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Description

Reupload from my Previous account.

Not my best render nut there's a story with it.

Storytime:

Once upon a time, when I was still young and socially awkward nerd, I lived in this massive red brick housing complex that was built probably in the fifties.

This collection of rather robust apartment buildings had for example a small private park between the buildings. A large layground and a small soccer field.

Majority of the apartments were populated by young families with kids. Safe playgrounds a bit further away from streets, a small grocery store in the corner of the area, and so on. An oasis within the city for young families.

Every apartment building in the complex had a small but decently equipped self service laundry in the basement.
And I really liked the one I had downstairs. The machines were big and industrial enough so I could shove my entire wardrobe in them without a fear of choking it up. It made life easier and I didn't have to buy a washing machine of my own, so I used it quite often.

In the laundry room stood also this doomsday device where you could quickly dry your clothes. A centrifugal dryer. Big vertical cylinder where you carefully place your wet laundry and it spins it insanely fast (and loud) to get rid most of the water. (This is important later..)

The laundry room was quite popular among the residents for obvious reasons.

Couple of doors away from mine lived a young couple that everybody in the neighborhood knew. They were super nice, active, social, and smart. I think hey had their first child back then. They were always organizing something nice for everyone. A soccer team for the residents to have fun together on saturdays, or tryig to get small area of the lawn turned into a garden where people could grow carrots or flowers. Stuff like that.

On top of everything they also looked like movie stars.
Mr.GoodNaighbor was a rather well built handsome. -Think of young Tom Cruise but taller, and you get the picture.

If Mr.GoodNaigbor was handsome. Mrs.GoodNaighbor was out of this planet. She radiated divine beauty, and you'd had to be blind or dead (or both) not to notice her.
She wasn't tall and skinny like supermodels, but man, she was beautiful. (Probably still is) Sporty, fit and energetic, and men of all age were constantly stumbling on their feet around her.
If you'd take young Rachel McAdams and multiply her with Dove Cameron, you'd get somewhere in the ballpark.
When this neighborhood goddess smiled, which she did often, you could see entire battalions of desperate men fall into the abyss of her dimples.

Back in the laundry room.
It's summer and the air is humid, late Sunday afternoon after one of the hottest days of the summer.

I had reserved the laundry for an hour and I was happily going overtime with the doomsday device, so I could get clean and dry clothes for the morning.
This sort of behavior was generally accepted and common. The washing machine was free for the next one, so it was OK to run the dryer a bit longer.
there I stood, leaning on the howling doomsday device, minding my own, when this neighborhood goddess spooks me.

She slams the door open carrying a big basket full of clothes. She's wearing cut jeans and a clingy T-shirt, appropriate for a summer day.

"Geez you scared me!" She says and stops by the door.
"Likewise ma'am. I wasn't expecting anyone."
"I'm sorry, I thought this was free for the next hour?."
"It is. I mean the washing machine is free. I'm almost done here, I just let this dryer go a bit longer, if that's OK?"
"Great!"

She smiles at me and fifty-seven more men plumeth to their demise right in front of my eyes. And my knees start to feel weird.

She steps in the room, turns her back at me, BENDS OVER (!) and starts to fill the washing machine in super awkward silence.

Her gorgeous butt sways inches away from my groin.

I'm trapped between the doomsday device and the buttock of the most adorable woman I've ever seen. If I tried to move there would have been physical contact, and I couldn’t let that happen, so I stood as still as I could.

To my horror I notice my body reacts to the situation despite my efforts of thinking something else. - Ah the wonderful betrayal of flesh!
Why couldn't this goddess of a woman turn around the other way or crouch or anything?!

So there I am, as stoic as I can, having an inner panic attack, and a start of an unwelcome erection in my jeans.
She sure takes her time filling the machine, going through some pockets as you do.

Slice of gorgeous lower back right there...
Beautifully toned, sporty legs...
Tanned skin...
Tight denim barely covering her buttocks...

I try to look at anything else, but to my disappointment there's nothing but ugly brick walls and plumbing from the fifties.

Red toenails in her slippers...
Humid air around us...
Sweat...
Clingy T-shirt...

The doomsday device howling and vibrating behind my back.

The urge to touch and fondle those divine shapes is unbearable.

Finally the Goddess stands up, drops in some detergent in the machine and turns it on.

“Bye!” she says, smiles again and leaves me standing there in shock and awe. Pain in my pants.

After that whenever I reserved the laundry room I did my best not to get ambushed by her in the laundry room ever again.

/Storytime

Description

Reupload from my Previous account.

Not my best render nut there's a story with it.

Storytime:

Once upon a time, when I was still young and socially awkward nerd, I lived in this massive red brick housing complex that was built probably in the fifties.

This collection of rather robust apartment buildings had for example a small private park between the buildings. A large layground and a small soccer field.

Majority of the apartments were populated by young families with kids. Safe playgrounds a bit further away from streets, a small grocery store in the corner of the area, and so on. An oasis within the city for young families.

Every apartment building in the complex had a small but decently equipped self service laundry in the basement.
And I really liked the one I had downstairs. The machines were big and industrial enough so I could shove my entire wardrobe in them without a fear of choking it up. It made life easier and I didn't have to buy a washing machine of my own, so I used it quite often.

In the laundry room stood also this doomsday device where you could quickly dry your clothes. A centrifugal dryer. Big vertical cylinder where you carefully place your wet laundry and it spins it insanely fast (and loud) to get rid most of the water. (This is important later..)

The laundry room was quite popular among the residents for obvious reasons.

Couple of doors away from mine lived a young couple that everybody in the neighborhood knew. They were super nice, active, social, and smart. I think hey had their first child back then. They were always organizing something nice for everyone. A soccer team for the residents to have fun together on saturdays, or tryig to get small area of the lawn turned into a garden where people could grow carrots or flowers. Stuff like that.

On top of everything they also looked like movie stars.
Mr.GoodNaighbor was a rather well built handsome. -Think of young Tom Cruise but taller, and you get the picture.

If Mr.GoodNaigbor was handsome. Mrs.GoodNaighbor was out of this planet. She radiated divine beauty, and you'd had to be blind or dead (or both) not to notice her.
She wasn't tall and skinny like supermodels, but man, she was beautiful. (Probably still is) Sporty, fit and energetic, and men of all age were constantly stumbling on their feet around her.
If you'd take young Rachel McAdams and multiply her with Dove Cameron, you'd get somewhere in the ballpark.
When this neighborhood goddess smiled, which she did often, you could see entire battalions of desperate men fall into the abyss of her dimples.

Back in the laundry room.
It's summer and the air is humid, late Sunday afternoon after one of the hottest days of the summer.

I had reserved the laundry for an hour and I was happily going overtime with the doomsday device, so I could get clean and dry clothes for the morning.
This sort of behavior was generally accepted and common. The washing machine was free for the next one, so it was OK to run the dryer a bit longer.
there I stood, leaning on the howling doomsday device, minding my own, when this neighborhood goddess spooks me.

She slams the door open carrying a big basket full of clothes. She's wearing cut jeans and a clingy T-shirt, appropriate for a summer day.

"Geez you scared me!" She says and stops by the door.
"Likewise ma'am. I wasn't expecting anyone."
"I'm sorry, I thought this was free for the next hour?."
"It is. I mean the washing machine is free. I'm almost done here, I just let this dryer go a bit longer, if that's OK?"
"Great!"

She smiles at me and fifty-seven more men plumeth to their demise right in front of my eyes. And my knees start to feel weird.

She steps in the room, turns her back at me, BENDS OVER (!) and starts to fill the washing machine in super awkward silence.

Her gorgeous butt sways inches away from my groin.

I'm trapped between the doomsday device and the buttock of the most adorable woman I've ever seen. If I tried to move there would have been physical contact, and I couldn’t let that happen, so I stood as still as I could.

To my horror I notice my body reacts to the situation despite my efforts of thinking something else. - Ah the wonderful betrayal of flesh!
Why couldn't this goddess of a woman turn around the other way or crouch or anything?!

So there I am, as stoic as I can, having an inner panic attack, and a start of an unwelcome erection in my jeans.
She sure takes her time filling the machine, going through some pockets as you do.

Slice of gorgeous lower back right there...
Beautifully toned, sporty legs...
Tanned skin...
Tight denim barely covering her buttocks...

I try to look at anything else, but to my disappointment there's nothing but ugly brick walls and plumbing from the fifties.

Red toenails in her slippers...
Humid air around us...
Sweat...
Clingy T-shirt...

The doomsday device howling and vibrating behind my back.

The urge to touch and fondle those divine shapes is unbearable.

Finally the Goddess stands up, drops in some detergent in the machine and turns it on.

“Bye!” she says, smiles again and leaves me standing there in shock and awe. Pain in my pants.

After that whenever I reserved the laundry room I did my best not to get ambushed by her in the laundry room ever again.

/Storytime