copyright 2004
With their passions cooled a little, Dave picked up her list. "I'll take a look at some of these."
"Okay, but first the little girl's room for me," Angie said.
Dave watched her walk away and wondered what she saw wrong with putting that ass in a bikini. He grinned and reached for his coveralls.
When she came back Angie said, "Know anything about spin driers?" She was disappointed to see him covered up again.
"A little," he said.
"Mine doesn't spin."
"Let's take a look then."
In the basement he opened the drier and reached in, spun the drum and said, "Belt's likely broken. Nowhere open today to get a new one. Five bucks'll fix that I imagine."
He cocked his head and said, "What's dripping?"
Round the corner, beside the furnace, stood a bucket, almost full. Water dripped from a pipe above. "Damn, it's got worse, used to take a week to fill the bucket."
"Well it isn't going to get any better, maybe I should fix that today."
"Today? You're sure?" she asked, thinking more about leaking cocks than a leaking pipe.
"A little heat and a drop of solder should do it. Guess I'll have to drain the pipe though."
"Can I help?" she asked, wanting to stay around him.
"Spare coveralls in the truck," he said, "you can pass me stuff. Besides I'll likely need a third hand."
He came back with an overloaded tool tray and a pair of coveralls. He passed them to her and said, "Forgot the flashlight." He headed back up the stairs.
Angie stripped off the bikini and struggled naked into the coveralls. She popped the bikini into the drier, out of sight. The coveralls were far, far too big and she was rolling up the legs when he returned.
"You look the perfect workman," he said with a grin.
She wasn't sure. They fit like a sack and she began rolling up the sleeves to free her hands. Another slight problem; every move she made had her nipples rubbing against the rough fabric. The more they rubbed the more sensitive they became. Too much of this and she'd go mad. It was an almost cruel torment. Her arousal fed off it.
Dave found the stop valve and asked her to turn on all the taps upstairs. "Need to get the water out of the system." He started rummaging through his tools.
By the time Angie returned to the basement she was carefully holding the coveralls away from her breasts. She longed to unzip the front and stop the delicious torture of her nipples. She looked at Dave's back and was actually reaching for the zipper, when he turned.
"Could you hold this up there for me while I cut the pipe?" He handed her a plastic bucket.
Angie crossed to the stairs and came back with a plastic two-step stool. She climbed up, and held up the bucket.
Dave slipped the tube cutter over the pipe and began turning. They were very close, his face level with her breasts. "You suit dark blue," he told her quietly.
She giggled, "Just something casual I slipped into. "Their intimacy had returned.
Water began dribbling into the bucket, and then became a stream. He moved and stood behind her, and rested his hands on her hips. "I like coveralls in the summer, loose and roomy. Cooler than they look." His hands moved. "Big slits here so you can reach into your pants' pockets." His hands slid in and up, onto her bare hips. "Ah!" he said finding her naked.
Angie tipped her head back and closed her eyes. His hands slid up the soft flesh over her ribs. Her bralessness produced another "Ah!" from Dave.
His fingertips were in the soft moistness of her armpits. She shivered; glad she'd shaved them the night before. When Dave's fingers slid over the sides of her breasts, she thought her legs would fold. Her mouth opened and she began panting gently. He granted her silent wish, and moved his fingertips to her nipples.
It was his turn to gasp as he found them, big and hard and begging for attention. His forefingers and thumbs took them. He rolled them, twisted them gently. Her thighs tensed, the muscles trembling.
When he released them, she gave a little sob at the loss. His big hands cupped her breasts then, lifting, weighing. How she'd longed for gentle touching like this, by hands other than her own.
Angie sighed as his hands moved down to her waist.
There was a glugging sound, somewhere above them. Water poured from the open pipe, missing the bucket, down over her front. Seemingly freezing cold, it ran over the coveralls, soaking into the cotton, from her throat, down over her belly.
She half gasped, half squealed, "Oh God! It's cold!"
"Well, you must have let the bucket move," he was laughing.
"You grabbed my tits."
"You have grabable tits."
A further trickle of water came, but she caught this with the bucket.
"My arms ache, this is like a scene from one of those bondage movies."
"Fancy being tied up in a dark basement, do you?" he asked her.
There was more in his voice than just banter. she thought.
"I think I might like that," she said, knowing she would indeed like it. A cold trickle of fear stirred in her belly at the thought. There was heat there too, and suddenly, it was exactly what she wanted.
"Well, I could staple you to the beams," he said, and added hurriedly, "staple the sleeves, not you."
Dave reached into the tool tray and rummaged about. He held up a staple gun, big and shiny. "Well?" Just the one questioning word.
She swallowed and looked into his eyes, and nodded.
He took the bucket from her and hung it over the pipe. The staples going in sounded as loud as gunshots, as he fired maybe half a dozen through each of the rolled cuffs, into the beam over her head.
Dave moved around to stand in front of her. He reachedfor her zipper and slowly eased it down. So very slowly, little more than a tooth at a time. The coveralls opened, and the swells of her breasts appeared. He kept sliding the zipper down, until he was just past her belly button.
Angie was trembling. Was it cool basement air on her bare skin or her helplessness? She didn't know. The tendons of her thighs kept tensing and there was a wonderful, scary heat writhing through her insides. And she felt horny. Above all else, she felt horny.
"Do you have a hair drier?" he asked.
"In the bathroom. Why?"
Alone for the moment, listening to him move around upstairs, she wondered. She glanced down and felt a chill. The propane torch with its blue cylinder and heat discoloured nozzle, stood on the concrete. She was suddenly too vulnerable. She gave a tug at her left wrist, nothing yielded. She tugged again and the staples held, no sign of loosening. Panic coiled in her belly.
Dave came down the stairs. He crossed the basement and plugged the drier into the socket above the washer. He came to stand in front of her, "Reaches just fine."
Angie swallowed and waited. Dave hung the drier on a nail. "Wonder if all the water's gone?" He took thebucket from the pipe and tapped the end. As if he controlled such things, a little gulp sounded, and a sudden stream poured out.
Angie squealed as the cold water flooded across her chest, into the coveralls, down over her belly, over her pussy and down her legs. God but it was cold. She called him a bastard, and he laughed. "That's what the hair drier's for."
He reached out and gently peeled open the right side of the coveralls. Her breast, heavy and full, was tipped by its swollen red nipple. Her skin was cold to his touch. He reached for the drier, switched it on and began playing warm air over her breast.
Angie crooned softly. The rush of warmth over her cold breast was heaven. Then he touched her. Gentle fingers caressing, following the soft curves of her flesh. The flow of warm air followed his hand. Oh Lord, she could take this forever.
She was at the perfect height. Her nipple, his mouth. She begged silently for him to kiss her, suck her. He did! She gasped as his lips took the nipple and pulled. He lost his grip and she smiled at the loud kiss his mouth made. Then he was back, his teeth this time, nipping and nibbling just shy of pain. She brought her legs together, trying and failing to satisfy her pussy's need to be touched. Angie moaned and thrust forward with her hips, trying to touch him, needing to touch him.
The drier clicked off. She felt him open the coveralls wide. Now both her breasts were exposed. "They are beautiful," he said.
"They're too big and they sag and I don't think they're beautiful at all," she said.
He looked at her and smiled. His palms playing over her breasts, barely touching the skin, maddeningly avoiding her nipples. "Oh they're big, but they're beautiful and I love them." With that he put his face between them, and, with his hands, pressed a breast against each cheek.
Angie loved it. He said the right things, did the right things. Her arousal had taken away any fears she'd felt earlier. She didn't care what he did, just so long as he did more.
He turned the drier on again. A bliss-filled interlude followed, as warm hand and warm air made love to her breasts. She couldn't believe the sensitivity of her breasts, her out thrusting nipples. Oh, this man was wonderful; she wanted him to go on forever.
But her helplessness was a torment, despite her boobs being in heaven. She needed to get a hand to her pussy; she needed to squirm her ass, to press against something. She knew she was wet and getting wetter. She wanted, needed, to touch herself.
Her breasts were incredible. The softness of her defied belief. Her skin was warm now, and he ran his hand over her nipple, dragging it with his skin, side to side, round and round. It tickled his palm incredibly, and she squirmed under his teasing. She made little sobbing noises.
Poor Dave, he was wondering what to do with this lovely creature. He knew she was loving the teasing and pleasing, but his own arousal was becoming an awful thing. He moved lower and began running his hand and the warm air over her belly.
The cloth of the coveralls was coarse against his cockhead. He hung the drier up on the nail, unzipped his coveralls and struggled to get them off his shoulders.
She opened her eyes at the sound of his zipper and he saw her watching him. As the coveralls fell and his briefs slid down his legs, the expression on her face shocked him. She looked hungry. She licked her lips and he saw her lift a foot and begin rubbing one thigh with the other. He looked down. His cock stood erect, pointing straight up at her. "I think he likes you," he said."I love him," she said softly, her voice husky.
He slid the zipper of her coveralls all the way down this time. No yellow bikini hiding her delights now. The bush he'd trimmed earlier was a dark mass of curls that glistened with water droplets. He reached out and stroked her fur with his fingertips. She drew her breath in through her teeth. She thrust out with her hips, the gesture almost lewd. The firmness of her mound surprised him.
Another spell of drying followed as he fluffed her curls with his fingers and dried her. His touch and the warmth of the blown air were too delicious to bear. Every nerve in her body longed for him.
Dave switched off, and hung up the drier.
He cupped her sex in his hand, and gently massaged her. His fingers opened her. Almost by accident it seemed, a finger slipped into her and she gasped, a sudden intake of breath.
She was hot inside. She felt like melted butter. Her thighs tensed and squeezed his hand so tight, that it almost hurt.
Dave moved his other hand inside the gaping coveralls and slid it around her to grip her buttock. He rested his cheek between her breasts and stood silentlyclinging to her. She clenched his finger with her pussy, and she felt his body stiffen at the movement. She did it again, and he looked up at her. "She likes you." Again she made herself grip him, to let him know what she meant. He slid a second finger into her, and something inside Angie let go.
Suddenly she was struggling like a fish on a hook. Desperate to get free, she pulled and jerked with her hands. Her left hand came free, and then her right.
She seemed to have gone mad in his arms. He looked up, almost scared by her agitation. He tried to ask her what was the matter.
Then his arms were empty and Angie was fighting herway out of the coveralls.
She grabbed his hand. "Come on you, fuck me, before I lose my mind!"
Somehow, Dave got one foot free and moved in her wake, still trailing briefs and coveralls from the other ankle. At the bottom of the stairs she stopped and leaned forward, hands resting on a step, her ass outhrust. "Just fuck me, goddammit ... we can play more later."
Dave moved close behind her, his hands went to her hips. She wiggled her ass at him. Her back was hollowed, feet spread apart. This was a wordless plea, an unmistakable demand by her body.
Dave plunged his cock into her. He had to. She actually screamed and Dave froze, afraid he'd hurt her but Angie thrust herself back at him and said, "Keep fucking lover!"
She came twenty heartbeats later, her vagina walls clenching, trying to milk Dave's cock. Knowing he'd not come, she begged him to be still, desperate for more; terrified he'd spend himself too soon.
Dave was almost happy to pause, to crouch over her. He'd never had a girl from behind and the sensations were too incredible. The hand job she given him earlier, left him with some control and he let his arms go around her. Her jostling breasts more than filled his hands, soft and heavy, the nipples seeming even bigger and harder.
She squirmed her ass against him, moving his rigidity deep inside her. She didn't speak, she didn't need to. Dave knew. He straightened and grabbed her hips again and withdrew from the slick tightness of her tunnel. When just the head remained in her, he thrust hard. His thigh tops slapped loudly against her ass and Angie said, "Yessssss!" Just the one word.
He looked down, watching as he fucked her. Saw the cute brown pucker of her anus. Watched her pussy seemingly turning inside out as he withdrew, then the pink of her lining pulling back in as his cock reentered.
Then he stopped looking, and closed his eyes and fell into that blissful rhythm.
She came twice more, while Dave fought for breath, fought for climax. In the warm damp of the basement, they sweated. Sweat dripped from Dave's face onto Angie's back and buttocks. Sweat ran from Angie'sarmpits, down her breasts and her swirling nipples flung droplets onto the steps.
She sensed his orgasm's approach and her body readied its own reponses. Angie was no longer in control of herself.
Dave could have sworn she was trying to escape his cock, as she bucked and twisted. He clung to her and followed her every squirm and struggle, with his own desperate thrusting.
They came, sobbing, moaning, saying wicked and beautiful things, making no sense at all. Dave seemed to come forever and Angie's pussy clenched and spasmed, suckling him insatiably.
Finally, finally she dropped to her knees on the bottom step, pulling herself off Dave's cock. She hadn't the strength to hold herself up any longer. Dave half knelt, half squatted on the cold concrete, his arms wrapped around her thighs. He sobbed for breath.
Angie rested her head on her forearms, nipples almost touching the step, as her chest heaved and her heart hammered in her ears. Cool air rolled down from upstairs and she could feel the wet trickle down the inside of her left thigh, as her pussy gently wept the mingle of their juices.
"David?"
"Yes."
"Stay with me tonight."
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