I pulled my light jacket tighter as I turned sideways to serpentine through the masses on the crowded sidewalk. The produce markets were teaming with older people pulling small carts behind them as they made their daily pilgrimage to buy fresh bok choy and lotus root. It was always a bit of a free-for-all walking home from my internship in the late afternoon.
I had decided that I wasn’t in the mood to make dinner that evening, so I popped into my favorite dumpling place near the corner of College and Spadina. I took a seat at a two-top close to the entrance. When the curt waitress approached, I ordered ten pieces of steamed pork with chive and a side of the garlic-fried Chinese broccoli.
My mind wandered as I waited for my food to arrive. I thought about my upcoming finals. I knew that I wasn’t prepared for most of them, and that I needed to get mostly A’s if I was going to be competitive when I applied to law school in the fall. That led me to a larger question: where did I want to go to school?
I had been considering blanketing the top fourteen since they had the most prestige. As a dual citizen, though, staying in Toronto had its appeal. Even though I had grown up in North Carolina, it had been a pleasant experience over the past three years connecting with the city in which my mom had been raised.
Before I could delve deeper into the decision-making process, my food arrived. I quickly shoveled it down; I wasn’t the type who savored the experience of eating. I enjoyed a lot of things in life, but food wasn’t high on the list. After I paid the bill, I walked the few remaining blocks to my apartment complex.
I had chosen to live near the university on the edge of Chinatown. I loved that it was bustling with people from so many different backgrounds: fellow students, immigrants, and hipsters who were fond of the Kensington Market area. It was a great place for people watching, provided you could find any place to stand, sit, or lean. Odd as it will sound right now, that was a big selling point for me, even though I myself wasn’t much of a people watcher.
I looked up at the three-story brick edifice. It appeared resolute in its stature, having withstood the past hundred years. It showed signs of aging, but was in remarkably good condition. One of the reasons I had chosen to live there, aside from the affordable rent, was the sense of history.
I let myself in through the front door, passed through the entryway vestibule, and walked in the direction of the main corridor. I lived in one of the basement units, which were partly below ground. There were windows placed higher up on the walls though, which was important, since I didn’t think living without any natural sunlight was something I could tolerate.
I walked to the mailboxes, which had been the purpose of my detour. There were twenty-four small, locked cubbies – one for each apartment. I checked mine, but wasn’t surprised to find it empty. I looped back towards the main door, turned the corner into the stairwell, and descended to the lower level.
My unit was right in the middle of the hallway, with a stairwell on both ends leading to the upper levels. There were three other studio units on each side of mine. The upper floors were one- and two-bedroom floor plans. I let myself in using what was one of the only two keys I routinely carried with me.
The room was minimalistic, but not inhospitable. I had positioned a full bed against the wall beneath the window, a small desk and chair in the corner near the entrance, and a battered recliner that a friend had gifted me. I’d positioned the recliner against the wall leading to the galley-style kitchen.
I plopped down on the bed, feeling unreasonably exhausted. I didn’t even bother to remove my sneakers, so I made sure my feet hung over the edge so as to not dirty the sheets. I drifted off to sleep.
I woke to darkness; the flashing alarm clock on my nightstand informed me that it was 11:08 p.m. I was in mild shock that I had slept for roughly three hours. It made sense, though, since I had been staying up until the earlier hours of the morning studying, and finding other, less scholastic ways to occupy myself.
I realized that I had morning wood, then remembered the time. Nigh-midnight wood, perhaps? I wondered. My dark blue jeans bulged where my dick was pushing forward in its quest for attention.
A sexual charge coursed through my body. At twenty-one years old, it didn’t take much to stimulate my carnal appetite. I began to drift into fantasy without being aware that that was what was happening. A few key memories from the past few years flooded into my mind.
You’re probably expecting me to tell you that I was thinking about some particularly raunchy hook-up, or various porn clips that had drilled their way into my brain. The thing is, my desires were not, and still aren’t, exactly normal. I wasn’t sure what had made me the way I was, but I knew that what turned me on only did the same for a select group of people.
I had started to understand my deeper desires after a happy accident. I had been working out at the campus gym during my freshman year. After lifting weights for about an hour, I had gone to wash myself up before heading out to meet a friend for dinner.
I had stowed my sweaty clothes in the small locker and bounded towards the showers. It had been Monday, so the gym hadn’t been too crowded. I had pulled the plastic shower curtain from its partially-open position and slid into the stall. As I’d been lathering my hair with the shampoo from the dispenser mounted to the wall, a stray drop had snaked its way down to my right eye. I’d tried to rub it away with the back of my wrist since my hands had still been covered with suds.
Whoosh!
“Oh, shit!” I had heard from behind me.
I’d spun around towards the source of the words, feeling disoriented. I’d still had one hand clasping my scalp and the back of the other rubbing my cheek. I had seen a young man standing in front of me; his eyes had been wide with surprise and his mouth had gaped open.
I had frozen like a deer in the headlights; I hadn’t been sure if it was a natural reaction or if I’d just been mirroring him. My heart had started to pound as the water had continued to cascade down my back. A rosy hue had spread across my cheeks – embarrassment beginning to bloom.
“I’m so sorry, dude,” the towel-clad, muscular young guy had said. “I was totally spacing out and didn’t hear the shower. Or, I mean, I heard the shower, but I thought it was the one next to this one. Of course, I thought this one was empty. I wouldn’t have opened it if I didn’t think it was empty.”
His discomfort had been obvious in more ways than one. His eyes had kept darting from my eyes to my crotch. It was as if he hadn’t wanted to look, but couldn’t help himself. The embarrassment had started to change; it had been unlike anything I had ever felt. It had begun to feel warm… and alive.
“I didn’t see a towel either,” he’d offered. “Oh, I think it fell off the hook.”
He’d awkwardly crouched forward and snatched the towel from where it laid crumpled on the ground. He’d then snagged it on the hook with a quick yank. He had stared at me blankly for a second; I’d remained silent.
“Okay, I’ll just close this now,” he’d said. “Enjoy the rest of your shower.”
I had watched, silent and unmoving, as he’d pulled the curtain closed again, after which I’d immediately let out a gasp, realizing that I had been holding my breath. Electricity had sparked through my core and radiated outward. That was the first time I’d started to realize that I liked being watched. More importantly, I’d realized I liked being caught.
Over the next two years, I had felt a sense of excitement whenever I’d used the shower at the gym. I had hoped that someone would open it. I had even thought about leaving it open a little “by accident,” but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I had felt the same urge when I’d used fitting rooms to try on clothing when I’d gone shopping.
I had never really cared if it was a man or woman who caught me in those fantasies; I guess that’s one a perk of being bisexual. It had been more about the being exposed in a sexual way.
I had finally worked up the courage to start exploring my burgeoning desires during the beginning of my junior year. When I’d moved into my apartment complex, I had realized the laundry room was almost directly across the hall from me. It was small, with only two washing machines and two dryers. It was akin to a cave, since it didn’t have windows like the studios on the lower level.
One night, I had been doing laundry way too late; it had been around 2 a.m. I had been laying on my bed watching Netflix, wearing only my blue plaid boxers, when the timer on my phone had gone off. I had started to step into my sweatpants but stopped myself. I’d done the mental math and had decided to take a leap.
I had pushed through the fear and walked across the hall to the laundry room to collect my clothing. I had been so filled with nerves that I’d sped through the process. I’d hurriedly crammed the clothes into my hamper and raced back to my apartment. Alas, nobody had seen me. I had still jerked off as the mixture of excitement and fear had coursed through my veins.
I had continued to retrieve laundry in my boxers each week, although my confidence (or perhaps my desire to get caught) had steadily increased. I had begun to linger in the room longer after loading my clothes into the machine. I had started wearing tighter boxer briefs. I had begun to do my laundry a little earlier in the evening, but not too early.
As I lay in bed thinking about that first time in the shower, and the subsequent experiments in the laundry room, I knew that I wanted to up the ante that night. I’d spent a lot of time in the prior weeks coming up with something new to try.
I went and hopped into my shower. I gave myself a quick rinse even though I didn’t need one; I had bathed earlier in the day after having worked out on campus. I raced through the motions as the excitement started to build.
I stepped out of the shower and looked at myself in the full-length mirror mounted on the back of the bathroom door. I stood six-foot-two and weighed two hundred pounds. I was proud of my physique, since I had invested an immense amount of time and energy into getting jacked. My biceps looked like I could be a lower-level Avenger and my six-pack wasn’t too shabby either.
My paternal grandparents had immigrated from Sweden, which explained many aspects of my appearance. I had shorter blond hair and icy blue eyes. I had a wide jaw with a defined bone structure. My nose was what some might call “strong”; from an early age, I had been told it made my face looked very masculine.
I glanced down at my package. I was well-endowed – seven inches soft. It was pretty fat, too. Most of my hook-ups had needed both hands to contain its girth. My sandy pubes were trimmed to a tidy patch, and my large, clean-shaven nuts hung weightily down, swinging between my thighs.
I spun around and examined my ass. Even though I only ever topped, I was most proud of my behind. It was what all of my hook-ups seemed to love. It was large and muscular, but shaped into a perfect bubble. When I clenched my cheeks, little dimples formed on the sides.
I grabbed the towel from the hook and wrapped it around my waist. I made sure that it was firmly secured. I walked over to my hamper full of dirty clothes and grabbed it before heading towards the door. I stopped for a moment and second-guessed myself. Do I really want to do this? What if I finally get caught? But don’t I want to get caught? Wouldn’t this be safer – in a way – anywhere besides my own apartment complex?
The fear started to surge, as did the excitement and titillation. I was still dewy with water as I pushed my door open and slinked into the dimly-lit hallway. I made sure the door wasn’t locked before I let it close behind me.
My stomach did a somersault as I stood in the hall wearing nothing but a towel. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I felt a sense of accomplishment as I peered in each direction down the corridor. I knew that one of the doors could open at any moment and someone could catch me.
I walked the ten feet to the laundry room, pausing at the door. I could hear from outside that none of the machines were in use. Sure enough, when I opened the door, I saw that nobody was inside.
I didn’t really want to do an actual load that evening, so I took a shortcut. I emptied the hamper into the dryer; it wasn’t as if anyone would realize they hadn’t been washed. I looked at the clock on the wall; it was 12:05 a.m. I decided that I had to wait fifteen minutes before I could leave. I needed rules in order to maximize excitement.
I stood next to the dryer, staring at the door. I started to imagine it opening and someone walking in. Regardless of whether it was a woman or man, they were disoriented and shocked. In some scenes they turned around and left, while in others they rolled with the awkwardness long enough to load their clothes into the washing machine.
As I fantasized, blood started to pump into my dick. I could see its bulky outline pressing against the towel; it wasn’t erect, but it was firming up. The thin white cotton contoured to its defined shape, accentuating the bulbous head. I felt a powerful urge to caress it, but I resisted.
A soft hum emanated from one of the dryers even though it wasn’t in use. I traipsed over to a corkboard on the wall near the door that was plastered with flyers. It was the only thing in the room to occupy my attention. I scanned through the frayed, outdated flyers advertising babysitting services and nutritional supplements.
The clock on the opposite wall read 12:20 a.m. I journeyed back over to the dryer, knowing that I only had five more minutes before I could go back to my room and shoot a thick load.
CREAK!
I watched as the door began to open. I was in disbelief that it was finally happening after months of tempting fate. I spun around and faced the dryer as quickly as I could to look more natural. I stealthily peered over my shoulder so I could continue to assess the new development.
A young guy, who looked to be in his mid-twenties, pushed into the room holding a crumpled bunch of sheets in his arms. He was so focused on trying to squeeze past the door with his arms full that he didn’t notice me at first. He was about six feet tall with an athletic build. He had slicked-back black hair, green eyes, and a smattering of stubble. He was wearing a white T-shirt, black joggers, and slip-on shoes.
“Fucking hell!” he yelled as he finally looked up and registered me standing there; I jumped the slightest bit in response. “You scared the shit out of me!”
He shook his head from side to side and let out an awkward laugh. I could tell that he truly had been startled, although it seemed he was more shocked to find me there at all, rather than being fazed by my lack of attire.
“I didn’t think anyone used these this late at night,” he said as he walked to one of the washing machines a few feet to my right. “I mean, this is the first time I’ve ever been here this late, but I just assumed.”
I looked at him with a disarming smile and nodded. My nerve endings were sparking with delight; I was terrified and thrilled. I knew that I needed to say something, but I wasn’t sure what would be appropriate. I should have, though, since I had thought about it countless times.
“It’s the best time to do laundry,” I said. “Everyone is sleeping or out having a good time.”
“You got that right,” he said. “I wish I could be out, too, but I’m trying to clean before my sister comes to visit tomorrow. She’d freak out if she didn’t have clean sheets for the air mattress.”
He continued to load his sheets in the machine. I opened the dryer and started to copy his actions in reverse, pulling the clothing from the drum into my hamper.
“So… were you completely out of clothes or something?” he asked with a bewildered chuckle, nodding at my towel.
There was a small twinkle in his eyes, as if he was amused by the situation. I felt warmth spread across my cheeks. Something about his amusement made me feel even more exposed. It was different from what I’d felt in response to the shocked reaction of having been caught in the shower.
“Um, I live right across the hall,” I stammered. “I was finishing up my shower when the alarm on my phone went off telling me the cycle was done. I guess I was on autopilot and just threw on a towel.”
He was nodding as if what I said somehow made sense, but I didn’t even believe it myself. My nerves drove me to further expand the story; I had always felt a need to explain myself in detail whenever I’d felt like the veracity of my explanation was being questioned.
“And I guess living right across the hall is weird. It’s like sometimes I forget that the laundry room isn’t just a part of my unit, instead of actually being in the hall.”
He finished loading his clothes with the detergent and started the machine. I realized I had stopped unloading mine during my bizarre explanation. He began closing the gap so that there was only a yard separating us.
“I get it man,” he said. “I think people get too caught up with jumping through all these formalities when we should just do what works for us, right? Like does it really matter if you wear a towel to grab your laundry? Who cares!”
He seemed oddly spirited, especially considering the hour. I wondered if he was amped up after having been frantically cleaning in preparation for his sister’s arrival. I pulled the last few pairs of boxers into my hamper.
“I’m Luke, by the way,” he said, extending his hand.
“I’m Beau,” I replied as we shook. “Well, actually, Beauregard. But who would choose to go by that name?”
Luke smiled, showing his near-perfect teeth. He playfully tapped his fist on my bicep as he shook his head.
“Beau’s a cool name,” he said. “So, you live across the hall? That’s convenient. I have to lug all my stuff down from the third floor.”
I turned to better face Luke, leaving my hamper by my side. He looked down at my bare feet and seemed to smirk again. He slowly surveyed my body from my size fourteens to my pecs.
“You must lift all the time, huh?” he asked. “I wish I had that level of commitment.”
“Every day,” I said, trying not to sound conceited.
“Shoot, I’d walk around the whole damn building half-naked if I had your body.”
I blushed again; he seemed to like that he was making me feel more embarrassed as he talked about my exposed physique. I wasn’t sure if he had low self-esteem, or if he was just playing with me, but I didn’t see anything wrong with his body. He wasn’t a bodybuilder, but he obviously cared about his appearance.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked. “This must be weird for you, I guess. I should probably head back to my unit and leave you be.”
“No, um, I mean,” I fumbled. “I’m not embarrassed… just surprised.”
Luke looked interested in what I was saying. He slyly glanced down at my crotch; I could tell he was taking stock on my fat rod through the towel even if he didn’t want me to notice. My heart skipped a beat.
“It’s like what you said earlier,” I replied. “People should do whatever they want. Everyone gets too caught up on following convention. I mean, we’re all born naked, so what’s the big deal?”
It sounded much stupider than I had hoped, but Luke was acting like it was incredibly insightful with his nonverbal affirmation.
“Totally,” he said. “Well, I really do have to get back to cleaning. Hope the rest of your night goes well, though. I’m sure we’ll see each other around. It’s a small building.”
Luke gave one last big smile before he made his way out of the room. My knees wobbled as soon as the door shut behind him. I had to lean against the dryer to keep from collapsing. Once I regained some composure, I grabbed the hamper and bolted back to my apartment.
I threw the hamper in the corner and stripped off my towel before practically launching myself on the bed. It felt like an electrical storm in my body – little zaps stimulating me all over. My weighty, fully-erect nine-inch cock was towering in the air as I lay on my back. I frantically started jerking it with a fervor I hadn’t felt in years.
It wasn’t a long wank. I was so keyed up from all the excitement that had built during my painfully awkward interaction with Luke that I ended up exploding in less than a minute. I shot buckets of hot, sticky jizz all over my defined abs. There was so much that it created a large pool in my navel.
I cleaned myself off with one of the pairs of boxers I’d supposedly just washed. I collapsed back in the bed, feeling a post-orgasmic bliss. I started replaying the event again in my head as I drifted off to sleep.
The next week passed by fairly normally. I went to college, worked at my internship, lifted weights at the gym, and met up with friends. I did, however, linger by the mailboxes when I’d come home since it seemed like the most obvious place to run into Luke. I was hopeful that seeing him again would re-trigger the same feelings from that night. Alas, we didn’t cross paths.
One week after that titillating evening, I was ready for more. The memory of the experience was still arousing, but it was ever-so-slightly losing its power. I kept thinking about things I could have done differently – how it could have been more embarrassing and higher-stakes, thus offering greater stimulation.
I waited until about 11:30 p.m. before I jumped into the shower. I tried to enjoy the sensation of the warm water as I waited for the time to pass. Eventually, I finished up and dried myself with a towel.
I took a moment to look at myself; it felt like a reprise of sorts in the symphony of my unique sexual deviance. I tussled my blond locks and made sure they weren’t sopping wet. I wrapped my towel around my waist and headed for the door to the hallway with my hamper.
I didn’t hesitate at the door. I was feeling bolstered by a mixture of excitement and memories of my past success. I did pause at the laundry room door, though; it was silent inside. A wave of ennui washed over me as I entered. I more clearly realized that I had pinned my hopes on Luke returning.
I walked over to the washing machine, since I had decided to actually do laundry that night. I emptied the contents of the basket into the front-loading machine. It was one of those kinds that locks shut once it’s latched.
Then, it was as if something came over me – a force outside of my control. I ripped off the towel and maniacally shoved it into the washing machine. My anxiety shot through the roof as I forced myself to press the sequence of buttons on the top of the machine. I heard the clicking of the latch locking shut; my heart stopped.
What the hell did I just do? I asked myself. How could I be so impulsive? I urgently grabbed at the door to the washing machine as it filled with water. As I already knew it would, it refused to budge. The excitement started to take center stage again as I realized that I would have to walk back to my apartment naked. It was that first time I had been completely exposed on purpose.
I was blankly staring at the washing machine as my mind raced, thinking about whether someone might catch me in the hall. Suddenly, I noticed a small empty mesh sack on top of one of the dryers.
CREAK!
Panic overtook me as I realized that the door to the room was opening. I continued to stare straight at the washing machine; it was my hope that whoever had started to enter would reconsider once they saw my naked backside. It was thrilling to think about the shock of someone seeing me naked being enough to cause them to bolt.
The door swung shut, and I heard what sounded like a muffled chortle. There were a few soft footfalls as the person made their way into the room before stopping a several feet behind me.
“Did you run out of towels this time too?” Luke asked in a playful tone.
My face turned beet red, as did the normally fair-hued skin on my backside. I turned my head so I was looking at him over my shoulder.
“It’s stupid,” I said. “I just kind of threw the towel into the machine on autopilot. I guess I totally spaced.”
“Sure,” Luke skeptically replied.
I carefully looked at him from the corner of my eye. He was wearing a sleeveless gray T-shirt, a pair of black nylon basketball shorts, and white sneakers. I realized that he had a cast covering most of his left forearm and wrist.
“You must be wondering what happened,” he said as he took a step closer. “My sister and I decided to rent some bikes while she was in town. I got clipped by some asshole who wasn’t watching where he was going. It sent me flying. I ended up fracturing it.”
I grimaced as I imagined the accident. Luke took a few more steps before sidling up next to me at the washing machine. He deliberately looked right into my eyes; I could tell he was making a concerted effort to not let his eyes wander.
“Anyways, it hurts like a bitch,” he said. “The doctor says it’ll take at least six weeks to heal.”
As he continued to hold my gaze, my heart pounded in my chest. My throat felt dry and my head was spinning. It felt as if time had slowed down. I was certain that if I looked at the clock the second hand would be stuck in place.
“I decided to do a quick load tonight since I was running low on clean clothes,” he said, with a playful laugh and a slap of my firm ass, “but I must not have been as bad off as you.”
I startled as his palm thwacked against my pert behind. My nipples immediately hardened; I’d never had that reaction to someone touching my ass. My breathing became more labored.
“So, what have you been up to?” he asked as he turned to more directly face the side of my body.
“Um, not much,” I said. “Just getting ready for finals and stuff. I’m pretty behind in studying.”
“You go to U of T?”
“Yeah, I’m a junior.”
I felt so unmoored; I struggled to accept that he was just talking to me as if the situation was completely normal. It was like he was pretending we were in a locker room instead of the laundry room in our apartment complex. My mind was trying to figure out if his casual attitude was spurring or deflating the fantasy. My body clearly didn’t care; it was taking the ride – spurred along the path by that strong smack, to boot.
“Nice,” he said. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from getting back to ‘your studies’ so I should probably just grab my clothes.”
Luke slowly walked behind me in order to get to the dryer on my left side. He picked up the mesh bag that had been placed on top. He let out a yelp as he pulled the machine door open. I watched as he failed to pull a few items from the inside; instead of ending up in his bag, they scattered down onto the tile floor. He took a step back.
“Do you think you can help a brother out?” Luke asked with a sheepish grin.
Before I could respond, he pushed the mesh bag into my left hand. It started to click that he wanted me to empty the contents of the machine into his bag.
“Sure,” I said.
I side-stepped over to the machine so that his main view was still my famed backside and a sliver of my left flank. I expected him to step further out of the way as I moved over, but he didn’t.
I easily emptied the remainder of the items into the mesh bag; it was pretty simple with two working wrists. I looked down at the few items scattered on the floor. I knew I had a decision to make: safe or risky. I haphazardly chose the latter.
I slyly looked over my shoulder to ensure that Luke was still watching. I bent down at my waist, rather than crouching, so that I was practically touching my toes. I spread my legs apart into a wider stance. I could feel air kissing my tight pucker as my cheeks spread apart just enough.
I felt so humiliated. It was like I was presenting myself for Luke, although it wasn’t clear if I was presenting myself for inspection or something more lascivious. My knees trembled a little as my fingers scrambled to collect the scattered socks and boxers.
“The least I can do is shut the dryer door,” Luke said as he stepped forward. He used the fingertips from his cast-covered hand secure the door while he nonchalantly planted his other hand on my muscular right cheek. I froze for a moment, unsure of how to respond.
“Sorry about that,” he said as he removed his hand. “I’ve been a little unsteady on my feet since the accident.”
I returned to a standing position and pivoted to face Luke while holding the sack of clothes in front of my crotch. It was my first time standing chest-to-chest with him that evening. It felt exhilarating.
Luke’s eyes were twinkling; he seemed to be getting something out of the experience as well. He reached forward with his cast-laden hand and slowly took the bag. The weight of it made him wince. My cock jostled as the fabric pulled away from where it had been pressing against it. I had to resist my overwhelming urge to cover myself.
Luke and I both looked down at my thick, flaccid member. He gave the smallest nod of approval before looking back at my eyes. I thought he must have been impressed by either my boldness, my size, or perhaps both.
“You sure you’re going to be able to carry that?” I asked, still thinking about his painful reaction.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “How about you help me out and carry it for me?”
My eyes went wide as I tried to comprehend what he was asking. Does he really want me to carry the bag up to his unit on the third story without any clothes on? Is he completely mad?
Am I?
“It’s not like you’d be alone,” he said. “I’d be there too, and you’d be helping me out.”
He was offering me a coded reassurance of sorts: strength in numbers during a bizarre sexual adventure. But he wasn’t willing to label it for what it was; nor was I.
“Okay,” I said with a large gulp.
A victorious smile appeared on Luke’s face; it was like he was suddenly very excited. He rushed next to my side and wrapped one of his arms across my broad, bare shoulders as he leaned into me. He pushed the bag back into my hands, and I re-positioned it in front of my dick.
“Such a pal,” he said as he squeezed me.
Luke hooked his arm with mine and quickly guided me towards the door. He practically made us sprint across the room. He peeked out the door before nodding at me. My nipples perked up at the thought of entering the hallway; I pulled the bag tighter against my crotch. The nylon mesh was tickling my smooth nuts.
Luke pulled me into the hallway and softly shut the door behind us. I looked at my apartment door just a few feet away. A lightning bolt shot through me as I realized that I was so close to safety, but would be opting to swim into stormy seas instead. I starting to think about of all the people I could run into in the hallways.
“Is that your apartment?” Luke asked.
“Yes,” I said in a quavering tone.
I looked down the corridor in both directions. I was partly terrified and partly excited by knowing that one of the doors could open at any moment. Luke must have been able to sense my nerves; he placed his working hand on my back.
“Oh, shit,” he said. “We didn’t put the dryer sheets in the bag. I left them top of the machine. Can you grab them really quick?”
It seemed incredibly trivial to worry about dryer sheets, but I nodded in agreement. I darted into the room; I felt a small sense of relief to have another moment to collect myself before we started our journey. I walked over to the dryers; there was only discarded lint on the tops. I scanned the washing machines as well in case he had put them there – empty too.
I walked back to the door and listened for a moment before opening it. To my relief (well, probably not exactly relief), Luke was still standing there waiting for me. The slick white tile floor felt cold below my bare feet as I stepped back into the corridor.
“They weren’t there,” I said.
“That’s weird,” he said. “I was sure I hadn’t brought them back earlier. Maybe I did?”
Before I had a chance to reply, he looped his arm through the crook in my elbow again and started guiding me towards the set of stairs at the front of the building. It was the riskier option since the back stairwell was less traveled.
The fifty feet to the stairwell felt like walking through quicksand. I was hypervigilant that something bad could happen at any moment. Gooseflesh appeared on my forearms as we stopped at the first step; my shoulders tightened.
We both paused to listen for voices or the echoing sound of shoes on tile. Luke looked at me and nodded that he’d determined that the coast was clear. My eyes were wide with fear; Luke seemed to like that. He gave my ass a small smack, and he chuckled when I startled. He reached back to the same spot and cradled my muscular right bun with his healthy hand; he was trying to direct me onto the stairs. A little Canadian goosing? I thought to myself with a wry smile.
Luke’s fingers digging into my skin, the prospect of mounting the stairs, and the feeling of the nylon mesh bag rubbing against my crotch were the perfect combo. Blood began flowing into my dick. I knew it was starting to get hard, even if I couldn’t see it happening.
I jumped onto the first step without thinking. I felt emboldened as Luke took the hand that had been on my ass and grabbed me by the bicep. We gazed at one another before bounding up the rest of the stairs leading to the ground level. We stopped, giddy with excitement, as we listened for any sounds in the foyer. It was silent.
All we had to do was round the corner in order to keep ascending to the second floor. It would leave me out in the open for perhaps five seconds. On the left, there was the small entryway with two sets of doors that created a vestibule between them before connecting with the corridor. To the right, there was the nook with the mailboxes.
I knew that it was the main thoroughfare of the building. There was a good chance that someone could be coming home from a late dinner or heading out to a bar. The danger had never been greater, and I was exhilarated
I glanced over at Luke; he was using the tips of his fingers on his injured hand to fish something out of his pocket. His supple lips curved upwards the slightest bit at the corners. I waited to see what he was retrieving.
“Keys,” Luke said as he dangled a keyring from his index finger. “I thought we could grab my mail on the way up.”
My face must have conveyed my disbelief, and Luke seemed tickled pink. He’d figured me out. He knew that I liked being pushed, and he liked pushing me. I’d been caught in more ways than one. I extended my right hand, and he dropped the keyring into my large palm.
I stuck my head around the corner. The mail nook and hallway were empty. The glass window on the upper half of the door connecting to the entryway vestibule showed that nobody had entered through the main door. The coast was clear, but I wasn’t ready.
Luke stepped out into the corridor. The mail nook was only fifteen feet away from where he was standing, while the vestibule was less than ten feet in the other direction. He beckoned me to join him. I took a big gulp as I stepped forward, even though my mouth was bone dry.
I could see to the other end of the corridor past the eight or so doors leading to various units. Looking toward the main door, I peered through the window into the entry chamber. I could see the large wooden door leading to the street. Holy shit, I thought as I realized that I was only twenty feet from being outside completely naked. It was a terrifying, thrilling thought, and perhaps a goal for much further down the road.
“It’s number three-oh-two,” Luke said. “I’ll wait here to act as a lookout for anyone who might be coming home.”
My head was foggy with delight; it was akin to being intoxicated. I nodded, feeling disoriented with pleasure. I took a tentative step towards the nook when Luke reached out and gently pulled the bag of clothes from me.
“I can hold these so that you have both hands free for the mail,” he slyly explained.
I looked down at my cock, as did Luke. It was a rock-hard nine inches; there was a small pearl of pre-cum glistening in the slit. Without saying anything, Luke dropped the bag of clothes to the floor. He reached out and glided the fingertips on his working hand along the length of my shaft as if he were petting it before quickly pulling his hand away.
There was a large bulge in Luke’s basketball shorts; I wasn’t sure how long it had been there, but touching my dick seemed to move him into full pitched-tent territory. He took the hand that had been on my cock and used it to rub his in the same way through the fabric.
We smiled at one another for a moment. I couldn’t believe that a relative stranger was getting off on joining me in my bizarre fantasy. It was incredibly fucking hot.
“Get going,” he encouraged me. “I’m excited to watch.”
Hearing him command me felt so good, as did knowing he’d be observing. Without stopping to reflect on the situation any longer, I began to amble toward the mail nook. Each footfall shot a jolt of energy straight into my cock as I moved further from the relative safety of the stairwell.
I tried not to look back as I walked those fifteen feet; I wanted to show Luke how confident I was. When I finally reached the collection of mailboxes, I gave myself permission to glance over. He was still standing there, but he had picked up the sack of clothes again.
I scanned the mailboxes. It took me a few seconds to find the one with the number he had told me. I looked at the key ring; there were two larger keys and three smaller ones. I realized that any one from the latter group could potentially open the mailbox.
The butterflies in my stomach took to flight. I chose one of the small keys at random while looking towards Luke and the entryway. I simultaneously tried to fit it into the lock while scanning the entrance. It fit in the opening, but the lock refused to turn.
I removed the key and started to try with the next. Suddenly, I heard noise coming from Luke’s direction. I watched as the main door leading to the street opened and two young-looking guys entered into the vestibule. They appeared to be around my age; one of them was wearing a baseball cap from my college.
Luke was frantically motioning for me to come back. I tried to yank the ring of keys from the lock, but it was stuck. I was trying to do too many things at once and I couldn’t think what to focus on. I pulled at the key with such force that I’m surprised it didn’t break the lock.
Right as I heard the doorway to the hallway opening, the key pulled free. I used both of my hands to cover my throbbing dick and positioned myself to face the opposite direction of where the young men were entering.
“Yo, what the fuck?” said an amused voice.
“Bro’s out here naked!” the other drunkenly laughed.
I thought I was going to have a panic attack. I was certain that Luke had saved himself and fled into the safety of the stairwell. I thought about making a run for it towards the other end of the hallway, but my feet remained frozen in place.
“Well, that’s what happens when you bet against the Leafs,” Luke’s voice said. “He was stupid enough to bet me that they’d lose to the Oilers. Loser had to get the mail naked.”
Both of the young guys started drunkenly cackling. I started to worry that their boisterousness could cause someone to come out into the hallway to see what was happening. The idea was mortifying and exhilarating.
“Wave to the camera, Beau!” Luke commanded.
Camera? I quizzically asked myself. I turned my head to peer over my shoulder. Luke was holding up his phone to either snap a picture or film. I figured it must have been a decision he made to sell the guys on the fact that this was typical bro-ish hijinks.
“Never bet against the Leafs!” the taller of the two chided me.
“Timmy has to see this,” the shorter one said.
He pulled his phone from his pocket. I continued to watching over my shoulder with a sheepish smile. My cheeks turned rosy from having two phones pointed at my muscular back and firm ass. I thought about how silly the picture of a naked guy getting the mail would look. I could imagine the short guy sending it to his friends to give them a laugh. I turned my head back towards the other direction as I became more aware of the fact that I didn’t want my face in the picture or video, but it may have been too late.
“Well, hope you learned your lesson,” the taller guy said. “Oilers suck!”
I heard their gruff voices fading away as they moved toward the stairwell. I let out a gasp once they had finally left. My nipples were erect from the excitement. When I let my hands fall back down to my sides, I could see a strand of pre-cum hanging down several inches from my jutting cock head.
I heard what I assumed to be Luke walking up behind me before he sidled up next to me. He grabbed a handful of my meaty ass. I knew he must have been turned on too after what had just happened.
“That was fucking hot!” he said.
He dropped the sack of clothes again, using his uninjured hand to direct one of my hands to his dick. He planted it on top of the bulge in his basketball shorts. I wrapped my fist around it; it was a solid six or seven inches.
“Grab the bag and let’s go,” Luke commanded.
I scooped up the sack as he grabbed me by the arm for the third or fourth time that night. We both broke out into a small jog as if we knew what the other one was thinking. We dashed to the stairwell on the backside of the building. We frantically bounded up the stairs to the third story, driven by a newfound sense of sexual abandon.
Oddly enough, I wasn’t at all worried about getting caught. I think I finally realized that I needed to get caught for it to be thrilling; the fear just wasn’t enough.
We turned the corner into Luke’s corridor and sped down to the door marked “302.” Luke pulled the keys from my hand and unlocked the door. He pushed it all the way open; I thought he was going to pull me inside.
“On your knees,” he instructed.
I did as he said, letting the bag of clothes slump against the wall. Luke positioned himself so he was leaning against the doorframe. He pulled down his waistband so it slid under his balls. His dick thwacked down, almost slapping me in the face. I slid closer to the other side of the door frame; we were both half inside the apartment and half in the hallway.
“Suck it,” he half-asked and half-encouraged.
I didn’t need more than that. I reached up and grabbed his hard cock with my right hand. I immediately slipped the head into my mouth and started working it over with my tongue. I circled the circumference with a tickling finesse. I explored the geography of those first few inches using my tongue as a cartographer.
Luke started gently thrusting. I ascertained that it was not going to be a slow-build kind of blowjob. We were both too overstimulated after everything that had happened, and the fact that anyone could walk out into the hallway added to the sense of urgency.
I started frantically bobbing up and down on his throbbing dick as I used my right hand to simultaneously stroke him. I could taste his leaking pre-cum; it lit up my tastebuds. Luke’s breathing started to become more rapid as I went into full cock-slut mode.
I reached up and grabbed his brawny ass through the smooth fabric of his nylon shorts. I pushed my head down on his dick, taking it all into my velvety throat. Luke reacted with delight, letting out a small moan. He placed his cast-clad hand on the back of my head and started to face-fuck me.
My cock was surging into overdrive. I could feel more pre-cum spilling out of it. I took my right hand from Luke’s ass and started to stroke myself as I swallowed him. I wasn’t wasting any time teasing myself; I was pumping myself towards an orgasm.
“Oh god,” Luke moaned.
His dick was practically vibrating against my throat as it slid in and out. His fingers were massaging my head through my blond locks. His muscular ass was tensing up and releasing with each thrusting motion.
My nuts started to twitch. I knew what that meant. I stroked with even greater zeal as I focused on both my own pleasure and the feeling of Luke in my mouth. Just as I was preparing for my own big explosion, Luke let out an even larger moan.
“I’m cumming,” he grunted.
I instinctively went to take him deep into my throat so he could shoot down it, but he pulled away. I watched as his spasming dick left the confines of my warm, salivating mouth. He gripped it as the root with his uninjured hand as it throbbed with great intensity.
“Close your eyes!” he commanded.
I did so in the nick of time; the first rope of his warm jizz splattered across my face mere seconds later. The next one covered my left cheek and shot up into my tussled hair. Luke tried to suppress his sensual gasps, but a small noise seemed to escape with each of his six eruptions.
As his warm semen drenched me while I continued to jerk myself, I too pushed past my threshold. I aimed my spasming cock up towards my chest. I felt my asshole contract as the first jet shot all the way up to the bottom of my chin. The subsequent seven ropes of sticky, white goo completely covered my pecs and abs. It was more than I had ever shot in a single load in my life.
After the geyser of ejaculate had stopped, I used the thumb on my right hand to rub away the cum that was pooling in my closed eyes. I opened them to see Luke still leaning against the doorframe with a large post-orgasmic smile on his face. He had already stuffed his cock back into his shorts.
“That was fun,” he said. “Do you mind bringing the laundry inside?”
I popped to my feet and followed him inside his unit. It was a one-bedroom with a nice blue couch, a large television, and a crowded bookshelf in the living area. He gestured to toss the clothes on the couch. As I followed his instructions, I couldn’t help but notice a large mirror on the opposite wall.
I was completely drenched. Looking at me, one would have thought that I’d been the epicenter of a gangbang with at least six guys. Hot gobs of cum clung to my face while sticky strands connected different spikes of my blond hair. The jizz splattered across my chest and abs was starting to feel the effect of gravity. It was dripping into my pubes and running down my bulky thighs. I could even see that a drop or two had fallen onto the wood floor beneath me.
I wasn’t sure what I expected in that moment. Things were a bit of a haze between having one of the most intense orgasms imaginable and having moved further into living out my sexual fantasies.
“I think I’m going to start doing laundry the same time every week,” Luke said. “Just thought you might want to know.”
He grabbed my right ass cheek again. I didn’t notice it in the moment, but he started to guide me towards the hallway as he groped me. It was only a few seconds later that I found myself positioned next to the doorframe. I wasn’t on my knees that time, though.
Luke smiled again as we both stood across from one another. I did the same; my head was still dizzy with pleasure. I was only ever-so-slightly scanning the hallway to see if one of the doors might open, but rather than being afraid of it, I was kind of hoping it would happen.
“Have a nice night, Beau,” Luke said as he ushered me out into the corridor.
I watched as he disappeared through the crack of the closing door. The deadbolt made a clicking sound as he slid it into place. I knew I looked absolutely ridiculous; I’d literally taken a long, hard look in the mirror. I was buck naked and completely covered in cum, but I started my journey towards the back stairwell.
I didn’t run, but I didn’t linger either. I tried to walk as I would have if I hadn’t been in such a precarious situation. I was riding the wave of the fantasy as I thought about being caught yet again. I imagined what I would say. I knew that no excuse would save me.
I managed to make it back to my corridor without incident. The building hallways were devoid of activity. As I approached my unit, I was already thinking about my next adventure – and how much I wanted it to include Luke.
I started to feel my dick firming up again as I explored various scenarios. I planned to jack off to the developing ideas as soon as I jumped into the shower. Washing away the cum plastered on my body while pumping out some more felt like it would be an amazing combination. It wasn’t like me to shoot two times in such close proximity, but nothing about that night was normal.
I reached my door, feeling ready to enter my unit, but the door knob wouldn’t turn. A tinge of shock surged through me. I was certain I had left it unlocked. I tried again; it refused to budge. Then it dawned on me: Luke had been planning his own challenge for me when he’d sent my back to the laundry room to look for the dryer sheets.
I smiled. It cemented the fact that Luke was as interested in pushing sexual limits as I was. My re-excited cock twitched at the revelation. I quickly pivoted and let myself back into the laundry room, since that door was always unlocked.
My clothes had finished their cycle in the washing machine. I came up with my plan of action, and then I moved them to the dryer. I turned it on, knowing that it would take about an hour for them to be done.
Once they were finished, I’d change into some sweatpants and a T-shirt. I decided that I’d go wake up the super since he lived on the ground floor. He was certain to be less than thrilled at being woken up at 2 a.m. but he’d let me into my unit regardless.
I debated whether to start trying to clean myself with a roll of paper towels that someone had left on a small table near the bulletin board. I decided that I would do it once my clothes were finished. I couldn’t resist the challenge of sitting there, naked and covered in cum, for another hour.
The foolish and the courageous both declare, “What’s the worst that could happen?” As it turns out, so does a certain kind of pervert. The difference is that the pervert actually tries to imagine it… and it gets him hard.
As the dryer spun, I thought about having my naked body – and maybe even my face – plastered all over social media. I imagined my classmates vacillating between cat-calling me and whispering behind my back as I walked across campus. I excitedly wondered if there was any way that the hypothetical post would go viral beyond the university.
It was all I could do to keep my hands off of my massive, throbbing erection.
Then I wondered why I even should. What delirious ecstasy might I feel, I thought to myself, if I were to be caught by someone at the very moment of my depraved, public orgasm?
Then I thought to myself, Beau, this might be turning into a real problem.