All in a Day’s Work

This kind of work is good in the morning... the earth waking up, the rich smells of life rising into the air. The plants, birds, everything that lives, really, singing in worshipful response to the sun. Which is still a cheerful, benevolent god... not yet a brutal oppressor.

But it's getting there.

I'm making my way across the country, taking up work as I need it, then moving on. I'm not a typical day labourer. Something in me needs to do this. While I'm still strong. I like the freedom, the way the work hardens and bronzes my body. Strengthens the connection to the earth. And as a writer, I see scenes. Meet people. Hear stories.... I'm filling the well.

But today, it's a real bitch. I'm working on a stunning estate, a real showplace, in the lake country a couple of hours from the city. There are flower beds that need hard labor to always look their best... That would be me.

I'm turning over the soil with a gas tiller. It's a red demon, heavy and hard to control, with vicious, ripping blades and a secret lust for human flesh. As much a nemesis as a helper... it's an uneasy partnership.

It jumps around like a jackrabbit with a mind of its own, and always goes an inch or two further than I want it to, before it can be stopped. Kind of like my cock, I think, ruefully.

Unfortunately, that brings my imagination to you: the lady of the house. Blonde, gorgeous... and married. You are landed, in more ways than one. Have a beautiful spread, courtesy of a rich husband who is always away, making big deals. He's far older than you... he can barely walk to the mailbox, let alone do what I'm doing. But it has to get done.

Every morning I go up to the house to get my day's instructions. You started out cool, reserved. But recently you've been inviting me in for lunch. Seem interested in my story. I said little, at first... but you have a magnetic pull, a way of drawing me out. I try to be taciturn, reserved. But a teasing remark or two back and forth, and my guard starts coming down.

I try not to think about you. How did you end up with this man, who can't possibly match your vitality? The catlike air, the smile: gently mocking, then dazzling. Or the body that can't help but reveal its smooth, dangerous contours to my furtive gaze.

It's getting hot, the sun nearing its punishing zenith. I'm sore, sweating, and now I have the beginning of what promises to be a massive, pulsing erection. I'm... distracted.

And so, the bastard tiller gets away from me. Runs over three of the zinnias, and punches through the border of stones around the flowerbed, scattering them everywhere. I turn it off, too late.

Cursing, I stop for a minute, strip to the waist, tie the shirt around it. Maybe it's time for a break.

I go to the great maple tree in the middle of the lawn, in front of the verandah of the house. Set down the shirt, pick up my water bottle, take a great draught. The lid comes off unexpectedly, and i'm getting splashed down...

Some of it runs in rills, down my chest, across my lean stomach (which I suddenly realize is hungry!). Streaking the dirt on my skin. And, oh, shit: wetting my pants. Now the bulge in my crotch looks as if it has quite forgotten all decorum.

I feel as if I'm being watched, suddenly. I look up, and there you are, on the porch. staring at me.

I'm embarrassed, but your gaze is steady. Then... "I'll find you some dry things. Meet me at the back door."

It's getting near lunchtime, anyway. What the hell...

You let me in. The back door of the house is best... I'm too dirty for the front. It opens into the laundry room next to the kitchen.

You stop there and reach up to free a pair of pants hanging from a hook. Work pants, perhaps left there by another labourer. I try not to see your breasts rising and back arching as you do, and drop my eyes. To your ass... Goddamnit. Lower.

No respite there. Dress lifting, calves rounding, feet straining up, up, up on splayed toes, each tipped with crimson. Fuck. I am hard again. And in this enclosed space, my instincts scream at me to pounce on you like an animal.

But what if I've misinterpreted your attention? Total disaster.

I opt to help you instead. I'm taller. I reach up to free the garment and my forearm brushes yours. Electricity sparks between us, and surprised, you lose your balance and fall back into me, with an "oh!"

I catch you. We are body to body... briefly, but profoundly. We laugh at the silliness of it, or maybe to break the tension... you turn, and our eyes meet. Something I usually try to avoid... the heat in the small room skyrockets, our laughter stills, the air grows suddenly close. You bite your lip, something I have longed to do. And I can't stop myself any longer.

I kiss you. You stiffen, shocked... then everything becomes a wave, as you kiss me back, lips opening, softening. Tongue meeting mine, searching... And I know that I was not mistaken.

You pull back. Compose yourself, seemingly, and say, throatily... "Well."

I half expect you to banish me back to the field. Then...

"Why don't we get you out of these wet, dirty things?"

You lead me into the big, civil war era farmhouse, at once intimate and rich, with old wood and tall windows, through the kitchen and past the dining room. Into a tiled bathroom with a skylight and a big, enameled, old-fashioned clawfoot tub with brass fittings, porcelain handles. You start to run the water.

It's not lost on me that you left the pants behind. Because you're kissing me, unbuckling me, handling me, and who's kidding who: we are going to be naked. Soon, we are, skin to skin, and it's absolutely fantastic.

I'm getting you dirty. Streaking your alabaster skin. The darkness of my hands standing out on the white of your throat, hips, ass, thighs. A devil, daring to ravish an angel. I spin you around to face yourself in the mirror.

You blush as you see yourself being mauled by a satyr, the dark face behind and beside yours, then biting your neck... your ear... dark hands roaming your body, cupping and squeezing your breasts, then down, gripping your haunches.

And all the while, my own insatiable devil bringing up the rear, so to speak. Big, heavy. Expanding to fullness between the cheeks of your beautiful, upturned ass.

You take my brave soldier in hand and lead me to the tub. I get in, standing, and you wash me with a snaky shower head extension, the morning's dirty sweat sluicing off me. Your soapy hands slipping, sliding.

Then grasping, pulling. As you take my rampant cock in both hands. I'm all helpless ecstasy in your slippery grip. You rinse me efficiently. Kneel on the fluffy rug, and take me in your mouth, gazing up at me. This is too much... The magnificent, unapproachable woman for whom I've been lusting from afar is right in front of me, on her knees. Head bobbing up and down on my rigid tool. Blowing me. Passionately.

In the mirror, I can see your patrician profile. Swanlike throat, expanding slightly as you take me to your limits. Elegant sweep of your cheekbones hollowing as you suck me avidly. Then the outline of my cock visible thru your cheek as you take the root in hand and deliberately stretch your face, looking up directly into my eyes.

Pulling me out with a "pop" and smacking your smiling face all over with my cock - forehead, eyes, chin, open mouth - using me as a truncheon, each blow sending a small shock through me. Avidly licking, up and down the shaft, then your tongue a butterfly beating it's wings against my frenum. Playfully, lightly biting the tip. Then sucking, taking me in, filling yourself again. Humming a song of satisfaction - that I feel from top to bottom, into my heavy balls, which start to tense with their burden... inexorably, unstoppably rising.

I come. Right there. Launching load after load into your laughing, open mouth as you jack me off with both hands, head back, looking directly into my eyes.

Taking me back in to finish me, eyes closed now, sucking with a "mmm-mmm-mmm" of appreciation. Then pausing with my cock deep inside your throat. Milking the last remaining drops from me with the rhythmic undulation of your tongue, pulsing along the underside, pushing and pulling my cum through my shaft to the tip, clenching and releasing the head with a swallowing motion of your throat muscles. Then slowly withdrawing, opening your eyes to gaze into mine, with a deep sigh of satisfaction.

Passion undimmed, I lean down, kissing your lips, now fuller than ever, and help you into the tub. Slide behind you again, soapy hands caressing away the dirt streaks I made... here, there, lifting and gently squeezing your breasts... rubbing your erect, slippery nipples between thumb and fingers, sending jolts of pleasure down into the core of your womb.

I rinse you... and now that my hands are clean, reach down to find you drenched with your own wetness. Bend you over on all fours, admire your sex, the hillocks of your firm, white, shapely upturned ass. The pink innocence of the tiny aperture framed between them.

I soap my hand, and circle the sensitive opening with my middle finger. Then gently slip a fingertip inside. Hear you catch your breath. Feel your resistance. Then as you release your breath, you open. Ever so slightly. Still gripping tightly. But beginning to trust.

I work my way in, slowly. Then withdraw, feeling you closing behind me. Then in, deeper. And again. This time my palm comes to rest on one firm, rounded cheek as my finger penetrates as far as it will go. I withdraw partially, rotate the finger and bring my thumb and forefinger to rest along the cleft of your satiny sex. Slowly slide the web between them back and forth across the labia, while my thumb reaches your clit. Moaning, you arch your back, opening further to me.

I look in wonder at your pussy, like an anemone, an incredible sea creature between your taut thighs. Irresistibly drawn forward, I breathe in your musk, then taste. The ocean from which we all come, that you carry with you, within you. Pushing my tongue deeper, pursuing this mystery. My finger still inside your ass, feeling your pleasure as you rhythmically squeeze, relax.

Then withdraw my finger from your ass, replace it with my tongue. You gasp, giggle, sigh, as I plunge in as far as the tight, clean orifice will allow. Withdraw to rim the delicate ring, then in again, insistent, pushing.... feeling your pleasure even as your rectum squeezes around me, trying to cope with this unaccustomed sensation.

I pull back, rising, taking a breath. See your beauty all at once: the columns of your back, your patrician profile, the twin moons. It's a very pretty picture that you're not going to let me stop and admire. My cock is hard again, and you're going to put it to use.

You wiggle that fabulous bottom and slowly, invitingly smile. I take the hint, and the lavender-scented massage oil on the counter. Work a handful into my cock. And drizzle some down the crack of your ass.

My cock is pointed directly at the forbidden portal I've just tasted. Your eyes are closed... you bite your lip, again. Goddamnit, in profile that's even more compelling, It's all I can do not to thrust into you, sheathe my entire length with you all at once. But I wait. I'm big, and this is a big ask, especially so soon... but then, I hadn't dared to hope we'd ever be anywhere near this kind of relationship, and fortune favours the bold.

But trust is sexy. And consent, essential. So I wait.

You open your eyes, look up at me... take me in hand. Position the head of my cock so it nestles in the space between your upthrust buttocks... It seems to have been made to fit there, perfectly. Breaching the aperture itself seems an impossible feat, you're too small... But you take a deep breath and sigh, relaxing, pushing back.

Miraculously, you open, barely enough for me to begin to enter... Slowly, and not without difficulty: I can see your struggle. It's a challenge.

I take the initiative, and push. Slowly, inexorably. Incredibly, you expand, and gradually enclose. Over the ridge encircling the head, closing down on the sensitive skin that rings the shaft directly beneath it.

You let out a sigh and push back, taking more of me into you, then hold still, gradually dilating and accommodating my girth.

I withdraw partially, until i can see the flange of the head distending your delicate pink rim. Then in again, slowly, until my pubis comes to rest against the heaven of your full, white ass. Eyes closed again, you wince, and utter a small, agonized sound.

I ask if you're ok. You give a small, tense nod. I ask if you're sure. You nod again. I withdraw, watching your face all the while. Then in, again... you let out a long moan and that's it. I begin to fuck you. Slowly, but fully. You feeling every inch of me expanding you, while I feel every inch of you squeezing, milking my cock.

Feeling my explosion coming, I have to stop. Simply pulsing inside your magnificent ass while you purr makes me grow even bigger, harder. Your eyes open, widen at the sensation, and this alone almost brings me off.

I withdraw quickly, and watch in wonder as the hole stays fully dilated a moment, slowly, reluctantly closing, and returning to state of, to all appearances, virginity. It makes me want to slam into you, open you again, fill that delicious donut with cream. But I have other plans for you.

I mean to have you on that big dining room table.

Turning you around, we kiss while you wash my cock, then we rise and grab towels, drying each other off - the sensation of the soft terrycloth heightened by arousal. We're on a hair-trigger.

I take your hand and walk you to the dining room. We face the great table where you've had dozens of guests, hosted wealthy and powerful titans of industry, artists, academics, intellectuals. And where you'll now be taken by a common labourer...

Who you will dispose of in a week. You'll deny this encounter to anyone who'd dare suggest it took place... I'm the one who is in your power, not the other way round. A dirty workman made you his whore, and no one will ever know...

A perverse pleasure thrums through you at the thought, thrilling a secret, neglected nerve deep inside you. Which is good, because it's exactly where I mean to go.

I stretch you out on the table. My god, it has been a long time - you're trembling with barely contained lust.

No more delay. You raise and spread your shaking legs, I grasp your ankles, position myself, part the sopping lips of your pussy, and enter you. You gasp and grab my hips, pulling me in further, all the way in.

The table is a little high, which is perfect: i'm at an angle, thrusting UP, and I can see your lower belly distend slightly as I fill your womb completely. I put your hand over the bulge, so you can feel it... then withdraw, the flange of my cock head pulling, thrilling your G spot as it passes.

Then, in... I see your hand rise slightly as my cock fills and lifts your belly again.

Then you are rubbing your clitoris as I fuck you hard, over and over, and you're coming, gasping, legs shaking in the air, toes pointed. I turn you, head hanging off the table, blonde hair streaming, like a mermaid underwater, and I take your open mouth, past your throat, blast my cum directly into your belly as you moan, vibrating the length of me...

I withdraw, turn you back around to face me... and you leap onto me, a tigress, impaling yourself fully on my spasming, still rigid cock, wrapping your arms and legs around me, shuddering, then relaxing, going soft and languid in my arms.

And hear you murmur in my ear... "All in a day's work, I suppose..."