Cum Saturday Morning
I used to hate doing laundry until Chris showed up at the Laundromat that weekend. Saturday morning was a pretty good time to go. Not many people around and I could sit in my corner, minding my own business, waiting for my clothes to get clean.
As you enter the front door, a number of chairs sit beneath the windows at the front. A row of driers line the wall to the left, a row of washers to the right. Running lengthwise down the middle of the room is another row of washers backed by a long, wooden sorting table with tons of graffiti carved into it. Near the back, set away from the far wall, is yet another short row of washers running crosswise across the room with an opening at the left side. Behind those is long sorting counter with more chairs placed against the wall. That's usually where I like to sit whilst waiting. It's quiet there and it lets me see everyone who comes in.
There are always two other regulars when I go there - an older woman who sits on a chair near the window, watching the people passing by on the street. Another woman, younger, but older than I, always sits near the other window, reading a book, her back facing the people outside.
They were already there when I arrived that Saturday. I gave them my usual greetings, then went to the back of the room and loaded the three washers I always used. I was sitting in my usual spot near the back wall, reading, when I heard the front door closing. The flash of red hair caught my eye immediately, and I knew I wouldn't be reading much more that morning.
Chris walked directly toward me, grinning from ear to ear. He rounded the washers and the table, and sat down in the chair to my left. "Hi," he said as he stretched out his legs and moved his left hand to the zipper of his jeans. Moments later he was hauling out his cock which was already growing stiff in his hands.
"It's
show time," he grinned as he wrapped his left hand around his meat and pulled his balls out of the denim with his right hand. Moments later, he was hard and stroking. "This is the life," he joked.
Chris stroked for a minute or two, then let go of his cock, letting his hand come to rest on his thigh. "Want to slick it up for me?" he asked.
I glanced quickly toward the front of the Laundromat. My laundry mates were paying us no attention. I reached out and grabbed Chris' cock in my hand as I worked up a mouthful of saliva. When I was ready, I checked the front once more, then leaned over, my mouth directly over the smooth, purplish cockhead, and I spit carefully. The liquid glob fell slowly, stretching itself into a long thread and getting closer and closer to its destination. When it reached the cockhead below, I pushed with my tongue and the rest of my saliva followed the liquid trail and flowed over the soft skin.
I broke the thread by running my tongue across my lips, then leaned back and smeared the spit over the cockhead as Chris sighed.
"Your spit feels so much better than my own," he said as he brought his hand to his cock once more.
I released him and sat back to enjoy the show. We didn't say much to each other. Chris enjoyed his jerk-off session and I enjoyed watching it. He lazily jerked off throughout the entire washing cycle. He kept stroking even when I stood up to move my clothes from the washers to the driers.
As I was unloading the washers, the door opened and I glanced over my shoulder to see a tall, black-haired young man walk in. His hair was trimmed short on the side, but left long on top and pulled back into a short ponytail. His face was handsome, although his nose looked like it had been broken at tone time, and black eyebrows shadowed his dark eyes. He wore only a pair of loose, white, nylon running shorts, white sneakers, and white socks which hugged his calves. From the way his crotch moved around as he walked, it didn't appear that he wore anything under the shorts. His chest was muscular and smooth except for the inverted ‘V' of pubic hair pointing up at his indented belly button. There wasn't a single blemish to mar his skin. He carried a large gym bag over his shoulder.
He swaggered past the two ladies and went to the washers behind me and to the right. I finished unloading the washers, moved across the room and put my clothes into two driers, popped in the coins, then went back to sit beside Chris again. He was still jacking away at his cock and watching the black-haired young man.
"Aren't you going to stop?" I asked in a whisper.
Chris responded without taking his eyes off the new arrival. "Are you kidding? With him as a potential audience?"
"Jesus, Chris," I said urgently, "he can break you in half with one hand!"
"You won't let him," Chris said as he tucked the thumb of his free hand under his balls, pushing his jeans and underwear even farther down his thighs.
I looked up at the young man. From the view I now had, I was convinced he wasn't wearing underwear of any kind. As he bent over the machines, the shorts pulled tight over his ass, clearly outlining each cheek. Nothing prevented the material from creeping into the valley between them.
I almost laughed as he filled the washers. No sorting. No separating. And far too much in each of the two washers for a single load. When he'd finished cramming his clothes into the baskets, he took out a plastic bag of powder detergent, poured some in each washer, looked inside, then poured in more. He closed the lids, pulled his wallet out of his gym bag, put coins into the slots, and started the machines.
The Hunk left his gym bag on top of one of the machines and left the laundrette, carrying his wallet with him. Chris sighed. "Oh well," he said. "Could have been fun."
"He'll be back," I said to him.
He returned quickly enough, carrying a can of pop he'd bought from the convenience store next door to the laundrette. He took a quick peek into his washers, then headed directly toward us, walking around the sorting counter in front of us. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what Chris was doing.
He smiled first, then laughed lightly, his teeth sparkling white. "Shit, man," he said, "what's the matter? Didn't have enough time to whip one off before you came in to wash your clothes?"
Chris smiled back. "Oh, I had time, but my friend here bet me fifty bucks that I wouldn't have the guts to whack off here."
"Fifty bucks!?" he grinned. "Shit, I would have done it for twenty! I had to cash in pennies just to get enough money to wash my friggin' clothes!"
I glanced down at The Hunk's white nylon shorts. They were beginning to push out already with the growing cock hidden inside.
"Got an extra twenty, Steven?" Chris asked.
I tore my eyes away from The Hunk's shorts and looked at Chris. He was smiling at me, and he winked.
"Um, yeah," I said as I retrieved my wallet from my back pocket. "I think so." I opened my wallet and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. "Yeah, I've got it."
The Hunk moved around in front of us, facing us with his back against the ladies at the front windows, and settled his butt against the edge of the sorting counter. "Shit. Are you serious? What do I have to do?" he asked as his hand moved to his crotch, cupping the growing bulge. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him.
"Jerk off until you cum," Chris explained. "If you stop or cover up before you cum, you lose."
"That's it?" The Hunk said with an eager grin. "Twenty bucks for ten seconds fun. I can handle that."
"You didn't let me finish," Chris added with a smirk. He hadn't missed a single stroke since The Hunk showed up. "You have to jerk off for at least fifteen minutes. One second less and you lose."
The Hunk glanced over his shoulder at the ladies sitting at the front. I glanced as well. Neither appeared to be paying any attention to us. "Five minutes," he said to me.
"Fifteen," I said, getting into the role.
"Ten," he said.
"Fifteen minutes," I repeated.
His eyes dropped to the floor as he thought, his fingers idly tickling the bulge in his shorts. When he didn't respond, I put the money back in my wallet and started putting it back into my pocket. He looked up at me again. "Okay, okay!" he said. "Fifteen minutes. Shit!"
I looked at my digital watch, waiting for the seconds to count up to ‘zero'. With five seconds left, I said, "Get ready." When the last two numbers read double zero, I said. "Okay, start."
With one more quick glance over his shoulder, The Hunk hooked the thumb of his left hand into the top of the shorts and pulled them down to his balls, but he didn't uncover them. His cock sprang out, mostly hard by now. I must say, I was quite impressed. It wasn't quite as long as Chris' cock, but it was thicker and had a nice, smooth, helmet-shaped head. He grabbed it in his hand and started stroking.
"You can stop to get it wet if you have to," Chris said, "but if you stop at any other time, for any reason, even if someone comes in, the bet's off."
The Hunk nodded. He looked decidedly nervous for the first minute or so, but quickly lost himself to the pleasure and let himself relax and get into it. He had an interesting method of masturbating, one which I hadn't seen before. He stroked down the shaft, but when his hand covered his cockhead on the up stroke, it would twist over the purplish skin and untwist as it stroked down the shaft again. He paused often to let a stream of spit fall onto his cockhead, after which he would rub it in before continuing.
I sat back in my chair, my palm rubbing my cock where it was still trapped inside my jeans, solid and pointing upward and to the right. Chris and The Hunk were intent on watching each other, paying very little attention to me. I was free to sit back and enjoy the show.
It wasn't long before The Hunk became oblivious to where he was or who could see him. The only thing that mattered was his cock, and he was taking full advantage of the moment of pleasure. He paused once to hoist himself up onto the counter, sitting there with his legs spread wide and his thumb pushing the waistband of the shorts beneath his full, fuzz-covered balls. He grabbed his cock again and began jerking off in earnest. Still, he was careful not to cum too quickly.
He glanced at me and asked, "How much longer?"
I looked at my watch. "Eleven minutes."
"Shit!" he said loudly. "I'm ready to pop now and I've only been at it for only four minutes?" He stopped stroking and squeezed his cock just beneath the head.
"Hey!" Chris cautioned him. "No cheating."
The Hunk took a deep breath and began stroking once more, but much more slowly and carefully this time. I could hear the precum popping in his piss slit on each up stroke. "Oh, man," he groaned. "This is harder than I thought it would be."
I just chuckled, looked at my watch, and said, "Ten minutes."
Soon after that, Chris looked at me and asked, "Want to slick me up again, Steven?
"Sure," I said, and I began working up a mouthful of saliva again. When I was ready, I leaned over Chris, ready to let it go, when I got another idea. I leaned farther and bent over, my mouth growing closer and closer to Chris' cock. When I was close enough, I paused, pushed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, and forced the saliva past my lips. I could hear The Hunk groaning and the popping precum became more rapid. I decided to go for broke.
My head lowered even more and my lips touched Chris' cockhead. They parted and my jaws opened as my mouth sank itself over Chris' cock and I began to suck him, moving my head up and down as far as I dared. It was tremendously exciting to know that I was not only sucking a cock, but I was doing it with someone watching me. My throat closed up when his cock touched the back of my throat, but I gained control of the gagging and was careful not to go quite so deep after that.
"Oh, shit!" The Hunk said a few moments later.
I tilted my head in time to see him squirting his juice all over the linoleum tile floor of the laundrette as Chris began to unload his own balls inside my mouth. His hand held me in place. For the first time in my life, I was sucking a real cock and taking a real man's load into my mouth. Chris' cum was just as delicious right from the pump as it was when I had sucked it out of his underwear.
The Hunk made no secret that he was cumming. He grunted and groaned loudly as his jizz pumped out of his cock and onto the floor and his hand squeezed and stroked to make sure every single drop was released and he had given it all to me.
Chris finished cumming, but I held him in my mouth as we watched The Hunk. His chest was heaving as he gasped for breath and his cock began to grow soft. Beads of sweat rolled down his body, his chest gleaming with perspiration. His cum lay in splattered streaks on the floor. Chris, on the other hand, remained rock-solid and lazily continued to play with himself.
I reluctantly pulled away from Chris and sat up. Behind The Hunk, I could see the younger woman - the one reading the book - looking right at me. She smiled and gave a ‘thumbs up' sign. She knew what we had been doing, but I didn't care. I opened my jeans, pulled out my cock and, after only a few rapid strokes, added my own load to the jism on the floor.
Things eventually settle down. The Hunk was now tucked back in his shorts and I was tucked back in my jeans. Chris was idly playing with himself. "You owe my friend twenty bucks," Chris said to The Hunk.
"That's not fair," The Hunk said. "I would have lasted if you guys hadn't pulled that stunt."
"He's right, Chris," I said. "I
did sort of cheat."
"Tell you what," The Hunk said. "Be here again next Sunday and we'll make it double or nothing."
"Okay," I told him, "but you have to jerk off for a full half hour." When he hesitated, I added, "Double the bed, double the time."
He smiled at me, hopped off the counter, and shook my hand. "It's a bet."
Epilogue - Chris and I went to the laundrette the next Saturday morning. I had forty dollars in my pocket. The Hunk showed up as well. He went home forty dollars richer. I left with the promise that I'd be there every Saturday morning.
* * * * *
How much is that Cum Dog in the window?
The one with the brilliant red hair.
How much is that Cum Dog in the window?
I sure wish you'd let me in there!
On Monday night, I discovered what went on behind the closed doors of Townsend's Menswear after the store was closed. Chris met me at the designated spot at the designated time and we walked to the store together. At that time of night, there were very few cars on the street, and even fewer pedestrians.
Chris knocked on the glass door and waved at the man behind the counter. He was a rather portly man with serious comb-over going on, but he was nattily dressed and his smile of greeting as he approached the door was pleasant and inviting.
He turned the lock and pushed open the door for us. "Ah, Christian," the man said with an enormous smile. Chris winced at the mention of his full name. "Who have we here? A new recruit? A new performer?"
"Hi, Joe," Chris replied. "This is my boyfriend, Steven. He's my special invited guest. He's here because I want him to be here."
Joe's face sunk into a mock pout. "Aw. And he's so cute. Just what my customers are looking for." He sighed heavily and said, "Well, come in! Come in!" As we passed, Joe grabbed Chris by the arm and leaned in to talk to him more privately, but I could hear him just fine. "You know, Christian, he's gorgeous! We could make a fortune if you can talk him into joining you."
"I won't talk him into anything, Joe," Chris replied. "If he does anything, it will be his choice."
Joe sighed again. "No cha-ching cha-ching."
As Joe closed the door behind us, Chris said as he winked at me, "You know, Joe, Steven could use some new clothes, too."
"Of course! Of course! Help yourselves."
"Come on," Chris said, taking my hand and leading me into the store.
I whispered quietly. "I can't afford these clothes, Chris."
He looked at me and smiled. "Neither can I. Pick out a set of clothes you like. Don't forget the socks and underwear if you want them. Pick out whatever you want."
For the next forty minutes, we browsed around, picking out clothes. Chris let me pick out an outfit I would like to see him in, right down to the slinky neon bikini underwear. With the outfit complete, Chris took them to a small, empty display table in the middle of the store and laid out the items. Joe appeared with a scissors and snipped off price tags and opened packages and boxes. When he was finished, Chris picked up the clothes and set them on a nearby chair. Joe then snipped the price tags from the clothes I'd selected and opened the boxes and packages.
That's when I noticed all the men standing at the door and windows. Joe noticed my gaze.
"It's show time," he said. "Ready, Christian?"
"And willing," Chris replied with a big grin.
As Joe walked to the door, setting all the packages and tags on the counter when he passed, I asked, "What did he mean, ‘show time'?"
Chris merely smiled at me and winked. "You'll see. Have a seat."
I picked up our clothes, sat in the chair, and placed them on my lap.
The door opened and the men filed in. I counted seventeen men of all ages and shapes and sizes. Each man handed Joe some money. "Cover charge," Chris said to me. I waited patiently as some the men quickly picked out clothes from the rack. The other men gathered around the table in front of Chris.
I waited, watching. The men at the table talked amongst themselves. The men picking out clothes soon paid for them one by one, then moved to the table and spread out their purchases on it. Finally, all the men were gathered around the table and, apparently, the ‘show' began.
Chris was in his element. He was in a public store only a few steps away from the windows and the street, and seventeen men, plus Joe and myself, were standing there, watching his every move. He began by placing his left hand over his crotch and rubbing himself into an erection, which didn't take very long at all. Within seconds, he was reaching into the waistband of his jeans to shift his cock to a more comfortable position along his hip.
He removed his hand and, using his fingertips and thumb, began stroking the concealed shaft from base to tip, squeezing out the copious precum until it began to seep through, forming a large wet spot in his jeans. The men around the table began coaxing him on, saying things like, "Stroke that meat!" and "Make it shoot, Baby!"
Chris fell into a rhythm, grasping his cock harder and rubbing with more intensity. Soon, his flattened palm was rubbing from end to end as the men began a chant of "Cum! Cum! Cum!" All the time they were chanting, they were tossing money into a pile in front of Chris. My exhibitionist didn't disappoint them, nor did he disappoint me. I recognized the signs of his approaching orgasm and watched as Chris closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and let loose. His hand froze, clutching his cock, as his cream poured into his underwear and through the denim of his jeans.
From my vantage point just to his right, I had a bird's eye view of his orgasm. Not only could I see it, I could smell it, and I became intoxicated by it. I don't know why I did what I did, but I set the clothes I held in my lap on the floor, dropped to my knees, grabbed Chris by the hips, and locked my open mouth over his cockhead, sucking his cum right through the material and into me. The cheers and applause from the men exhilarated me. There I was, on the floor with my face buried in my man's crotch, and all those men watching and cheering me on, and I loved it.
As Chris' orgasm subsided, I continued sucking at his cockhead as my hands reached to his waistband and undid the button there. I leaned back then to undo the zipper. I glanced up at Chris. He simply smiled again and nodded once.
I pushed his jeans off his hips and down to his thighs and carefully pulled his briefs over his hardon and down to join the jeans. Chris' cock pointed directly at me. I opened my mouth and leaned forward, his cock filling me as far as I could take it. It wasn't a very good blowjob. I was still learning. But the audience loved it, and so did Chris. As the men cheered and applauded us, Chris began to remove his clothes, careful not to pull his cock out of my mouth. His shirt came off first and was dropped to the floor as he toed off his shoes. Then he pushed his jeans and underwear down his thighs until they dropped to the floor. He pulled out his right foot, but used his left foot to raise the jeans and underwear until he could grab them and pull them off. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him dropping them in a heap onto the table. Except for his socks, Chris was totally naked.
His hands moved to my shoulders then, and his hips began pushing and pulling his cock in and out of my mouth. I still couldn't take much of it yet, but it was enough for Chris. With one hand on his bare hip, my other hand undid my own jeans and pulled out my cock and began stroking it. Not only was I sucking cock in front of all these men, but I was jerking off at the same time. I was beginning to understand why Chris loved it so much. It was mind-blowing, to say the least.
It was also ball-busting. My mouth was slurping on Chris' cock, making all sorts of nasty noises, and my hand was slapping on my own cock. Our moans and groans were added to the mix of vocalizations from the men around us. After only a minute or two of stroking, I'd had it. I pulled my mouth away and leaned back.
Chris knew immediately that I was about to cum and quickly grabbed me under my arms and lifted me to my feet. I watched as he dropped to his knees in front of me, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth wide, sticking out his tongue as far as it would go. In seconds, the biggest, most powerful orgasm of my entire life occurred and I dumped my ball juice all over Chris' face and hair and even into his mouth. My groans of ecstasy were even louder than the enthusiastic screams from the group of men nearby.
Every orgasm I'd ever had in my life were practice for this one. Never before, and never since, have I felt so incredibly excited and euphoric as I did that night in Townsend's Menswear. Never before had I shot so much cum in one go, and never before had Chris looked as gorgeous as he did with my cum dripping down his face.
Although it seemed to go on forever, it was little more than a minute or so before I stopped cumming and Chris sucked my cock into his mouth, cleaning off the jism he found there. As I looked down at him, seeing his cum-streaked red hair, I could see his left arm working vigorously in his crotch. I could hear his moans and I could feel them in my cock, sending shivers of excitement up my spine. Suddenly, Chris yanked his mouth away, jumped to his feet, turned toward the table, and let loose with his second orgasm of the evening.
Cum flew everywhere - all over the clothes on the table, the pile of money, and even on the group of men watching. They didn't seem to mind that their own clothes were getting splattered. Instead, they shouted, "More! More! More!" and tossed more money onto the pile.
Chris kept stroking when his orgasm ended and came again only a few minutes later, all the time being encouraged by the shouts of the audience. Once more, he sprayed his cream all over the clothes on the table, and once more, the men added bills to the growing stash.
I joined Chris for his fourth and final climax of the evening, standing beside him with my arm around his back and his arm around mine. We stood there, hip to hip, facing the table and jerking off together. Our heads were turned toward each other and we were kissing. My cum still coated Chris' face. Together, we sprayed one more load of jism onto the clothes, including the jeans and underwear Chris had worn that evening.
When it was all over and we could move again, we ended the kiss and leaned away from each other. Chris was smiling widely. "I love you," he whispered. After one more quick kiss, Chris held up his cum-splattered jeans and auctioned them off for seventy dollars. His underwear garnered one hundred and thirty bucks. At his urging, I slipped off my underwear as well. I only got a bid of thirty bucks until I used them to wipe my cum off Chris' face. The bids went up to eighty-five dollars.
Combined with our share of the door receipts, Chris and I walked out of Townsend's that night with over five hundred bucks each.
Now I knew why Chris didn't have a job. Who needed one when he could get paid that much just for jerking off?
* * * * *
That was over three months ago. Chris and I have been lovers since then. We've had some pretty amazing sex, and we love doing sixty-nine, but our most exciting times are when he surprises somewhere. We're both regulars at Townsend's each Monday night, but the crowds are getting so large that Joe hopes we'll add another evening to our schedule. I wouldn't mind, of course. It's too much fun, and I've got one hell of a nice wardrobe now.
Even as I write this on my laptop, Chris is sitting at across from me in the library, in the same chair in which he'd jerked himself off for me the first time so long ago. He's reading a book, his head cradled against his right hand, but is left hand is on top of the table holding the book. My shoes lie empty on the floor beneath the table and my feet are in Chris' lap.
Who knew it could be so much fun jerking someone off with your feet?
So, thank you, Mary Poppins. We've had a blast - and we hope to have many, many more.
Chim Chim Cher-ee
(The End)
Sorry, Guys. This will be the final chapter in this story. It's simply too difficult for me to write 3 stories at the same time and to keep up with them all. Thank you for being so patient and understanding and encouraging.
Take care, always. 
Neil
And the whole thing was hot as hell.
I just started reading this today and got as far as the scene in the theater.
I'm going for another load now!
) However, as my time at the keyboard became less and less, keeping 3 stories going at the same time became harder and harder. One of them had to go.
