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Seth Fans the Flames

Category: Mature
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I love him to death. I really do. He’s a wonderful husband, and the greatest dad in the world. I’ve been working so many hours and running back and forth to Chicago that he has had to practically becum the full time dad and part time mom. I regret the time I spend away but I’m becoming more and more successful, more and more renowned and I don’t want to lose this. I’ve faded into the background for much too long; it’s time for me to make my mark in the world.

I’ve lost weight. I’m working out more than ever before and I want to be sure that when we retire, we can retire in great comfort – traveling, playing golf, doing whatever we want with no worries. I will pay off this house in the next five years so I am busting my ass at work to go further and further and further.

However, at the same time, because he has to do the “mom” thing as well, the house is starting to cum apart at the seams.

First, the chandelier in the dining room went out. Before he was able to do anything about that, the light over the kitchen sink died, then the light over the foyer and now the light over the front porch. What is up with this? I wonder. I am inconvenienced by this but more than that, I am concerned about a possible fire hazard since it seems there is a circuitry problem here.

I am concerned enough, in fact, to talk to a couple of guys at work about it. They tell me that I should really hire an electrician, since, although he IS the worlds greatest dad and he has many, many other gifts, I believe it was I who had to explain to him the difference between a flathead and a Phillips head screwdriver. So this is liable to never get taken care of otherwise. And I live in fear that I will drive home from the airport to find a smoking heap of ashes.

I know he will be upset if I spend the money to hire someone but, once it’s done he really can’t complain. I hope. I check my calendar and find I’ll be available next Tuesday from noon through the end of the day. I get the telephone number of an electrician from a guy at work. It’s his son’s best friend and he has recently been out of work, and would really appreciate the side job. I call and arrange to have him come by.

I am just excited about the prospect of not having to worry about it anymore and arrange for him to meet me at the house on Tuesday around noon. I explain to him what I need done; he tells me there is really nothing to it. By Tuesday at 11:00 a.m., I am finished at work and I’ve decided to replace the ostentatious chandelier in the dining room with a ceiling fan and I run by Home Depot on my way home to choose one.

I’m wearing something that is a little bit of a departure for me today. When I was shopping last, I found the prettiest little short pink on pink silk wrap skirt, almost like a sarong and it catches the slightest breeze when I walk and it feels so good against my bare legs. I’ve opted to not wear stockings today because of the temperature outside. Also, I’m wearing a white blouse that I may have dried just a little too long in the dryer. It seems to be pulling across the bust a little and that one critical button has popped open at the most inopportune time this morning. I normally have safety pins in my desk but it seems I’ve loaned them to people who have failed to return them. Note to self: Replace safety pin supply.

And I silently curse myself for wearing these black 4 inch heels into the store. I can never get over how huge this store is. And because of my lack of time and my choice of footwear, I am more aware of it today.

I am surprised at the attention I am receiving here. It seems as I round each corner and reach the end of each aisle, I am met by male associates asking if they can be of assistance. Did I hear “MILF needs assistance in aisle 13b”? I guess the sight of a woman in a skirt and heels is a rare one here. I am frustrated that I am running later than I anticipated but I know what I’m looking for, having searched the website previously to choose just the perfect fan.

I’m bending over to read the price tag on a low shelf when a guy approaches and offers to help. And while I’ve already made my choice, he fortunately, offers to carry the fan box to the cashier for me, since in my haste, it didn’t occur to me to grab a cart. I pay for the fan, hurry to the car and rush home to meet “Seth.” He is patiently waiting for me in the driveway when I arrive.

I pull into the garage and pop the trunk open to allow access to the new ceiling fan as Seth steps out of his truck. He has apparently pulled on a denim shirt and is buttoning it as he approaches me. He reaches out, takes my hand and introduces himself. I cannot believe how good looking this young guy is. He has blonde hair cut short on the sides, longer on the top and parted left of center with the bluest eyes I have ever seen and lips that look like a cherubs “bow.” Even with the long-sleeved shirt he seems extremely well built. I flush as he holds my hand in both of his a moment longer than I expect and looks searchingly into my eyes and grins broadly.

I break the gaze (what did I see in his eyes?) and turn toward the trunk of the car to reach for the ceiling fan to find as I’ve driven, it has slipped to the farthest part of the trunk, forcing me to bend and reach for it and at this angle, my ass is pointing skyward.

I feel my skirt hem rise as I reach and am both embarrassed and emboldened by this at the same time. He reaches for the fan as well and for a brief moment, our arms brush against each other and I don’t know about him, but I feel an instant intense physical attraction and momentarily consider asking him to return when someone else is home.

But I really want this project completed and I really hesitate to inconvenience him so I suck it up and allow him to retrieve the fan from the trunk. I unlock and open the door from the garage into the house and welcum him into my home.

Because it is a split level house, the garage is on the lower level and you have to climb first six stairs to the landing then seven steps to the upper level. I am all too aware of this as he follows behind me carrying the box up the stairs. I can feel his gaze on my bare legs and wonder if, from his vantage point, he can see up my skirt or if he can see the moisture starting to spread there, for I am excited by him, his good looks, the masculine smell of him, his nearness and the fact that we are here in the house alone, together.

It did not even occur to me that he would be attractive, much less this attractive. Damn it. And as frequently as I’ve discussed “changing it up in the bedroom” with my husband lately, he’s just not interested in anything that consists of more than the “missionary position” and for longer than about 3 minutes on anything but odd dated Saturdays. And I am FEELING it at this point.

I drop my purse on the counter and begin to point out my perceived problems with the wiring. I lead him to the dining room and point out the hole in the ceiling through which wires protrude awaiting the new ceiling fan and show him the lights over the sink, foyer and front porch that I think must be on the same circuit.

We walk to the end of the hall where outside the master bedroom suite in the ceiling, he finds the door to the attic. He reassures me he will be able to help. He indicates he should be able to correct all of the aforementioned problems by completing the circuit when he finishes the wiring of the ceiling fan. But he explains he will have to get into the attic to check that the existing brace is strong enough to hold the fan I’ve purchased. He will need a ladder to get up into the attic and I tell him it’s in the garage.

I excuse myself to use the restroom and I hear him going down the stairs to the garage to retrieve the ladder. I go into my master bath and look closely at myself in the mirror. I’m forty years old, but am told I don’t look it.

I try to take care of myself. I work out, and eat right. My eyes are flashing again, for I am attracted to but know I must resist starting anything with this guy. I run my fingers through my hair and smooth and flatten the front of my skirt with my hands. I straighten my blouse, I was going to change clothes but I like the way this outfit makes me feel and I see no reason to soil another.

And yes, I hate to admit it but I touch up my lipstick.

I remember one other thing I wanted to ask Seth and I leave my bedroom to walk smack into the ladder in the hallway. I assume since the ladder is here and the attic door is open, he must be up there. I carefully ascend the ladder and squint into the darkness of the attic.

“Seth?” I call no answer. I am carefully descending the ladder still in my heels as he silently closes the distance between us in the hallway. I am at the bottom of the ladder and as I bring my left leg to the bottom rung, I feel his arm against my calf. I gasp, startled by his presence.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I thought you were in the attic and there was something else I wanted to tell you.” I start to turn but am still on the ladder. He reaches out and places both hands on either side of me, effectively trapping me. And much to my shock and surprise, he reaches wordlessly for my face, leans in and kisses me, muffling my protests with urgency evident in his soft lips. He pointedly flicks my upper lip with his tongue and pulls away for a moment and, while still holding my chin, looks into my eyes for what?

Assurance? Resistance? I am powerless to offer either.

My knees are weak and while I know I should be offended, I am all at once surprised and immensely aroused. I guess because I don’t move, because I am unable to move, trapped on the bottom rung of the ladder between his strong, powerful arms, unable to react, unable to respond — except to perhaps subconsciously lean my body forward into his, he does it again.

He flicks his tongue over my lips, then softly, ever so slowly covers my mouth with his and plunges his tongue into my mouth and I find mine responding, dancing with his in this erotic scene. I reach up and lock my fingers in the damp curly hair at the back of his neck and lean involuntarily into him, kissing him in return. He slides his hand from my chin to my breast, kneading first softly then urgently and forcefully. I reach behind him and grab his ass, pulling him to me. I can’t help but grind my hips against the growing bulge in his jeans. And growing it is. Pretty impressive from what I can feel.

He continues to run his hands over my upper body; it appears we are equally at fault at this point, equally guilty, equally into each other and oblivious to anything else as I reach to unbutton his shirt. I caught a brief glimpse of him earlier as he pulled the shirt on when I was driving into the driveway, I am impressed as I finish unbuttoning his shirt and push it off his shoulders, pulling first one sleeve then the other from his arms and allowing the shirt to drop to the floor. I run my hands over his chest, his impressive chest; he too obviously frequents the gym.

I try to push him away just a bit, he whimpers a slight protest and I cover his lips with my finger in a “shhhh” gesture. I step down from the bottom rung of the ladder and reach for the buckle of his belt and the zipper of his jeans. I am more than curious now. I want to see this, need to touch him, must taste him now as I unbuckle, unzip and drop to my knees in front of him.

His huge cock springs forth, unleashed finally from its denim confines. And I am speechless at the sight of him, the size of him. He is far longer than anyone I’ve ever seen and much bigger around. I am momentarily interrupted; I cannot get this into my mouth, regardless of my best intentions. I don’t know how I will fit all of his beautiful cock into my mouth.

Always the competitor, however, and much to his benefit, I know I will try my best. I start by lightly cupping his balls and rolling them gently in my hand and run my tongue up the underside of him. I can feel the pulse in his cock with my tongue as I slide it up and over the tip, finding there, already, and a slick drop of pre-cum. I swirl my tongue around it, delighted by the musky taste of him and still wondering if there is truly any way to deep throat him. I hear his satisfied low moans as I continue to devour him. He reaches for my shoulders, the back of my hair, and begins to twist his fingers into my hair. And . . . the doorbell rings!

We are both shocked and frightened. I jump to my feet and he quickly attempts to force his still hard manhood into his briefs, zips his jeans and buckles his belt while I grab his shirt and attempt to push it onto his shoulders.

I run to the top of the stairs and descend the first flight, peeking through the shade to see the UPS man walking away from the house, having left a package. Damn it. They always do that. They ring, drop and run. I should have thought of that. I shouldn’t have panicked. But YOU try not to panic under the circumstances. I remember now that I was awaiting the delivery of a pair of shoes from Nordstrom.

Seth, in the meantime, has climbed the ladder into the attic, not sure what is transpiring. I retrieve the box, walk back down the hallway and apologize. For frightening him, for “going there”, for the whole situation. I explain the box I’m holding and he asks me if I’d care to model them for him. I am a little apprehensive now. That was close. It may not have been the best idea. I tell him I’ll think about it and ask him if maybe he could start working on the fan instead for right now. He has to have been startled as well but we both know now that the possibility exists that something could happen and I am even more than a little curious now, having seen with what god has gifted him!

I begin attending to household chores that have been long neglected with all the time I’ve spent working. I finish loading the dishwasher with the dishes the family has left from breakfast; I am not annoyed they didn’t do these themselves for I am thinking about Seth and his healthy attributes.

I wipe the counter and the stove mindlessly, for I think about Seth. I step outside on the deck to shake out the throw rugs and think about Seth. I am struggling with the whole right and wrong here. My pussy is so wet, slick and pulsing with thoughts of Seth.

I need some sort of satisfaction. I am frustrated. It’s been too long. One can only work out one’s frustrations at the gym for so long. I want Seth. Or I must extract myself from this part of the house to satisfy myself. But I know that neither the hand held shower massager nor the vibrator I have stashed under the sink will take care of this urge, not now, not today. Not with Him this nearby.

I wipe off the kitchen table and lean a little deliberately against the edge, pressing my pelvis against it, grinding into it and teasing myself. I heard Seth in the attic a moment or so ago and determine he must be about finished placing the brace in the ceiling. I wonder if I can quickly vacuum the dining room before he needs to move the fan in there. I retrieve the vacuum and turn it on.

I don’t hear Seth as he enters the room behind me and presses himself against my back, reaching around for my breasts. I am startled because I didn’t hear him, I am startled because I think he knows everything I’ve been thinking and I wonder if I should actually get into this.

He is kneading my breasts, rubbing my nipples through my blouse as a moan escapes my lips and I lean involuntarily back into the heat of his body and I turn off the vacuum and turn toward him. I just can’t hardly resist now. I feel the wetness of my pussy dripping past my panties and down my inner thigh. I keep thinking of the size of his cock, having never seen anything like that and am almost afraid of what damage he might do if we were to fuck.

He presses forward again and puts his hand behind my neck, pulling me forward to both whisper encouragement to me and to kiss me. And I am such a sucker for a good kiss. When he flicks his tongue over my lips and into and out of my mouth, sucking gently on my lower lip and tongue, nibbling and biting, I can feel it transfer the very same flicking, sucking and nibbling feeling to my clit and I am losing the battle of resistance.

He is kissing me and moving me ever so carefully over to the dining room table. My ass bumps against the edge of the table and I am again trapped. He reaches around and places his hands on my ass, gently lifting me onto the table.

His hands slide from my ass to my thighs and he pushes aside the flap of my wrap around skirt.

He runs his hand, fingernails pressing lightly into my flesh, up my left inner thigh and reaches with his fingers past the satin of my panties. He is surprised; I can tell and delighted, smiling conspiratorially as he finds how I’ve reacted to his presence, his touch. He lowers himself to his knees in front of me. He pushes my satin panties to the side and leans in, still playing with my pussy with his fingers but now determined to taste me. He spreads my lips apart and lightly licks my clit, just like he was kissing me.

Damn, I knew it! As young as he is, he still fucking knows what to do to make me crazy. His tongue becomes more insistent as my breathing quickens and I whisper his name. He slides a finger into me now, then two, deeply, and continues to lap up the juices of my pussy, which have begun to spread onto the dining room tablecloth. He removes his fingers, but just for a moment, to slowly draw them from the top of my clit down and slowly back into my waiting hole. And he does this again. And slowly, again. All I can do is to beg “Harder, please harder”. The rhythm of the presence and then the absence of his touch, of the pressure on my clit, are making me crazy. I am leaning backward, my hands propping myself up, my head thrown backward.

I know nothing now. Except for the incredible pleasure he is providing me. I feel involuntary contractions begin; I know I am going to cum. I reach forward and grab his head, urging more and more, faster, harder… his fingers are more rhythmic, reaching deeply within me and his tongue is making me crazy.

For all of the inner turmoil I felt initially, I’m sorry I resisted and I lose myself in an incredible orgasm. I push him away momentarily; the feelings are too intense as wave after wave crash over me. I pull his face to mine, I want to taste myself on him, and this seems to surprise him. I kiss him for a moment, whispering thanks in his ear. He returns his attention to my pussy, licking, and cleaning every last drop of cum. When he finishes, he takes both of my hands, pulls me off the table to stand in front of him, places his hands on either side of my face and asks “now… how was that?”, fully knowing the answer.

He gently turns my head to the side and whispers breathily and hotly into my ear, “You know… now you owe me,” and turns my face back to his so I can do nothing but look directly into his hungry eyes. My legs are shaking, I can barely stand.

“Yes, I um, I guess… I owe you…,” I can barely reply. He drops his hands from my face, turns and walks, no – saunters – cockily into the kitchen and picks up the tools he left before he interrupted my vacuuming. For the moment, he seems satisfied to have rocked my world, knowing full well he has at least another hour of work to do and at least another three hours alone in the house with me before he needs to become… a distant memory…

“He did not”, I think to myself.

I am incredulous. I am floored that this cocky, talented, well endowed young man – slapped my ass as he walked away. And said I owe him. How he could know about my competitive nature, I wonder. How could he know that now I want to do for him what he did for me? But better, longer, harder, faster, slower. It’s like I am an open book to him and it was only an hour or so ago that he walked in my garage and into my life.

It’s like he’s been able to read my thoughts, my fantasies, and my desires. I watch him walk away and I regain at least a part of my composure. Enough to think about what might happen next and how I am going to get my mind off of him long enough to finish a few other things around here.

I deliberately go into a bedroom closet, grab a laundry hamper and carry it down the stairs to the laundry room. The washer and dryer look almost erotic to me as I consider what it would be like to fuck Seth here. I can almost feel the cold of the metal of the appliances contrasting with the heat of our bodies. I realize I’m standing here in the laundry room, my breath quickens, and my eyes glaze over at the prospect.

How foolish, I think. Have I let a 22-year-old young man control my thoughts, control my own movements in my own house? There are things I must get done, I must focus. Of course, how much focus is required when doing laundry, really? And my thoughts return to Seth and his cock.

I want to regain control, here in my home. I want to be the winner. I want to have the upper hand. I am presumably more experienced, older, it is my house! And I begin to plot, to think about how I can now possess him and his body. His imagination. That glorious, huge cock.

I am barefooted, having left my heels in the dining room, finding it difficult to maneuver in them on climax-shaken legs through the house and there’s likely no way would I have been able to carry the hamper downstairs in them. I am still wearing my skirt, however, and consider the fact that I should probably wash it along with the blouse I’ve been wearing and my plan to seduce Seth begins to evolve as I toss them into the washer. I will have to walk through the house, past the ladder to my bedroom in my cum-soaked panties and bra. I apparently have confidence that this will move my new found friend as I mount the stairs deliberately and pad quietly down the hall.

He does not hear me this time; he is climbing down the ladder just as I approach and I gently bump into him and excuses myself as I slip past him into the bedroom, allowing him a lingering glance before I lightly close the bedroom door – it does not close completely. I walk to my dresser, feeling his eyes upon my back and I seem to concentrate on my choice of clothing, moving things from one side of the drawer to the other, closing that drawer, opening the next, looking there – trying, trying to decide what to wear, what to wear.

I choose a white tank top and navy blue running shorts with a white stripe down the side. I open the top drawer, grab a pair of socks and move to sit on the edge of the bed, placing the clothes beside me. I slowly raise the tank above my head, knowing he’s watching me, I pull it down over my shoulders and breasts, running my hands over my breasts ever so slowly, feeling my nipples harden. I stand up and turn slightly, bending intentionally and slowly over at the waist and stretch a little to pull on the shorts and bend again to slip on each sock.

Oh sure, it would be much easier to sit on the bed and put on the socks. But I am aware that I have an audience and I don’t want to disappoint him.

I hear a low whistle as I finish pulling on the second sock and look over my shoulder at him and smile. His eyes are moist and hungry looking again. He will not have the upper hand this time. This is my game now and I will be the winner. I shake my ass a little and disappear into the bathroom. I don’t hear him move, I don’t hear him follow. That’s fine, I have a plan.

I cum back out of the bathroom and look through the bedroom doorway to see him standing exactly where he was when I left. He must be bothered by the heat I think. He is pulling off his shirt and hanging it on the top step of the ladder. And I can see the outline of his enormous cock pressing against his jeans. And I can see I am, in fact, winning…I walk toward him, the intention is for him to think I am going to pass him and walk down the hall. He is a bit off balance as he moves to let me pass. I am able to knock him off balance easily, and he falls back against the ladder.

I move against him, pressing myself against him, reaching up and touching his face this time, running my fingernails down his neck and chest. I let my fingertips linger momentarily on his well developed abdomen . I run my fingernails back and forth across his belly button and the fine blonde hair there. I feel his belly quiver at my touch and see his cock strain against his pants. I slide my hand over his belt and feel the outline of his manhood. I again am surprised at his size. It was not my imagination before. He feels larger through his pants than anything I’ve ever encountered. I have nothing with which to compare him. Nothing, no one in my experience has ever been this big. I look up this time at him for resistance and find none there in his eyes. Did I think I’d find resistance there?

I slowly unbuckle his belt and move to the button on his jeans. I struggle a little now. I am growing more excited, having a little trouble controlling the movement of my hands. He moves his hands to my arms and runs his hands up my arms to my shoulders. I am too consumed with my own intentions to recognize his. I have the button open and I move my mouth down to his zipper, gently blowing hot air on the outside of his jeans. I want him to feel the heat of my mouth.

I feel completely in control as I begin to slide the zipper down. I am still standing now, my hands on his hips, I am going to push his jeans down so I can get a good look again at his cock and envelop him with my mouth – if I am able considering his size. I am apparently moving too slowly for him, his need more urgent than I anticipated; his strong hands on my shoulders now force me to my knees. Together, we both pull his pants away. I am again overwhelmed by the enormity of him. I am at once excited and frightened by what I see. He is indeed even larger now than he was when we were interrupted before.

I can see his heartbeat pulsing in the veins in his cock. The head looks like a ripe plum, straining against its own skin. I pause momentarily. He asks me if everything is ok. I see his face flush as the words rush out of his mouth. He tells me he has never been the recipient of a blow job. He tells me that whenever any of the girls he’s dated have gotten this far, they look at him like he is a freak and digress.

I speak softly and reassuringly to him as I run my tongue up the length of his cock and press it against my cheek. I look up into his eyes and explain that – those were girls, I tell him I promise not to run. I reassure him he is not a freak. I tell him that his cock is gorgeous. I hear a sigh of relief escape his lips as he regains his confidence. I am still looking into his eyes as I place my mouth over his cock. I can’t get it all the way into my mouth yet but I am determined. And I leave a ring of lipstick around the head.

I redouble my efforts and run my tongue back up one side and down the other of this work of art. I place first one well manicured tiny hand then the other along the length of him and find there is easily five inches protruding from my touch. How did I get this lucky? I sincerely have to thank the guy at work for hooking me up with this delightful young man, this hard worker! I move my hands in rhythm with my mouth which is now watering more and more as I taste the drops of cum on the gorgeous head of his cock.

I pull his cock aside with one hand and concentrate for a few moments on his balls. I briefly cup them in my hand, rolling them around before I find myself lost in the desire to take them in my mouth. I slowly lick at them, and then pull them into my mouth, while still gently pulling at his cock with my other hand. I slide them in and out of my mouth. At this angle, I am able to even lick beneath his balls, at his ass.

I feel him tilt forward a little to allow me better access. I return my tongue to his balls but slide my finger to his ass, around and around, into and out of his ass.

He tells me no one has ever done this before either. He tells me he’s not sure he can control himself. He tells me he feels his balls filling and wanting to empty and asks me if I want to grab a towel or move aside when he cums. I tell him I don’t want to do that at all. I want him to cum in my mouth.

I am moved by his consideration of me, I want him to feel the full impact of this and I do everything in my power to pull him into my mouth. I have to tilt my head a little to the side but I am able to allow him entrance. He places his hands on the back of my head and pushes himself further and further into my mouth. I feel the head of his cock at the back of my throat and I have to measure my breathing, timing my inhalations and exhalations to his thrusts.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He asks. I wonder how he thinks I might answer him with my mouth so full of him. I catch his gaze again and nod approval. “Do you really want me to cum in your mouth?” he asks. I nod again and I can feel his balls pulsing and beginning to empty first in a short burst then in considerable long streams of cum, into my throat as I swallow quickly and repeatedly to keep up with him.

I hear him exclaim over and over, “oh my god, oh my god,” as he empties himself into me. I don’t know who is more impressed now. I am pretty darned proud of myself – as much as for being the first as for being able to take almost the full length of him, the full girth of him into my mouth. He seems equally impressed and almost grateful for what I’m doing. I feel him slowing, losing his hardness and allow him to slide out of my mouth. He is still huge even though he is not fully erect. There is still cum escaping him and it runs down my chin. I reach down and push it back into my mouth with my fingertips.

I stand up now, reach around to the back of his neck and pull his face to me. I want him to see what he tastes like as well. I kiss him with the last drops of his cum in my mouth. I feel the passion in his kiss, he likes it. It is his turn to whisper thanks to me. And it is my turn to turn and walk away… head held high, a little shimmy in my hips and this time it’s me… feeling like the victor…

A couple of hours ago, we were complete strangers. Who knew what a difference an afternoon would make? And now we know one another, intimately.

A couple of hours ago, I was frustrated with my electrical problems and apparently more than that, more than I knew. What I guess I didn’t realize was that I needed this young man to walk into my house, into my life and turn it upside down, if only momentarily. There were apparently a couple of things he needed to show me and a couple of things I needed to show him. And show me, he did! I remain excited by his presence in my home. I remain excited by his close proximity.

I can smell him, even though he is in another room. We are separated by space, by several walls and yet I am acutely aware of his masculinity, his enormous size, his enormous need! I am still taken aback by the size of his cock. Never, never have I thought this could exist in real life. I’ve seen something similar in a movie, a guy named Paul…came close but gosh, this young man is huge. And I felt his vulnerability when he said he’d gotten close before but had never experienced a blow job.

So now, he’s almost finished with what he was originally hired to do. But I feel there is something that remains unfinished. I must feel his cock filling me. I want to impale myself on him. I want to see if there is any way possible that I can accommodate his length, and his girth. I am of such tiny stature, but this is something that is not just a competition but a yearning. He has sparked in me a need long uncovered.

I am disappointed as he begins to pack up his things and seems to be finished. I don’t begin to know what to pay him now. He has given me so much more than just an installed ceiling fan. He is in the kitchen leaning over his toolbox, taking maybe just a little bit longer than necessary. And it’s his continued presence that fans the flame of my desire. As he reaches to close his toolbox for the last time, I find myself unwilling to let him leave, unable to miss out on this opportunity.

The buzzer on the clothes dryer momentarily startles me. He takes his tools out to the truck and I go to the dryer to change loads. What can I do, how can I approach this, I wonder as he returns through the garage door, walking into the laundry room. And I realize this is my last chance. I turn from the appliances to face him. And while I don’t want to appear desperate, I have to know if it’s possible.

“Fuck me.” I say. “Please, fuck me .” I blurt out, hoping I don’t sound foolish. Hoping more than anything else that he will say “yes”.

He closes the small distance between us and places his hands on my shoulders, moving me slowly backward. The laundry table is here and I have laid out some of my bras, panties and thongs to dry. He removes one hand from my shoulder to sweep the lingerie to the side and reaches around my back and pulls me to him while at the same time pushing himself against me, against the laundry table. I love the feeling of his large, warm hand on my back. I feel my breasts swell and my nipples harden as I feel the heat, the strength of his body against mine. I am thankful to feel the hard-on in his jeans – again – and I think he must be “game.”

I am growing light headed, dizzy at the prospect of fucking Seth. He slides his hand up my back to my hair and runs his hands over my hair as he kisses me urgently, passionately, and the juices from my pussy begin to run again. He pulls my hair back and licks and nibbles at my neck.

This time, I stand on tiptoes and I lift myself onto the edge of the laundry table so that I can pull him, his body closer between my legs. I wrap my legs around him tightly, I grind against him, rubbing up and down… we are still clothed and I wonder if either of us is actually debating still – whether we will allow this to happen – but I am just as happy to lose myself in the heat, the feelings of the moment. Our tongues dance together, I nibble on his lip, and he sucks on mine. My hands roam freely over his body. Damn, I still cannot get over the feeling of a well conditioned body. My fingers turn to the buttons on his shirt and I struggle a little because I am shaking so with desire.

I feel his breath catch as I reach the bottom button. It is so near his zipper and I allow my hand to linger for a moment. I break the kiss and look into his eyes. He doesn’t look offended, doesn’t look like he will stop me. I push the shirt from his shoulders to the floor, allowing my fingernails to play briefly with the muscles of his arms. Again the heat is one thing I notice. The heat of his body.

He turns to my tank top and slowly lifts it over my head, brushing my already rock hard nipples with his fingertips. I push him back a little bit; I slip off the table quickly this time, for the urgency is becoming overwhelming. I remove his belt, jeans and boxers. And I am again taken by the immensity of him. I briefly wonder if I will be able to take all of him. But we’re beyond wondering now.

I am still wearing the tiniest of running shorts and satin panties which he is able to discard with a single, swift movement. I replace myself on the edge of the laundry table. I slide easily in part, I think, because of my own wetness. I pull him to me. This is a perfect angle as he briefly teases my pussy with his huge cock. My hands are on his hips as I try to maneuver him into me but he hesitates and kisses me again first on the mouth, then moving his mouth to my nipples.

I seriously don’t think I can get any wetter. Seth, being aware of his size, wants to be sure I am ready. Oh, I am more than ready. He takes his tongue, laving it on one nipple while twisting and tweaking the other with his fingertips and fingernails. I try again to pull him to me but he slides his hand up my thigh to my pussy, rubbing over it and down the other thigh but still not yet inserting himself.

“Seth, please,” I blurt breathlessly. “Please fuck me, I can’t take this anymore, I need you now.” He looks into my eyes now and reaches behind me to get a good grip on my ass. He pulls me forward and slowly pushes his huge head into my wet, hot waiting slit. It’s almost like a vacuum as I pull him in. But at the same time, I feel a twinge of pain at the mere size of him. He moves in a little and stops, moves in a little more, and stops. I can feel my muscles relaxing to accommodate him and then squeezing as if afraid he will pull away and I begin to cum simply because of these contractions.

I wrap my legs around his hips again, I don’t know how but I am able to engulf the full length of him with my tight little pussy. He pauses briefly to allow me to feel how huge, but only for a moment am I able to be still. I tighten my grasp with my legs around him and grind and bounce against him. I put my hands on his shoulders and attempt to lift myself off the table onto him. He seems to understand. He lifts and holds me in the air, sliding me onto and off of his wondrous cock. We have a great rhythm going, in and out, in and out. When he holds me briefly away, up and off of his cock for a moment I become frantic.

“Please, please don’t stop.” And this seems to be exactly what he wants. “Ask me again,” he says. “Tell me how much you like it, how much you want it”.

“You can’t tell?” I ask. “Look how wet I am for you. Look how hard my nipples are for you . You are bigger than anyone I’ve ever had, anyone I’ve ever seen.”

This apparently is not satisfactory. He places my feet on the floor and I am confused. And frustrated. I don’t know what to think until he quickly spins me around forcefully and pushes me forward over the table. He takes my hands and places them over the far edge and tells me not to move them.

He runs his hands, his fingertips, his fingernails down my arms to my shoulders, down my shoulders to my sides… like butterfly wings, it feels. I can barely feel his touch, as light as it is. I start to reach behind me to touch him and he quickly grabs my hand and slaps it back into place at the far edge of the table.

“Don’t move your hands. Is there something about this that you don’t understand?” I am stretched out against the table, you see? I can feel the cold tabletop beneath me and I am being forced to restrain myself. He returns his fingertips to my sides, reaches around to lightly brush my nipples. His fingers continue their journey down my sides to my ass and I’ve apparently involuntarily relaxed… perhaps a moment too soon.

He reaches and kisses my ass cheek. He runs his tongue over it and slowly, tortuously slowly, rubs his hand ever so lightly over my ass in circle after circle. I feel my body responding, I’m beginning to rub myself, my pussy against the table in circle after circle.

He begins to draw light circles over my ass with his fingernails and while this is happening quickly, it feels like slow motion. And it seems that at about the time we’ve found a rhythm, I’m rubbing clockwise, he’s rubbing counter clockwise… He removes his hand.

“Oh god, Seth, please don’t stop again.” He returns his hand to my ass. Slowly, ever so slowly he moves his fingers across, circling and circling my globes. And then I feel a sting. He slaps my ass so hard that it stings. And burns. And he slaps the other cheek. And I’m writhing against the table. And despite the pain, I am powerless to move away. Because the combination of the two feelings is so overwhelmingly awesome, so sexy, that I can only beg him for more.

It is now that he chooses to enter me from the rear. Not my ass, not yet, I think although this is a thought that is certainly occurring to me. But he brutally and forcefully pushes himself into my pussy once again and slams into me time and time again. He has his arm wrapped around my belly holding me relatively still. I love the feeling of his hand on my stomach. And I am surprised…a bit impressed at myself because I can feel his balls slapping against me and it is in this way that I know I am able to take the full length of him.

He does not mind now when I remove my hands from the edge of the table to grab his ass and pull him to me again and again. I feel myself lost in the sensations and cannot control myself as I cum repeatedly on his huge rod. He seems to get off on the fact that I’m climaxing and cums in unison with me. Wave after wave of cum shoots into me. I can feel the heat, the volume of it. I love the sounds he makes. They’re not words but animalistic sounds as he cums over and over and over.

We both lie on the table in an exhausted heap. I am surprised by the turn this has taken. I didn’t know what he was capable of. He seemed so unsure of himself at times earlier today. He lifts himself off of me and helps me to my feet. I am speechless. I look down at his huge shaft, even now huge in its semi- erect state and still glistening. I can’t help it, you know I can’t. I drop to my knees one last time and lick and taste and clean every last drop of my union with him. I look up into his eyes. “I hope I didn’t hurt you,” he says now a little bashful.

“Seth, you didn’t hurt me at all. You gave me exactly what I needed.” I reply. And he appears relieved. I reach for my shorts and tank top and take his hand and lead him to the adjoining half bath to clean up. I know I need to pay him for his “handiwork” and get him out of the house before the family returns.

“Mrs. T.,” I hear him say from around the corner. “I hope you will be able to find some other stuff for me to do around here. I hope you don’t mind me saying so. I noticed the deck probably should be power washed and stained before winter and I have a friend or two who would probably be available to cum back and help me with something like that, if you want. Okay? You have my number, call me?” And there is no question in my mind that I will engage THIS young handyman again.

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