The Laundry Room Silence
(The following little tidbit has been brought to you by…well, I’m sure you can figure it out.)
We sat at his kitchen table, the clock nearing 11AM. He was buzzing with radiant energy; glowing even. I could feel my jeans touching every inch of my skin. Never had I been so aware of touch or the way each wrinkle of fabric felt against my leg; tight yet fluid.
I had just given him his first threesome. Well, I did along with my best friend. It was our second, we were seasoned pros at this point–naturally. It was everything a 22 year old man could want.
He was rambling, thoughts racing and he couldn’t sit still. I just sat with my knees to my chest, tracing the grooves in his tiled kitchen table waiting for him to slow down.
“We have to do it again. Every weekend. I’ll feed you both tequila and we’ll go to Adam and Eve and get whatever you want. It was amazing, wonderful…”
I stopped him, “Wait. Anything we want?’
He nodded and continued rambling.
I looked up at him, my fingers trailing along the grout, “make sure it’s gold tequila.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.”
I had the power now. A sexual relationship that was once so easily controlled by him was now in my hands. I was overwhelmed by the idea, but simultaneously too tired to care. And his rambling was boring me. He was frantic and I was sick of it. My best friend had made the wise decision to leave early and actually make something of her Saturday. I stuck around to nurse my hang over and try to piece this man back together–bring him back down to reality.
His roommates and their girlfriends were off in the living room paying us no attention. I was simply the girl who came over and slept with their roommate; I was rarely addressed and I was fine with it. I noticed the laundry room door was open and I could hear one lone pair of jeans tumbling inside of the dryer. I wanted him to stop talking and I wanted to enjoy myself before I, too, started my Saturday.
I quickly grabbed his hand and told him to be quiet. Yet even in his silence, I could still hear his mind going as he followed behind me. We walked into the laundry room and left the door open. I dropped to my knees beside the dryer and said, “Shorts. Off. Now.” He had no words. Finally, some peace and quiet.
His shorts fell to the floor and I noticed that he was already ready. I thanked him for being so attentive and took him deeply and quickly. The adjustment and immediate change caused him to shutter and he began to lean heavily into the dryer. I got to work.
I twisted my mouth and turned my wrist in a rhythmic motion, in tandem with my constant mouth. Flashes from the night before flooded my brain–she on his face, while I rode him. It inspired me to speed up. I skillfully worked every inch of him. A sweeping tongue, a softened grip all working harder now. It wouldn’t be long. I could see his abs twitching, his tell tail sign. I opened my throat and swallowed hard as he emptied himself into me. His one hand on my shoulder, gripping tightly and the other bracing his body on the dryer.
I looked up at him and winked and he looked spent. And still no words.
I collected myself, stood up and walked out of the laundry room just as one of the girlfriends was walking by. I smiled at her. She, too, had no words. I was fine with it, I was just the girl who came over and blew their roommate in the laundry room.
I had a very productive Saturday.
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*fanning myself* Wow. You need to do that more often. It’s a very powerful little piece.