Quickie Sex | Cowgirl |
Don’t ya Just Love a Man with Strong Capable Hands?
I needed a guy with a tool box to help me settle into my home
It was such a hot summer’s day, that sweat tracked a trail from my clavicle to the valley between my breasts. I was surrounded by all my worldly possessions — furniture and cardboard boxes crammed with books, kitchenware and bedding.
From the next room, the whine of a power drill made me aware of the location of the handyman I’d engaged to help me move in. But even without the drill, I knew I could’ve found him. We’d been circling around each other, sexual attraction creating sparks like an angle grinder since I’d let him in this morning. Now, as he drilled holes to hang a curtain rail, or perhaps it was bookshelves, I wished he’d let me get a look at the size of his power tool!
I sidled along an alley in box city. I needed a drink of water, and perhaps he did too.
Arriving in the galley kitchen, I rummaged in the nearest box labeled ‘Kitchen’ hoping to find wrapped glasses, but it was packed with saucepans, not helpful right now.
Suddenly, the drilling stopped. The doorway filled with his muscular physique. My pupils dilated, and my nipples perked as I appreciated the bulge of his biceps. His hairline was beaded from his hard work, and my mouth went dry as I admired my dungareed adonis.
“Could you use a drink?” I asked him.
He nodded, and when our eyes met, I experienced a spark of arousal that made my pussy clench. I turned my blushing face away and pulled the tape hopefully off another box labeled ‘Kitchen’. I leaned into it and found newspaper-wrapped glasses.
“Aha!” I was triumphant.
Turning to him, I noticed his burning gaze on my bare midriff. He tore his eyes away, but I’d spotted a bulge behind his flies, he liked what he saw! I was equally appreciative of the wide triangle of his shoulders, there was not a spare ounce of flesh on him.
“I’m delighted I found you,” I smiled, turning on the tap. “How long have you been a Hubby to Hire?”
“Almost a year,” he grinned. “Although I’m nobody’s husband, that’s just the company name.”
“Even better,” I giggled wickedly and clinked my glass with his, “because I have ambitious plans for the bedroom. You’ll need to set your drill to hammer action.”
I winked for good measure. The pulse I felt thudding between my legs, and the hungry expression on handy Andy’s face, let me know he understood my plans.
In the confined space, I stepped toe to toe with him to wriggle against the heat of his chest, tilting my head for a kiss, which he returned enthusiastically. He was definitely on board with the project I was proposing, the heat and girth of his enthusiasm was swelling at my hip. My pussy flooded in reciprocation.
I was wearing cut down jeans, shorts and a faded tank, but my hair was shiny and pulled back into a ponytail. My handyman looked edible in a navy t-shirt, which clung in all the right places, over jeans. His hefty leather belt was now digging into me as our lips pressed and our tongues tussled.
His proximity induced raging lust, but when we broke off kissing, his face bore a very cheeky grin. He brought those large, work roughened hands up and cupped my breasts under my tank, manipulating them with his capable fingers so they hummed with sensation, and my nipples tightened to painfully swollen dimensions.
“Thirsty for something else?” My voice was husky.
His smile widened, so I steered him towards the bedroom. The bed frame had yet to be assembled, but the mattress stood against one wall. I looked at it meaningfully, so he lowered it onto the floor, before lowering me onto its surface.
We kissed, teasingly at first. I nipped and tugged his bottom lip, before crushing our mouths together so our tongues could twist. All the while, I ground my groin against the front of his jeans, getting the measure of his equipment. He was no slouch, he’d released my breasts from my bra, and his fingers found his way inside my damp panties. What they were doing along the crease of my slit had me bucking my hips and moaning with pleasure.
He sat up, to push me back, then held both my wrists in one strong paw; I loved how he possessed me while anchoring me onto his lap to make pushes and grinds of his own. The heat of his erection was a delicious ridge against which I eagerly rubbed, spread open. I appreciated every nuance of his moves, and my panties became drenched.
A longing burned within me, a hunger that just wouldn’t quit. The hard ridge in his jeans was pointing straight up, but my fingers were suddenly clumsy, clawing at his belt buckle to free that thick chisel. Did he feel the same urgency as me?
He rested on his elbows to give me free access to his groin, when I tugged his underwear away I saw his mighty tool streaked with pre-cum. A hunger to possess him flared inside me. My own clothes now presented an obstacle.
Clearly thinking the same, he wrestled with the snap and zipper of my daisy dukes, before lifting me off his torso to peel them away from my hips and down. With my legs straddling either side of his hips, my shorts wouldn’t budge, so I rose to my feet and shucked them quickly off, my damp knickers wadded inside them.
Now my handyman had free access to everything below my waist. As I sank to sit astride him, I was quickly lost to sensation, as his finger penetrated my liquid folds, and smeared my juices over my labia.
I groaned in desperation. “Can we?”
In response, my can-do-guy lifted me with one hand under my butt, so I could pull away his jeans and boxers, and free his cock down to his balls.
“Do you have a condom?” I worried.
He dipped into his pocket and pulled out a foil pack, and I watched as he carefully rolled the latex over his length. I raised onto my knees so he could angle himself, then prepared to sink down onto his turgid crown, drawing every delicious inch into my liquid heat. Now he linked fingers with me and took weight on his elbows, so I could use my arms to steady myself to rise and fall. I rode his man meat like a horse on a merry go round.
I was feeling deliciously speared! Whenever I’m on top, I feel wanton and abandoned. I glory in my ability to control the rhythm and depth of thrust. I threw back my head as waves of pleasure shimmied within my core. My sensations of euphoria were escalating fast, layering and building while I blossomed like an exotic orchid.
My hire-a-hunk released my hands and teased my clit with the broad pad of his thumb, until stars burst behind my closed eyes. I was vaguely aware of my knees rubbing against the mattress, but didn’t break the rhythm of my ride. My gasps were loud and uninhibited while he panted with effort, we were united in our pursuit of the pinnacle of ecstasy.
“Oh Baby” he groaned, “Give it up!”
I thrust faster, clenched harder, and my efforts were rewarded. Soon the tightening throbs reached a tipping point, and I climaxed. He came with me, panting and sweating, his final hip thrust anchored us together.
My lusty fuck with a handsome stranger had stroked my pussy walls, inducing muscular pulses and synaptic bursts in a kaleidoscopic release. Now we could bathe in the fluttering aftershocks.
“You loved that, didn’t you?” he asked with amusement.
He tucked damp strands of hair behind my ears and rubbed his thumb (yes, that one) across my bottom lip.
“Maybe!” I pressed a burning kiss on his lips and slid to lie beside him. “Now let me tell you what you need to nail in this room.”
“Apart from you?” he teased, which made me giggle.
“Let me catch my breath, you big hunk of man, then you can show me how you screw.”
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