Spin Cycle

March 04, 2019 - by: Rose

Excerpt from a true confession on MyErotica.com dedicated to Satin Stone in “Wash Day 2” 

“Damn, that ass! Are you trying to kill me?”

We’re cleaning up the morning after a wild night; I’m on my hands and knees with my head in the washing machine, checking for stray dog hair before I load it. I am absolutely not thinking about sex. I am thinking about laundry, deadlines, grocery shopping; except now I am thinking about sex, because I can feel his eyes on my ass. I guess my little shorts are pretty tight.

“Come on baby, shake that ass for me,” he says.

I laugh, wiggling my rear, hearing him groan. He’s an ass man, and I know he’s already picturing bending me over the washer and fucking me slow and steady from behind. And now I’m picturing it too and I can feel my shorts getting creamy where they’re snug against my pussy, the seam in the perfect spot to tease between my lips.

“I’m amazed you can even get it up after last night,” I say.

“That ass could wake the dead,” he says. “Hey, I have an idea…” He steps closer and I’m expecting to feel his big hands grab my ass cheeks; but instead he reaches past me to the laundry basket and stuffs the contents into the washer. “I’ve never fucked you over this bad boy, have I?” he grins. I watch him measure out detergent and fabric softener, concentrating despite the growing bulge tenting out his pants. He turns the machine on, and I bend over it obligingly, feeling the first rumbles as it fills with water and the drum begins to turn.

Now his hands do move to my ass, stroking and squeezing. He pushes up against me, his cock rigid, pressing between my cheeks. I can’t help squirming, needing the friction against my pussy, shorts clinging stickily. How the hell does he get me this horny, this quickly, every single time?

I can feel him laughing to himself as he rocks against me. I’d call it dry humping but the anticipation and the vibrations from the washer have me soaking wet. He slides my shorts down, peeling them away from my juiced up slit, kneeling, spreading my cheeks. I know he’s taking a good long look, admiring my tight asshole.

He makes me gasp by touching the wet tip of his tongue to my tight pucker, before running it down into the slick groove between my pussy lips. He grips my cheeks tighter to make my lips peel open for his tongue, and I shuffle my feet wider apart, granting him the most intimate access. His firm lapping at my clit works its magic, so when he wets up his fingers in my pussy and presses one against my asshole I relax and let him slide it in. The insistent probing of his finger causes delicious sensations that conspire with the ripples of pleasure created by his dancing tongue and the steady throb of the machine to drive me crazy.

My pussy is aching to be filled. I need his cock in me, now.

I only have to tell him, fuck me, and he’s on his feet, pants down, the head of his cock nudging against my soaked opening. He holds me in that desperate state of anticipation, my whole body vibrating with need – then thrusts into me. That blissful moment of penetration, his cock stretching me open, is perfection; better even than orgasm.

He pulls back and drives in again just to hear me moan, then again and again, the giddy rush of endorphins making me lightheaded. I’m soon pushing back to meet each stroke as he slams into me, his fingers gripping my hips, our flesh slapping, the rumbling vibration of the washer rising with our mingled cries.  

I don’t want to cum yet, I want to ride the waves of heat and spiralling tension that sweep through me each time his cock plunges in, keeping me in this suspended state of cock-drunk delirium; but he knows how to play my body like a virtuoso. He thrusts into me to the hilt and stays buried deep, grinding on my G-spot as he reaches around to rub my clit. In seconds my cunt is clutching and spasming around his shaft, my orgasm exploding through me.

He slides out slowly and carefully when I stop shaking, lets me sink to my knees to taste myself from his cock. I lose myself in licking long stripes up his shaft, my body slowly calming and shifting into that utterly engrossed, exultant state that suffuses me whenever I suck cock. Lips wrapped around it, I take it deeper and deeper, gradually increasing the pressure, relaxing my throat to engulf him. I pause at the base, inhaling his scent, lips tight around the thick root stretching my lips wide, tongue lapping the underside. His hand is around my ponytail, holding my head still as I let him set the rhythm and fuck my mouth; then pulling me off him with a groan as my sucking threatens to push him over the edge.

Now he lifts me to my feet, then picks me up and sets me down on top of the washer. The metal is shockingly cold against my bare ass. He squeezes his shaft with his fingers to make the rising pressure subside, and then thrusts back into me, roughly, grinning as the spin cycle suddenly kicks in. The tremors career through me, accelerating wildly until it feels like I’m sitting on a giant vibrator. It’s so intense all I can do is hang on as he power-fucks me. The machine kicks up another notch, shaking and bumping, each jolt catching me off-guard and sending a spike of sensation through me. We rise to a climax together, the washer and I; he plunges in deep and holds me tight, impaled on his cock, growling as he feels my cunt pulse erratically around him. He grips my ass with both hands, ramming in even deeper; and then he’s cumming too, tugging my hair and biting my neck, his cock jerking inside me, a hot gush filling me. We come down gradually, along with the washer, laughing at how crazy-intense it felt. We’ve had plenty of fierce and feverish sex, but nothing quite so powerfully mechanized.

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