Laundry and underwear

[only_more_so]

So, I live in an apartment that has a washer and dryer on each floor (ten apartments per floor). So one day there was an unclaimed g-string left on the dryer. Apparently someone left it behind and a good samaritan left it on top to be retrieved by the owner. Eventually there were three g-strings left on the dryer.

Anyway, my question is, if it were your g-string, would you ever reclaim it? Is there a statute of limitations, like you would retrieve it the same day, but not after its been out overnight? Would it get an immediate rewash to remove pervy cooties?

 

[pleasteasme]

I probably wouldn't reclaim it.

When I was in college, living in an apartment complex, someone stole ALL of my panties that were in the washer (like 10 pair). They didn't even wait for me to dry them.

 

[only_more_so]

I probably wouldn't reclaim it.

When I was in college, living in an apartment complex, someone stole ALL of my panties that were in the washer (like 10 pair). They didn't even wait for me to dry them.

Well, I guess some guys just don't know what damp panties are all about.

 

[silverwhisper]

that's actually happened to my wife. the panty theft, i mean--we've never left anything in the dryer or washer.

ed

 

[bobsgirl]

First of all, Ed, don't you ever sleep?

LOL at pervy cooties. I might retrieve them, but they definitely would get a rewash. On second thought, I probably wouldn't retrieve them. They would be tainted with the memory of alien hands pawing them. Ew.

 

[silverwhisper]

couldn't sleep last night. it was weird, i just wasn't tired.

that 1.5 hour nap i took in the middle of the afternoon might have had something to do w/ it, though... :>

i do like the expression "pervy cooties", i must say.

ed

 

[StrixVaria]

I had an incident about 7 years ago which you guys might relate to...

I was living in a house with three roommates. Allison was a technerd; Bill was an even bigger technerd; Kyle was a loan officer; I was an elevator mechanic. Bill and Allison soon became a couple which left Kyle and I at loose ends.

Kyle eventually admitted that he was gay and had not yet come out of the closet, but would like to. He asked if I would go to a few gay bars with him to act as backup in case he got in over his head. I agreed on the condition that if I was to waste weekend nights in a gay bar, then he was going to pick up my tab. He agreed.

The next month or so were rather interesting. We would go to Backstreet in Atlanta, I would hang out at the bar or at the drag show upstairs and Kyle could explore his sexuality to his hearts content. If someone put Kyle into a situation in which he felt uncomfortable, I would act as the offended boyfriend and pull him out of the bar. I wound up making a lot of cool friends, got over the last of my homophobia, and had a blast learning to tango with the drag queens amidst a sea of half naked gay boys.

I had no clue that Kyle had a thing for me.

One Friday, I got off a construction site early and came home to find Kyle's car in the drive. I thought that it was a little odd for him to be home so early and assumed that he must be down with a cold or something. I walked in, grabbed a beer and headed down the stairs to my room. What I saw will forever be burned into my memory.

Kyle was sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over. I assumed that he was indeed ill and walked in to see if he needed help. He needed help alright.
He had a pair of my soiled boxers in his face and another pair wrapped about his dick as he frantically abused himself.

I dropped my beer, the sound of breaking glass announcing my arrival. Kyle gasped and flushed bright red. I spun on my heel and stalked out of the house. The only thing that kept me from pounding him into a mushy pulp was the thought of what I would have to say to the police when they showed up to collect the body.

I drove around for an hour and then called a friend who was a manager of a storage place. He agreed to lend me a moving truck and offered to rent me a room since the company provided him a two bedroom apartment on site. So, that evening, I returned to the house, loaded up all of my stuff and left. I told Bill and Allison that they should ask Kyle (if he did in fact return that evening) why I left.

As a parting gift, I picked a few vines of poison ivy from the back yard and rubbed then all over every pair of underpants that I owned, before leaving the collection piled on Kyle's bed.

 

[Zoulie]

Good God, what a story!

So what ever became of Kyle, did he go back, or did you ever have to face him again?

 

[StrixVaria]

I have no idea what happened to Kyle, but I do sincerely hope that he continued to use my boxers to wax his pole..... I got a LOT of ivy juice into the fabric.