Curt and I agreed that his uncle’s cabin smelled a bit musty. “My uncle might not have been the most fastidious housekeeper,” Curt said. I proposed that we wash all the sheets and pillowcases and vacuum the rugs and floors. The sheets were too bulky for Curt’s uncle’s miniature washing machine, and there didn’t seem to be any detergent, so I bundled everything up, including Curt’s clothes, and went to town to find a laundromat while Curt did the vacuuming.

I got back about an hour later, leaving the laundry tumbling in the drier. Curt was just finishing up. He’d also opened all the windows to let in fresh air. “I had to put the vacuum together,” he said. “Obviously it’d never been used.”

“A virgin, huh?” I said. I sniffed. “It still smells a little. You vacuumed everywhere and everything?”

“Pretty much,” he said. “The vacuum wouldn’t really go under the bed.”

“Did you push the release button to lower it?”

He hadn’t.

“Still going to be kind of cramped,” he said, as he switched the machine on.

“Mmm, love the sound of it,” I said. The vacuum did make quite a nice purring noise. “It could almost put me to sleep,” I told Curt, “except it’s kind of turning me on.”

“I never thought a vacuum cleaner would be sexy,” Curt said.

“Me neither, but this one—oooh. Yeah, push it under me. Further. More. More.”

Abruptly the vacuum made this snarling croak and died.

“What happened?” I asked Curt.

“Don’t know,” he said, and he pulled the vacuum out from under the bed and knelt next to it to inspect.

“Snagged,” he said. He tugged and yanked something, then stood up. “Snagged on this.”

“Looks like fishnet stockings,” I said. “Or what’s left of one of them.”

“Pretty useless now,” Curt said.

“Unless you want them pre-runned.”

Curt didn’t get the joke.

“I wonder whose they were,” I mused.

“Don’t know,” Curt said. “I’m pretty sure my uncle’s not a lady’s man.”

“Well, it was a pretty decent stocking,” I said. “I wonder where its mate got off to. Anyway, I don’t think the stocking would be causing the smell. Now if it were a condom...”

“If it were a condom I think I’d have a nephew or niece,” Curt said as he checked under the bed. A moment later he pulled out three condoms, all filled, one not knotted. “These might be the culprits,” he said.

“Ewww.”

Curt took them outside to the garbage.

“Is the vacuum ruined?” I asked when he returned. “I hope not because that sound was, what do you call it, aphrodisiastical.”

“Afro dizzy ass what?” Curt asked. “And why do women wear these stockings anyway? With all the holes they don’t give you much in the way of warmth.”

“I don’t know ... Most men think they’re kind of hot. You mean you don’t find fishnet stockings sexy?”

“I never really thought about it,” Curt said. “You never wear them.”

“True,” I said. “Well, much as I’d love to listen to the vacuum, I’d better go fetch our laundry before the place closes. It should be dry by now. You finish up under the beds, and don’t run over any more stockings or condoms.”

Back at the cabin there was no time to do anything but dump the clean and dry laundry on one of the beds, strip off my clothes, pull on the stockings I’d bought at the convenience store, and rouse Curt from his nap. “Switch on that aphrodisiastical vacuum and get your dick in my cunt,” I told him.

“Those stockings ... you look...”

I wrapped my legs tight around him, making sure the nylon rubbed his butt and back, and I didn’t have to tell him to shut up and fuck.