by Naomi Penn
That was so good. I bet it was good for you too. Yeah! I can see it on your face, handsome. And I bet your ability to focus in class isn’t going to be an issue after this. But if it is, you know where to find me... or better yet I know where to find you. Miss Breuer’s going to be away for a week, so I’ll be in charge of the detention hall until then. And I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the next few days. Yeah, that naughty smile on your face says I’m right.
Story 42
“Are you fucking kidding me? How many times have you promised me that you would finish that?” I hated sounding like a bitch, but Rick, my husband, continually promised to help me finish projects around the house yet never actually followed through on them.
His excuses were always the same. I was getting so good at predicting them that I sometimes mouthed them to myself as he said them. “I told you, I have a lot going on at work. I’m not the one sitting at home all day Lois.”
He thought this point was some kind of trump card, but it made my blood boil. He never took my business seriously, for the simple fact that I was able to work on it from home. I put years of blood, sweat, and tears into it in order to get it off the ground, and I still worked hard on it each and every day.
This hard work is worth it, don’t get me wrong. I make incredible money and have the luxury to work in my underwear and take breaks whenever I need to. If I’m being honest, I usually don’t even get underwear on. There's something exciting about being on the phone with customers or answering emails while the person on the other side has no idea that the woman they are talking to is nude.
The fact that Rick didn’t take my work seriously used to hurt, but as time went on it just turned into an annoyance. He could be so full of himself, and had really neglected our relationship after he grew bored with it years into our marriage.
I tried to inject some spice back into it. Despite the fact that he let himself go, I still managed to work out every day. I am in my late 30’s, yet arguably look better than I did back in college. I never used to put much effort into my appearance, but now I felt like I needed to in order to get any attention at all.
Other people would give me compliments all the time. Women at the gym were always jealous of my still perky breasts and toned body, but I always pointed out that I deserved it because I worked for it. They could have it too if they just got off their asses more often.
No compliments ever came from Rick. The most I ever got was ‘thanks’ after blowjobs. He never noticed that they got better with time because I watched perhaps too much porn trying to discover techniques that actually looked pleasurable. He didn’t even seem to notice that for a while I was making sure to fuck him daily.
He had a hot wife cooped up in his house, trying to release her pent up sexual energy from long days spent fully nude, but this was lost on him. I had to practically beg to get any action in return, and trying to introduce anything even remotely kinky was always met with a condescending disapproval.
The large toy collection I had developed over the years was also lost on him, which I took great precautions to hide. I kept them locked in a small box that fit nicely under our bed and behind some extra blankets. If he found them, they would be gone, and they were all I had to keep myself sane.
I tried very hard to make things work, but he was pushing me too far. I had fought for him for years, but now I couldn’t even get him to help me clean our pool, install the new microwave we had sitting in our kitchen for over a month, or any of the other items on a list that was stretching further and further down a digital to-do list that we shared.
I thought about his comment about me sitting at home all day, wanted to run up and hit him, but calmed myself down. “You can be a real jackass Rick. You know I can’t hold the microwave up long enough to screw it in, and I know you don’t actually need to be at work as long as you are at God knows what you do when you ‘work late’,” I may have been taking a similar low road to his, but I had ground to stand on, and he did not.
A huge fight ensued, but by the end he agreed to do something about helping me. For some reason this time he seemed like he meant it, if for no other reason than he knew I wouldn’t stop talking about it if he didn’t.
I expected him to come home early the next day, but he did not. When he came in the door well after dinner time, he was drunk and I was ready to lay into him.
“Before you yell at me, I think I’ve found a solution you will like.” His words slurred slightly, which annoyed me, but I let him continue. “You know Bob, the guy I work with? He has a son that needs some extra work this summer before he goes back to college.”
I knew Bob, and if his son was anything like him, this was going to be more of a hassle than it was worth. Bob was overweight, lazy, and had an obnoxious odor that seemed to follow behind wherever he went.
I started to protest, but was desperate so agreed to have him come over the next day to put the microwave in. Rick called him right then and asked him to come the following afternoon.
I woke up the next day and focused on work. I didn’t have very high hopes for the endeavor with Bob’s son, but at the very least I figured that by the end of the day I should finally have a microwave that worked correctly. That would be nice. I tried to stay positive.
***
When I heard tapping at the door around three in the afternoon I was surprised. I had been going through a particularly hard and stressful day, forgetting completely about Bob’s son in the process. I was still sitting in my office with nothing but bottoms on, so I had to run to the bedroom to throw a t-shirt on before going to the door.
I rushed to the door and opened it, stopping dead in my tracks as I did. Someone had the wrong house. A young, very muscular man stood on my porch. He had on nothing but a thin white t shirt, the sleeves of which hugged his rather large biceps. He had short, dark brown hair but icy blue eyes and had a healthy amount of facial hair that screamed, ‘I’m in college.’
“Can I help you?”
He held out his hand. “Hi Mrs. Duval, I’m Phil. Your husband called to have me come do some work for you.” I then noticed the tool box sitting at his feet.
Surely this kid was adopted. He had all the alluring features his father lacked, and other than the beard, had the manliness that usually only comes with age. From what I understood, he was barely 20 years old.
“Oh, wow, great!” I was a little flustered, and felt myself reddening a bit. He was attractive, something I never even remotely considered, and for some reason this rattled me. “Come on in and I’ll show you the kitchen.”
I led him to the kitchen and we made small talk for a while. I learned that he was home for the summer from an all-male college in Virginia, a fact that confused me. I never understood the idea of a one gender school.
Even though I knew it was inappropriate of me to ask, the words just flowed out of me before I could stop them. “What, does your girlfriend not trust you around other girls with looks like yours? I don’t blame her!” I reached out and playfully hit him on the shoulder, laughing at my own joke to diffuse the tension a bit. I couldn’t believe I was flirting with this kid, but I couldn’t help myself.
He laughed with me, but was also acting a little shy. “No, no. Nothing like that. I don’t have a girlfriend. It’s just a good school and my friend was already going.”
Interesting. I wasn’t sure what to make of his reaction. The words were innocent enough, but the way he acted while he said them made it seem like he was hiding something. I considered the possibility that he may be gay, but that didn’t seem like what was going on.
“So this is the new microwave.” Right, I thought to myself, his sexual orientation and partners are of no consequence to me. I tried to convince myself of this simple fact, yet I wanted to continue prying.
“Yep, that’s the one. I need you to take the old one out from above the stove and then put the new one in. I think they both work with the mounting hardware already in
stalled, I just can’t lift them to switch. Be careful, they are very heavy, but I’m sure you won’t have a problem. Look at those arms!” I still couldn’t believe myself. I felt like some schoolgirl fumbling over her crush who was finally talking to her.
I watched as he got a screwdriver from his toolbox and start disconnecting the old microwave from its mounts. With each turn, his biceps slightly flexed. It was magical to watch. Suddenly the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra was obvious to me, as each time the fabric brushed against my nipples, small sensations of pleasure were shooting through my breasts and then up and down my spine.
I could have gone back to work, but I couldn’t drag myself away from the show. When he had unscrewed the last screw, he pulled the microwave out and lifted it with ease to the ground. His arms were now in a full flex. I honestly could not believe how big they were. I don’t know if it was because I only had my husband’s arms and their years of inactivity to compare them to, but I couldn’t get enough of them.
My nipples were hard as diamonds now, poking right through my shirt. Voices in my head argued over whether or not I needed to go put a bra on. I knew I should have, yet I stood there anxiously waiting to catch him looking at them. This was giving me a rush, providing excitement that my life was sorely lacking.
As he bent down to open the box for the new microwave, I moved so I would be right in his line of sight if he were to look up. I leaned casually against the counters, positioning myself so that my shirt would sit against my skin rather than hang away from it.
He was focused on getting the styrofoam packaging off and out of his way, but I got his attention by asking, “So no girls, I’m surprised. I don’t mean to pry, but isn’t that what college is all about?” Part of me felt like I was coming off as that annoying family friend that acted like she knew what was best for everyone. If only he knew my real intentions.
He looked up from his work to answer. As his eyes traveled to my face, they very clearly moved back to my breasts for a moment. They lingered, taking in my nipples, before quickly looking back to my face, reddening in the process. “Yea, hopefully. Just gotta get better at finding someone.”
He looked back to his work, but not before another slight, hesitating glance at my breasts. I hadn’t had a man look at me for a long time, and this was starting to get me revved up. I could feel myself getting wet, and the idea of pleasuring myself while Phil was in the house somehow got into my head.
I tried to distract myself, but the more I watched him the more I wanted to slip a finger into my shorts. Without saying anything I dipped out of the kitchen and headed to the bedroom. I knew I didn’t have much time, so went straight for my favorite toy. I slipped it out from the box under the bed.
The medium sized green dildo was the perfect size to hit me in the right places while leaving me with plenty of room to work. It wasn’t the size I loved about it though, it was the vibrations. There were three different patterns of pulsations to choose between, and a knob that increased the strength of them.
I always started slow, sometimes with it completely turned off, then worked my way up in intensity. As I worked it in and out of me, matching the strokes with the pattern of the vibrations, I thought of Phil’s muscular arms. I imagined them wrapped around me, holding me as he had his way with me. I wanted him to overpower me, to use those arms to make me his sex toy.
I felt myself working up to an orgasm very quickly. Before I could finish, however, I heard Phil calling for me.
I called out, “one moment!” I was too close not to finish now.
Knowing Phil could be right outside the door pushed me the rest of the way. I had grown used to being home alone, developing quite a penchant for loud orgasms in the process. They started on purpose, as a way to explore my sexuality, but had grown into something I did unconsciously.
I felt noises developing in my throat, and quickly grabbed a pillow with my free hand in order to muffle the noises I didn’t successfully keep inside me. I moaned into the pillow as pleasure started washing over me. My legs kicked a bit, but overall I managed to stay relatively discreet all things considered.
I quickly dressed and fixed my hair, trying to compose myself before leaving the room. I was still flushed, but there was no way for Phil to know my secret. I left the room and found Phil waiting in the living room, looking as sexy as ever. I couldn’t get enough of him.
I didn’t want him to go, so I offered him a drink of water. He gladly accepted, but then said he would need to get going because he had other things to do later that day. I was disappointed but still determined.
“Are you doing anything tomorrow? There are a lot of things that need done around here and you did a great job today.” I hung on every moment of silence while he considered the offer.
“Yea, that would be great. I’m pretty sure I’m free all day, so just let me know when.”
“That depends on how much you want to earn. I could keep you working all day if you want.”
“I can do that.” I cheered on the inside, knowing I had locked this eye candy down for a full day.
“Why don’t you come over around 9 or 10 tomorrow morning?”
“Sounds good.”
***
The next day I was up early, trying to get as much work done before Phil arrived as possible. Rick hadn’t even come home, something that was all too okay with me. I dealt with all the important business I had first, then started getting to all the other things I wanted to get done. I knew once he arrived I would have a hard time concentrating.
Around 9:30, I heard knocking at the door. I rushed to my room to get my shirt on, but an idea struck me and just thinking about it had me feeling wet between my legs. When I was younger, I had been an extreme exhibitionist. I loved the thrill of being naked in somewhat public places, especially at the beach or in nature where the prospect of someone to see you was around any corner but not guaranteed.
I hadn’t had an opportunity to exercise this flair of mine in a long time, and the more I thought about Phil’s eyes on my body, the more I knew there was no turning back. I started walking out of the room, still topless, and the mixture of excitement and nerves that washed over me was overwhelming. I went to the kitchen as he continued to knock, needing to grab a cup of coffee to give my hands something to hold. I was shaking but wanted to hide this fact, in order to come off as cool and collected, like it was no big deal that I had my breasts exposed.
I got to the front door, steaming cup of java in my left hand, and my right hand reached out to the doorknob, trembling slightly. I opened it, staying behind it so that I wouldn’t be stuck in the wide open door if Phil froze at the sight of me.
“Good morning,” he stepped through the door in the same style attire as the day before, toolbox in hand. He didn’t look at me at first, as he stopped to take his shoes off. When he finally turned to actually look at me, his jaw dropped and he actually recoiled a bit in shock. He stared right at my breasts for a moment before shaking his head to try to gain composure. He was now the one flustered, and I was enjoying this reaction.
I wanted to get everything out in the open, so I said, “Sorry, I usually work topless. Does it bother you? I can throw something on.” I knew it didn’t bother him, but wanted to see how he handled the offer.
He stammered out, “No, no.” He struggled to find anything to say, probably trying to find something appropriate for a situation he had never considered finding himself in. “No problem at all.”
I flashed him a grin, “I assumed it wouldn’t be. If it gets distracting, just let me know.”
I watched as he awkwardly twisted his body, in a failed attempt to discreetly hide a growing erection in his gym shorts. I didn’t actually see the bulge, but the way he positioned himself could only mean one thing.
“Will do Mrs. Duval. What should I get started on?”
“First of all, call me Lois. Second, I have a full list, but why don’t you start by cleaning the pool. It’s a mess, and all
you need to do to get started is to use the skimmer that’s sitting along the edge.” I wanted to get him out of the house for a little, the pressure between my legs was too distracting to deal with all day. The pool was my chosen place for him to start because it was right outside my bedroom, giving me a great view out the windows and door.
Phil headed out the back door, and I practically ran to the bedroom. I sat on the edge of the chair that was below the window, allowing me to peek out the blinds without being seen. He picked up the skimmer and started working right away, and so did I.
I wasted no time getting a hand inside my pants, massaging small circles around my clit while I watched him. As he maneuvered the long poll and net around the top of the water, his huge arms were flexed and stretched in every position imaginable. I couldn’t believe what a view I had.
Normally I always upgraded to a toy at some point while masturbating, but I was enjoying myself too much to need or want to stop to get one. I pinched either side of my clit lightly with my fingers, then rolled them back and forth for stimulation.
