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| Hardwood Floor by monkeyking © Workman gets more than he asked for.  ***
She heard the van turn into the driveway a full minute before he made it to the
door, so she was already waiting downstairs by the time the sound of his even, firm
footsteps on the porch revealed his presence outside the entrance to her home.
Despite the fact that she was there, waiting, leaned up against the other side of
the door, she would not have thought of opening it immediately. She waited until he
reached out and, barely a foot away through the thick, heavy oak door, confidently
pushed, once only, the button to ring her bell. Knowing it would come, she heard the
bell only absentmindedly. She waited another full thirty seconds, then leaned slowly
from the door, took a step and turned on her heel, running a hand through the long,
thick dirty blonde tresses that fell casually over her shoulders and breasts. She
reached forward and unceremoniously opened the door.
"The company said three-thirty. You're late."
She looked him over. He wore blue coveralls with a company logo that strained
against his lean, well-muscled figure. Tall with piercing blue eyes and a two-day
beard, he was all her neighbor had described and more. She smiled very slightly to
herself. This would be fun. Mentally satisfied, but revealing nothing of her
intentions in her gaze, she directed him to enter her home. "I assume the company
filled you in on the details?" she said curtly.
"They don't usually tell us much. I only know you are looking for an estimate for
putting down a new kitchen floor."
"That's right. Since my husband left earlier this year, I've decided to redo the
entire house. I was hoping you could recommend a material and quote me a price for
whatever would work best in the kitchen. Price is no object."
"That sounds straightforward enough," he replied, and found himself immediately
being taken by the hand and pulled gently toward the foyer and into the house.
"The kitchen is this way," she said, turning to walk away but letting her head drift
back just enough to flash him a brief smile – a smile and a look that only for the
briefest moment turned into a bitten lower lip and a set of cast down eyes.
Immediately her gaze was back with his, and as she allowed her red lacquered nails
to scrape lightly against the inside of his palm, she dropped his hand and allowed
the momentum of her tug on it pull him with her into the next room. She consciously
allowed her hips to sway slightly as she walked, giving him something to follow as
they walked single file through the hallway.
When she reached the kitchen, she bent from the waist to pick up a magazine she had
left on the floor before he arrived. As she bent, the short summer dress she wore
began to ride up her thighs. Even as the man's eyes bulged it rode higher. Even as
the man's coveralls bulged it rode higher. By the time she had stretched out the
three seconds it took her hand to reach the ground, the skirt of her dress had
ridden up to expose a thong barely wide enough to cover the pen the workman carried
in his pocket. She turned and followed his gaze from eyes to eyed, and smiled at him
knowingly. She retrieved the magazine, and placing it on the counter, beckoned him
into the kitchen.
As he broke the threshold between the rooms, she lay an arm across his muscular
shoulders and snaked a leg around his, leaning her full breasts on his chest to
maintain balance.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked in hushed tones after allowing his eyes to
indulge the scenery around him. "Do you think this room would be best floored with
tile -- or with hard wood?" She annunciated these last two words with a pause and
desperate finality, already sure of her decision and waiting only for his response.
With that he tossed the freshly retrieved magazine back onto the floor, lifted her
up by the warm, full buttocks that his hand found like a missile to its target, and
tossed her onto the counter to mount her. His hands went to her full breasts,
rubbing them even as she pushed back against him. His tongue sought out her nipples,
alert as sentries. She stared with desperate eyes at the bulge in his pants, and
pushed her hand down to knead his tool even as he tore her dress from her shoulders
and forced the slight piece of fabric covering his goal aside. With expert fingers,
she pushed her hand down and pried his pulsing periscope from his pants. Before she
could gasp at its size, however, it had re-submerged, and she had a new reason to
gasp. Impatient and overwhelmed, she rocked violently against him, and it was all he
could do to keep up. The sounds of their tryst echoed in the house, and when he
could contain it no more, he erupted into her, the Niagara of his manhood filling
her as nothing ever had. Exhausted, she collapsed onto her back, and asked him if he
couldn't come back the same time the next day with materials and begin laying some
wood on the floor.Back to the Menu>> |
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