You nearly host a veritable harem, where hot queer women come in with nothing but their laundry and leave laundry, caressed by my sultry thoughts.

Laundrymat, I admit the ultimate loser nature of my activities, coming in, eyeing the ladies and their soon to be folded underwear, slowly growing sweaty from the heat of the dryers and my senseless lusting.

But I'd like to think you witness more than your fair share come hither looks, of ladies grinding into each other's crotches on the washing machines, of ladies bucking on those gently padded chairs, of laundry washed clean like the soul of a whore in church. I hope that you are a very lucky laundrymat.