The guys in the dorm were starting to complain about my piles of dirty laundry everywhere. If guys complain, you know it's pretty bad. I had to admit it had gotten out of hand but the thought of doing laundry had me a bit perplexed. I didn't want anyone to know that I'd never done my own laundry before. How many college freshmen really know how to do their own laundry, anyway? I was almost out of clothes, so it was getting to a critical point. I asked some of the guys where the closest Laundromat was. They got this stupid grin on their faces and told me it was on Main Street across from the movie theater.
I gathered up my clothes, shoved them in some big, black garbage bags and loaded them up in the car. "First step went pretty smooth", I thought to myself. As I walked into the Laundromat I felt like everyone stopped and looked at me, like I had "Laundry Virgin" written across my forehead. I was probably just paranoid. How exciting could doing laundry be? Little did I know my view on laundry was about to change.
I stuffed my bags of clothes in a couple of machines, poured in 3 or 4 scoops of soap, poured in some bleach, put my money in, set it on "hot" (I heard "hot" gets things cleaner) and I was ready to go. Hell, this wasn't so bad. I turned to throw some garbage in the nearby trashcan and I almost knocked this woman over.
"I'm sorry, maam, I didn't see you there." This woman was smokin' hot. She had beautiful bronze legs for days and tits as round as ripe cantaloupes that made my mouth water. She looked like she worked out because her body was tight and firm. Her hair was so black that it looked like midnight as it draped across her strong but delicate back. Her sparkling blue eyes nestled between double rows of long dark lashes saw my every desire.
"What's your name young man?" she asked.
Girls never really paid much attention to me so I looked around thinking she had to be asking someone else. Seeing no one else around, I shyly told her, "Beau."
"Well Beau, it seems we have a bit of a problem," she said, with agitation in her voice. "I get the feeling that this is your first time doing your own laundry. Is this correct?" she questioned.
"Yes, did I do something wrong?" I stammered.
"Let's put it this way Beau. My name is Lauren and I'm the owner of this place. I get young men in here all the time whose mommies never taught them how to do laundry. So, they come in here and pack my washers full and expect miracles. If I were to allow these young men to continue to do this, my washers would wear out in a month. Therefore, I feel that it is my duty to teach them proper laundering skills."
Lauren reached over and straightened my collar, ran her hand down my chest, looked into my eyes and said, "Besides, a handsome young stud like you wants to look and smell good for the ladies, don't you?"
I knew I was in trouble when that one touch sent my cock into forward motion.
"Come with me for some personal lessons in laundry etiquette," she beckoned.
As I followed behind her I couldn't help but notice her hot, little, heart shaped ass. Oh what I'd like to do to that, I dreamed.
She took me to a back room with several baskets of clothes. She began instructing me on the proper way to separate laundry. She made me put the baskets of clothes in piles of light and dark, cotton and permanent press.
"We have one more basket and I think you've got that part down. Some items in this basket need special care. They'll go in a pile for the gentle cycle," she instructed.
