Simple Things

Alexis Tae stands by the washer, folding socks two by two, when she grabs a pair of Quinton James' boxers. Still warm from the dryer, they hit her nose like a shot of straight sex. Her thighs clench. Quinton walks in with a basket and catches her mid-sniff. One look and he drops the laundry, hands already on her hips, yanking her sweats down. She backs against the machine, knees spread, and he sinks to his, tongue straight to her clit like he owes it money. No patience. He stands, flips her around, bends her over the washer, and drives into her fast and sloppy, her moans bouncing off the tiles while wet clothes flop at their feet.