Laundry Day – Part 1

Erica awoke on Saturday with the memories of Friday afternoon on her mind.

She had spent most of the afternoon with no panties on.  She had been so aroused when she got home that even the ordinary missionary-style sex she had with her husband, Kevin, had felt mind-blowing.  After sex, she spent the rest of the evening in her bathrobe, which she discovered came up pretty high in the back when she sat down.  She wouldn’t say she was horny, but she certainly wouldn’t have turned Kevin down if he had tried to mount her at any point.  But he was tired from work and their first encounter of the evening.  So when bedtime came she reluctantly put on her underwear and her pajamas—that is, work-out shorts and a tank top.

Now it was Saturday morning—cleaning day.

Kevin put on some old work clothes, but she kept on her pajamas.  The division of chores was done by room.  Today he did the living room, bedroom, and the water closet off of the living room, and she did kitchen, dining room, and full bath attached to their bedroom.  That was the entire apartment.  They’d switch up who did which rooms based on some complex calendar that Kevin had made up, but Erica just took her orders in the morning and got to work.  The only part of their chore list that stayed the same was that after they were done with their other chores, she would do the laundry and he would take all the trash to the dump.  Their apartment offered trash collection, but it was at a steep mark-up and they made little enough trash that it was cheaper for Kevin to take it to the dump and pay the nominal fee there.

As it stood, he was way ahead of her.  He probably knew which rooms he’d have to clean today and had made more messes in the other rooms accordingly.  Or perhaps after seeing where the messes were, he decided which rooms were his.

She shook her head at herself.  Her husband was not duplicitous.  Not like she was for not telling him about going without panties on Friday.  She reasoned she would tell him if she kept doing it, but there was no need to tell him if it wasn’t going to continue happening.  Given how her underthings were chafing on her skin, it very well might.

She finished putting up the dishes as Kevin came in to collect the trash.

“How much more do you have to do, babe?” he asked.

“Not much, just counters, table, and floors.”

“Okay, I’m headed out.  There’s road work on the way, so I might be a little longer than usual.”

“That’s fine, you’ll still probably finish before me.”

He moved in and kissed her.  His closed hand that held the trash bumped almost innocently off her butt.

He gathered the rest of the trash by the door and was gone.

As soon as he left, she felt lonely, and a little bit free—free to see if she still liked this no-panties thing.  Doing some quick mental math, she figured she had a little over an hour before he got back.  Even if she started the laundry now, it wouldn’t be done until he got home.  So starting it now would be the best way to go.  She trudged to the hamper in the bedroom, took one leg out of her panties and shorts, and then put her leg back into her shorts.  Her panties pulled free of her other leg with no problem.  She tossed them in the hamper.  She felt her pussy hair sigh in relief.  Then another thought grabbed her: as soon as she finished cleaning, she’d have to add the rest of her outfit to the hamper and then there’d be more laundry for her next week.

. . . Or she could take care of it all right now.

Her shorts and tank top were in the hamper in a second.  She unclasped her bra and felt her perky nipples pop out to the glorious freedom.  One problem remained, however.  She couldn’t be nude and take the laundry to the laundry room in the basement.  She settled on a quick answer.  After putting on her old robe, she grabbed the hamper and the apartment keys and she was off.

The apartment complex was composed of six apartments with two per floor for three floors and a basement storage area with a laundry room.  On her way down, Erica didn’t meet anyone, which was likely good, since with the basket in her hands she had little control over her hemline.  The laundry room was similarly empty.  Only old Mrs. Chang from the second floor was there, and she was using the pair of machines in the back of the room.  The ones she seemed to always use.  Erica dumped her clothes and detergent in a top load washer near the front of the room.  She started the machine and left the room with her clothes hamper.  She didn’t give a second glance to Mrs. Chang, nor did Mrs. Chang give her one.

On her way back up, Erica met the younger Mrs. Chang coming out of her second-floor apartment.  Mrs. Chang put a large plastic bag of something just outside her door while yelling in Chinese back into her crowded apartment.  At this point she noticed Erica and examined her with a narrow-eyed focus.  Then she gave a calculated smile and nod that didn’t come off as casual as she tried to make it.  Erica returned the smile and nod before hurrying up to her apartment.  She held the hamper folded behind herself, just in case the younger Mrs. Chang was still watching her.

When she entered the apartment she was out of breath.  Part of it was from the stairs, but it was also from almost being caught by the whole Chang household.  Actually being caught almost naked would have been devastating, but narrowly avoiding detection was really a turn-on.  She felt blood rushing to her slightly moist pussy.  Her mind began to wander as she worked it back on course.  She still had a lot of chores to finish before Kevin got home.

She set to work on washing the dining room table.  She wet it down with her washcloth without incident, but when she started scrubbing circles with the soapy sponge, she started to feel things.  Her breasts make small circles as she scrubbed and her old terrycloth robe rubbed against her nipples ever so softly.  She played with speed and circle size to see what felt best.  But she hadn’t come to a conclusion by the time she finished cleaning the table.  Oh well, she’d have to keep testing on the kitchen counter when she got to it.

Next she mopped the floor.  This came with a new, more subtle joy.  When she bent over, the hem of her robe would rise up over her butt.  When she stood up, it would fall back down.  She found if she bent over just enough that her robe would get hung up on the top of her cheeks and wouldn’t fall down until she stood up all the way.  She found playing with her hemline fun, but not too intense.

Next up was scrubbing the kitchen counters.  She started on the far side of the room away from the sink and worked her way around the u-shape of the counter.  Through some more experimenting, she found that she preferred big arm circles.  When she hit the right rhythm, her breast would make big circular motions in her robe, distributing the friction in a mostly pleasant sensation.

By the time she reached the stove, she was sweating into her robe.  She did the only logical thing at this point, and took it off.  She held onto it for a moment as she realized she was standing completely naked and alone in her kitchen.  She then tossed the robe into the dining room where it fell off the table onto the floor.  She set to work on the rest of the counter.  She pondered what Kevin would think if he came back earlier.  Whatever he thought, she wouldn’t let him think it long before she jumped on him.  She’d let him take her right on this freshly-washed counter.  Out of all her sweat-dappled body, the wettest part was her pussy.

She continued to scrub the counters using her sexual energy as motivation.  As she rounded the bend to the sink she felt the sweat on her back evaporating.  It felt like hundreds of tiny, cool kisses.  Next she felt a stream of sweat run down her chest, caressing her right boob, then it ran down her stomach past her belly button and down further to her . . . honey pot.  It wasn’t a slang term she normally used, but given that she nearly knocked the actual pot of honey off the counter because she was distracted by that sweat trickle, it seemed accurate.

The counters were done and she was still naked in the kitchen.  As she started mopping the floor, she enjoyed the chill in the air as her body was almost fully sweat-free.  Then she stopped suddenly.  Her mental timer went off.  It was time to change over the laundry.  She put the mop up against the counter and went to retrieve her robe.  She couldn’t go to the laundry room naked.  She bent down entirely at the waist to pick it up.  She pointed her butt towards the door, very seriously wishing that Kevin would show up at that moment . . .

But he didn’t, so she picked up the robe, put it on, and went down to the laundry room.

The stairs were clear, and so was the laundry room when she got there.  Her mental timer must have been running a bit fast because her clothes still had another three minutes to go.  So she waited.

The laundry door opened and another resident entered.  The college student from floor two, across from the Changs.  Gary . . . Gerald . . . something like that.  He was a jock, based on all the soiled athletic clothes and the taut muscles clearly visible through his tight shirt.  She gave him a dismissive greeting and he responded in the same way.  Then she returned to her phone.  She heard him drop his dirty load into the unit across from hers.  He turned on the unit and then sat down.  Why couldn’t he leave like a normal person?  He was looking at her.  She could feel it.  Did he know she was naked under this robe, just like Mrs. Chang had known?  His eyes were still on her and she still had at least a minute and a half on the unit.  She looked up at him and smiled.  Hopefully the kind of smile that said, “Move along.”  While it may have said that, he obviously wasn’t listening.

As soon she made eye contact he spoke to her.  “You live on top of me.  On the third floor.”

It was kind of a question, so she answered.  She wanted to mention her husband, but her mind couldn’t seem to figure out how to do that.  So, “yeah” was all she said.

“You think it’s big enough for two?”

“Oh yeah,” and if he hadn’t cut her off she’d have added, “My husband and I have plenty of room.”  Did that sound like a request for a threesome?  It might have been better that she didn’t say that.

He continued talking to her, but why?  In the whole year since he’d moved in, he’d said a total of maybe ten words to her.  But now that she was sitting in the laundry room wearing only a bathrobe, he couldn’t stop talking to her.

She realized she hadn’t been paying attention.  She caught him saying, “It just gets so lonely when my buddies leave my apartment.”  Then he waited for her to respond.

She had no idea what the context of that was and she certainly wasn’t going to volunteer to make him less lonely.  What did he think this was, a porno? Well it was, just not for him.  She responded in her most disinterested voice, “I feel so sorry for you.”

He must have been tone-deaf, because he didn’t hear the dismissal in her voice and went on speaking.  He was interrupted by the end wash alert going off on her clothes.  She got up and started pulling the clothes out and tossing them into the nearby dryer.  She didn’t bend over like she normally would to make sure the clothes were even in the dryer.  Any leaning and this guy would know for sure what she wasn’t wearing under her robe.  Everything was going fine, until she moved over half of the clothes.  To reach the rest she’d have to lean over the machine.  She stopped and looked at Gerty or whatever his name was.  She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she had to get him to move so she could finish.

To her surprise he provided her out.  “I can see you’re busy.  We can talk some other time.”  Then he walked out.

Did he feel as awkward as she did for almost exposing herself to him?  Had he actually seen something when she stood up?  Had she flashed her butt cheeks because the robe was slow to slide down when she stood up?  She didn’t know, but he was gone now, so she hurriedly pulled the rest of the clothes from the machine, flashing all that God gave her to the empty room in the process.  She felt the warm, scented air on her cheeks.  Her entire back end was exposed if someone walked in just then.  But in a moment she was back on her feet and her robe was back in place.  She started the dryer and hurried back to her room.

She finished mopping the kitchen with her robe on.  She thought about taking it off again, but still felt a little gross from her encounter in the laundry room.  She tried to relax and appreciate the robe caressing her tush, and tried even harder to convince herself that Getty, Goony, Whatever-His-Name-Was hadn’t seen anything.  She was beginning to enjoy this no-panties thing, but it was for her, and she really didn’t want some other guy finding out about it before her husband.

She went to the bedroom and tossed off her robe.  Immediately her sweat began to evaporate, like cool touches all over her skin.  Kevin said the smell of her sweat made him horny, but it just made her feel gross, except for this newfound appreciation for its cooling effect.  She headed into the bathroom to take care of her needs.

In the shower that followed shortly after, her skin was awake to every drop of water as it trailed down her skin.  It hugged all her curves, big and small.  It washed over her face, putting soft needlepoint kisses on her lips.  Then it ran its refreshing fingers down to her chin.  It dripped down onto her breast and ran over her nipples.  Another stream flowed over the small of her back before running down between her glutes.  It met the flow that had just passed over her . . . her honey pot.  In the front they joined and cascaded down her thighs and the rest of her legs.  When she was wet inside and out, she turned off the water before it lost its novelty.  She soaped up her hands and ran them all over her body, trailing the locations the water had played with.  If she pinched her nipples lightly as she sudsed them up, or massaged her thighs and butt as she went, or cleaned a little deeper, harder, and longer in her vagina than a woman probably ought to, what was the harm in it?  She was loving her body and loving the sensations it sent back.  When she was satisfied, she turned on the water and began enjoying its attention all over again.  Her skin was clean, but she felt like a very dirty girl.

After her shower, she started to dry off.  The towels were far rougher than the water and soap had been.  Then she saw the time and realized the laundry would be done now.

She bolted from the bathroom and grabbed her robe and clothes hamper from the bedroom, tying the robe as she jogged through the dining room and kitchen to the door.  She flew by a couple on the first floor, but they barely even looked at her as she shot by.  Old Mrs. Chang was in the back of the room again.  Erica opened the dryer her clothes were in and put the basket in front of it.  She wisely squatted down and pulled the clothes into the basket.  She was flashing her pussy at her laundry, but not at the rest of the room.  She gathered up her basket and left.

As she passed through the lobby, she saw the younger Mrs. Chang entering the building, and to Erica’s horror, she jogged right up to her.

“You, what’s your name?” Despite growing up in America since she was a teenager, Mrs. Chang still had the accent and direct manner of her Chinese ancestors.

Having no other recourse, “I’m Erica,” she replied.

“You a good wife, Erica,” Mrs. Chang said loud enough for anyone in the—thankfully empty—lobby to hear.  Then she spoke in little more than a whisper, “Mr. Chang liked me to be naked for him too.”  She said something in Chinese that roughly meant “God rest his soul”, then continued in English, “I still sleep naked sometimes when I miss him.”  With that, she walked off to the basement to help her mother-in-law. Erica returned to her room completely ready to tell Kevin everything.

And there were certain parts she intended to tell with far more than words.

To be continued next week in Part 2.