I was told by older relatives and friends that going to college would be the best experience ever in more ways than one. Supposedly, I was going to meet a boy and have wild sex parties with lots of booze and do things I’d never tell my parents about.
Unless I became a lesbian overnight, my little college didn’t have enough suitable sex partners to go around. Girls outnumber the boys by a big margin. All the cute guys don’t last very long. Forget about the creepsters, I’d as soon hang on to my virginity.
All the excitement of possibly meeting the right one, if not at least the right one for the night, vanished slowly over the first semester. Granted, some of that was poor social skills on my part, and not hanging out with the real party animals at school. Let’s just say, I was frustrated by the lack of male attention.
And then, during my spring semester Psych 101, I met him.
I had no idea what his name was for weeks. He’d smile at me as I passed by. Then I figured out how to smile back. He’d say hello. Then I managed to squeak out a hi. I started noticing him at the same laundromat I went to. So I washed clothes twice a week instead of once.
One morning I woke up and decided that today would be the day I was losing my virginity.
It so happened to be laundry day.
I had a big ass pile of bras, panties, jeans, and shirts. All of it needed washing yesterday. As I entered the laundromat, I held on to the plastic basket with white knuckles. It was all I could do to not shake so badly and drop my laundry before reaching the machines.
Sure as dirty clothes that stink, the boy of my late night vibrator fantasies was there, washing his clothes too. I commandeered the machine next to his.
“Hi,” I squeaked. “My name’s Kristen.”
I already felt like the biggest dumbass ever. I wanted to crawl inside the washer and hide.
“I’m Matt,” he said, slamming shut the glass door on his laundry. “Nice to meet you. At last.”
“At last,” I repeated, not feeling any smarter. What the fuck? I was a honors student for fuck’s sake. Say something smartlier. I opened and closed my mouth a few times.
Matt seemed hesitant too. He mumbled something, tried again, and when his mumbling made even less sense he coughed and turned away. I just knew my chance was blown for good. I wasn’t getting a date, much losing my virginity.
But I had to try something.
I touched him. His arm. Only for a second or two. Enough to get his attention, not nearly long enough to enjoy the sensation of his warm skin and the fine hairs on his upper arm.
Matt turned back around.
“Want to have some fun?” I said. I clasped my hand over my mouth, as if I had said the dirtiest thing possible. Which was kind of true.
The quirk in his smile was cute and encouraging. “What’d you have in mind?” he said.
“Fun things,” I said, not helping my cause at all.
But by the way his eyebrow quirked up, I knew he was on the same wavelength as me. We shared eye contact for a long time. More like a staring contest, with the unstated rule being the loser goes down on the winner. At least I hoped that was the case.
Matt glanced away first, presumably to adjust the dials on the washer machine. I tossed my laundry into the machine next to his, then grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him.
Where I was going, I had no idea. We ended up in a janitor’s closet in the very back of the laundromat. I flipped on the light. He shut the door. Another awkward and silent staring contest, but I knew I won the first round and wasn’t giving up my reward so easily.
I found an unusual burst of confidence I didn’t realize I had, and pushed him down to his knees in front of me. Matt fumbled with my belt and jeans. After helping him out a little, he put his head between my legs and ate me like I was his last meal.
I had never felt so roughly handled. His tongue prodded at my clit, his fingers poked inside me. I wanted him to stop, and at the same time I wanted him to keep going. Master of oral skills, Matt was not. But he made my pussy wet and even accidentally hit my G-spot.
When I jumped out of my skin with an orgasm, he found a rhythm and kept going.
After another orgasm, I told him to stop. Matt pulled away, disappointed and still eager. Once he stood up, I got down on my knees and ripped his pants open. He was much bigger than I expected, although I had no idea what I was expecting. Matt was big enough for me to grip him in both hands, and already throbbing hard. I licked and sucked at him, too afraid to deepthroat him but enjoying his taste. By his moans and grunts, Matt certainly seemed to appreciate what I was doing.
Then he pushed at my head and pointed to the shelves behind me. I stood, then turned around. I pointed my ass at him, glistening wet pussy ready for him.
And then he surprised me. Matt reached for his pants on the floor, and took a condom out of his pocket. I guess he decided he was having sex today too. After he slipped on the rubber, he slid his big cock in me.
The penetration hurt at first. Between my pussy juice and the condom’s lube, Matt squeezed himself into me.
The ride was wild, fast, and breathless. I worried the entire time that a laundromat employee would barge in on us. That fear made me sweat, and gave me jitters that added to the experience. Matt pounded me so hard, it’d be a small wonder if nobody heard us. Maybe the sound of the washers and dryers tumbling was enough to mask the noise.
And then he groaned in pleasure. I felt his cock throb against my pussy walls. Matt held me close afterwards for a minute. And then we got dressed.
“Friday is my next laundry day,” he said.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” I said, “But I can’t wait for Friday.”
“As in, let’s fucking date.” I hoped I didn’t scare Matt off with that comment.
By the cute and sexy smile, it appeared I hadn’t.
And that was the real beginning of my college experience.
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