pozzed in Laudromat

[ijoey]

not my story I enhanced it, cleaned it up and made it better

this is one off story. I doubt there will be a series.

I was 21 and didn’t feel like wearing underwear. Half my clothes were in the wash anyway, and sometimes I just didn’t bother. They were just sweatpants, no lining, no support. You could pretty much see the shape of my dick when I moved. I didn’t think much of it. I wasn’t out to impress anyone anyway. 

The laundromat was dead quiet. The machines were humming, the air was  warm, smelling of  heat and cheap detergent. I was folding a pile of towels when he walked in.

No bag. No soap. Just a hoodie, black sweats, and this way of looking at me like he already knew what kind of night it was gonna be. He sat for a bit. His tall lanky frame unfolded in the chair. He was well over 6 foot tall and dark complected with just a hint of dark curl of a bro fro. He didn’t say anything, but I felt it. The stare. I kept folding, pretending not to notice.

Then I saw the movement. His hand slowly slid  under his waistband. He wasn’t hiding it.

I froze. Towel halfway folded.

He stood up and came over and  slid right up behind me.

“Keep folding,” he said, quiet but solid.

I turned back to the table, heart pounding, dick getting hard in my pants. I bent forward a little to grab another shirt.

That’s when he grabbed the waistband from behind.

But only in the back. He pulled the fabric down just enough to expose my ass. The front stayed up. I was hard and leaking, pressed against the inside of my pants, but he didn’t touch that. He let his hand settle for a second on the back of my neck. Just rested it there. Didn’t push. Didn’t grip. But it said enough.

I didn’t move.

Then I heard him spit in his hand. The sound of wet skin followed fast. A second later, I felt the fat, hot head of his black cock nudge against my hole.

No small talk. He pushed in.

I grabbed the edge of the table and held my breath. He was thick, warm,and  relentless. He filled me with one slow, steady thrust until his hips were pressed tight against my ass. He took what he wanted and gave me what I needed. 

Then he started to fuck me. Rhythmic. Deep. His hips slapped against me, balls heavy, breath heating the back of my neck. He never touched my cock. He just used me.

Every thrust rocked me forward, rubbed me harder against the inside of my pants. My dick was trapped, sensitive, throbbing. Precum had already made the fabric damp.

He panted. Fucked me harder. Still had that hand resting on my neck like I was his to use.

“You gonna cum in your pants like this?” he asked.

“I am going to knock you up!” he breathed! “Fill you with my poz babies.”

I couldn’t answer. My body was way ahead of me, making it's own decisions. I pushed back to meet his thrust.

It hit fast. I tensed, moaned through my teeth, and came hard into my sweatpants. Hot, sticky pulses soaked the front. As I shot my last negative load.  I felt it spread over my skin, wet and warm, pressed tight between cock and cotton.

He kept going. Grunting, thrusting deeper, fucking me harder. 

Then I felt him throb. And he came inside me. Thick spurts of his tainted seed. I felt every last pulse of his dark cock  The way he stayed buried, the pressure, the warmth leaking out the second he pulled back.

He let go of my neck. Tugged my sweatpants back up like nothing happened. My ass was slick, my hole sore, my front soaked with cum. It clung to me, heavy and warm.

He looked at me once, calm as ever.

“Laundry’s not so clean anymore.”

Then he walked out.

I stood there. Legs shaky. Cum dripping between my cheeks, balls sticky, pants a mess. My life changed forever

Then I folded the next towel.

 

[DutchGuy1977]

Yes 💪 Good story. Like it and thanks for sharing.