I was home alone, hubby out on a business trip, and these builders were tearing up our backyard patio all week. Sweat everywhere, hammers banging, that dusty concrete smell hanging in the air. I’m 27, you know? Curvy, long dark hair, always in these tiny shorts when it’s hot like this. Today, this one guy—tall, ripped arms covered in tattoos, maybe 35, stubble on his jaw—catches my eye. He’s got this cocky grin, jeans low on his hips, shirt off half the time.
Around noon, I hear him yell from the site: « Hey, miss! Got a bucket I can borrow? Mine sprung a leak. » I peek out the kitchen window, see him wiping sweat from his brow, muscles flexing under the sun. Heart skips. « Yeah, hang on! » I grab an old plastic one from the garage, fill it halfway with water ’cause why not. Walk out there barefoot, grass prickly under my toes, feeling his eyes on my tits bouncing in this thin tank top.
He takes it, fingers brushing mine—rough, calloused, electric. « Thanks, gorgeous. Name’s Jake. You’re the boss lady, right? » Up close, he smells like man—sweat, sawdust, faint soap. « Mia, » I say, biting my lip. « Hubby’s away. Need anything else? » He chuckles low, eyes dropping to my cleavage. « Maybe. This heat’s killing me. Mind if I rinse off quick? » Bold as fuck. I nod, throat dry. « Use the hose out back. »
But nah, he follows me inside instead. Kitchen door clicks shut. « Bucket’s good, but… » He steps close, water dripping from his chest onto my floor. I can hear his breath heavy. « You got that look, Mia. Like you need it bad. » My pussy clenches. « What look? » I whisper, but I’m already wet, nipples hard against fabric.
He grabs my waist, pulls me in. Lips crash—rough, tasting salt and coffee. Hands everywhere, squeezing my ass, yanking shorts down. « Fuck, you’re soaked, » he growls, fingers sliding into my panties, circling my clit slow. I moan, « Jake… shit… » Grip his bulge—huge, throbbing through denim. Unzip him, cock springs out, veiny, thick head leaking pre-cum. Smells musky, hot.
We stumble to the counter. He spins me, bends me over—cold granite on my tits. Shorts gone, panties ripped aside. « Gonna fuck you raw, » he says, rubbing that fat cock along my slit. I push back, desperate. « Do it. Please. » He thrusts in—deep, stretching me wide. Gasps escape: ahh, fuck. Wet slaps echo, his balls smacking my thighs. Sweat drips from him onto my back, mixing with mine. « So tight, Mia. Hubby not hitting this right? »
I grip the edge, legs shaking. « Harder… yeah, like that. » He pounds, grunting—uh, uh—with each slam. Fingers dig into my hips, bruising. Pulls my hair, arches me back. I taste my own lip from biting so hard. Then he flips me, lifts me onto counter. Legs wrap his waist, he dives back in missionary-style, chest hair scratching my nipples. Kisses sloppy, tongues messy. « Cum for me, » he pants. Thumb on clit—circles fast. Pressure builds, pussy fluttering. « Ohhh… Jake! » I squirt a little, soaking his abs, puddle on floor.
He roars, pulls out—ropes of cum splatter my belly, hot and sticky. We pant, foreheads together, his cock twitching against my thigh. « Best bucket run ever, » he laughs breathy. Cleans up quick with a towel, winks. « See you tomorrow? »
I collapsed after, still buzzing, pussy sore in the best way. Hubby texts later—everything good? I smile, thighs sticky. Yeah, perfect.
(Word count: 612)