#‘please be present & ready to take your clothes out of the washer BEFORE the cycle is set to end’ or smth

[chemicaljacketslut]

waiting for someone to come get their damn clothes out of one of the TWO washing machines available for the ENTIRE building so i can do my first load of laundry that i only have time to do now and yk what. yes i can now fully see and understand why people throw other ppls clean clothes on the floor

[jessahmewren]

Dear smut wife! Here we go again! I'd love some poly!Queen smut with some somnophilia and laundry! You know what to do! Please and thank you

Hello love!  It would be my honor to fulfill your request!  The title of this one is “I’m Only Sleeping.” and it’s also on Ao3!  I hope you enjoy!

With love, wifey 

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���How does this work again, darling?” 

Freddie had a basket of laundry under his arm, one hip popped out to balance it.

“I think you twist this knob…like this,” John interjected, thrusting an arm forward to fiddle with the machine. 

Roger hefted his own basket onto the work table, cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, where Brian sat swinging his legs off the edge.  “You put the powder in first,” Roger spoke around it.  He grabbed the cigarette just before it slipped from his mouth, taking a long drag from it. 

Hazel eyes caught his.  “I don’t think you’re supposed to smoke in here,” Brian said softly. 

Roger just smiled and stepped between those long legs, holding his breath until he pressed his lips to Brian’s, shotgunning the smoke.  Brian coughed, his eyes watering.  “Fuck it, Bri,” Roger said lazily.  “It’s Saturday night and there’s not a soul in this place.”  He offered the cigarette to Brian, but he waved it off.

“Is someone going to help me with this bloody machine?” Freddie whined. 

John slipped an arm around his waist.  “We need quarters, babe.  Who’s got the change?”

Roger withdrew a soup can from his basket, giving it a dramatic little shake.  “John, you do the honors.” 

John fed the machine the right amount of money, and pushed in the lever.  Magically, the water started flowing.  “It’s about bloody time,” Brian groused. 

John whipped his head around as Freddie fed clothes into the washer. “I don’t see you doing anything.” 

Brian’s mouth fell open, and he clutched the stack of books he had brought with him protectively.  “I can’t.  You know I’ve got an exam tomorrow.  I’ve got to bone up.” 

 John took in the bags under his eyes and his bedraggled appearance.  “Take a break love.  At least help me sort the clothes.” 

Brian stuttered, looking torn.  “I really need to study,” he said.

John threw a dirty shirt at him, smacking him upside the head.  “Suit yourself.” 

Roger giggled, grabbing the shirt where it fell on the table and crossing to the washer.  He handed John the washing powders from the basket he had brought, and the three boys closed the lid on their first successful load. 

–

The dryer hadn’t been any easier to figure out, but once they had, piles of warm, soft, freshly laundered clothes were landing all around Brian on the work table.  The smell and the heat wafting up from them was almost intoxicating, not to mention the steady whir of the machines filling the air…it was enough to lull him into a sort of peaceful relaxation, an almost dreamlike state. 

The boys had been so wrapped up in their laundry duties, they hadn’t noticed how quiet Brian had become.  Then, one of his heavy books slid off his lap, hitting the floor with a loud crash. 

They simultaneously turned around to find the curly-haired brunet fast asleep in the piles of warm, fresh laundry. 

“Would you look at that,” Freddie said, a tinge of awe painting his voice. 

They approached the table to look down on him.  John smiled.  “Told him he was working too hard.” 

Roger smirked, light fingers tracing Brian’s partial erection.  “Those warm clothes must feel good,” he said, fingers stopping at the button on Brian’s trousers.  A flick of the wrist and it was popped.  Brian didn’t even stir. 

Roger looked up at Freddie and John, his tan face carrying a high flush.  “What if I have a little fun with Bri?  Looks like he’s a step or two ahead of me.” 

John linked hands with Freddie.  “We’ll play, too.  I’ve been dying to try that spin cycle.” 

Freddie groaned, his cock immediately showing interest.  “That’s gonna cost extra quarters,” he said, squeezing John’s hand.

John smiled. “You’re worth it, you tart.” 

Roger had Brian’s trousers worked off by now, and he was starting on his pants when Brian stirred a little in his sleep…just a little…head pressed into his arm, nuzzling softly.  Roger wanted him so badly he was bursting with it, but he had to be careful not to wake him.  He slid his pants down, Brian’s half-hard cock springing free.  Roger’s mouth began to water just looking at him, spread out and vulnerable, so beautiful for him.  He licked his lips before sinking down on his length, feeling Brian squirm and twitch in his sleep. 

Brian’s cock began to fill out and harden for him, and Roger preened at the answering moan he got when he licked the sensitive head.  That’s right, thought Roger, you’re having the best wet dream of your life, Bri.  Just don’t wake up. 

John pressed Freddie up against the smooth surface of the washer, the gentle undulations of the machine gyrating against his body, rocking his hips back against John’s cock.  They were both still fully clothed, but he could feel the urgent press of the other man against him. 

“You make me so crazy,” John uttered against Freddie’s neck.  “Gonna fill you up nice and tight like you deserve.” 

“Yesss,” Freddie hissed as he bared his throat to John, letting his whole body go over the washer and just riding its natural movements. 

Roger called to John.  “Will you pass me the lube?”

John blinked.  “Wait, we have lube?” 

“Yeah,” Roger replied.  “I always have lube.  Lube and cigarettes.  It’s in the basket.” 

John looked and sure enough, there it was next to Roger’s Marlboros.  Bless.  He passed it to him, then kept it for himself, but not before giving Roger a long, lingering kiss.  “I have no doubt I’m with the right men.” 

Roger smiled. “I love you to John.”

Roger lubed his fingers, warming them carefully so as to not startle Brian awake.  Brian’s hips just happened to be canted on a warm pile of clothes, giving Roger excellent access to his bum.  He spread his cheeks experimentally, keeping his eyes on the sleeping beauty. 

John was two fingers deep in Freddie, the rhythm of the washing machine keeping time with movement of his wrists.  Freddie was gasping, clinging to the sides of the washer for dear life and thrusting back onto John’s fingers, already wanting more.  But John was distracted.  He kept stealing little glances over his shoulder at Roger and Brian, at the sleeping man and Roger’s steady fingers.  He was entranced. 

“Please,” Freddie whined, and it snapped him back to the present.  John was red-faced, but not from his own desire.  He watched Roger slip a finger into Brian…watched the curls around his face stir a little in his sleep as he moaned softly, and he gave Freddie that third finger he’d been gagging for…gave it to him roughly, right over his prostate.

Freddie keened, his cries echoing loudly in the open space, and John clamped a hand over his mouth.  “Shhh, you’re going to wake Brian,” he said as he opened him up.  Three fingers and he was clamping around him, rutting into the front of the machine.  “You like that huh? Like me stretching you out?”  He was draped roughly over Freddie, one hand steadying himself on the machine.  “You want a little more?   Can you take a little more baby, or you do you want my cock?” 

Freddie was breathless, letting the vibrations rumble though him.  “Give me more,” he stammered out.  “Wanna come like this.  Just like this.”

John smiled as he poured more lube onto his hand and let his pinky finger slip inside. 

Behind them, Roger was teasing Brian’s rim with delicate, quiet motions, watching the man with a soft expression of wonder.  He let his middle finger slip inside, then he quickly withdrew it, afraid he would wake him.  He repeated this action many times until he felt Brian was open and ready enough for a second finger.  When he slipped it in, Brian’s legs twitched a little, cock still hard from Roger’s ministrations.  Roger bent and gave it a little kiss. 

Brian moaned, moving his head from side to side.  The rush Roger felt was unlike any he had ever experienced…not in sex or fast cars or performing…this slow edging of Brian while he was just on the verge of wakefulness was like nothing he had ever done before, and he was slowly becoming addicted to it.  The next thing he did could wake him up or bring him more sleepy pleasure.  The risk was the reward. 

Roger took the risk, slowly moving the fingers inside of him, carefully opening him up.  Brian didn’t stir at first, simply moved his mouth a little.  He was so beautiful when he was sleeping…those graceful fingers curled near his face, that kissable mouth slightly agape.  Roger wanted to suck marks up and down that long neck and thoroughly wreck him, but that would have to wait.  Right now Brian was a sleeping angel, and he was just a devil stealing feathers from his wings. 

“You want the rest baby?” 

Freddie had a white-knuckle grip on the side of the machine as it spun out, his whole body shaking under John’s hand.  “Push it in,” he whispered.  Tears were streaming down his face, and he felt blissfully out of control. 

Freddie had taken his fist before, but he still eased his hand inside of him before thrusting gently.  Freddie felt so good around him…so hot and incredibly tight, that he almost wished it was his cock Freddie was locked around instead of half of his arm, but the way Freddie was wrecked beneath him, tears and sweat mixing on his pretty face, made it all worth it. 

John looked back at Roger and Brian.  Roger was cleaning him up with a freshly laundered towel and replacing his pants.  Brian was still fast asleep, curled on his side now in the laundry pile, a sweet blush to his cheeks.  John’s eyes watered, something hollow aching in his chest. 

–

They made it back from the Fluff ‘n Fold around 11pm, baskets of freshly laundered clothes just needing to be put away.  They each set a basket down on the couch and vowed they would do it in the morning. 

They got cleaned up for bed, finally having fresh pajamas to wear now that the wash was done, and climbed into bed. 

John lay awake for a long time before finally rolling over to nudge Rodger. 

“Rog.” 

Roger rolled over to stroke the hair away from his face.  “What is it babe?” 

“I can’t sleep.  I keep thinking about you and Brian tonight.” 

Roger smiled.  “Oh. That.” 

John nodded, his face growing hot.  “Yeah.”  He swallowed.  “Do you think you could do something like that to me?” 

Roger sat up a little in bed.  “Why yeah Deaky.  If that’s what you want.  “I’ll talk to the boys, see if they’re up for it.” 

“What are you two whispering about,” Freddie grumbled.  “It’s awfully late.” 

“It’s not that late, you old fart,” Roger teased.  “Plus, it’s Saturday night.  We should be out clubbing.”

“Too tired,” Freddie said, yawning. 

“Mmm, wonder why?” John said wryly.

He got hit with a pillow, finally waking Brian up. 

“What’s this?” 

“John wants to get fucked in his sleep,” Roger announced.

John buried his face in his hands. 

Freddie soothed a hand down his back.  “Darling, I think it’s lovely.  Like Sleeping Beauty.”

“She was never fucked though, just kissed,” Brian interjected. 

“Same difference,” Roger said. 

“Anyway, we’re gonna help our boy out as soon as he goes to sleep, so let’s get him nice and comfortable, yeah?”

“I’ll get you some warm milk!” Freddie said excitedly. 

“Do you need some extra blankets?” Brian inquired.

John frowned.  “No, I don’t need all of this fuss.  Just come here.” 

The boys crowded around him, lying down in their usual positions.  They lay next to him and turned out the light.  “Just be with me,” John said. 

Roger smiled.  “We can do that.” 

John drifted off around midnight.  Roger lightly stroked his hair while Freddie placed little kisses along his brow, making sure he was in a deep sleep.  The boys smiled down at him. 

He looked so relaxed, lying there against the pillow.  His eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted, making him look even younger.  Roger thumbed over his cheek, feeling the smooth, warm skin beneath his fingers. 

“He’s beautiful,” Brian whispered, something thick in the words. 

Roger nodded, smiling.  “Let’s get started, shall we?  Let’s make our boy happy.” 

Freddie slowly unbuttoned his pajama top, opening the fabric to either side.  He lay his cheek next to the soft downy hair he found there, and the young man’s eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.  Roger took in a breath.  “God, he’s really something like this, isn’t he?” 

Freddie placed a kiss over his heart.  “I can barely stand it,” he whispered.  “Slip his bottoms off.” 

Brian and Roger made quick work of the bottoms, easing them down his legs without so much of a stir from John.  They slipped a pillow under his hips, elevating his bum. 

Brian eyed John’s cock, already filling out as Freddie placed little kisses down his abdomen.  He exhaled a breath.  “May I?”

Roger nodded. “Of course.  He does look delicious, doesn’t he?” 

Brian was so hesitant to touch him, he even held his breath as he placed a small kiss to the head of his cock.  John didn’t move.  Emboldened, Brian licked the underside, right along a vein, and the young man stretched and moaned in his sleep, his head going back into the pillow.  The sound he made, so pure and unabashed, went straight to Brian’s cock. 

He swallowed him down then, softly sucking on John’s cock, pulling off when John tensed or fussed too much, until Roger moved him away.  “You’re going to wake him up, tiger,” Roger said, chuckling.  “Let’s open him up now.  Freddie, stroke his hair, keep him relaxed.” 

Freddie settled near the pillow and gently stroked John’s hair, the young man easing into the sensation of Freddie’s hands on him.  Roger warmed the lube in his fingers and circled John’s rim.  John whimpered a little, the sweetest little sound, before being calmed and shushed quiet by Freddie’s soothing hands.  When he felt he was ready, Roger slipped in a finger into John’s lush warmth.  His walls contracted immediately, fighting the intrusion, and Roger eased it back out and tried again, this time with much more success. 

Brian hovered over him, his eyes large and full of wonder.  He was breathing heavily and aching to touch, to feel, to do.  He leaned over Roger, his fingers flexing.  “May I try?”

Roger’s mouth quirked.  “Sure baby.  Just go easy.”

Brian lubed his fingers, warming them before easing one in.  The slender digit went in smoothly, settling itself against John’s walls. He looked up to see a half smile on John’s face, a look of utter contentment. 

He worked the finger inside of John for a while, slipping against his tight heat and along the edge of his rim before sliding in another.  The young man moaned, tensing against his hands, but Freddie was there to soothe him so he didn’t wake up. 

Sliding those two fingers into John while he was so limp and pliant was like dipping into pure heaven.  Brian had never felt anything so satisfying.  John didn’t rut against him or thrash around, he just took it, and there was something about it that just set fire to Brian’s blood. 

Brian looked up shyly at Roger.  “Can we fuck him like this?”

Roger laughed.  “Maybe.  He’ll wake up though.  But what a way to wake up.”  Roger lit a cigarette and took a long drag off of it.  “Give him another finger and we’ll fuck him awake.” 

Freddie smiled, reaching down to kiss the half open lips.  John never stirred.  Brian slipped another finger in, and John grunted, hands going up to his face. 

“Oh, you’ve gone and done it now, Mr. May.  You’ve gotten too ambitious,” Roger said, a half smile on his face as he smoked his cigarette on the edge of the bed.

Freddie tried to ease John back to sleep, but he was well on his way to wakefulness now…not fully aware but getting there by the second. 

“If you’re going to fuck him, you better do it now,” Roger said over his shoulder.

Brian had his pants off in seconds.  He lubed himself and pressed home, hoping John was stretched enough.  It was worth it all, though, when John’s lovely eyes flew open and he realized where he was…at home in bed suddenly stuffed full of cock. 

“Hi darling,” Freddie cooed as he looked down on John.  “Good morning.  I mean, it’s morning by now.”

Freddie’s charming smile only grew as he ran a hand over John’s chest, teasing his nipples. “You look so pretty like this.  Are you having a good time?” 

John moaned, his legs hitching up against Brian’s waist.  “Yes, very much,” he managed to get out as Brian pounded into him.

Roger had finished his cigarette by now, and he crawled over the bed to wrap a hand around John’s cock.  “Need a hand with that sweetheart?” 

John whined loudly as Roger’s calloused hands worked his cock in time with Brian’s thrusts.  “How—how long was I asleep?” 

Roger laughed.  “Long enough for us to get this far, love.”

Brian grunted as he thrust into him, hips slapping against the back of his thighs.  “I’m not going to last,” he ground out.  “You close baby?” 

“Yeah,” John breathed as Roger sped up his hand on his cock.  John could feel the charged heat low in his belly, the electricity sizzling just beneath his skin threatening to escape at any moment. 

Brian tensed, screaming out his release as he collapsed over him.  Moments later John was coming, sending hot ropes of spend over his belly and Roger’s hand.  Roger smiled, licking his fingers as Brian cuddled up beside John.  Freddie pulled Roger into a deep kiss, tasting John on his lips. 

“What are we going to do with these boys,” Freddie purred into Roger’s mouth, a hand going down to wrap around his cock.    

Roger kissed him back, humming contentedly. 

“That was bloody terrific,” John said, a stupid grin on his face.  “Thank you boys.” 

Roger grinned.  “Don’t thank us love.  You were wonderful.” 

Brian caressed John’s face.  “It was so amazing.  You know, I might like to try that sleeping thing myself.  I’m rather fascinated by it.” 

Roger just looked at John and smiled.

-0-0-0-

[valenciat91]

The Spin Cycle

By V.C. Turner

           I slammed the lid down on the washing machine. Hard. Probably not the best idea I’ve had over the past several months, but I did it anyway because the damned thing was acting up and I can’t stand the thought of shopping for another one.

           I hate shopping. I really do. I hate it even more when I am forced to do it.

            So after fiddling with the dial for the 157th time, and after adjusting the water hoses, and after taking another stab at unplugging it for a while, I decide that the damned thing is a lost cause. I kick it a few times since I know putting a few dents in the casing isn’t going to change anything

I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s lasted for 14 years. It survived college, graduate school and my mistake of an ex-husband, so I guess it’s paid its dues. 

For some reason, I pat the lid as if to apologize for the kicking and swearing, then pull out my unwashed clothes and place them in my laundry bag.

Crap. Tomorrow is Monday.

The start of a new work week is less than 24 hours away and I literally have nothing decent to wear. 

As if on cue, my phone dings and vibrates in my pocket. The tickle it sends down my thigh is only a reminder that no one else has tickled me there in a very long time. 

I pull it out and look at the screen.

Jasmine sent me a message.

She lives down the hall, but I can almost hear my friend laughing at me as I swipe the screen realizing that she probably heard the swearing, banging and kicking from my apartment.

“Ouch! Damn! Stop hurting me, human!” – She wrote, pretending to be my washing machine.

I roll my eyes. She told me to ditch the thing the day I moved into the apartment complex, but I figured it still had some life left in it. And again…I hate shopping. 

I text her back.

“You were right. Ding Dong. The washer’s dead. The washer’s dead. The wicked washer.”

I clutch the strings of the bag and wait a few seconds for a reply. She doesn’t respond immediately and I wonder if it’s because she’s cooking another dish that’s going to add another five pounds onto my body. 

Jasmine loves cooking: Greek dishes, Italian Dishes, “whatever the hell she can think of” dishes. They’re delicious and addictive. I’m going to go ahead and blame her for helping me add on the freshman fifteen AFTER graduating college. I lost the weight, but it was a struggle.

Please don’t be cooking, Jazz. Please don’t be cooking. 

I chant this to myself because all I’ve had today is a banana and two bottles of water. 

I stuff the phone back in my pocket and head into the kitchen where I know a cluster of grapes is waiting for me – chilling inside an actual, working appliance. 

I open the door, pulling out the plump green grapes, washing them under the cold tap water, and setting them down on a paper towel. This won’t fill me up, but it does give me a chance to savor their sweetness and a few quiet moments while I contemplate dragging my ass down to the basement of our building to do my laundry.

My phone buzzes again.

It’s Jasmine.

           “I hope you’re not cooking,” I say aloud to myself before unlocking the device. I refuse to go back up another dress size.

            I look at the screen. 

            “Sorry. I’m making chicken parmesan and some fresh, sautéed vegetables,” she said.

            My stomach growls – loudly.

            I hate her for this. 

            Actually, it’s the opposite. I adore the woman, but still she’s not helping my waistline. Internally, I’m begging her not to invite me over so we can gorge ourselves on marinara smothered chicken, vegetables, and wine.

            I consider my response text carefully. I don’t want to offend her, but I don’t want to spend the rest of the day feeling bloated.

            “Cool. Hey, I’m gonna finish laundry in the basement,” I type back. 

            I leave the phone on the counter and make my way back to the overflowing hamper I have. I dump its contents into my second laundry bag and begin to question the need for all these clothes to be washed at once since I live on the third floor of a walk-up. 

            I’m sorting through the laundry picking out the essentials when I hear the phone ring.

            I run back and answer it.

            “Come on over,” she insists, sounding like she has food in her mouth. Fresh, warm delicious food. Crap. It’s apparently so good she can’t wait to eat it.

            “Didn’t your mother teach you not to talk with your mouth full?” I ask.

            She apparently swallows her bite and resumes talking.

            “Well, she also taught me to wear a girdle and pantyhose all the time, but I didn’t listen to that advice either,” she points out.

            It’s then that I realize I’ve stopped moving. Her soft voice flows through the phone, washing over me. I love it. I could listen to it all day really. She could read the instruction manual to my new TV and it would sound awesome. 

Men must love it. 

I have no idea why she’s not seeing anyone right now. She’s awesome. She’s this outgoing, smart, petite woman with perfect lips and sparkling eyes. She also has the most enviable body I’ve seen on any woman: the perfect mixture of athletic and curvy.

She’s beautiful and adorable, but what’s cool is that she doesn’t realize it. Well, maybe she does, but she’s not cocky about it at all.

I’m usually very intimidated by beautiful women. I feel so inadequate around them but she’s never made me feel that way. The moment we met, I felt perfectly at ease. We are the same age and have so much in common. Both of us live far from home. Both of us work as professionals in our fields.

We instantly became best friends.

We spend most Thursday nights camped out on a couch with wine, popcorn and the remote close by we can pause a show whenever we go into one of our long discussions.

I love her to death, which is why I hate saying “no” to her for any reason; even a good one. 

I do think overeating is a good enough reason.

            “Are you that witch from Hansel and Gretel? I keep thinking you’re trying to fatten me up and cook me up for dinner,” I joke.

            She giggles and it’s quite infectious actually. I know I’m going to say yes. It’s only a matter of seconds before I do.

“I’m not trying to fatten you up just to eat you,” Jasmine states, “I just like testing new recipes on a friendly audience.”

“Jazz, hon, I can’t eat all that food. I always eat too much when I come over,” I point out. I’m pleading, but it’s not working. Note to self: two gym visits tomorrow.

I hear her humph over the phone. I can almost see her pouting. She really wants me to try this dish. 

She likes to experiment.

            “Ok, I give in,” I tell her, “But I have to get this laundry done tonight.”

            “No problem. Do it over here,” she offers. 

            “Ok,” I tell her. I’m done resisting her efforts.

            I click off the phone and grab a bottle of wine to bring with me. Showing up empty-handed isn’t an option when she’s offering hot food and a working washing machine.

            I sheepishly knock on her door and seconds later it springs open. She’s standing there, barefoot wearing a black V-neck top and pajama shorts. I drop my laundry bags just inside her door and hand her the wine.

            She frowns while looking at it. I soon realize why.

            “Is this the bottle I gave you for a housewarming present?” Jasmine asks. 

            I bite my lip and look away.

            “It is isn’t it?” she continues, raising an eyebrow.

            “Sorry,” I tell her.

            “I thought you’d used this already for a special occasion,” she said, walking it to the kitchen counter. 

            “There haven’t been any special occasions,” I said.

            She crosses her arms over her chest.

            “I’m sorry,” I add, “You still love me though? Right?”

            She pretends to be angry with me, walking over with this scowl on her face, but by the time she’s standing in front of me, she’s smiling. She puts her arms around me and gives me a hug.

            I really love it when she hugs me. She always gives me those hugs that feel like she hasn’t seen me in forever. It’s a long squeeze where she just pulls me in and holds me there like she’s been missing me for years and we’re finally reunited.

            I’m an affectionate person by nature, so I just eat this up. She backs away smiling and shows me the efforts of her cooking. The smells are heavenly. My stomach is happy. My doctor won’t be, but screw her: this looks delicious.

            “Why don’t we do a Scandal marathon?” she offers, popping a bite of food in her mouth after we’ve settled onto the couch.

            “We’ve seen all the ones from the final season,” I remind her.

            She whips out her remote control and turns Netflix on her smart TV.

            “Past episodes sweetheart,” she states.

            I’m going to be here a while, and that’s just fine with me: friend, food, wine, laundry, and Scandal. Sunday’s aren’t so bad.

            We’re covered up with the blanket. The first laundry load is done by the time the first episode is over. I pull it from the machine and load the second batch.

            The sun has set, so she draws the curtains and turns on an incandescent light in the back of the room.

The blue light from the large television lights up her face. 

I realize I’m staring at her. She smiles before turning to me.

“What’s wrong, something on my face?” she asks.

I tell her it’s her lipstick; that I love the color and want to know what kind it is. She hops up and grabs her makeup bag from her purse. She pulls it out and shows me that it’s called “Ravishing Red.”

I make a mental note of that. I also make a note of the fact that I shouldn’t stare at her too long. It might give her the wrong idea.

We are friends after all. 

She snuggles next to me and I realize how much I miss being touched and held. I’ve avoided the dating scene because I just have no patience for finding, training and keeping a man. 

Can’t they just come in ready-made packages with all the relationship information located on the side?

I scoot closer to her and after a few minutes notice an undeniable heat building up inside of me. I look down and note our position on the sofa puts her breast against mine. Her nipple is hard. The sensation of it pressing against the side of my breast is making my own nipple hard.

My core floods with heat and begins to tingle. I can’t look at her. I’m just going to ignore it because I know it’s incidental contact, and it’s been a while for me and I just can’t get turned on this easily … And we’re friends. 

I exhale slowly and pray the buzzer goes off after the washer is done with the spin cycle. I’ll have an excuse to get up. 

The buzzer doesn’t go off.

She places her hand on my upper thigh, but she keeps looking at the television. 

I’m getting hotter in places that should not be getting hot with her just touching me like that. But I can feel it. I’m turned on and God I hope she doesn’t notice it. I have nothing on under this oversized T-shirt and only a pair of cotton shorts is positioned between my core the warmth of her hand.

I don’t want to scare her or freak her out. 

She is my friend, after all.

The episode ends and she turns to me.

“Hey, did you ever try out that eyeliner that I gave you?” she asked innocently.

I relax a little. I try to tell my body to do the same, but it doesn’t.

“I’m so bad at makeup,” I confess, “I just use the basics. I know I should do more.”

She grabs her makeup bag and I realize she’s going to doll me up. It’s cool because I feel like a teenager at a sleepover. 

            She sits on the coffee table in front of me and pulls out the lipstick. I scoot forward until we’re eye to eye. She’s good at this – putting on makeup and making things look beautiful.

            I trust her.

            I hold still and let her apply a thin layer of the lipstick on my mouth. I rub my lips together and lick them a little. I’m surprised it has a flavor to it – tastes a bit like cherry.

            I smile.

            She pulls out the eyeliner. Ok. I hate eyeliner, but she feels like doing this and I don’t want to stop her because she’s so sweet. 

            “Come a little closer,” she says.

            I tend to back away because, again, I hate eyeliner. I always feel like something is in my eye even though it isn’t.

            I close my eyes and tell myself that this time, it’s not going to feel like something crawled under my eyelid.

            She holds my face steady. I guess I didn’t realize how much I move when someone does this but –

            That’s when I feel it. Not on my eyes, but my mouth. 

            The action registers after a few long seconds. Her lips are on mine. 

She’s kissing me. 

            I’m shocked, but not enough to pull away because the thing is: I’m enjoying it. Here lips are full and soft and feel amazing as they caress each of mine. I don’t even realize I’m letting out a soft moan, but I do. It feels good. It actually feels amazing.

            She’s chest to chest with me, her breasts pressing against mine. It feels so natural to kiss her even though I’ve never kissed a woman before and had no idea how erotic it would be, but that’s what I’m doing now and I love it.

            I reach beneath her t-shirt and hope my hands are warm enough so that can touch her skin. I need to feel if it’s as soft as I think it is. The second I make contact, she moans into my mouth. Her hand is on the back of my neck and she pulls me into a deeper kiss while her tongue slips inside to explore my mouth.

            Now I’m desperate to touch her even more. She’s not wearing a bra. Thank God!

Her shirt raises a little as I cup her breasts in my hands and caress them gently. She is amazingly soft. Her skin feels like satin – no silk – rubbing against my palms. 

            Gorgeous. She looks and feels gorgeous. She’s so responsive and now I know how much of a turn on it is to turn on another person – a woman. It’s a thrill I never realized I could experience, much less enjoy.

            But here it is.

            I feel the urge to kiss her beautiful nipples, but I can’t do it from this position. I hold onto her while I pull us both back on the sofa. She’s straddled across my lap. Her shirt is hiked up and her breasts are only millimeters from my face. I have to do it.

I choose my prize and claim it.

            My lips wrap around her nipple and she sucks in a sharp breath of air, and then releases it in a groan of pleasure. Her fingers are running through my hair as I lave at her erect bud with my tongue.  The circles I’m making are slow and deliberate – torture for the both of us really.  I feel it pebble harder the more I do it. It tickles my tongue and sends volts of electricity through my body.

“I want you,” Jasmine groans, “Please don’t stop.”

She arches into me, so I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her closer.  

My left hand is running up and down her back.  I’m sucking on one areola while lightly pinching the other between my thumb and forefinger.

Her breath is coming out in short bursts, fluffing the hair on top of my head. 

            Her squirming knocks the blanket onto the floor, but I’m too hot and turned on to care because I’m so happy I’m the one making her squirm like this. 

            I switch to the other nipple and she’s grinding against me. She starts to kiss my ear. I move up to pull of her shirt then kiss her neck.

“Oh my God, it feels so good,” she moans in my ear. 

I’m so lost in her that I barely consider what she said, but the words sound so damn sexy coming from those full lips, I can’t help but keep going.

            She needs her release and I’m going to give it to her.

            I pick her up and lay her on the sofa. I take off my top and climb on top of her. She smells mouthwateringly good. I kiss her ear, her neck, and make my way back to the mouth I’ve envied for years. I bask in the glory of each of her naturally red lips. I suck one into my mouth, run my tongue over it, and then do the same with the other. 

            I kiss down her stomach until I reach her bellybutton. 

            I pull her shorts down and notice that she’s not wearing any panties. Her arousal scents the room, and I’m the one making her hot. 

            Me. 

            She’s my friend and I’m making her hot and wet and she wants to me satisfy her.

            And I will.

            I don’t waste any time.

            I’ve never given another woman such an intimate kiss. I know what I like, but there’s no guarantee she’s going to enjoy it. 

I take the risk and decide to kiss her … there…kiss her like she’s never been kissed before. 

I part her lower lips with my fingers and swipe my tongue against her clit. I French kiss her folds – slow and sweet. Her head is tossing from side to side. She’s panting and trying to hold onto something.

            She cries out my name as she grinds against my face.

            That’s all I need to know.

            I gently hold her legs in place, licking under, around, and above her clit. She’s not getting off that easily. 

            I give long, alternating licks up and down her slit. I hold her tight because I want this to last as long as possible for her. She wants me to make her feel good and I refused to disappoint her.

            Her thighs tighten around my ears as she grabs the back of my head and pulls my tongue closer inside her. She’s almost screaming now. She’s chanting something, but I can’t hear it because her thighs are covering my ears. 

            I can’t believe how hot this is making me. 

I bury myself in her heaven. I keep sucking, touching, kissing and licking at her until she lets out a guttural scream of pleasure that I can feel through her whole body. She’s shaking beneath me and I slowly let her thighs fall from my shoulders.

She continues to moan and I look for something to help me clean off my face even though I like that her scent is on me.

            I find a hand towel to wipe my face.

            She finally opens her eyes. I’m sitting up topless in front of her, grinning and blushing a bit.

            She stands up, takes the towel from my hands and pulls me to my feet. She pulls down my shorts and leads me to the bathroom.

            “Let’s get washed up,” she tells me in this sultry voice that almost makes me orgasm from listening to it.

            She leads me down the hallway.

Scented candles illuminate the large bathroom. As she leans over to turn on the warm water from the shower, I notice how incredible her ass looks. I’m eager for any reason to touch it.

The water heats up. I can’t wait to touch her again. I pull her under the stream with me. We’re soaked. Her skin is against mine. I swear, I’ve never wanted anyone this much. Her bare chest against mine is driving me wild with lust. I pull her up against me, cupping her ass in my hands and confirming one solid truth: it is perfect. I knead the flesh because I need her flesh. She’s hot and wanting. Her sex is rubbing against mine and the friction is stimulating both of us.

She kisses down my neck, pulling my breast into her hot mouth. I search for something to hold onto because I know she can make me come just by rubbing against me and sucking on my nipple. 

Her damp hair looks black in this light. I brush it away from her face so I can watch her mouth around me. While I’m looking in her eyes, I feel her fingers slip down between my legs and tease my clit.

My head automatically falls against the side of the shower. I can’t handle this for long. I won’t be able to.

She releases my nipple with a small pop and stands up. She kisses me as I caress her perfect wet body everywhere I can reach.

She lifts up one of my legs, propping my foot up on an empty soap dish. The movement exposes more of my sex to the tender attention of her fingers. She speeds up slightly, as I moan more and more. I bite my lip, but nothing will stop what’s building. I feel like the pieces of a Jenga game, just waiting to topple over any second now.

            I close my eyes. I can’t take this much stimulation of all my senses: sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch – God how she’s touching me. 

I want to grind against her hand, but I fight against it. I close my eyes.

“No, no, no,” she cajoles, “I want to be looking in your eyes when you come.”

She looks me in the eyes, speeding up because she knows I’m barely holding on. I grab the shower rail just before the first surge of pleasure hits me. I cry out, grinding against her harder and another orgasm hits me, nearly knocking me off my feet.

I look at her when I come. I pull her up into my arms and kiss her again. 

We stand there under the water, kissing with hunger and desire until the water begins to turn cold. I find a large towel and wrap it around the both of us. We kiss again and it’s only then I hear it.

The buzzer from the washing machine sounds.

I chuckle.

“I guess the spin cycle’s over,” I say as I kiss her neck.

She moans against me.

“Well,” she says as she pulls me into her bedroom and strips off the towel, “Some spin cycles are just getting started.”

God, I adore this woman.