She was gentle at first, taking it slower than our first time, too slow in my opinion, pecking my lips, comforting me, luring me even further into lust than her perfume of coffee and cannabis already had; worked her way up to softly biting my lip, sending sparks throughout my mind, forcing a moan from my chest, giving me ideas about being nibbled elsewhere; grabbed my breast and tempted my surrender to the warmth flooding my panties; then finally snuck her tongue into my mouth and played with mine, kissed me dirty—

The machines stopped and buzzed in quick succession. She removed her tongue from my mouth and said, “Time to dry.”

Yet I was quite content with being wet. I groaned in frustration; I had been milliseconds away from ripping off her clothes and going down on her. I got off the machine after failing to get off on the machine and followed her lead in loading my damp laundry into the dryers. She clambered onto a dryer and helped me up into her lap, and when she brought her mouth towards mine, I eagerly bridged the gap with my lips and grabbed her hand and planted it on my chest. I caught a whiff of her and savored the scent violently breaking through her deodorant. I thrust my tongue into her mouth and moaned. I leaned against her, and she let me recline her until she was on her back and I was on top of her, straddling her waist. I grabbed her bra through her shirt and squeezed and massaged; she hummed and giggled as I lost control of myself and growled through the gaps between our lips… I was so overpowered by my desire that I began grinding my pelvis against her body, rubbing my crotch against her belly, harder and harder, moaning and moving my hips without conscious effort to bring me closer to what I needed, and closer, and closer, moaning louder and higher and louder and higher… until I felt a buzz like a—