On the washing machine

Marco got closer and closer. Maria stepped back and touched the white bathroom tiles with her shoulders. They were freezing cold. He was so close she could hear his breathing. He brushed back her long raven hair and brought his mouth to her ear. He sniffed her neck. He could smell her vanilla scent. He grabbed the back of her neck and stuck his tongue in her mouth. He slipped the strap of her black dress onto her arm and squeezed her breasts. Then he grabbed her hand and accompanied her firmly on his penis, sliding it up and down. Then he slipped a hand between her legs, moved her lace panties and began to masturbate her, calmly, continuing to kiss her. Maria had her heart in her throat. The noise of the washing machine drowned out his breathing as it deepened and gasped. Maria writhed and her back touched the light switches. The neon, placed high up, under the wooden beams, went out, then went on and then went out again and the yellow lights in the mirror above the sink came on. She looked at herself in the mirror as she moaned. Marco grabbed her legs and picked her up.

“Wait,” she said.

He released her. She took off her underpants. She sat down on the washing machine, pulled him to her and pulled his sweatpants down. He penetrated her and started fucking her. The washing machine finished washing and started spinning.

Maria’s orgasm had become like a ride on a roller coaster, a ride full of emotions where reaching the apex was a bumpy climb, especially with her husband Vincenzo, with whom she hadn’t enjoyed it for months. With Marco it was different. He oiled the tracks and everything came, simple and natural.

The door was slammed and the keys rattled against the porcelain emptier at the entrance.

“Mariaaaa!” Vincenzo shouted.

Frightened Maria slipped and with her arm she dropped the glass with the two toothbrushes that were on the edge of the sink.

“I’m… I’m upstairs!” She replied.

Maria pushed Marco away. She got out of the washing machine, took her underwear off the floor and put them back on.

“What do we do?” Said Marco.

“Wait here,” she said as she exited the bathroom. Marco picked up the glass and the two toothbrushes and put everything back in its place. After a few seconds she returned with a toolbox. The washing machine had finished. She turned it off and pulled the plug.

“Love, where are you?”, Vincenzo said. His heavy footsteps made the wooden steps creak.

“I am in bathroom. There is the plumber for the sink that didn’t work well “, she replied.

Marco knew nothing of pipes, sinks, water. He used water only to put out fires.

The husband crossed the corridor and joined them in the bathroom and introduced himself to Marco.

Marco was the first and the last to have crossed the threshold of their home. It would never happen again.