The load he came for

chip918 · February 9, 2013

First try here at a story here...

How pathetic is this: doing laundry on a Saturday night? Well, you snooze, you lose and I'd snoozed on laundry enough over the past week that now, I lost. Hopefully I could get it done quick and still find some fun later on.

I took a load out of the dryer and shoveled a new one in. One more into the washer and I was done. I quickly peeked around to confirm I was alone and pulled off the shirt I was wearing to add it to the final wash. As I did, I looked at my chest and thought about how far I'd come. I had entered college at over 300 pounds. Now I cut 175. Back then, I couldn't get someone to fuck me if my life depended on it. After my multi-year transformation, I had what the fat kid always wanted: to be a sought after sex object. I glanced up my left arm and also got reminded of the other item that told me how far I'd come, a big plus sign.

When you're chunky and no one desires you, you bend your morals to do whatever the other guy wants - to ensure you don't loose him. That 20-year old fat kid mentality won out even as a 24-year old hottie. If a guy said he wanted to go bare, I honestly believed I couldn't say no or I wouldn't get what I wanted; his approval and validation of me by his willingness to fuck. Now I'm a 26-year old jock who calls the shots a bit more carefully after pozzing up a year ago. My tat is in a place that isn't immediately visible, but with minimal effort, I can make sure someone knows the score so he can make an informed choice.

As I stood there, looking at my progress, I heard the door jingle. I quickly scrambled to cover up as a college kid, who couldn't have been more than 19, walked in and dropped a bag of clothes by a washer. He went to the change machine and deposited a dollar, then walked to the soda machine. "Damn!" he cursed in frustration. "Something wrong?" I asked. "They upped the price. You don't have an extra quarter to spare, do you?" I counted out my change and rationalized I could spare one quarter to the cutie. It would give me a chance to see him a little closer up, even if only for a moment. I ambled over and flipped it his way. As he caught it, i noticed a plastic rainbow bracelet on his wrist...a fellow dick lover, perhaps some small talk was in order. "How's your night going?" Fuck! How old was I? Fifteen? Couldn't I come up with a better opening line than that? "It's good," he said flashing a smile, "Kinda boring though." "What would spice it up?" Again, horridly corny. "You taking your shirt off again." He'd seen me...and probably the tattoo. The boy took my hand and walked me behind the super capacity washers. He reached up on his tiptoes and kissed me softly. After breaking the kiss, he placed his hands just under the bottom of my shirt and slowly began to move his hands up my torso, taking the shirt up with it. The endeavor seemed to take forever until he finally pulled my shirt over my head. Avoiding my eyes and staring directly at my tattoo, he remarked, "There, that's much better," and sunk to his knees.

I couldn't believe this was happening. Not complaining in any way, the boy fished-out my now hard seven inches and, as he began removing his own clothing, he began to work on me. Clearly experienced at what he was doing, the boy brought me to the edge three times before pulling off and laying on his back on the cold, dirty floor. "Do it," we're his only words as he raised his legs in the air. I reached for my jeans to get a rubber. "I fucking said do it! Put that cock in me now!" Clearly a bossy bottom boy. Not wanting to lose such a prized specimen, my old habits kicked in and I did as he asked, sliding my spit-slicked, bare dick into his hole. It was wrong, so wrong. I know he saw the tattoo, but did he know it's meaning? What my cum would do to him? Still I fucked away. "Rip me up inside, make it hurt, fucking pound that load in me!" Like a man possessed I increased my speed, increased the force of my thrusts, and after withdrawing, I let gravity do the work on the down stroke. "I'm close," I said, barely at a whisper. He smiled and in a much quieter tone, almost pleading, said, "Cum inside me." I could hold back no longer. Five days of pent up seed flooded his now ruined hole. I lay a minute on top of him before we were both shaken from our bliss by the dryer buzzer sounding that it was done.

I withdrew, stood up and dressed in silence. He did the same. As he leaned up and kissed me goodbye, he reached under my sleeve and rubbed his hand over my tattoo several times then quickly scribbled his name and phone number on my palm. "Thank you," he said, "for everything." He picked up his bag of unwashed clothes and headed for the door. "Um, what about your laundry?" I asked. "It's cool," he said winking, "I got the load I came for."

Edited February 9, 2013 by Hotload84