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*Stupid*. Stupid-stupid-**stupid**. *Why* did I do that? Fuck. I really fucked up this time. If you’re reading this, you’re an idiot. Why did you do that? *Why? Why-why-why?* FUCK. If you are reading this then it’s probably been like three years and you don’t even know this guy anymore because you’re so horribly embarrassed by what you just did that there’s no fucking way you could ever face him again. You probably already moved out and found a new apartment entirely.

Now you’re gonna write it out to remind yourself in case you don’t remember why you don’t ever do shit like this. *You’re an idiot*. Don’t forget that. Ok, for the record, just in case this didn’t go as terribly as you wondered it would, cool, maybe something rad happened for once and things worked out. But probably not. For now just write it to remind yourself…because realistically it’s gonna be a long time before you even want to remember this.

It was laundry day for me, every other Saturday. Christ I can’t wait to live in a place where I can own my own washer and dryer. People just don’t realize what a luxury that is. I hate walking up and down four flights of stairs carrying a laundry basket. I mean it’s seriously just the *fucking worst*.. (but you were out of clean panties that day, so, you know, you had to.)

I went down early because there’s typically no one in the laundry room at that time on a Saturday morning. Most of the building is unconscious until around ten and it wasn’t even eight yet.

This is bad.

When I went in, he was in there. Yes, you remember who. I can’t believe you’ve lived in the same complex for two years with this guy and you hadn’t spoken more than three lines to each other. Oh yeah, that’s right, it’s because you’re a big wuss that can’t speak to men. This guy is so sexy. I can literally feel my face turning almost purple when I have to be around him. It’s like I can’t function, like my body goes into some weird antisocial autopilot for fear of saying something stupid.

I couldn’t avoid him. Why does our laundry room have to be so tiny? Thank god I had typical clothes on, but that doesn’t really matter now after this, does it?

Fortunately he was just finishing up, pulling out the last bit of clothes from the dryer as I was coming in. We exchanged our brief awkward smiles and nods of the head as I set my basket on top of the washer across from him. He chose organic detergent I noticed, which explained why I could never smell his clothes when sticking my face into the dryer he’d used after he left.

“See you around.” He spoke! Fuck I love his voice. That would have been the highlight of the day and I would have been grinning like a moron for the rest of it if I didn’t decide to do the idiotic thing that I did. I managed to squeak out some form of “Yeah see ya!” before wanting to crawl into the corner and die as he walked out.

After he was gone I tossed my clothes into the washer and sat for the half-hour it took to cycle, reading from the book I kept in the bottom of the laundry bin for that exact reason. When I opened the dryer to change my clothing over, the same dryer he had used, I saw something crumpled up in the back behind a dryer sheet that lay in the bottom. *Oh shit, he forgot something.*

I was instantly thrilled. Maybe a t-shirt I could have an excuse to return to him, if I chose to, instead of hoarding it in my apartment and smelling it frequently. Though it looked too small to be a t-shirt, and when I pulled the item out and unwadded it I saw that it was underwear—his fucking underwear.

I should have just left them in there.

I figured he wouldn’t know though. How could he? I mean, a chance to have any piece of his clothing, but his underwear? Come on, amazing.

I shoved my hand back into the dryer to hide them, paranoid that he or someone else would walk in and see my dirty secret. When I was sure it was safe, I stashed them under the pile of clean clothes in my bin and headed back up to my apartment.

Now I had privacy in my room and I pulled them out to examine them. The brand read Pair of Thieves, size medium. Light grey with a red elastic waistband and red stitching on the sides and around the crotch opening. Ridiculously soft. I smelled them; the organic detergent he used left them almost odorless except for the fresh smell of some tropical scent from the dryer sheet.

I clawed my way out of my sneakers and jeans, leaving them in a bunch on the floor along with my t-shirt. I kept my sports bra on, slipped off my panties, and put my feet through the leg openings of the briefs, pulling them up to cover me. It was an obscene combination of female and male undergarments in one correlating set. I felt dirty. Dirty and sexy. I was already wet when I crawled onto my bed cover, laying on my back with my spread legs in the direction of the open window that sat flush with my bed against the wall.

I knew. I knew the risk. I knew which apartment was his. I knew how close our bedroom windows were, facing each other where the building is juxtaposed. But in the moment I didn’t care. Typically I’d leave my drapes shut to avoid him looking in at me. I’d be mortified. Except for today.. today I don’t know what I was thinking..

My drapes weren’t closed, they were wide open, and so were his. I didn’t see him, though. I was safe. At least I felt safe, so turned on at the fact that I was wearing his underwear, that my bare pussy was rubbing against the inside material where his cock usually rested, where he dripped and sweat and came in the exact crease of cloth that now stuck to the fluid that oozed out of me into them. *Fuck*. It made me insanely aroused. Why do us girls have such a fascination with guy’s clothing? Wearing our boyfriend’s shirts—their pajamas—their underwear.

I had to feel them. The reality of what I was doing was too exhilarating, too filthy to not fully enjoy it—but I really shouldn’t have done this.

With my left hand squeezing my tit through the soft cloth of my bra, my right hand slid over my stomach to the junction of my thighs and I started at the crotch opening, pressing my fingers into my folds through the thin cotton and mashing parts of myself between the tips. My thumb and index pinched my swelling clit beneath the covering and I felt my hips involuntarily start to writhe and rotate against the pillow propped against my lower back. It arched my stomach and rib cage into clear view of the morning sun shining through the aperture facing his.

My bra was now scrunched up on my chest, exposing my small breasts that I worked beneath my fingers, alternating pinching and twisting both nipples until each stood red and hard.

The light grey material at the apex of my thighs had grown dark with a circle of fluids that seeped out as my fingers rotated against my throbbing clit. I was moaning, but only I could hear. To anyone observing I would look like a crazed victim under the possession of some salacious demon that puppeteered my body into immoral acts.

Rolling and grinding against my hand, the wet spot was growing. I could feel trails of my pre-cum dripping down onto my asshole, coating the entire area that was aching to be fucked. I bunched my fingers into the material at the center of the waistband, twisting it tightly and putting pressure against me as I slowly starting dragging the underwear up toward my navel where it dug into my pussy. I then let it loose before yanking it back up again in short, fast bursts. The sensation of the inner lining of his briefs grazing against my swollen clit where it peeled back the hood, leaving it exposed and sensitive, made me squirm.

My first two fingers pressed together and slipped through the opening of the crotch, separating the lips and smearing a glob of the liquid oozing from between across the exterior. It trailed from the tips of my fingers as I pulled them back out and put them to my mouth, tasting the sweetness coming out of me.

After withdrawing my fingers, I hooked my thumbs into the red waistband and slid them over my hips and ass, down my thighs until they were at my knees where I left them on. They dragged my knees close together and I had to extend my legs, my feet in the air, body bent in half on my bed while I was sitting against a stack of pillows right in front of the window facing his bedroom.

I should have stopped, but I didn’t. I didn’t even look up, not until after his underwear was bunched at my knees with my legs spread and my feet in the air. *I can’t believe I just said fuck it.* What the hell is wrong with me?

The sunlight coming in reflected off of my pale skin, making me appear to glow in the frame. If someone had been looking, I couldn’t have been difficult to spot.

My head was between my legs, my eyes analyzing the sloppy layers at the center of my inner thighs as they stretched in front of me, both of my entrances exposed, like a perverse human pretzel. I’ve all the time enjoyed masturbating that way. And now with his briefs at my knees, I wrapped my forearms around my legs and slipped my fingers into the drizzling crevice, folding it open where more clear fluid poured out when released, trailing down over the rounded part underneath me where it soaked into the coverlet.

I was nearing the need to orgasm. I could feel it burning down both sides of my crotch as I rubbed and pinched at the enlarged nub there. When I came close to peaking I leaned my head forward, gripping a hefty portion of his briefs that sat at my knees into my teeth where they filled my mouth. While the wave of euphoric bliss spread throughout my body, my cunt clenching and convulsing as milky syrup flowed from between and I bit down into the cloth, I made the mistake of looking up.

And there—there he was, staring back at me through his window, his eyes transfixed, his mouth agape as he stood and witnessed me shoving my hands into myself, groping at my tits, chewing and drooling on his underwear. Fuck, I couldn’t stop, I was coming. It felt too good.

I imagined my door slamming open and him barging in, tearing off his clothes as he made his way across the room before crawling between my legs and shoving his face into my sloppy entrance. The wondered made me cum harder as I stared back at him, appearing to silently cry out from my bedroom while he just stood there hypnotized.

My body shook violently, the last current of climax leaking out of me as I clenched my muscles and watched him. Then the realization set in. That’s when I became aware of how big of an idiot I was. *Oh god*. Did I really just do that? I fucked myself in front of this guy, in front of an open window.

The first droplets of sweat had begun rolling down my neck when I came out of the sexual trance. I jerked forward, my eyes wide as his expression didn’t seem to waver. I yanked the curtain across the window to cover myself, and, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but.. before the drapes closed, the last thing I could see, I *swear*—I absolutely *swear* that I could see his hand gripping his cock, and he was smiling at me.

NSFW: yes

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