kind of good.

It took her 3 trips from her apartment door to the elevator to
carry all 4 bags of laundry, her detergent, change purse and keys
plus a trashy romance novel she was reading to kill time.

It took another 3 trips from the elevator to the laundry room to
get all her laundry there. She wasn't surprised that no one was
down there. Who in their right mind would be doing their laundry
on a Saturday night? Half the building was probably away for the
weekend at the Hamptons or the Jersey Shore. The other half was
probably out or on the way. It was a small consolation knowing
she would have the room to herself.

She loaded all 3 machines with about half her laundry plus
detergent. As an after thought, knowing she would be alone, she
peeled off the dirty T-shirt she was wearing and tossed it into
one of the machines. This exposed most of her body leaving
nothing on but her bra, the cutoffs and panties plus a pair of
sandals.

She then inserted the appropriate number of quarters to get
things going. Having done that she turned to the corner of the
room where a bench sat that people used to sit on and fold their
laundry when it was done. "Damn." she muttered. One leg of the
bench had been broken off by one of her inconsiderate neighbors.
The bench was there, but it was laying down and useless. She made
a mental note to speak to the super, Mr. Jones, about this.

She really didn't like Mr. Jones. He was one of those old black
gentlemen that you couldn't let intimidate you. He shuffled along
doing as little as possible. Even though he was at least twice
her age, he referred to her as Ms. Stone and rarely looked her in
the eye.

She had come from a wealthy Kentucky family where she had been a
debutante. Most of the servants were a lot like Mr. Jones. She
knew how to deal with people like him. You have to be persistent
and stern. They usually are inherently lazy and will try get away
with whatever they can, but you can't let them.

She looked around the room for an alternate place to sit so she
could relax and read her book but a there were no other chairs of
any kind. "Great," she muttered.  She took a moment to consider
her options. The only thing in the room that might be sat on was
the washers themselves. She weighed about 120, and the machines
looked pretty solid so she decided to give it a shot.

She grabbed her book and pulled herself onto the washer on the
end and straddled her legs on either side of the corner. The
machine was on and vibrating softly. She opened her book and
began to read.

This particular novel was one of her favorites. She had read it
before. The heroine of the book reminded her of herself. She was
a British noblewoman that lived about 100 years ago. She was
about her age and very independent. The premise of the novel had
this woman on a visit to Arabia where she got lost in the desert.
A band of nomads found her. The leader of the nomads was a young
handsome man (of course) who has a torrid affair with the woman.

In the part she was reading now, the woman had been brought
before the leader for the first time. The man dismisses most of
his followers (except 2 body guards) in order to be alone with
the woman. They do not even speak the same language, but within a
few moments they are kissing madly and make passionate love.

After several minutes she noticed she was getting really turned
on by the story, much more than usual. She stopped and considered
this for a moment thinking it may be because it has been nearly a
couple of months since she had any sex herself. Then she realized
the machine she was sitting on had gone into it's first spin
cycle, which was accompanied by a pronounced vibration.

Without realizing it, she had leaned her torso forward and was
grinding her crotch into the corner of the washing machine.  As
soon as she realized what she was doing she jumped off the
machine in embarrassment. Then, after a moment she realized how
silly that was as no one would be coming to the laundry room
tonight. "Ok, what the fuck," she muttered and jumped back on the
machine and continued to read.

As the spin cycle continued she got REALLY turned on. She felt
her juices flowing. As the character in the book was making love,
she seemed to feel it herself. After a few more minutes she was
close to orgasm.  She was breathing fast and heavy. She had to
put the book down and brought up her left hand and started
rubbing her tits through her bra.  She started to softly moan out
loud when the spin cycle ended just short of her orgasm.
"Dammit." she said frustrated. "Now what."

Then it occurred to her, this wasn't over. There were 2 more spin
cycles before the laundry was done. Driven now mainly with
frustrated sexual lust, she was determined not to miss another
opportunity. In order to maximize her stimulation, she jumped off
the washer and yanked down her cutoffs leaving on just her bra
and panties.

She then jumped back on the machine, this time facing the
machine. She leaned forward with her elbows on the machine and
her cunt grinding down on the corner that had caused her so much
pleasure a couple of minutes ago and her pink bikini pantied ass
straight up in the air. The machine was vibrating softly in the
wash cycle. Even though this wasn't the spin cycle yet, she
ground herself cunt hard trying to get what pleasure she could. 
Her nipples were very sensitive, so to increase her pleasure she
unsnapped the catch on her bra in the front and let her ground
her nipples into the machine as well.

This was nice, but she could hardly wait for the next spin cycle.
It came a few minutes later and the machine started to really
shake. As she was already so turned on, it took just a few
seconds before she was shaking her ass back and forth, closing
her eyes and moaning softly. "This was great." thought Pam. 
Damn, was she horny!

After another minute or two her own shaking became more violent
and pronounced and her soft moans changed to a loud staccato
"Ah!", "Ah!", "Ah!,".  Finally after another 5 minutes she began
to cum and really started to yell "AAAAAHHHhhhh!", "AAAAAHHHhh!"
and her whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

Just about that time the second spin cycle ended.  She opened her
eyes and for the first time noticed she wasn't alone.  All the
color drained from her face and her mouth fell open in horror. 
In the doorway of the laundry room stood Mr. Jones!


         -- story continues here in this newsgroup --


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