Road Trip 05 Junction City Quickie

This is the fifth chapter of a multi-part story about a cross-country trip of self-discovery and adventure, with several different stops and a story at each. I'm writing this as I go, though I have a good idea of what will happen as our main character heads west. Each chapter is more or less a standalone, but there is an overarching story here, and many of the character moments and references will make more sense if you've read it all.

This is a short one, as befits its title. As you might have gathered, I tend to do much more plot and character centered writing, and there's a little of that here, but we'll get to the action pretty quickly. The next installment will be back to my usual level of plot and exposition, though, so if you're more of a fan of that style, sit tight.

CHAPTER 5: Junction City Quickie

She reached out her hand and cupped me through the pants, giving my hardness a squeeze. I did the same to her breasts, and then we kissed and started groping more. Neither of us were glamorous, exactly: I was wearing day old clothes, she smelled of sweat and work, but here we were anyway. We hadn't spoken more than a few sentences to each other, but we didn't need more than that. Primal communication was all we needed - she wanted me, I wanted her, and we were both about to get what we wanted.

Monday, October 7, 2019

Miscalculation had brought me here: I was on day 16 of my trip, and I had run out of underwear.

I'd spent longer in St. Louis and KC than I'd originally intended to, in part because my uncle had let me know they'd be out of town until Tuesday, the 8th. I'd left KC yesterday, intending to go straight through and grab a hotel in Denver for a couple nights until my uncle was home. But I'd left a little later than I wanted, and had made the mistake of dawdling around in Lawrence. By the time I got back on the road, it had been 5pm, and I had another 7 hours to go, so I drove on a bit more then stopped for the night in Junction City, Kansas, a relatively small little city that had the benefit of having a couple decent hotels and sitting right on I-70. It was there, as I put together an overnight bag from the large duffel in my trunk, that I realized my error: the boxers on my body now had been the last clean pair I had.

I'd thought about it. I was about 6 hours from Denver. I could ride it out, easy, and do laundry there. I could, alternatively, find a Target or WalMart or whatever and buy some underwear. But... I was here, I had time, and a laundromat was cheaper. So when I woke up this morning, I skipped a shower, tossed on what I'd worn the day before, and shoved a few days worth of clothes into my overnight bag, then sought out the nearest laundromat.

It wasn't far away, and when I arrived at about 10am it was empty - only the woman working it was there, in back, working on drop-off orders. She gave me a double take as I came in; this seemed like the kind of place that had regular customers on a regular schedule, and I wasn't conforming to either. But she nodded a hello, I returned it, and that was that.

At least at first.

I'd brought a few quarters from the change I kept in my car, and it was enough to start the wash, but I had to buy some detergent. So after throwing my clothes into a washer, I approached the counter. She was in back, and there was a bell, but I hated ringing those things, so I waited a few until she finally noticed me and approached.

That's also when I noticed her. I had a thing for the girl next door look, and she fit it: maybe not conventionally sexy, but she had a sweet and pleasantly round face, freckled, with light brown hair done up in a quick ponytail. My mind quickly compared her to Lizzie, whose body I had spent a long time examining in Kansas City. While Lizzie had been petite and slight, this woman was feminine in a stocky, Midwestern way. Wide hips, wide chest, just the right amount of meat on the bones. She wore a loose scoop-neck t-shirt, which had fallen off a shoulder, revealing a wider black fabric bra strap. It was probably a pretty tight, restrictive bra, but it couldn't hide some ample breasts. She was probably in her early 20s.

"What can I do for you?" She said, smiling blandly, as she approached.

"Just wanted to get a couple boxes of detergent." I pointed at a collection of small red cardboard boxes behind her, and she grabbed one. I fished out some cash to pay, and was about to take it and head back to the washers.

"You live around here? Not one of our regulars."

"No, I'm just passing through. Staying at a hotel down the way, but I needed some laundry done - ran out of underwear." I smiled a laugh, though one actually didn't come out.

"Denver or KC?"

"Sorry?"

"Headed to Denver, or headed to Kansas City? Not many other places you'd be headed toward."

"Denver. My uncle lives there."

"Been there a few times, I like it. Better than here for sure."

"What's wrong with here?"

"See anything around that might be even remotely exciting?" She answered.

"I guess not."

"Well, there you go."

"Thought about moving?"

"I could, I guess. Don't want to leave my mom, though. She's not in great health, and since my dad passed, she needs a bit of help. So here I am."

"Sorry, that sounds tough."

"What are you going to do?" She shrugged, smiled again, and headed back into the other room.

Taking the detergent, I loaded everything from my overnight bag into a couple washers, and started them up. I took out my phone as I sat, and popped in some earbuds, loading Lizzie's playlist again. It was good - some stuff I'd never heard before, and very little I wasn't into. As I remembered from the other night, it was good stoner music - lots of atmospheric sound, reverb, music that encompassed you, nothing jagged or frenetic. But it was also sexy, and especially as a couple of the songs that had played that night came through into my ears, I felt myself getting ever so slightly turned on.

I let my mind wander to what I remembered through the stoned haze of that Friday night: watching Lizze dance, naked; cumming on her chest; feeling her legs around me as she sat on my dick and I thrust into her... I had to adjust myself, suddenly, noticing that I'd gone from mildly aroused to fully erect. As I adjusted, I noticed Laundromat Girl out of the corner of my eye, but when I looked over she turned her head and busied herself with other work. Had she noticed?

I calmed myself down and scrolled through my Insta feed for a while. I'd posted a few things in St. Louis and KC, but mostly I caught up with friends' stuff, including my old high school friend Sam who I was planning to meet up with in San Francisco - he'd gone into the Coast Guard and was stationed in Alameda, across the Golden Gate. He'd posted a few things recently, including a selfie with his twin sister, Samantha, looking cute as always. I'd always had a crush on Samantha growing up, but that had seemed weird to me at the time, so I'd never tried to make anything happen there; plus I'd been dating Fiona through much of my junior and senior high school years, though that was destined to end in frustration. That got me thinking casually about Katie - both those few months together freshman year and the recent... I guess I'll call it a sexual intervention in Pittsburgh a couple weeks back.

I glanced up to see Laundromat Girl straightening up behind the counter. As she stretched up to replace a box on an upper shelf, I got a nice look at her from behind: her yoga pants offered a detailed look at a nice round ass. The baggy shirt sort of hid her figure but it was easy to conclude from the lower half that it was a nice one. That thought didn't help calm my state, but I probably hid it well enough when she turned to look at me, and I got my gaze down to my phone.

Finally, the washers hit the end of their spin cycles. I grabbed the wet clothes from both and loaded it all into a cart, then wheeled it over to the dryers. I took note of the fact that Laundromat Girl seemed to be watching me do it, too.

With the large dryer now going, I sat back down. I decided to switch up my music - Lizzie's playlist was good, but didn't fit my surroundings, so I loaded up one of my favorites - an early rock and roots playlist. Bill Haley and the Comets hit first, followed by some Chuck Berry, and then I heard those opening vocals and staccato guitar that began Carl Perkins' original Blue Suede Shoes. I hadn't listened to this one since it had been my first correct answer during that fateful trivia game with Zahra and her friends, now more than a week ago. I sat there listening to the proto-rock, thinking about that night - the excitement and nervousness of it, almost like it was my first time again. That first time, in the shower and the bed of my hotel room. That amazing afternoon in her bedroom. And then for the third time since I'd started my laundry, I had to adjust myself to accommodate a hard-on.

I decided to distract myself with a book. I'd been working on a mystery novel since picking it up in St. Louis, and so I went into my overnight bag for it. As I took it out, though, the corner of the book caught a strap and the bag tipped. A couple things slipped out, including a pen, my earbuds case, and... a couple of condoms. I glanced up, and there she was, looking right down at it all.

"Expecting some action?" She grinned.

"Always be prepared, that's my motto." I kept her eyes on mine as I picked them up. She was bent over the counter, her shirt hanging low enough for me to get a decent look. She saw me glance, and leaned a bit more forward.

"That's a good motto. Never know what might happen."

"Shame you're here all alone. Ever get a break?"

"Oh sure - in fact... I'm due one right now." She reached under the counter and pulled out a sign for the front door. She showed it to me: 'On Break, back in 15!' was written in sharpie. She walked over and taped it to the front door, then looked at me expectantly.

"You know, I've never seen the back room of a laundromat before." I picked the condoms up off the floor.

"Come with me, I'll give you an all-access tour." She turned and walked back behind the counter, and through the door to the back. I followed, hard, with one of the condoms in my hand.

There was a row of washers on one side of a long steel table, and a row of dryers on the other. She was in the middle of what looked like a few orders, with some folded, shrink-wrapped clothes stacked at the end and a large laundry bag of what looked like dirty clothes in a bin on the other side. Four of the six washers were going, and it sounded loud enough for several of the dryers as well. I didn't spend a lot of time looking, though, as she'd turned and was leaning against the table, looking at me expectantly.

"I've seen you trying to hide that," she looked at my crotch, where my erect cock was straining at my jeans, "a few times. You looking at porn on your phone or what?"

"No, just thinking about a couple women I've met recently." I walked over to her.

"You met me, too."

She reached out her hand and cupped me through the pants, giving my hardness a squeeze. Dropping the condom to the table temporarily, I did the same to her breasts, and then we kissed and started groping more. Neither of us were glamorous, exactly: I was wearing day old clothes, she smelled of sweat and work, but here we were anyway. We hadn't spoken more than a few sentences to each other, but we didn't need more than that. Primal communication was all we needed - she wanted me, I wanted her, and we were both about to get what we wanted.

I felt her reach her other hand down and unbutton my jeans, the restriction on my cock lessening slightly. She unzipped me and ran her hand down the front of my boxers, finding the fly and deftly slipping her hand inside.

"Damn, that's nice..." she said, as she pulled me out. I lifted her shirt over her head and reached around for a bra strap, but I didn't find one. So instead I stretched it and pulled it over her head, letting her gorgeous big D cups flop out. I squeezed them both, pinching her nipples and hearing her gasp as her hand flew back to my shaft.

After a moment, she slid down and sloppily took me into her mouth, sucking and licking and slurping at my engorged cock. She was good - not as good as Zahra, but good, and I let her go at me for a little while before finally pulling her face away. She didn't complain, because she knew what I wanted next.

I led her back up with my hands, then stepped out of my shoes and jeans, leaving them on the floor. I grabbed her ass and lifted her up, and her eyes opened wide as I pulled her wasit to mine, her legs around me, my cock up against her pussy through those yoga pants. I carried her the distance to the row of dryers and dropped her down on top of one that was rumbling, then brought my hands to the waist of the yoga pants.

"Oh holy shit yes, fuck me right here." She started to work both the pants and her underwear off, until her bare ass rested on top of the machine, bucking and vibrating her. I slid my hand down to get her ready but I didn't need to: she was already sopping wet. I started to move toward her but a tiny part of my brain yelled "condom!" at me. I'd forgotten with Lizzie, and wasn't going to do the same here, so I quickly turned back to the table and grabbed it, then returned to her. She sat almost naked, ready, her legs spread on top of the dryer, her big tits pointing at me, and I dropped my boxers completely.

"Get that thing in me right now!" She called to me, as I opened the condom and slid it over myself. And then I pushed into her, sliding so deep, so fast, and feeling her vibrating around me as her legs clamped my hips. She was nice and tight around me, but between the lubrication of the condom and her own wetness, entering her hand been as easy as anything. I started thrusting hard and steady, holding her ass in my hands as I plunged into her, feeling my balls slapping against the dryer beneath her.

She pulled my shirt off as I fucked her, and pressed her tits into the bare skin of my chest and stomach, her own hands reaching around to hold on to me.

Between my cock and the vibrations of the surface she sat on, she lost control fast. I felt her nails on my back, digging in, and as she started to build toward an orgasm I felt her teeth on my shoulder. I let her as noises emerged involuntarily from her throat, grunts and yells and calls all wrapped into one. She leaned back then, letting it wash over her, as I started to pound her harder.

"Jesus Christ that was good," she panted, her speech interrupted with each of my thrusts. I looked down and watched her tits bounce as I kept going, and she brought my hand to one, letting me squeeze it as I built. She was clearly not quite done either, as I could feel her legs constrict again.

Instead of just emptying myself then, I stopped, and pulled her off the dryer, turning her around.

"I want you from behind." I told her, pushing her to bend down, leaning on the dryer again, this time her ass up. I slid into her again and she yelped as I did, then pushed into me as I held her waist and guided her over my throbbing dick. I felt her reach a hand down to her clit as I pounded, knowing I wasn't going to last longer, determined to get one more of her own out of me.

If I hadn't been wearing the condom, this would have been over by now, but it had dulled things just enough. She came again, hard, her sharp cries topping the cacophonous sound of the dryers, and now finally I was ready. As her calls crescendoed, I felt my own force welling up and bursting, shooting through my shaft into the condom, spurt after spurt. My breath caught in my lungs as I went, and I held her thight on me as I emptied, her ass up against my waist, her face turned watching me, the fading look of ecstasy washing away from her red cheeks and wild eyes. I slumped a bit, letting the last drops squeeze out, and then disengaged.

After catching my breath, I peeled off the condom as she watched me, and used a paper towel from the table to clean myself off before sliding my boxers back up. She pulled her yoga pants on as I did so, and was pulling the bra back on as I found my own shirt.

"Hope that gave you a little more excitement than usual." I said, watching her corral those tits into the fabric.

"Better than most days, for sure."

We finished dressing, and went back out... and then it was like nothing had happened. She took the sign off the door as I sat, and in another fifteen minutes my clothes were ready. I stole a glance or two at her while I folded, and maybe she did the same, but I never caught her. Before long I was packed up and ready to go.

"Thanks for the wash." I said, as I headed to the door.

"If you come back this way again, stop by. Happy to handle another load." I laughed.

Not much more to say then, so I winked, she grinned, and I stepped outside.

I'd already checked out of my hotel, so I looked up the nearest truck stop, thinking I could use a shower there and change into some fresh clothes. I started up the car, and loaded the directions back to I-70. As I pulled away from the curb, I took a last look through the window, and saw her staring out of it - not at me, as it turned out, but off into the distance. In that moment, I realized I'd never gotten her name.

In all my unexpected encounters so far this trip, this one was the most unexpected yet. As I aimed for the truck stop and then on to Denver, I wondered what other unexpected encounters I'd find, further down the road.