CLANK! I heard the swishing of water stop and checked my clothes washer to confirm my suspicions. Sure enough, the damn thing had broken, sudsy water floated at the top while the motor attempted to pump out the water and spin at the same time, neither action happening. I pushed in the knob to shut off the power, thinking I’d just drag the clothes to a Laundromat, but the power didn’t shut off and I could just scent a burning smell as the motor kept attempting to work. Since the knob didn’t work either, I went to the fuse box and hit the fuse, silencing the washer and turning off the power. I then went to the phone and called the apartment office.
I had lived in this same apartment for over three years, and had faithfully renewed my lease annually. Each year I got a free carpet cleaning and a small discount on the monthly rate for the rent. The complex I lived in came with a stack washer and dryer in a small closet off the entryway and I’d been glad to escape the pain of the Laundromat and all the other crap that came with trying to launder my clothing elsewhere. This last year, however, almost every appliance in my apartment had some trouble or another, and I’d keep calling the office to have a maintenance guy come out to fix whatever was broken. George, the handyman for the complex, was a retired army grunt, having fixed military equipment and taken courses to repair household appliances the last year he was in the army. He was related somehow to the old lady manager that nobody ever saw, and was so bad at repairing things that usually the complex had to pay real repairmen to come out to do repairs.
Another fine feature of my apartment complex was the two young ladies that worked in the front office and generally dealt with renters. Both were blonde, both in hair color and actions, for they struggled with the office work and most of the time were out “taking prospective renters on a tour of the facilities.” This actually meant that their boyfriends had wanted them to stay home and fuck, so they called in and good old George would put up the “out of the office” sign for them.
It was obvious today was a fuck day, as I got the stupid message in the gravelly voice of the lady manager. The message ran on, saying that she was sorry that they’d missed my call and that for emergencies only call a particular number that she read off on the message. I wrote down the number and then dialed it, thinking I’d just get another message and later on George, who’d just tell me that “yep, sure looks broke to me” and then call a real repairman. I was surprised to get a message that said in a very pleasant male voice, “Sorry we are unable to answer your call directly, but please leave a message with your apartment number, what the nature of the emergency is, and your phone number. Thank you.” A beep heralded the start of the recording, so I said “this is Mike Danvers in Apartment 12G, my clothes washer made a clunk noise and now won’t spin or drain. It smelled like it was burning, and the power button when pushed in wouldn’t turn off the washer, so I turned it off at the fuse box. My phone number is 555-1234.” A few seconds later, a message came on saying, “Thank you, we will be arriving shortly,” and then I got a dial tone.
I hung up thinking that the corporate owners must have put a bundle into that messaging system, and wondered when George would arrive. About fifteen minutes later I was startled by a knock on my door. Gee, I thought, George has never responded that fast to any message. I opened my door and nearly fell over from the guy that stood in the doorway.
He was about 6 feet in height, and dressed in a tight pale blue t-shirt that had the name of a now defunct gay gym on the chest and a pair of Lycra shorts that clung so tightly to his body that they looked sprayed on with a can. I took in the wide shoulders and the way they tapered in a V down to the narrow waist, and the smooth, muscled arms and legs that I could see outside of the clothing. His long dark hair was kept out of his way by a rubber band that caught his hair into a ponytail. A faint fresh male scent, part deodorant and part guy stink combined over the top of a light soap scent, wafted from him as he stood in my doorway and smiled a megawatt grin at me. My eyes had traveled down that sculpted chest and fixated on the large lump of his equipment at his crotch, completely outlined by the stretchy Lycra shorts he wore. At his slight cough that naturally made his muscles flex, I tore my eyes from his crotch and looked into his deep blue ones.
He chuckled and said, “Hey I got your emergency page. My name’s Steven. May I come in?” I moved out of the way and he walked passed me, my eyes now following the V of his back down to the tight bubble butt in his shorts. “Washer in here, right?” he said as he opened the louvered door to the stack laundry system. He looked the system over a bit, and then fiddled something just under the lip between the tub and the lid of the washer. “Please turn the power on, Mr. Danvers,” he said and I did, waiting for him to yell to turn it off. When there was no reply, but the sound of the washer starting to spin and drain, I smiled and walked back to see him standing there with a big grin on his face. “That will let you get this load done Mr. Danvers. I’ll have to come back a bit later with my tools and I’ll fix this thing so you don’t have any more problems.”
“Thanks, Steven. About what time will you be back?”
He scratched his belly, and glanced at me. “What time is it now?” Upon finding that it was almost six pm, he smiled and said, “I’ll be back around 8:30pm. You can get that load dry and then please turn off the power again for me. I’ll see you at 8:30pm!”
“Thank you, Steven. See you later then.” I closed the door behind him and, when the washer chuckled to itself and finished its cycle, I got the clothing into the dryer and started it up, then thought about the hunky man that had been standing there. Definitely not George, thank the gods, I thought as I did small chores around the apartment to wait for the laundry to finish drying. I took a shower, perversely thinking that somehow I’d get lucky this evening and wanted to be clean and fresh for him.
Right at 8:30pm there was a knock on my door and there stood Steven, in a different tight t-shirt and a pair of tightly fitting jeans. “Hi, Mr. Danvers, I got my tools with me. Did you turn off the power to the stack unit?” I nodded and he smiled, one that traveled up to his eyes as he looked me over. “Thanks, I’ll get started then.” In less than ten minutes he had the washer dismantled and was examining the parts carefully. “Oh, crap, Mr. D, your washer’s not really fixable.” He pointed to a small part that he explained controlled the logic of the spin cycle. “See this part? It’s been damaged somehow and now doesn’t figure out when to begin draining and when to spin. This is what you smelt burning.”
I looked about at the piles of laundry I still had to do and grimaced. “How long do you think it would take to get a new part?”
Steven scratched his head. “Old lady Jones hates to part with money, and she’d just tell you to be patient until another apartment became vacant so that George could give you another stack unit.” He shook his head. “From what I remember hearing, no apartment is up for lease for at least another six months.”
“Crap! I took this apartment because of the washer/dryer in it so I wouldn’t have to go to the Laundromat. Well, guess I’d better bag up my laundry. Jones had better have a strong constitution after I get done writing the owners of this place about her management ‘style.’ I’ve been meaning to do that for a while, but since most things got fixed here reasonably in time, I didn’t bother.”
He looked alarmed at me and said, “Oh, please, don’t do that, Mr. D! I just live down the street actually, that’s why I was able to come so quickly at your page. Come to my place and do your laundry, I won’t mind.”
Maybe taking that shower wasn’t such a bad idea after all! “You sure, Steven? It’s not your fault that my washer doesn’t work or that Jones is a lousy manager.”
“No, please, it won’t be a problem at all. Let me gather up my tools, my truck’s just outside and I’ll help you bag and load your stuff, OK?” He waited for my nod then scurried down to his truck with his tools. A couple of seconds later he was helping me bag laundry and get it downstairs, and fifteen minutes later we were at his place, a condominium complex where he lived.
“Make yourself at home, Mr. D! I’ll go get your laundry started.”
“Steven, you don’t have to do my laundry for me, I’ll do it if you show me where the laundry is.”
For some odd reason, Steven blushed and said, “That’s ok, Mr. D, my place is kinda messy so I’d prefer it if you relaxed there and let me handle this.” Puzzled, I nodded and he smiled that smile at me and then disappeared down a hallway with one load of my clothing. A few minutes later I heard the sounds of a washer filling and then Steven came back out, carrying two beers in his hand.
“I thought you’d like to relax, Mr. D,” he said as he handed me one of the beers. He reached behind him and pulled out the rubber band that held his ponytail, shaking out the dark mane so that it hung freely down his back. We sat and chatted about mostly nothing, and then he got up and said, “Rinse cycle, be right back.” He took off and soon I heard the washer chug along in spin, then after a few minutes I heard the dryer going. A few minutes later he appeared to get another bag of laundry. “Would you mind, Mr. D if I put some of my laundry in with yours?”
“Not at all, Steven, it’s your place and washer/dryer. Just as long as you don’t turn my ‘tighty-whiteys’ pink or something.” He grinned at me and then blessed me by peeling off his t-shirt and jeans, leaving him in a tight silk brief. “Thanks, Mr. D, these are the only clothes I had clean and I needed to do laundry tonight.” I smiled at him, enjoying myself all the more at the sight of this nearly naked god in front of me.
His t-shirt wasn’t lying; the full smooth pecs and tight ripped abs it had showed were really there, the wide shoulders and thick biceps that had stretched the fabric so well were there, and the narrow waist was as true as I’d hoped. The thick thighs and calves I’d seen in the shorts earlier and outlined in the tight jeans were also very, very real. The silk briefs showed me that he did indeed have a thick package as the pouch seemed to barely be able to contain the heavy balls and thick tube of his cock that were so clearly outlined through the flimsy material. As he turned and grabbed another load I saw the way his ass filled out the seat of the briefs and I adjusted myself in my pants; his body was so turning me on! I waited for him to return, but after fifteen minutes and still no Steven I decided to go hunting for him.
I went down the hallway and followed the scent of laundry detergent and fabric softener. I passed by a bathroom and a closet, then turned a corner and beheld just why Steven wanted to do the laundry himself. He sat naked atop the washer, a large dildo crammed up his ass as the spin cycle of his front load washer vibrated the base against his prostate. His cock, a good seven inches, was grasped firmly in one hand while the other one mauled a thick pec, pulling and twisting the nipple and squeezing the firm flesh of the pec. Steven’s eyes were closed so I snuck in quietly and got naked, dropping my clothing into the appropriate piles of laundry. I stood between his legs so that my own nine thick inches of fuck meat pressed against the glass of the wildly revolving washer and then reached out and grasped Steven’s waist to shove him harder against the dildo!
His eyes flew open and I smiled at him. “I see why you like to do your laundry alone, Steven,” I said as my hands traveled across his unresisting body, “but let me show you how much more fun it can be with two.” I pulled him off the washer into my arms and then slowly pulled the dildo from his ass. He coyly handed me a box of rubbers from a shelf beside us and I smiled, thinking that this had worked out better than I’d thought!
I pulled on a rubber and, squirting some lube from a handy bottle, got up on the washer and told Steven to set it to maximum spin and then climb aboard. He grinned and, after setting the machine on, settled down onto my cock (which was bigger and thicker than the dildo he’d been using) and then rode me as the washer vibrated both of us towards happiness.
I knew from how horny I was (both from the previous show of Steven’s body and now with this muscular hunk riding my dick) that it wouldn’t take long, and as his ass milked my cock like a pro I felt my juices rising. Steven was moaning almost loud enough to hear over the whine of the powerful motors that created the vibrating spin of the washer, and as my hands alternated between squeezing a plump nipple and pec muscle or moving down his tight belly to reach between his legs and fondle his heavy balls, it was clear that he was very close to shooting as well. Steven had timed the load well, for it overbalanced at the perfect moment, causing the wash drum to offset a bit and actually thump against us in time to Steven’s down thrust on my cock. That additional vibration was all it took for Steven, and his cock began spewing thick ropes of cum all over his chest and my wandering hands. I could never resist the extra clutch of a man’s ass muscles as they came, and my cock began giving up the contents of my balls into the rubber, the throbbing of my cum hitting Steven’s prostate and causing him to jerk with each jet’s pressure and squirt a bit more from his cock. With a soft chuckle, the washer completed its spin and we sat there, both chests panting from the excitement and exertion, resting while my cock slowly softened and slipped out of the tight embrace of Steven’s ass.
He grinned at me as he carefully climbed down from atop my lap and helped me off the washer. “This is why I usually do my towel loads last,” he said as he pointed to a small stack of folded towels beside the washer. I grabbed one and wiped down his magnificent body, then pulled off the rubber (so filled with cum that it stretched and hung down obscenely from my cock) and wiped off the residue of our fun. He laughed when I tossed the towel towards a dirty pile of towels like I was making a basket and said, “I’d say that was two points worth easy!”
I growled a bit as I pulled him as I spun him around and pressed my softened cock against his firm buttocks. “You might remember that my first shot was from the key,” I whispered to him as I fondled his body, causing him to moan again in remembered delight. He agreed that indeed, three points was more accurate, grinding his ass against my cock and turning his head so we could kiss. After some nice fondling on both our parts, we walked together to the bathroom and showered, soaping and rinsing each other and then drying each other off. When we came back to the laundry area, Steven became all business and, after tossing the washer load that had been our trigger into the dryer, started the next load up, added soap and then we both padded back to his living room, still stark naked but without any concerns now. He got us fresh beers from the kitchen along with some munchies, and we sat companionably nibbling and sipping, still watching each other’s bodies possessively until a few more loads were completed and he got up to change loads.
I followed him into the laundry area and watched him put the dried clothing on a table for folding later, and start to load up the washer with yet another load. As he bent over, I moved behind him and pressed my thickening cock against his hole and, surprised, started to straighten up. “Don’t move,” I said as I got another rubber out and pulled it over my excited cock, “good thing we both have lots of laundry to do tonight…” He looked back and smiled, and finished setting up the new wash load, lying chest down on the top of the washer and his own rising cock pressing against the slowly warming and vibrating glass door of the washer. His legs spread a bit and his asscheeks opened wider, allowing me to see his pulsing, ready to go hole wink at me as I squirted more lube into it and lubed up my cock, preparing to get our second sex ‘loads’ going…
The Badpuppy.com model in these pictures is Giovanni
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