Solo/laundry2
                                          Laundomat Encounter - 2
                                               Linda
                       Angry was a good word, but frustrated was even better.
                                        Sexually frustrated.
                     It was bad enough being driven into activily hunting for a
                    man, any man, but what was even worse than that, finding an
                        attractive man to screw and then being turned down!
                     That damned George last night was a classic example of how
                   stupid men were when it came right down to the nitty gritty of
                     raw sexual longing, and Linda tossed her head negativily,
                                            remembering.
                    Linda would begin to think that she knew something about men,
                   and would be able to manipulate the man of her sexual choice,
                    when bang, something like last night would happen and Linda
                    thought that she was back on square one, like a high school
                     freshman, wanting to screw but not knowing how to go about
                                getting someone that was interested.
                    There must be rules in the gamebook that she hadn't read. It
                   was not unlike sitting down and playing Blackjack in a casino
                        without being sure of the cards or the rules. Really
                                            frustrating!
                     Most of the time she didn't think all that much about sex.
                       Oh, she'd have liked to have a boyfriend, and maybe get
                       married some day, but not right now, thank you kindly.
                     The pressure of having a steady boyfriend was a burden more
                                          than she wanted.
                    It was nice to have someone for the Friday night after work,
                   relaxing, letdown of the pressures of the work week, and maybe
                   a nice dinner out on Saturday night or even a Sunday afternoon
                   lying in bed on a rainy day type sexual exertions, getting her
                     brains fucked out. Snoozing a while while the world turned
                    slowly past the half closed eyelids until a slowly awakening
                     lust opened her myopic blue eyes, and drove her into some
                    sweetly exciting hot sexual exploration. But Linda found the
                    problems generated by a steady boyfriend, always wanting to
                   come over and just lay around, maybe watching a football game
                    on the tube which bored her out of her mind, to be more than
                                       she wanted to handle.
                      Not only that, but they always took over ownership of her
                  body, and then her mind, not letting her have enough freedom to
                          be herself and it just wasn't worth the hassle!
                     Not that Linda didn't like sex, she certainly did! She like
                     everything about sex. She liked the warmth and the smooth
                    feeling of having her stomach knot up when she came, and the
                    slippery wetness between her thighs. She liked the taste and
                     smell of sex, the rosy hue her body achieved during a long
                   heavy sexual encounter, and the exciting exploration of a new
                                           lover's body.
                     One of her previous boyfriends, Tony, used to fuck her into
                    submission and then when she couldn't stand it anymore, the
                   Italian stallion would pull his prick out and spray his sperm
                   over her breasts, driving her right up the wall with ecstacy.
                    The hot spraying juice spurting out before her eyes, and the
                   feeling of it hitting and clinging to her tits would bring her
                    to a series of multiple orgasms that rippled her whole body
                        like a piece of cloth hanging on a line in the wind.
                    When he would dip his stubby finger into his liquid, and wipe
                   his finger in her mouth, Linda would start gasping for breath,
                    eager tongue lapping at the still hot juice, savoring, while
                  her loins churned and spasmed with a muscle cramping intensity.
                    But they'd broken up when he'd started treating her like they
                      were already married, and coming over in old jeans, not
                   showering, and having the weekend of stubble on his face, and
                                       she couldn't stand it.
                    What she didn't like was not being able to have sex when she
                      wanted it, without all of the strings that seemed to be
                     attached to all of her relationships. Linda knew her body
                   intimately, every curve and hollow, sometimes lying in bed for
                        hours caressing and teasing herself. Once, on a lazy
                    Sunday afternoon, she'd placed a new set of batteries in her
                   pink plastic vibrator and used it continually, mostly between
                   her thighs but over her breasts and the rest of her body too,
                               until the gaddamn batteries went dead.
                   Next time she purchased a vibrator, the damn thing better work
                   on house current, and not depend on batteries! Dead batteries
                                       were also frustrating.
                     Sex was addictive. Once she started having sex, she wanted
                  more and more, and there didn't seem to be any such thing as an
                  overdose. But when she wasn't getting laid often, then she kind
                    of forgot about sex except for the few days just before her
                    period, when her glands secreting female hormones, drove her
                               out of her mind wanting to get fucked.
                                           Like right now!
                       Last night she'd fiddled around, even breaking down and
                   calling a few male friends, delving through her personal phone
                  book, to get no answer ringing, and a woman answering the phone
                             to an old boyfriend with Linda hanging up.
                      She had so much nervous energy that she'd decided to wash
                   clothes, and then the goddamn fucking washing machine made the
                  same grinding sounds, and she knew it was a case of calling the
                    mechanic and another round of headaches getting the goddamn
                                         thing fixed again.
                                Another damn trip to the laundromat!
                   She'd brushed her hair, slipped a pair of soft soled shoes on,
                    and gathered up her undies and jeans and blouses into a big
                            pile, stuffing it into the mesh laundry bag.
                   On second thought, she kicked off her shoes, pulling her jeans
                   off, stripping the panties from her hips and tossing them into
                    the pile, along with her brassiere. Might just as well wash
                   everything now, since one never knew how long it would take to
                                  get her machine fixed, did one?
                     Nude, she stared in the mirrors on the sliding doors of her
                     walk in closet, turning her head, cocking it on the side,
                                  looking frankly at her figure. 
                   Slim, elegant, and exciting, she thought. Sometimes she wished
                    her tits were bigger, but then again, they certainly didn't
                   sag, and there wasn't a crease at the bottom to gather sweat,
                   and she'd not had any complaints, ever. She decided she liked
                   her breasts.

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 Pink nipples peaking almost to points, that would
                    thicken with lust when she was aroused, but blended smoothly
                     into the surrounding skin when her libido wasn't all that
                                              excited.
                    Now they were just half peaked, half excited, and no one here
                   to do anything about getting them into full hardness. Too bad
                                             for them.
                        Stomach flat, and she sucked it in even more, looking
                   critically at the swelling of her smooth lower abdoman, seeing
                     that the deep breath and holding her stomach muscles flat,
                    raised her breasts and made her figure look even better. She
                   raised up, standing on her toes as if she were wearing heels,
                    watching the further tautening of her slim legs, the muscles
                     writhing smothly under the soft skin. Most attractive she
                   thought. If I were into girls, I'd like to try my hand at this
                           one, or maybe my head, wicked giggle escaping.
                   Curly dark blonde haired triangle nestled between the swelling
                     of her thighs, the fur protruding. Luxuriant growth, bushy
                      might even be a better word. More might be better Linda
                  thought, remembering the cushioning her muff gave her when some
                    over eager lover was really pounding his cock into her, his
                   belly and groin hitting her between her thighs, then the bushy
                    mound would act as a shock absorbing mat. Not that she realy
                   had thought about it all that much while it was going on, but
                  the next day when the soreness of bruised flesh complained from
                   the hard banging, her eyes would go upwards, thanking whoever
                   was running the show for equiping her with a full bush of hair
                                         between her legs.
                   She ran one finger through her curls, feeling the soft viable,
                      flesh, the opening slitted long between her thighs, the
                    moistness and heat being radiated out, sensing the gathering
                    moisture making the hidden slotted lipped opening even more
                         slippery as she wiggled her finger over the bump.
                    Jesus, I've got to stop now, or I'll never get those fucking
                       clothes washed, her mind steaming to match her pussy.
                         Linda slid the closet door open, pulling her Gloria
                  Vanderbuilt jeans from a hanger, standing on one leg, inserting
                  the other, hopping from one foot to the other to pull them over
                  the swelling of her hips and ass. Unable to close the zipper on
                   the form fitted jeans, she lay face up on the bed, pulling in
                   her already flat stomach, arms akward and akimbo, pulling and
                   tugging on the stubborn zipper, slowly tooth by tooth dragging
                  it higher in the track until she could snap the metal button at
                                              the top.
                      Jumping from the bed she pulled her plaid shirt from the
                   closet, feeling the soft wool cling to her, opening the metal
                     button again, stuffing her plaid shirt, then struggling to
                        fasten the button, face a little red from the trial.
                    Spinning, looking at her ass in the mirror, the denium cloth
                     clinging to her butt, no panty line showing for the simple
                     reason of no panties, attractive she thought, nice ass she
                                              thought.
                   And the wool dark green plaid shirt brought out the highlights
                     of her naturally curly blonde hair. The hair she'd paid a
                  fortune to have naturally curled about once every two months at
                                         the beauty parlor.
                      She smoothed the wrinkles in the bed, tossed the pillows
                      again, in case she was lucky and met someone tonight and
                  brought them home with her, it was always nicer to start with a
                             smooth bed, and rumple it up with loving.
                     Deciding her make up was fine, Linda grabbed her mesh bag,
                                   turned out the bedroom light.
                    Leaving on one living room light, carefully locking the door,
                      both the top and bottom lock, the deadbolt that had been
                    installed by the guy who didn't wear a shirt and had a cute
                           butt, that she'd teased until he'd fucked her.
                    Driving to the laundromat, her mind went back to that summer
                                                day.
                    Remembering - June, no, July, sometime after the Fourth, she
                    called a locksmith after the house down the street had been
                    ripped off by someone who'd slipped a plastic card into the
                   jamb and opened the front door, and the house was a shambles,
                    with all kinds of things stolen, and she'd gotten scared and
                            called the locksmith from the yellow pages.
                     He'd arrived in a battered white van, no shirt, burly chest
                             and a tight ass with buns. She liked buns.
                        He had convinced her to put in an expensive deadbolt,
                    explaining, how difficult it would be for anyone to get in,
                   serious eyes staring into hers, until she felt the animal heat
                  growing in her loins, and had decided to seduce him, or let him
                          seduce her, whichever, as long as she got laid.
                    It had cost her for three deadbolts, one front, one back, and
                    one on the sliding glass doors of her bedroom leading to the
                  enclosed patio. But later he'd taken the labor off the bill, so
                          she'd really done well in the money department.
                     While he had drilled the door and the jamb for the lock on
                    the front door, she'd hurried to her bedroom and opened the
                   vertical blinds full open, tossing a two piece bathing suit on
                  the bed and aimlessly moving around the bedroom with the lights
                      on, every light on, until she could see him on the patio
                     working on the back door, then she'd kind of nonchalantly
                      undressed as if she didn't realize that he could see her
                         getting naked. Teasing him from twenty feet away.
                     He didn't stare, but even though his head was turned to the
                    door jamb as if he was really inspecting the wood, she could
                   see his eyes fastening to her nude body moving back and forth
                      in the bedroom as she hung her clothes, brushed her hair
                        looking in the mirror, and got her bathing suit on.
                                      He was watching alright!
                    She could see his tight jeans at the crotch, and wondering if
                                         he had a hard yet.
                      She'd wandered out onto the patio, slinking into the deck
                   chair facing him, watching him work, following the shifting of
                    his muscles while he drilled the pattern out of the jamb and
                   fitted the metal deadbolt on the back door, the hot sun making
                                             her sweat.
                                                   CONTINUED PART 2
                                                  
                                                  
                                   
                                                  
                                                  

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