Stolen Goods
I’ve got a thing for hot young studs, and they’ve got a thing for me! I don’t waste my time on apps or bars—I like to find my boys in their natural environment and then make them mine. Saturday’s always laundry day for hotties, and I’m in need of a new one.
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Another hot day, another day to do laundry! Most guys hate doing laundry, but not me. I loved it––and I mean, I fuckin’ loved it man. I always drive across town hitting ‘mats that are full of the hottest trashy boys I can find. The kind of laundromat that carries the smell of a locker room before it goes into the machine.
Today was like any other—I made my way into the ‘mat with my duffel full. My shit was actually clean; I just needed to make sure I had the excuse to be there, is all. The TV in the corner was loud but didn’t match the chatter of women and machines running nonstop. The place was packed and busy for a Saturday afternoon. I always go in when it is busy; that way, I can get what I really want—distractions are essential in my dirty thefts. The heat generated by the machines was intense, only broken by the occasional blast of air from the corner industrial fans as they passed back and forth. I stopped at the entryway and scanned the room for just the right “type.” That jockish boy-toy that sweats cum from his nutsack just standing in a room.
There he was, in the corner, sorting and stacking his laundry. Looked like a college jock boy, stocky and still covered in his baby meat. His hair was clean-cut and stylishly spiked on top. He had some nice fat pouty lips to match his apparent pretty boy build. It was time for me to move in for the goods. I took my time walking through the maze of people and machinery to get to my target. He didn’t even really acknowledge me at first. I flung my bag down on the machine next to his pile and started to work at the drawstrings. All the while, I could still watch him out of the corner of my eye.
The noise caught his attention to my presence and he turned quickly to look me up and down. Scanning me as if searching for a threat, little did he know what I was up to. His eyes darted from my head down to my feet and back again. I’d hoped he’d stop at my crotch; after all, I was freeballing for the day. Once satisfied, he gave the approving nod, the jerk of a head up with the confirmation of “Aye.” I was cleared to be near and responded in kind.
He was just starting to do his loads, separating them out like a good boy. Colors with colors, whites, and permanent press all separated and stacked in neat piles. The whites were piled close. Hidden within the tangled mess of white socks were several jock straps. The stains were deep––he must have played pretty fucking hard in them recently. I had to fight my urge to keep from staring with a gaping mouth. Jock boy was just finishing up on the sorting as I started piling my own up on the machine next to him. I waited and watched his timing, as he turned and loaded each handful into the machine behind him. Just as soon as I knew the timing was right I quickly reached and grabbed a jock from his pile. I’d gotten really good at what I do; it was, of course, not without its angle of danger. Then again sometimes that’s why I like doing it.
I could pick up guys and steal from their piles of clothes after a hard night of fucking but then I already know what their ass tastes and smells like. I could just buy them online, but then I can never be sure they are from the hottie I saw in the ad or some unattractive fucker that just wipes them under his ballsack and puts them in the mail. I wanted them not just from the willing––I wanted them from the sweaty men and guys that I found on my own. I like the unwilling ones—the ones that I could take their scented underwear and spend a night discovering the pleasure of knowing them deep within my lungs from a distance.
Jock’s rhythm was just like a good gym bunny, back and forth nice and smooth. You would think he created some fuckin’ workout just for doing his laundry. Not that I’m complaining. I would kill just to run my tongue along the inside of his sweating thighs. But that, of course, isn’t why I was there. As he continued his rhythm, I reached just in time and grabbed one more sweat-stained jock tossing it into my bag. Yeah, I’m a greedy Daddy!
This boy was such a sweet prize. His skin was just perfect, with hair coating softly over his flesh. His arms were pumped up strong and defined but not bulky from lifting. This boy was that all-American image that every man would take a turn on in a gym shower. I was going to enjoy his jocks––my cock was starting to rise to attention at the images projecting in my mind. He was done loading and started putting the next load of clothes into the next washer. I took my time with mine making sure to keep my bag shut so he couldn’t see the items I took.
Once loaded, he walked over to the bathroom and slumped into a chair. Legs spread, pulling his smartphone out and falling into the abyss of technology and porn––at least I hoped. I finished loading my clothes, grabbed my bag, and took a key spot directly across from him. I wanted to watch him and, if I was lucky, see him tug at that sweaty package. Like him, I pulled my phone out and accessed my camera to take some nice videos and photos. I like to keep ‘em with the jocks so I can watch and smell him all at once.
Like clockwork, his knees began to move back and forth horizontally; I would imagine, to “air out” that musky, sticky feeling between his sweating thighs and ballsack. I could imagine the sweat flowing down between his flesh and pouring out onto his taint. I dreamt of the build-up of sweat finally breaking through the tangled hairs and suddenly flooding his pink hole tucked between those firm ass cheeks. Just thinking about it was making my cock grow and twitch in my pants. I could feel my cock sweat seeping down my balls just like my dream of his crotch. I’m not sure I can wait to smell this one—perhaps a quick sample would be a good idea.
Staring across the room, I could see my jock boy was beginning to show signs of the laundromat heat. The best thing about high humidity—the balls hang low and tend to pull the loose nylon fabric of a jock’s shorts down to the side, away from their thighs. I could see the pocket view opening up along his leg and I wanted a view of that for my camera. As the thought crossed my mind, his hand slid down to shift the meat of his package to the opening leg hole. Instinctual desire to allow them to breathe. At this point my cock was pushing hard against the nylon fabric of my shorts. I could see the wet spot begin to bleed into my fabric. I slide my hand down my shorts slowly to shift my meat to the side, withdrawing it slowly and bringing it up to my nose. There’s nothing better than the scent of your own balls and ass sweat, nothing except the smell of another man’s mixture.
I waited until I had the chance to lower my phone at an angle to hopefully gain a view up the leg of the stud across from me. I wanted to get a good amount of footage, moving the phone a bit to ensure at some point, I might catch just the right shot and get a peek. Suddenly he was up and walked to the machine where his clothes were washing. He was adding more chemicals. This one likes to do his clothes thoroughly, it would appear. I took this as a good time for me to slip into the bathroom with my duffle of prized tokens and let out some much-needed aggression on my growing hard cock.
Grabbing my duffle, I walked toward the bathroom door. There was only one bathroom in this shit-hole place. I knew I had some time to let one off before he was done, giving me more time to watch him. I just needed the release now. I couldn’t wait for later. I wanted to know what he smelled like. I closed the door behind me, latching the lock. The lid was down, and I pulled my shorts down to expose my half-hard cock. The pre-cum was already pouring out of my head leaving a crystal string attached from my head to my shorts as they fell.
I turned, breaking the string, and sat down on the toilet. The smell of that room was like standing water and it was hotter in there than it was out in the public area of the ‘mat. I reached down and opened my duffle, pulling out one of his jocks. The stains of sweat were deep in the fabric of his cup. I could also see where the straps had slid out of place and bunched their way into his ass. That moment had come and my mouth watered to inhale him into my lungs. But I needed free hands to pound my flesh and my ass while the only thing I could breathe in was the stench of his jock.
I took the jock, wrapping the waistband once around my neck and then again with the cup in my face. Pulling it up over my nose and sliding the straps over my head, I created a mask of his scent, allowing me to inhale him deeply without any fresh air. My cock was rock hard now as I began to breathe him into my lungs. I moved my fingers to my ass and teased the pink ridges of my hole with my fingertips. Sliding back onto the seat and putting my feet at the door, I had myself nicely propped up to unload myself in a relaxed position.
Breath after breath, I drew in the ammonia of his crotch deep inside me; my cock swelling and getting harder with each one. I needed a taste now. I opened my mouth and ran it along the inside fabric of his cup. The salt was there, still hidden in the stitching of the fabric.
My cock was aching and throbbing in my fist. I closed down on it harder and squeezed it tight with every thrust. I refused to use lube or spit; I only liked the feel of sweat on my palm and cock, my other fingers spreading my ass open and pushing at the walls, prying their way into me. I threw my head back and imagined him sitting on my face, smearing me with his sweat and scent. I wanted him to crush my face with his ass as I sucked and licked his ass and balls.
I was getting more excited now—my balls drawing up into my body preparing to release my built-up load. I continued to fantasize and tug hard at my cock; my fingers still prying into my hole, spreading my ass open. I was up to three now and I wanted to feel it stretch more.
What I’d give for him to walk in and catch me sucking on his jock—and thrust his hard college cock up my tight Daddy ass.
Sweat was now pouring from my pits and down my sides. I could feel it sliding down my ribs. My fingers were wet with my ass and ball sweat; the heat was getting worse in that broom closet-sized bathroom. It was flooded with the smells of my ass and cock by now.
My excitement was at an all-time high and my imagination had the best of me. I pounded my fist faster on my cock. The release was there, and I could feel my balls swelling inside me. I thought about how I wanted to force him to take my thick cock into his mouth, how much I wanted to see him gag and gasp for air around the edges of my thick meat as I pushed it deeper and deeper into his throat. I dreamed of slamming him against one of those machines and ripping his shorts down to expose his tight youthful ass cheeks. Oh how I wanted to force my rod so fast and hard up his ass! It would be everything to hear him whimper, to listen to him beg me to stop. More importantly to hear him call me Daddy—a title only deserving of the man with the ability to break a young guy down into submissive mush.
My blood was pumping, my cock hard, and my lungs full of his scent. I was pumped up and ready to blow my load. In a fit of pervy orgasm, I sucked his jock into my mouth to taste him one last time as my load gushed from my balls, pouring out and shooting from my fist into the air. I was panting at this point and only able to breathe that guy deeper into myself. The strain of the waistband closed tighter on my throat, choking me as I gasped for air, all the while intensifying my orgasm, causing me to spasm and my balls to heave. The flow of cum continued for what seemed like an eternity and I never wanted that feeling to stop. It’s like a drug—I just can’t get enough of it.
Eventually, the orgasm subsided. I removed my hand from my now tender meat and freed myself from the straps of his jock. The scent was all used up now—it was worthless to me. I wiped my cum-soaked hand on the cup to clean myself up and then wadded it up, tossing it to the floor. Standing up was a rush of its own; I turned slightly to the sink, splashing some cool water on my face and fixing my hair and beard. I was right about the room smelling like my ass and cock. Putting myself back together I could smell the place was thick with my scent. I tossed his other used jock back into my bag for use later, unlocked the door, and walked out to take a seat in front of my jock boy again. It felt good to have the speedy release, now to see if dreams do come true. Jock boy looked up at me as I exited the bathroom.
“Aye,” I called out to him. Giving him that bro-nod as I sat down. He smiled briefly, his eyes darting quickly from my face to my still-swollen cock, and then back to his phone. His reaction was that of a boy who saw something naughty. Yeah, this one is gonna be mine.
Author: John Romero
Artwork by Mosirisart