Laundry Act

by

Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Humor, InLaws, Rough, Swinging, Gang Bang, Group Sex, Orgy, Harem, Polygamy/Polyamory, Interracial, White Couple, White Male, White Female, Oriental Female, First, Squirting, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Big Breasts, Public Sex, Nudism, .

Desc: Erotic Sex Story: A little fun and games in a public laundromat introduces a divorced male nurse to some brand new experiences, courtesy of a Navaho woman and a blast from his own past.

I never considered that day to be anything other than a typical Sunday morning, with the usual crowd or lack thereof, given that it was after all when half the population were asleep and the other half were probably dozing off in church while pretending to listen to some moron rail against the very sins that they committed the night before. Yeah, I'm a cynic, so sue me. There was a reason that I wasn't in church and hadn't been for the past couple of years.

Anyway, I was minding my own business, putting clothes in the dryer for the last cycle, when I saw her. Yeah, her. Long, jet-black hair, skin a reddish brown hue, eyes a shade of brown that was nearly black itself, and one of the finest pairs of tits to be on display despite her baggy sweatshirt. Sure, she wasn't a perfect ten by the standards of those phonies in Cosmo or Vogue, but I never read those magazines and didn't give a flying fuck about that. All they care about is the skinny waistline. All that sickening heroin chic crap. No, this was a real American woman, with real curves, flesh and blood, with enough beauty and sex appeal to more than impress me, and then she smiled ... nervously, sure, but she smiled when she saw me, a true smile that reached her eyes, not a plaster smile of the sort that I used to see in Sunday school and Bible camp.

"Hello," I said, breaking the ice for the poor gal, "haven't seen you here before."

"Nope. I just moved in. Well, we did. Mom and I. Had to start over," she answered awkwardly.

"Yeah, I know that feeling. I had to move somewhere when I left my wife," I told her.

"Divorced, huh? I should be so lucky. I'm 25 and still live with Mama. The kicker is that she is 43 and looks so young that people think that we're sisters," she chuckled at her own situation.

"Maybe that sense of humor is why, if you got it from her. One of the few Bible verses I still agree says that laughter is a great medicine, or something like that. I haven't been to church or even said grace over meals in two years," I laughed at myself and my loss of faith these days.

"Disgruntled Christian, then?" she teased me.

"Yeah, somewhat. Jaded about the Old-Time Religion crap. If you ask me, a good dose of irreverence is what we really need. People not taking shit like that too seriously. What good does that crap do, anyway? My ex was a completely pious bitch, but it didn't stop her from committing adultery. Nor did it stop the pastor," I admitted, rolling my eyes.

"She fucked your pastor? Damn, that's just ... wrong. Sick. The whole time, dragging you to church just to listen to her boyfriend rant and rave at you. Insult added to injury, if you ask me. I hope that you nailed him good," the cutie reacted as I hoped that she would, with shock and outrage at the hypocrisy.

"I'll say. I stood up in church, announced to my wife and the entire congregation that I was leaving her and them, and told them all exactly why I was. You should have seen the looks on their faces, the whole lot of them. Especially when I used rather salty language to describe her carnal knowledge of our pastor, old sailor's habit, and had her served with divorce papers right there in her pew, in front of more than a hundred witnesses. I heard later that his bishop instigated disciplinary action almost immediately and his wife filed for divorce, forcing him to get a real job to pay child support. He sells imported cars now. Served him right. I'd feel bad for his kids, but he was never much of a real father to them. I could tell that. After that, I moved out of state, got an apartment, and thanked my lucky stars that she and I didn't have any rugrats already. Divorce is so much cleaner when it's just the two of you. I don't know what she's doing these days. To quote Rhett Butler, 'Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn'. She made her bed and she can lie in it," I grinned as I recalled my payback to that lying hussy and her boyfriend, the man of God ... I even used my best Clark Gable impression for that line, too.

"Wow, the pastor screwed your wife, but you really screwed both of them back. Good for you. I like you already. I'm Melissa, by the way," the sexy, somewhat plump young woman told me with a grin that spoke volumes.

"Jed. Like Jed Clampett in the Beverly Hillbillies. No kidding, I was named after him. It was Hell in boot camp, I tell ya that. Imagine drill instructors making hay of all that," I recalled with some dry humor now, but it really was unpleasant when I first enlisted.

"Yeah, I got picked on back at the rez for having such a white girl name. Not my fault that Daddy was white. It's just luck of the draw. Bullies can be so vicious when you're that age. Still, overall they were nice to me. Mama's Navaho, so I'm Navaho. Doesn't matter that I'm not full-blooded. She is and that's what counted. Still, she got a position at the hospital here, so we moved so she could give me a better life. Still visit family now and then, though," Melissa smiled wider now.

"So, what happened with your father and all?" I asked, curious as to how he wasn't still in their lives.

"Too many differences in the end. Too many fights. She regrets a lot of it and so does he, but they're both so damn stubborn at times that neither of them could get past the anger. He remarried, anyway, became a fucking Mormon, and now has a nice, fancy white-bread Mormon family life with the seven half-sisters that he gave me. Yeah ... half-sisters, all of them. Not a boy in sight. Serves the prick right for forgetting that I exist. I get that he couldn't make it work with Mama. She can be a handful, especially to a white guy not used to Navaho culture and the dominant role of women in it, but he could still have shown up at my Little League games now and then. That wouldn't have killed him, would it?" Melissa pouted now.

"Would it help your mood if I told you how adorable that pout is?" I asked her, guessing how she might react.

Melissa burst into somewhat embarrassed laughter and covered her face with her sweatshirt for a moment, exposing her belly somewhat in the process, and a tattoo of, not something very stereotypically Navaho, like an eagle or a loom, but a dick ... a very notable piece of male equipment, with balls attached. Why she had that inked on her belly, I just had to find out.

"So, what's with the tat?" I asked her.

"Oh, that ... well, too many shots, I guess. Far too many. No, I'm not the typical drunk Injun that you see in movies. I'm no lightweight. I can handle my booze, but still, a girl should know her limit. Apparently, eight Bloody Maries are about three or four too much for me. Next thing I know, I'm face down on a stranger's bed, with tattoos that I never saw before on my body, looking into a mirror as he pumps me full of his cum. In my ass, no less. Yeah ... I took it up the rear. Wasn't too bad, except that I wish that I was sober enough to remember deciding to lose that cherry. Funny thing, I still have the other one," Melissa recalled that bizarre incident, her first case of sodomy.

"Other what?" I sought clarification.

"Virginity. Flower. Maidenhood. I'm still technically a virgin," she giggled at the oddity of her situation, having taken it up the butt, but not yet in the pussy.

"Wasn't that actually rape, then? You and him. Going to brown town while you were out like a lamp?" I reacted to that part first, because I'd always heard that if a girl blacked out and you were screwing her, it was rape.

"You know, I guess it kinda was. Hadn't really thought about it that way at the time. It didn't feel like rape at least. Maybe because I had gone out that night looking to lose my cherry. Well, I lost it, just not the one that I had in mind," Melissa remembered, "not saying that you're wrong. Just that it never occurred to me that it might be rape. Anyway, I was more worried about not getting caught by Mama, but, of course I was. This was a few years ago, mind you. I have always lived with Mama. It turned out that my fears were a bit exaggerated in my head. Mama just sat me down and told me that if I wanted to fuck, I should make sure and use protection. I was a grown woman and my choices were my own, though. She agreed with me on that. Leave it to a registered nurse to think that way, of course."

"Know what's funny?" I asked her.

"What?" Melissa was curious now.

"I'm an RN, too," I laughed.

"So am I! No shit! What a small fucking world!" Melissa punched me playfully in the arm, but then apologized, "sorry, was just getting a little goofy there."

"Same hospital as your mom?" I asked her.

"No, they have a rule about relatives working the same facility. Not far off, though. University medical center, you know. Really nice hospital, in fact. Just got my nursing license, though. It's my first gig. Wish me luck, please," she laughed again and dropped a freshly washed shirt in the process.

When Melissa bent over to pick up her shirt, I got just enough of an eyeful of that fine booty of hers from her baggy sweatpants dropping a bit, and boy did my cock grow very hard indeed! It was a large bottom, no doubt of that, but it was very nicely shaped and had almost perfect butt-cleavage, if you know what I mean. It was also very smooth, of course. I suspected the use of hair removal cream, but I could be wrong about that. The worst of it was when she stood up and caught me staring ... her reaction was priceless.

"See anything that you like?" Melissa teased me.

"Um ... actually, yes. Does that bother you?" I coughed.

.... There is more of this story ...

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