Your turn for maintenance
- 3 years ago
- 32
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Home Maintenance free porn video
You called the plumber after your boyfriend complained again about the shower and the water flow problems that had been going on for too long. Yeah, sure, he said he would be there around 9:30.
You have heard that one before you thought as you sat down to a morning cup of something hot. Never one to present anything less than an appropriate appearance, you look at your watch. You have at least an hour until the plumber shows, if not all day. Nothing much else you can do, having to wait here.
Already you can sense your own irritation and frustration mounting. Damn, a little sex this morning would have made a difference in your day. But no, your husband was tired last night, and slept in this morning, so left with little more than the usual, "Have a good day, dear."
You do not really think of yourself as a babe, but you appreciate his glances and attention.
The few women you find yourself with at or through work are either younger or older and the younger ones don't include you much. So, you find yourself with some of the older women at lunch and such.
They are often talking about planning for retirement, vacations, gardening and golf widow luncheons.
Not you; your passion does not seem to dissipate. Not really enjoying an "open" marriage, you are not really free to discuss your passions and fantasies within the safety of your bedroom. You surprise yourself even now with the things that you find a hankering for....young virile studs mowing your lawn, package delivery guys in pressed uniforms, waitresses in short skirts, the girls on the game shows.....
Your cup is empty, and you hoist yourself from the chair by the front parlor window, determined to at least get your hair brushed and some make-up on before this plumber shows up.
Upstairs, in front of the mirror at your vanity, you pull your hair back, pinning it up and then apply an un-glamourous amount of makeup. Having stayed off the beaches and golf courses to this point, your skin and young looks are holding up nicely enough, and are sometimes mentioned by the girls in your social circles.
Five minutes, a pair of demure earrings later, you give a final glance, wondering at this old-school way you were brought up, to always be presentable for anyone, including your husband. You slip into a pair of jeans, a loose fitting blouse, and a dangling necklace, nothing special.
Back downstairs, you check out the front of the window, and at your watch. It is only 9:20 a.m., you scoff at yourself. Sitting back, with a re-filled cup, you think about how you might salvage this day.
Grocery lists, a mental inventory, meal plans, people to call about plans for the weekend, other projects you have going. You are tempted to call your husband at work and whisper something sexy to him, see if he will come home for lunch. You dial his number, but hang up afer one ring. Nah, he was pre-occupied with some personnel problems at work....
You hear a door slam outside, and look out the window. Heavens, how time has flown, the plumber is here. Looking at your watch, you note that it is only 9:35 a.m. Amazing. Your pessimism brings the thought to mind that perhaps this is the first call of the day, and that even then the plumber will be late. So as not to look too anxious or unbusy, you wait for the doorbell to ring. Waiting a few seconds, you open the door.
First impressions count, your parents drilled that into you in your youth. No “bubba” cap from the local parts store, a full head of blonde and grey hair, dancing blue eyes, and a pressed uniform, and awesome-looking forearms. My name is on my right pocket, and my toolbox is in my right hand. "Good morning, is this the ______ residence, and were you expecting me?"
Expecting you, no. A plumber, yes. A guy with drooping trousers, a beer gut, a baseball cap, a toothpick perhaps, and not a lot of hair from all those moments of scratching your head while explaining being hours late, or without the proper parts, or figuring up your invoices that make a doctor's visit look like fun.
"Ah, yes, the plumber? And right on time too!" You are surprised by your own sudden friendliness. "Yes, come in, come in." Looking behind you, I see no helper, and a neat panel van. No neighbors either.
Once inside, he turns to you, waiting for you to close the door, and says, "Hi, I am Chase. I understand you have a problem in the master bath, er, with the shower apparatus? Sorry for being a couple minutes late. Can't always plan these things, but with three other stops behind me, I am glad to be here this soon."
You note my hands, as I hand you my card, that while a bit rough and worn looking, that they are clean.
You are still a bit taken aback, freshly shaved, neat, prompt and courteous plumbers are not something you are used to. Then, continuing, I say, "We take off our shoes at my house, so I hope you don't mind if I leave my shoes here by the door?"
"Ah, no, of course, yes, however you like it. Can I get you anything to drink?" you offer. Still surprised at yourself, you step back, noting I am only a touch taller than you, and about mid- to late-40s. Chest broad, a bit of light-colored chest hair visible at my open collared shirt, clean cargo trousers, and slightly worn slip on shoes.....and gray wool socks.
"No, ma'am, thank you though, but rather get on with checking out your plumbing, but I might take you up on that if I can knock this out quickly."
You move past me, touching my elbow, telling me that it is this way, and relaxing as you go on to relate the problem. I follow you upstairs, enjoying the wafting scent of your perfume, and the nice fitting trousers and backside that precedes me up the plushly carpeted stairs to the upstairs level. Knowing what I am facing, you don't hesitate to give me a little more pronounced wiggle as we go. The house is quiet, and I can assume that no one else is around.
In the master bathroom, you show me the problem, and without anything else really pressing, and not really comfortable leaving me here on my own, you lean against the counter, and ask a few questions about the seriousness of the apparent problem.
I step out of the shower stall, and turn off the water while squatting under the sink cupboard. I mention to you that the cold water is the one on the right, and that I might need to have you turn it on for me.
I tell you that things don't look bad, and just a couple minor parts and adjustments should get us through....I take a phone call on my cell phone and mutter that my last morning stop just cancelled on me.
In the course of our conversation, I mention that I have a girl at a dispatch office that takes my calls. You mind drifts a bit as I am working, and all you can see is my back and rear.
Something I say brings you suddenly back to reality, and when I clear my throat, you jump,
thinking I asked you to turn the water back on, you do.
"Aaaaarrrrrrggghhhhhhhh!" I suddenly shout. Oh, no, I have taken a blast of water to the face and chest, and since I have removed all of the handles, I politely but quickly ask you to turn off the water.
Mortified, you scramble to turn the knob the right way, and turn off the water. Turning, my face covered, my clothes soaked, I grin, obviously chagrined, dripping.
You scramble to find towels, apologizing effusively, rambling on about how you weren't paying attention.... and I try to make it easier by quipping, “I promise, I did shower this morning…”
You try to hand me a third towel, not sure if you should dab at me, as you decide to throw the 3rd on to the floor for me to step out onto.
I step back out of the shower, laughing, saying that I always have a spare set of socks for such events, that it is easier than drying out shoes, but that this only happens once in a great while, and I laugh, telling you that I knew I should have left the faucet handle on, and you note I quickly put it back on.
Still mortified, despite my attempts to mollify you, telling you that it is a hot, dry day outside, you feel awful.
The only thing you can think of to do to ameliorate the situation is to equalize things, and impulsively, you step past me, into the shower, and turn it on, full blast, splattering and soaking yourself.
"Whaaaaatttt?!" I jump back, exclaiming, then laughing with you as you turn to me, asking me if we are equal.
The moment is one of those that stands still.
Water dripping from my forelock, my full-lipped grin and white teeth visible, my hands pressed to each side of the shower stall, looking down at you, sputtering, shivering, thin blouse not leaving much underneath left to imagination.
"You are bad, very bad," is all I can say.
Grabbing your upper arms, I pull you to me, and kiss you, hard. A split second later, I wonder what I am doing. But you are returning the kiss fervently, and thoughts of breaking this off are quickly filled by other, more wicked, pleasing thoughts.
After what seems like 20-30 seconds of full mouth kissing, you pull back, and whisper, in a lower voice than I have hear to this point, "Please, tell me you can be bad. Real bad. Worse even? Bad with me?" Your fingers are already undoing the top buttons of my shirt, and I grab your jeans, and unsnap them. "I can be as bad as you want!"
"We need to get these clothes in the dryer. Can't send you off looking like this...." As I strip the blouse off your torso, I tell you that that is the least you can do, hoping you aren’t going to head there now, perhaps giving yourself time to re-evaluate things.
When you have my jeans down, and your hand quickly into my briefs, grasping at my growing cock, you tell me, "I can't leave you with all this either." As you slide my briefs down, and it is unleashed, and unfurling as it grows perpendicular to my body, quickly bobbing towards you, heating and filling and hardening, I finish taking off my own shirt, draping it over the counter behind you, hardly noticing that as I follow with shucking off my t-shirt that we are already shuffling out of the bathroom door.
Freeing myself from my trousers, I leave them in a heap as I stoop and collect you in my arms, carrying you into the master bedroom, and laying you in the center of the large king-sized 4-poster bed.
Turning quickly, I lean and remove my socks, my engorging cock bobbing, and you settle onto the mattress, gazing sideways at me in profile.
I open the top drawers of the bureau, and in the third one I find a couple of scarves, and your lingerie. Grabbing a handful, I turn, and you are positioning yourself higher on the bed, a couple pillows under your head, as you are growling things to me about hurrying.
Thinking you don't want any interruptions to change either of our minds, you quickly lean over and pull the phone plug out from the wall, and then lay back on the bed.
I have tossed a bunch of clothing and bras on the side of the bed, grapping a couple, I reach and grab your nearside wrist, wrapping a bra around it, and then pulling it to the headrail, and quickly and haphazardly restraining you. My cock bobs so near your chin and bare chest, as I lean over you, my thick cock and swaying balls protruding from a thick nest of strawberry curls.
I wrap your wrist and tie off you other wrist, and then sit back on my haunches, one hand lazily stroking my cock, and the other one on your hip. I have yet to remove your jeans. But your breasts are so full, and the arching of your body accentuates the fullness and lift of your dynamic-looking twins.
"Ooooh, you are bad, a big bad boy," you hiss as you take in my lean and erect body. You can't help but wonder if any other ladies in town have enjoyed this kind of treatment, or the attention of my body in theirs. Already, your hips are squirming, rotating,betraying your ready state of arousal, ready to be ravished by this apparently experienced stranger.
My eyes gleaming, fiery, I look at you, smiling very mischeviously, and tell you that this one will be on the house. " Or all over it, if we have the time!"
Moving quickly to the foot of the bed, I grab your jeans, and with your arching and lifting assistance, I pull your sodden jeans off. You weren't in the water very long, but I note that your demure panty is also sodden. From the inside out, I suspect.
I grab a scarf, and moving beside you again, I tie it over your eyes. Then, I grab a couple unused pillows, and slide them under your hips, touching you to let you know to arch for me, lifting your hips and settling back as if you your hips are now displayed on an altar. As you moan and ooooohhhhh at me, I only say, "Be right back."
You hear me step back into the bathroom, and then as I leave the room, turning off my cell phone, “You requested bad, right”, and then padding out of the room. You are laying there, the thoughts of what you look like, proud of your body, but hoping I will be back.
You hear the dryer turn on downstairs, and then endure a couple minutes of silence as you try to remember my face, eyes, and smile. You pull at your restraints, finding your pulling only tightens them. Other thoughts of what might could happen, trusting yourself to a stranger like this threaten to dispel your mood, so you concentrate on envisioning what you might would do if in my place.
All over the house, he said, you think. Mmmmmm.
Then hear me on the landing again. You sense me depositing some things on the foot of the bed, and your mind continues to whirl, while your body continues to crave and need more touching... thankfully it is warm enough that you haven't gotten cold.....
"Waiting for me?" is all I say. Then, you feel my weight beside the bed, and a palm, you guess, lightly presses to one of your swollen aching nipples, moving in a light circle....my breath on your cheek warns you of my closeness, and your turn your head, and feel my tongue flick across your bottom lip, sliding into the corner of your mouth, before it it gone again. Then, you feel something cool and smooth being drawn up your right thigh. What is it?! your mind screams.
Then you feel my tongue again, this time flicking tentatively around your right nipple. Shifting your weight, hoping I will slake the ache and desire in your knotted tip, you try to press it into my mouth...
Again, I lift and move away. Suddenly, you gasp, feeling something cool being dripped across your tummy. Honey? Chocolate sauce? I have been raiding your kitchen, you realize. Then what must be a hand on your left thigh, pressing it, pushing it, making you open your legs. As my hand pulls away, it lightly trails across the thin cotton of the panty still covering your heating pussy mound.
"What are you doing? Why are you making me wait? Oh, you are sooooo bad," you wail at me. More fingers, palms, kisses, licks, caressing, here, there, with strange objects....inside of your arm, behind your knees, your neck, under your chin, your navel, your flanks, your calves, underside of your breasts, edges of your shoulders...insides of your thighs, along your flanks, your ass, tickled, stroked, licked, kissed, and touched with any number of unseen objects...
I chuckle with each reaction, at your guesses, at the way your body shifts away and back towards where you sense I am, based on the weight on the bed and the slight sounds in the room. Mostly, you hear yourself, and your ragged breathing.
Mmmm, a feather duster over your nipples? A half-eaten strawberry held in my mouth as I caress your lips, letting you swallow it after I slip it into your mouth and you realize it is safe and edible. The honey or oil spread with a warm hand over your abdomen, streaks being drawn in a design like a child draws sunshine, in tangents to every part of your body.
Another strawberry perhaps, this time the rough outside, rubbed against your nipples.....a cucumber perhaps pressed lengthwise against your panty-shielded sex, long, round, and as you feel the the slight chilled skin, for a split second you remember the grocery list, and a visual inventory reminds you of the English cukes in the refrigerator. You note an audible laugh escapes my lips as I watch you raise yourself against it, moaning to the pressure as I allow it to press against you for a lingering moment.
My own excitement is building, as you can hear my breath also getting more pronounces, short, in bursts and gasps.
Then, something warmer, and you gasp, assuming it is finally it is my cock, but something wet and warm is circling and pressing into your nipple.
You sense my body shifting, pausing, then turning to continue to caress with my strong broad hands, and tease your undulating, arching, swiveling body, each touch bringing you to turn to press and take in all that I will give you, thinking I am done playing and teasing, and that I too can not wait any longer for more directness…
Another hand now, two of them circling your nipples, and a kiss to your right shoulder. Then, another, lighter, to your left shoulder. The lips leave, with a pop, the suction on your right nipple, and settle on your left nipple. You feel my weight as I shift to support myself on the mattress, while I suckle your left breast.
No more playing. No more ice, no more dripping of candle wax, caressing you with your satiny panties, grapes being rolled around your nipples and then crushed, their juice wetting and trickling into your cleavage, followed by my darting and laving tongue?
"Please, do me, take me, do it to me, give me that big cock....." you moan and cajole.
Between kisses, licks, taunting touches and furtive and quickly vanishing caresses, I am telling you in a low growl about how excited I am, that I am stroking myself, shiny-tipped and dribbling, how sexy you are, about how nasty this is that we are doing this in your bed......
I tell you how I love suckling at your breasts, reverting to more common talk, calling them tits, how I hope we have time and opportunity for me to slide my cock between them, as I slide the cucumber or squash (you have long since given up trying to remember what was in your pantry or refrigerator) between your girls, and over your pussy, lifting the panty finally and sliding the now room-temp cucumber inside it, allowing the elastic to hold it in place, length- wise with your swelling cleft.... oh, the torture.... It’s warmth makes you wonder for a moment how long you have been enduring my caresses, licks, knowing chuckles, and touches that seemed intent on memorizing your body.
It seems like 30 minutes since you growled and tried to kick at and helplessly threaten me as I playfully swore about having forgotten my digital camera in the van…
You sense my movement, and when I tell you to open your lips, I press what you hope or anticipate might be, yes, to be my cock to your lips, and I delight in your panting breathing and sliding tongue, as you confirm what you thought.....you like that baby? Like a fresh cock, and unfamiliar flesh to touch? I am delighted to learn you will go further than I ever got at home.
I start to tell you what a treat this is, about how my ex-wife, who was beautiful and full breasted with long legs, but she didn't like to play much, certainly would not allow this kind of loss of control.
I wish I could get you to seduce her, I tell you, and I slip away from your mouth, your head arching and lifting so sexily to follow me. I reposition myself, further away, the nearness gone, leaving you slightly cold. My hands hardly ever leave you though, and not they press and move to urge you to close your legs, and I move to remove your panty, finally. As I peel them, now barely damp, down your legs, I lean to tickle with my forelock, and as they slip past your heels, my hands grip your ankles and lift your legs again to open them. You feel my weight settle between your legs. I lean forward and ask if the pillows, well pressed nearly flat from your hips movement and arching and settling over this time, if you are comfortable?
Once you nod, but tell me you would be far more comfortable if I would treat you like a woman wants, letting me know fun is fun, but there comes a time…. I interrupt you. I want to know a bit more about you, see what really gets your mind whirling.
I ask you, "Have you ever had a woman who licked you here, like this?" And you feel my flat wide tongue, starting at your navel, wriggling down down down your tummy to your hairline....my hands press your legs apart again, my hands grasping your trembling thighs. I can tell from the shudder I feel that you like the idea. "Mmmmm, you like that thought? Perhaps there was a time you explored in college?” And my voice drifts away.
What if I could get my prudish ex-wife over here, in 10 minutes, and she saw you enjoying this......? I stop and run my tongue in a slow serpentine motion, crossing your slit back and forth as I go upward, then, furtively in faster zigs and zags, at your nether lips, each side, up and down.
"Mmmm, would you like the taste of her. would you enjoy seducing her, a woman who has never been with another woman. Would you like to show her how you like it, demonstrating on her?"
And my tongue presses flat, your womanly scent capturing me, causing me to lose my concentration for a minute as I harden my tongue and drill it into you, driving your lips apart as I wriggle and swirl for contact with your clit. "Mmmmm, I bet she would be screaming at this point, your tongue doing this”.....flick lick, circle, wriggling and then lightly pulling at you with my lips.....”doing this to her. Mmmm, you are so wet. So hot...”
Thickening my tongue, I prod, then flick, circling and rimming you with my tongue, your position on top of the pillows making you so open and accessible to me...then I lightly probe, hearing you groan and feeling you move against me, I slide my sharpened tongue in, and out, in and out, mmmmmmm, you feel my mouth and lips vibrate as I hum, then sliding my tongue in again... pulling back again, my one hand twiddling and playing over your pussy lips, dragging the tip of my now honey’d lightly over your distended little female cock....
"She would go crazy, sitting on your face, her heavy tits above you, pointed at the ceiling, perhaps she would be toying and pulling on them....do you like to suck thick nipples? Have you been bad, and have you done it?” Your responses keep me going.
“Does your husband know? Has he asked to watch you sometime, telling you he would enjoy seeing you enjoying yourself so?" My finger replaces my tongue, and I slide it into you, while my lips purse and slip again around your clit, sucking lightly, flicking the tip when it is in my mouth with the tip of my fluttering tongue.
"What if we lay in wait, in a hotel room, while she showered, you in a housekeeper's uniform. When she emerged, I would tell her you were there, and then you and I would grab her, and tie her into a chair? Would you enjoy letting her watch you suck my cock, or me to eat you out, like this?"
And I continue my lapping, flicking, sliding my tongue all over your bucking, hunching pussy, as you try to entrap me to let you cum, to stay put long enough to allow your pleasure to peak...
All the while you are moaning, agreeing with everything I say, saying yes to anything I do or say at this point, boldly calling me a bastard and an evil tease, asking if I am ever going to fuck you.
Makes me really excited when I hear you talk to me like that…
"What if I lay on the bed, stroking this cock, would you touch her, try to get her to calm down and agree to let you touch her, or would you press your tits and pussy to her mouth, insisting a few licks will win her freedom? Mmm, you are so sexy, I am sure you could seduce her....." I reach up and play for a moment with your breasts, molding my hand flat over them, telling you how sexy this angle is, your breast framing your face, flushed, tendrils of hair clinging to your forehead, temples and neck. “You really are in quite a state, aren’t you?”
Then, suddenly, you feel more weight on the bed. You thought there was more breathing going on, but you had assumed it was the two of us…someone else is here. Panicking, you cry out your husband's name. “No,” I assure you, “he does not know I am here, playing with his hungry, deprived wife.”
My fingers take a more active role in sliding in and out of your pussy, while my thumb momentarily presses along your furrow, lightly pressing and rotating on your clit, as you hear my low, growling voice, commanding you, "Open your mouth! Suck her now." And you feel a hard nipple being pressed to your opening, turning lips, rubbing around your lips before popping into your mouth.
"So good, you do that so good, look and feel soooo good," you hear a soft voice murmur.
Then my lower, gruff voice, "Now, the other one, suck her other tit!"
Suddenly, you are feeling it, spiraling out of control, my lips sucking your clit, then my fingers withdrawing, and the bed shifting, and my lips leaving you so close!
Aaaaah, you feel hands, my broad hands, grasping your thighs, sliding over and then from the outside, gripping you, as something, yes, my cock, thicker than the fingers just recently removed, pressing, sliding, opening...
As your peak hits, and you let your voice announce your orgasm, paroxysms of pleasure coursing through, gripping and shuddering outward, your body clenches, the breast so recently in your mouth swaying over your lips, then pressed to staunch your cry…
Suddenly, the scarf lifted from your face, the blue eyes and dark raven hair of my dispatch girl's face smiling down at you, blocking your vision towards me, as you feel me driving deep, frequency increasing, angles of my thrusting changing as I rotate my hips slightly, my own breathing getting louder, my voice intermittently calling out my pleasure, as the girl smiles down at you, cupping her breasts, her painted nails flicking at her own aching nipples…
“Mmmm, baby, is there more? More you would like?” I am in full heat, my hands having left your thighs, palms flat beside you, as my female companion moves aside to allow our eyes to meet.
Between a flurry of thrusts, I slow only long enough to ask, “Would it make your day, hgn hgn hgn, be really naughty, hgn hgn hgn, if she straddled you now, hgn hgn hgn, would you, hgn hgn hgnnnnn, like her to make her cum too?
I bite my lower lip, nod at you, my eyes fiery but looking glazed, muttering about how hot you are, telling you if you could only see yourself, your girls jouncing, your hands stretched away from your body… no, no Superman here! Seeing your eyes watching in wonderment, or lust, I don’t know, you too biting your lower lip, I don’t know if you are still in the throes, building again, but I am beyond any thought now but that at the fiery tip….
OH FUCK! Uggggggggghhhhhhhhhh. I stop, the girl giggles, her hand to her mouth, a finger slipping in between her lips, her other hand tightly gripping your nearest breast, and as my body tenses and goes rigid, I am focused on one thing, the fiery torrent hurtling forward through my hyper-aroused shaft, embedded, still, throbbing, tightly gripped….
OH FUCKKKKKKKK!
As I buck, spurt, stroke 2-3 more times, stab deep again, stop, and the big one – SPURT – “Oh fucking yes,” and again, twitching, I release, two, three more spasms, emptying myself…
“We are very bad,” I whisper through gasps as I pull the pillows from beneath you, driving deep again, but letting my weight settle in your saddle, as I lower myself close, I whisper, reaching to untie your right wrist – “Is this your kind of bad?”
Let me know?
Would you prefer it was a young studly apprentice, who just caught up with me, or whom I called from downstairs?
Or, perhaps your husband, concerned that the phone wasn't being answered, drove home to check on you....
Where would a lovely lady with no expectations earlier, want this to go, and is there more "bad" in you?"
You have heard that one before you thought as you sat down to a morning cup of something hot. Never one to present anything less than an appropriate appearance, you look at your watch. You have at least an hour until the plumber shows, if not all day. Nothing much else you can do, having to wait here.
Already you can sense your own irritation and frustration mounting. Damn, a little sex this morning would have made a difference in your day. But no, your husband was tired last night, and slept in this morning, so left with little more than the usual, "Have a good day, dear."
You do not really think of yourself as a babe, but you appreciate his glances and attention.
The few women you find yourself with at or through work are either younger or older and the younger ones don't include you much. So, you find yourself with some of the older women at lunch and such.
They are often talking about planning for retirement, vacations, gardening and golf widow luncheons.
Not you; your passion does not seem to dissipate. Not really enjoying an "open" marriage, you are not really free to discuss your passions and fantasies within the safety of your bedroom. You surprise yourself even now with the things that you find a hankering for....young virile studs mowing your lawn, package delivery guys in pressed uniforms, waitresses in short skirts, the girls on the game shows.....
Your cup is empty, and you hoist yourself from the chair by the front parlor window, determined to at least get your hair brushed and some make-up on before this plumber shows up.
Upstairs, in front of the mirror at your vanity, you pull your hair back, pinning it up and then apply an un-glamourous amount of makeup. Having stayed off the beaches and golf courses to this point, your skin and young looks are holding up nicely enough, and are sometimes mentioned by the girls in your social circles.
Five minutes, a pair of demure earrings later, you give a final glance, wondering at this old-school way you were brought up, to always be presentable for anyone, including your husband. You slip into a pair of jeans, a loose fitting blouse, and a dangling necklace, nothing special.
Back downstairs, you check out the front of the window, and at your watch. It is only 9:20 a.m., you scoff at yourself. Sitting back, with a re-filled cup, you think about how you might salvage this day.
Grocery lists, a mental inventory, meal plans, people to call about plans for the weekend, other projects you have going. You are tempted to call your husband at work and whisper something sexy to him, see if he will come home for lunch. You dial his number, but hang up afer one ring. Nah, he was pre-occupied with some personnel problems at work....
You hear a door slam outside, and look out the window. Heavens, how time has flown, the plumber is here. Looking at your watch, you note that it is only 9:35 a.m. Amazing. Your pessimism brings the thought to mind that perhaps this is the first call of the day, and that even then the plumber will be late. So as not to look too anxious or unbusy, you wait for the doorbell to ring. Waiting a few seconds, you open the door.
First impressions count, your parents drilled that into you in your youth. No “bubba” cap from the local parts store, a full head of blonde and grey hair, dancing blue eyes, and a pressed uniform, and awesome-looking forearms. My name is on my right pocket, and my toolbox is in my right hand. "Good morning, is this the ______ residence, and were you expecting me?"
Expecting you, no. A plumber, yes. A guy with drooping trousers, a beer gut, a baseball cap, a toothpick perhaps, and not a lot of hair from all those moments of scratching your head while explaining being hours late, or without the proper parts, or figuring up your invoices that make a doctor's visit look like fun.
"Ah, yes, the plumber? And right on time too!" You are surprised by your own sudden friendliness. "Yes, come in, come in." Looking behind you, I see no helper, and a neat panel van. No neighbors either.
Once inside, he turns to you, waiting for you to close the door, and says, "Hi, I am Chase. I understand you have a problem in the master bath, er, with the shower apparatus? Sorry for being a couple minutes late. Can't always plan these things, but with three other stops behind me, I am glad to be here this soon."
You note my hands, as I hand you my card, that while a bit rough and worn looking, that they are clean.
You are still a bit taken aback, freshly shaved, neat, prompt and courteous plumbers are not something you are used to. Then, continuing, I say, "We take off our shoes at my house, so I hope you don't mind if I leave my shoes here by the door?"
"Ah, no, of course, yes, however you like it. Can I get you anything to drink?" you offer. Still surprised at yourself, you step back, noting I am only a touch taller than you, and about mid- to late-40s. Chest broad, a bit of light-colored chest hair visible at my open collared shirt, clean cargo trousers, and slightly worn slip on shoes.....and gray wool socks.
"No, ma'am, thank you though, but rather get on with checking out your plumbing, but I might take you up on that if I can knock this out quickly."
You move past me, touching my elbow, telling me that it is this way, and relaxing as you go on to relate the problem. I follow you upstairs, enjoying the wafting scent of your perfume, and the nice fitting trousers and backside that precedes me up the plushly carpeted stairs to the upstairs level. Knowing what I am facing, you don't hesitate to give me a little more pronounced wiggle as we go. The house is quiet, and I can assume that no one else is around.
In the master bathroom, you show me the problem, and without anything else really pressing, and not really comfortable leaving me here on my own, you lean against the counter, and ask a few questions about the seriousness of the apparent problem.
I step out of the shower stall, and turn off the water while squatting under the sink cupboard. I mention to you that the cold water is the one on the right, and that I might need to have you turn it on for me.
I tell you that things don't look bad, and just a couple minor parts and adjustments should get us through....I take a phone call on my cell phone and mutter that my last morning stop just cancelled on me.
In the course of our conversation, I mention that I have a girl at a dispatch office that takes my calls. You mind drifts a bit as I am working, and all you can see is my back and rear.
Something I say brings you suddenly back to reality, and when I clear my throat, you jump,
thinking I asked you to turn the water back on, you do.
"Aaaaarrrrrrggghhhhhhhh!" I suddenly shout. Oh, no, I have taken a blast of water to the face and chest, and since I have removed all of the handles, I politely but quickly ask you to turn off the water.
Mortified, you scramble to turn the knob the right way, and turn off the water. Turning, my face covered, my clothes soaked, I grin, obviously chagrined, dripping.
You scramble to find towels, apologizing effusively, rambling on about how you weren't paying attention.... and I try to make it easier by quipping, “I promise, I did shower this morning…”
You try to hand me a third towel, not sure if you should dab at me, as you decide to throw the 3rd on to the floor for me to step out onto.
I step back out of the shower, laughing, saying that I always have a spare set of socks for such events, that it is easier than drying out shoes, but that this only happens once in a great while, and I laugh, telling you that I knew I should have left the faucet handle on, and you note I quickly put it back on.
Still mortified, despite my attempts to mollify you, telling you that it is a hot, dry day outside, you feel awful.
The only thing you can think of to do to ameliorate the situation is to equalize things, and impulsively, you step past me, into the shower, and turn it on, full blast, splattering and soaking yourself.
"Whaaaaatttt?!" I jump back, exclaiming, then laughing with you as you turn to me, asking me if we are equal.
The moment is one of those that stands still.
Water dripping from my forelock, my full-lipped grin and white teeth visible, my hands pressed to each side of the shower stall, looking down at you, sputtering, shivering, thin blouse not leaving much underneath left to imagination.
"You are bad, very bad," is all I can say.
Grabbing your upper arms, I pull you to me, and kiss you, hard. A split second later, I wonder what I am doing. But you are returning the kiss fervently, and thoughts of breaking this off are quickly filled by other, more wicked, pleasing thoughts.
After what seems like 20-30 seconds of full mouth kissing, you pull back, and whisper, in a lower voice than I have hear to this point, "Please, tell me you can be bad. Real bad. Worse even? Bad with me?" Your fingers are already undoing the top buttons of my shirt, and I grab your jeans, and unsnap them. "I can be as bad as you want!"
"We need to get these clothes in the dryer. Can't send you off looking like this...." As I strip the blouse off your torso, I tell you that that is the least you can do, hoping you aren’t going to head there now, perhaps giving yourself time to re-evaluate things.
When you have my jeans down, and your hand quickly into my briefs, grasping at my growing cock, you tell me, "I can't leave you with all this either." As you slide my briefs down, and it is unleashed, and unfurling as it grows perpendicular to my body, quickly bobbing towards you, heating and filling and hardening, I finish taking off my own shirt, draping it over the counter behind you, hardly noticing that as I follow with shucking off my t-shirt that we are already shuffling out of the bathroom door.
Freeing myself from my trousers, I leave them in a heap as I stoop and collect you in my arms, carrying you into the master bedroom, and laying you in the center of the large king-sized 4-poster bed.
Turning quickly, I lean and remove my socks, my engorging cock bobbing, and you settle onto the mattress, gazing sideways at me in profile.
I open the top drawers of the bureau, and in the third one I find a couple of scarves, and your lingerie. Grabbing a handful, I turn, and you are positioning yourself higher on the bed, a couple pillows under your head, as you are growling things to me about hurrying.
Thinking you don't want any interruptions to change either of our minds, you quickly lean over and pull the phone plug out from the wall, and then lay back on the bed.
I have tossed a bunch of clothing and bras on the side of the bed, grapping a couple, I reach and grab your nearside wrist, wrapping a bra around it, and then pulling it to the headrail, and quickly and haphazardly restraining you. My cock bobs so near your chin and bare chest, as I lean over you, my thick cock and swaying balls protruding from a thick nest of strawberry curls.
I wrap your wrist and tie off you other wrist, and then sit back on my haunches, one hand lazily stroking my cock, and the other one on your hip. I have yet to remove your jeans. But your breasts are so full, and the arching of your body accentuates the fullness and lift of your dynamic-looking twins.
"Ooooh, you are bad, a big bad boy," you hiss as you take in my lean and erect body. You can't help but wonder if any other ladies in town have enjoyed this kind of treatment, or the attention of my body in theirs. Already, your hips are squirming, rotating,betraying your ready state of arousal, ready to be ravished by this apparently experienced stranger.
My eyes gleaming, fiery, I look at you, smiling very mischeviously, and tell you that this one will be on the house. " Or all over it, if we have the time!"
Moving quickly to the foot of the bed, I grab your jeans, and with your arching and lifting assistance, I pull your sodden jeans off. You weren't in the water very long, but I note that your demure panty is also sodden. From the inside out, I suspect.
I grab a scarf, and moving beside you again, I tie it over your eyes. Then, I grab a couple unused pillows, and slide them under your hips, touching you to let you know to arch for me, lifting your hips and settling back as if you your hips are now displayed on an altar. As you moan and ooooohhhhh at me, I only say, "Be right back."
You hear me step back into the bathroom, and then as I leave the room, turning off my cell phone, “You requested bad, right”, and then padding out of the room. You are laying there, the thoughts of what you look like, proud of your body, but hoping I will be back.
You hear the dryer turn on downstairs, and then endure a couple minutes of silence as you try to remember my face, eyes, and smile. You pull at your restraints, finding your pulling only tightens them. Other thoughts of what might could happen, trusting yourself to a stranger like this threaten to dispel your mood, so you concentrate on envisioning what you might would do if in my place.
All over the house, he said, you think. Mmmmmm.
Then hear me on the landing again. You sense me depositing some things on the foot of the bed, and your mind continues to whirl, while your body continues to crave and need more touching... thankfully it is warm enough that you haven't gotten cold.....
"Waiting for me?" is all I say. Then, you feel my weight beside the bed, and a palm, you guess, lightly presses to one of your swollen aching nipples, moving in a light circle....my breath on your cheek warns you of my closeness, and your turn your head, and feel my tongue flick across your bottom lip, sliding into the corner of your mouth, before it it gone again. Then, you feel something cool and smooth being drawn up your right thigh. What is it?! your mind screams.
Then you feel my tongue again, this time flicking tentatively around your right nipple. Shifting your weight, hoping I will slake the ache and desire in your knotted tip, you try to press it into my mouth...
Again, I lift and move away. Suddenly, you gasp, feeling something cool being dripped across your tummy. Honey? Chocolate sauce? I have been raiding your kitchen, you realize. Then what must be a hand on your left thigh, pressing it, pushing it, making you open your legs. As my hand pulls away, it lightly trails across the thin cotton of the panty still covering your heating pussy mound.
"What are you doing? Why are you making me wait? Oh, you are sooooo bad," you wail at me. More fingers, palms, kisses, licks, caressing, here, there, with strange objects....inside of your arm, behind your knees, your neck, under your chin, your navel, your flanks, your calves, underside of your breasts, edges of your shoulders...insides of your thighs, along your flanks, your ass, tickled, stroked, licked, kissed, and touched with any number of unseen objects...
I chuckle with each reaction, at your guesses, at the way your body shifts away and back towards where you sense I am, based on the weight on the bed and the slight sounds in the room. Mostly, you hear yourself, and your ragged breathing.
Mmmm, a feather duster over your nipples? A half-eaten strawberry held in my mouth as I caress your lips, letting you swallow it after I slip it into your mouth and you realize it is safe and edible. The honey or oil spread with a warm hand over your abdomen, streaks being drawn in a design like a child draws sunshine, in tangents to every part of your body.
Another strawberry perhaps, this time the rough outside, rubbed against your nipples.....a cucumber perhaps pressed lengthwise against your panty-shielded sex, long, round, and as you feel the the slight chilled skin, for a split second you remember the grocery list, and a visual inventory reminds you of the English cukes in the refrigerator. You note an audible laugh escapes my lips as I watch you raise yourself against it, moaning to the pressure as I allow it to press against you for a lingering moment.
My own excitement is building, as you can hear my breath also getting more pronounces, short, in bursts and gasps.
Then, something warmer, and you gasp, assuming it is finally it is my cock, but something wet and warm is circling and pressing into your nipple.
You sense my body shifting, pausing, then turning to continue to caress with my strong broad hands, and tease your undulating, arching, swiveling body, each touch bringing you to turn to press and take in all that I will give you, thinking I am done playing and teasing, and that I too can not wait any longer for more directness…
Another hand now, two of them circling your nipples, and a kiss to your right shoulder. Then, another, lighter, to your left shoulder. The lips leave, with a pop, the suction on your right nipple, and settle on your left nipple. You feel my weight as I shift to support myself on the mattress, while I suckle your left breast.
No more playing. No more ice, no more dripping of candle wax, caressing you with your satiny panties, grapes being rolled around your nipples and then crushed, their juice wetting and trickling into your cleavage, followed by my darting and laving tongue?
"Please, do me, take me, do it to me, give me that big cock....." you moan and cajole.
Between kisses, licks, taunting touches and furtive and quickly vanishing caresses, I am telling you in a low growl about how excited I am, that I am stroking myself, shiny-tipped and dribbling, how sexy you are, about how nasty this is that we are doing this in your bed......
I tell you how I love suckling at your breasts, reverting to more common talk, calling them tits, how I hope we have time and opportunity for me to slide my cock between them, as I slide the cucumber or squash (you have long since given up trying to remember what was in your pantry or refrigerator) between your girls, and over your pussy, lifting the panty finally and sliding the now room-temp cucumber inside it, allowing the elastic to hold it in place, length- wise with your swelling cleft.... oh, the torture.... It’s warmth makes you wonder for a moment how long you have been enduring my caresses, licks, knowing chuckles, and touches that seemed intent on memorizing your body.
It seems like 30 minutes since you growled and tried to kick at and helplessly threaten me as I playfully swore about having forgotten my digital camera in the van…
You sense my movement, and when I tell you to open your lips, I press what you hope or anticipate might be, yes, to be my cock to your lips, and I delight in your panting breathing and sliding tongue, as you confirm what you thought.....you like that baby? Like a fresh cock, and unfamiliar flesh to touch? I am delighted to learn you will go further than I ever got at home.
I start to tell you what a treat this is, about how my ex-wife, who was beautiful and full breasted with long legs, but she didn't like to play much, certainly would not allow this kind of loss of control.
I wish I could get you to seduce her, I tell you, and I slip away from your mouth, your head arching and lifting so sexily to follow me. I reposition myself, further away, the nearness gone, leaving you slightly cold. My hands hardly ever leave you though, and not they press and move to urge you to close your legs, and I move to remove your panty, finally. As I peel them, now barely damp, down your legs, I lean to tickle with my forelock, and as they slip past your heels, my hands grip your ankles and lift your legs again to open them. You feel my weight settle between your legs. I lean forward and ask if the pillows, well pressed nearly flat from your hips movement and arching and settling over this time, if you are comfortable?
Once you nod, but tell me you would be far more comfortable if I would treat you like a woman wants, letting me know fun is fun, but there comes a time…. I interrupt you. I want to know a bit more about you, see what really gets your mind whirling.
I ask you, "Have you ever had a woman who licked you here, like this?" And you feel my flat wide tongue, starting at your navel, wriggling down down down your tummy to your hairline....my hands press your legs apart again, my hands grasping your trembling thighs. I can tell from the shudder I feel that you like the idea. "Mmmmm, you like that thought? Perhaps there was a time you explored in college?” And my voice drifts away.
What if I could get my prudish ex-wife over here, in 10 minutes, and she saw you enjoying this......? I stop and run my tongue in a slow serpentine motion, crossing your slit back and forth as I go upward, then, furtively in faster zigs and zags, at your nether lips, each side, up and down.
"Mmmm, would you like the taste of her. would you enjoy seducing her, a woman who has never been with another woman. Would you like to show her how you like it, demonstrating on her?"
And my tongue presses flat, your womanly scent capturing me, causing me to lose my concentration for a minute as I harden my tongue and drill it into you, driving your lips apart as I wriggle and swirl for contact with your clit. "Mmmmm, I bet she would be screaming at this point, your tongue doing this”.....flick lick, circle, wriggling and then lightly pulling at you with my lips.....”doing this to her. Mmmm, you are so wet. So hot...”
Thickening my tongue, I prod, then flick, circling and rimming you with my tongue, your position on top of the pillows making you so open and accessible to me...then I lightly probe, hearing you groan and feeling you move against me, I slide my sharpened tongue in, and out, in and out, mmmmmmm, you feel my mouth and lips vibrate as I hum, then sliding my tongue in again... pulling back again, my one hand twiddling and playing over your pussy lips, dragging the tip of my now honey’d lightly over your distended little female cock....
"She would go crazy, sitting on your face, her heavy tits above you, pointed at the ceiling, perhaps she would be toying and pulling on them....do you like to suck thick nipples? Have you been bad, and have you done it?” Your responses keep me going.
“Does your husband know? Has he asked to watch you sometime, telling you he would enjoy seeing you enjoying yourself so?" My finger replaces my tongue, and I slide it into you, while my lips purse and slip again around your clit, sucking lightly, flicking the tip when it is in my mouth with the tip of my fluttering tongue.
"What if we lay in wait, in a hotel room, while she showered, you in a housekeeper's uniform. When she emerged, I would tell her you were there, and then you and I would grab her, and tie her into a chair? Would you enjoy letting her watch you suck my cock, or me to eat you out, like this?"
And I continue my lapping, flicking, sliding my tongue all over your bucking, hunching pussy, as you try to entrap me to let you cum, to stay put long enough to allow your pleasure to peak...
All the while you are moaning, agreeing with everything I say, saying yes to anything I do or say at this point, boldly calling me a bastard and an evil tease, asking if I am ever going to fuck you.
Makes me really excited when I hear you talk to me like that…
"What if I lay on the bed, stroking this cock, would you touch her, try to get her to calm down and agree to let you touch her, or would you press your tits and pussy to her mouth, insisting a few licks will win her freedom? Mmm, you are so sexy, I am sure you could seduce her....." I reach up and play for a moment with your breasts, molding my hand flat over them, telling you how sexy this angle is, your breast framing your face, flushed, tendrils of hair clinging to your forehead, temples and neck. “You really are in quite a state, aren’t you?”
Then, suddenly, you feel more weight on the bed. You thought there was more breathing going on, but you had assumed it was the two of us…someone else is here. Panicking, you cry out your husband's name. “No,” I assure you, “he does not know I am here, playing with his hungry, deprived wife.”
My fingers take a more active role in sliding in and out of your pussy, while my thumb momentarily presses along your furrow, lightly pressing and rotating on your clit, as you hear my low, growling voice, commanding you, "Open your mouth! Suck her now." And you feel a hard nipple being pressed to your opening, turning lips, rubbing around your lips before popping into your mouth.
"So good, you do that so good, look and feel soooo good," you hear a soft voice murmur.
Then my lower, gruff voice, "Now, the other one, suck her other tit!"
Suddenly, you are feeling it, spiraling out of control, my lips sucking your clit, then my fingers withdrawing, and the bed shifting, and my lips leaving you so close!
Aaaaah, you feel hands, my broad hands, grasping your thighs, sliding over and then from the outside, gripping you, as something, yes, my cock, thicker than the fingers just recently removed, pressing, sliding, opening...
As your peak hits, and you let your voice announce your orgasm, paroxysms of pleasure coursing through, gripping and shuddering outward, your body clenches, the breast so recently in your mouth swaying over your lips, then pressed to staunch your cry…
Suddenly, the scarf lifted from your face, the blue eyes and dark raven hair of my dispatch girl's face smiling down at you, blocking your vision towards me, as you feel me driving deep, frequency increasing, angles of my thrusting changing as I rotate my hips slightly, my own breathing getting louder, my voice intermittently calling out my pleasure, as the girl smiles down at you, cupping her breasts, her painted nails flicking at her own aching nipples…
“Mmmm, baby, is there more? More you would like?” I am in full heat, my hands having left your thighs, palms flat beside you, as my female companion moves aside to allow our eyes to meet.
Between a flurry of thrusts, I slow only long enough to ask, “Would it make your day, hgn hgn hgn, be really naughty, hgn hgn hgn, if she straddled you now, hgn hgn hgn, would you, hgn hgn hgnnnnn, like her to make her cum too?
I bite my lower lip, nod at you, my eyes fiery but looking glazed, muttering about how hot you are, telling you if you could only see yourself, your girls jouncing, your hands stretched away from your body… no, no Superman here! Seeing your eyes watching in wonderment, or lust, I don’t know, you too biting your lower lip, I don’t know if you are still in the throes, building again, but I am beyond any thought now but that at the fiery tip….
OH FUCK! Uggggggggghhhhhhhhhh. I stop, the girl giggles, her hand to her mouth, a finger slipping in between her lips, her other hand tightly gripping your nearest breast, and as my body tenses and goes rigid, I am focused on one thing, the fiery torrent hurtling forward through my hyper-aroused shaft, embedded, still, throbbing, tightly gripped….
OH FUCKKKKKKKK!
As I buck, spurt, stroke 2-3 more times, stab deep again, stop, and the big one – SPURT – “Oh fucking yes,” and again, twitching, I release, two, three more spasms, emptying myself…
“We are very bad,” I whisper through gasps as I pull the pillows from beneath you, driving deep again, but letting my weight settle in your saddle, as I lower myself close, I whisper, reaching to untie your right wrist – “Is this your kind of bad?”
Let me know?
Would you prefer it was a young studly apprentice, who just caught up with me, or whom I called from downstairs?
Or, perhaps your husband, concerned that the phone wasn't being answered, drove home to check on you....
Where would a lovely lady with no expectations earlier, want this to go, and is there more "bad" in you?"
Lesley
- 19.06.2021
- 14
- 0
- Category:
- Straight Sex
