A Visit to the Hot Shop

After throwing on my work clothes and gulping down my morning coffee, I was out the door. I was particularly excited to get to the studio today, as our mystery guest artist would be arriving. I guess I should explain; I'm an artist. Glass blowing is my medium. I had left my family and friends behind a few years back in order to move to the big city and work in one of the best studios around, in hopes of finding success. After struggling to make ends meet, and toiling away in the hot shop day after day, I really thought today might be my chance - a chance to impress this artist who was coming through town, a chance to be discovered as the great artist I knew I could be.

As I arrived at the hot shop, I was faced with the usual onslaught from my male counterparts. As the only girl in the group, I was naturally teased relentlessly.

"Good morning, Ariel, you're looking particularly hot in your overalls this morning!"

I rolled my eyes. But that would just be the start of it. I wondered which of these brilliant minds would contribute to the conversation next.

"Hey, Ariel, I'd like to see your glory hole one of these days!"

Geez, that's not even original. Anyone who's been anywhere near glass blowing has chuckled once at that euphemism ('glory hole' is the name for one of the furnaces used in glass blowing). But I'd learned a while back, the best way to respond to these half-wits was to just simply not respond. I walked past them as they lounged around with their coffee and cigarettes, and quickly got to work. It was actually good inspiration for me - getting right to my task was infinitely better than putting up with their childish flirtations.

I held my breath as I opened the doors of the furnace where my most recent work had been cooling since yesterday evening. Glass blowing was such a delicate process, and it was always possible that the final product from the day before could have broken in the cooling process. An easy sigh escaped my lips as I discovered that all was well - the piece I had created turned out just as I had hoped.

But there's no time to rest. I wanted to be in the middle of working a new piece of glass when our mystery guest arrived. Brad, the owner of the studio, had told us last week that a very important glass artist - whose identity would remain secret - would be paying our studio a visit today. While my cohorts were still busy goofing off, as they always did when Brad wasn't looking, I was already on to my next project.

Before I could pick up my tools and head for the first furnace, I needed to pull my hair back. Impractical as it was for the work I did, I loved letting my natural blonde hair grow long and wild. So each day started with pulling it into a long braid which snaked down my back, nearly reaching my ass. Watching myself in the mirror as I braided my hair, I took a moment to appreciate what it was that got the guys all hot and bothered each morning. I'm 5'7", with nicely tanned skin and green eyes, and I have to admit that my work clothes - although chosen for their practicality - do accentuate my natural assets. Any guy who followed the line of my close-fitting overalls from my long legs past my firm ass to my perky 36C tits would probably like what they saw.

But enough of that, I thought to myself as I picked up the blowpipe and sat on my stool next to the furnace. Before long I was lost in the process that I found so fulfilling. I loved everything about working with glass - the feel of the tools in my hands and mouth, the sounds and sights and smells of the hot shop, the risk that the glass can so easily break, the satisfaction of creating a work of art with such simple ingredients - my hands, my breath, sand, and heat.

A light touch on my arm brought me out of this fog of artistic creation and back to reality. I jumped slightly and turned, expecting to see Brad, but instead seeing a new face. This must be him, our mystery guest! My instinct was to stand up and introduce myself, but this wasn't what he had in mind. "Just keep working, Ariel. Brad told me you were the most talented young artist here, so if you don't mind, I'd just like to watch you work for a little while. We'll have time to talk later."

I obviously wasn't going to object, and returned my piece to the furnace to warm it again as he pulled up a stool next to mine. I had waited for this moment for four years - I was just 19 when I first arrived at the studio, and now, at 23, I had been presented to this prominent visiting artist as the most talented young artist in the place. I had worked hard, developed my technique, and this was my chance to be discovered. I was in the zone, all I had to do was show him what I could do.

But I was suddenly, unexpectedly, having trouble focusing. His touch had sent chills through me. His voice, his eyes looking deep into mine as he spoke, had captivated me. Now, as he sat close to me while I worked, I found myself thinking of nothing but this strange man's body. Suddenly, everything about the process of what I was doing struck me as sexual. After years of ignoring the sophomoric sexual innuendo of the young men around me in the studio, I could think of nothing else. The heat of the studio, my mouth on the blowpipe, the moving of tools in and out of the furnace, it all made me burn with desire. It was more than I could handle, and I set down my tools, turning to him sheepishly.

"I'm sorry if I made you nervous, Ariel - it wasn't my intention. Why don't you take a break, maybe get yourself some lunch, and come back when you're ready."

Humiliated, but maintaining my composure enough to be polite as I left him in the studio, I found my way to the coffee shop down the street, where I asked for a glass of ice water, and slumped down into a chair. How could I crack under pressure like this, after working so hard for so long? I quickly decided that the best thing to do was put that little incident out of my mind and go right back to the studio, confronting my fears. I'm sure he didn't know the affect he had just had on me - he probably just thought I was nervous because I wanted my work to impress him.

I walked slowly back towards the studio, breathing deeply with each step. I can do this, I can do this, I told myself as I entered the hot shop again, and saw that ridiculously handsome man still seated by my work bench. Something was different, though - this time we were alone. As if reading my mind, he turned to me, saying "Yes, I sent everyone away. I don't want any distractions as I work with you."

He motioned for me to return to my stool and pick up where I had left off. I realized I'd have to start over again, since I'd left so abruptly. I placed my blowpipe into the furnace to gather some of the molten glass, rolled the glass on the bench, and then began to blow and shape it. I felt myself returning to the comfortable zone of creativity, rather than the zone of sexuality I had been in a bit earlier. Focused again entirely on my work, I didn't notice when he stood up, didn't hear his footsteps as he walked toward me, didn't feel his proximity as he came up behind me. I didn't even notice his first touch on my arms, as he made himself part of my process, guiding my young hands with his older, more experienced ones.

It wasn't until he spoke that I realized how close he was to me - he whispered directly into my ear, his arms enveloping both me and my tools. "Have you ever applied that wonderful blowing technique of yours to a cock?"

Before I had time to question whether I really heard what I thought I heard, he pressed his body closer to mine, and I could feel his hardening cock pressing into the small of my back. His hands, which had been working the tools with me, moved now to my breasts, and he squeezed and stroked one in each hand, massaging them through the fabric of my overalls, shirt, and bra. I said nothing, but silently consented to his advance, arching my back so that my head fell to his shoulder, and sighed as his lips touched my neck.

In order to give his big, strong hands more access to my breasts, I reached up and unhooked the snaps on my overalls, so that they now slipped to my waist. I quickly pulled my shirt up and over my head and unhooked my bra, flinging both to the floor just in time for him to resume his caressing of my perky tits. Although I was enjoying his touch, I hadn't forgotten what he had asked me, and I now reached behind me, hoping I could free his cock. As his lips and hands explored more of my torso, I struggled first with his belt, which snapped in the air as I freed it from the last loop, and then with his zipper, which finally relented, letting his slacks slide down his legs.

I stood up from my stool and turned around just in time to see his cock as he pulled off his boxers. Already hard, it jutted out from his body as he took my place on the stool. It was obvious what he had in mind - if I kneeled on the floor, my mouth would be exactly in line with his cock. He ripped off his shirt, revealing the rest of his stunning, muscular body. I, meanwhile, left my overalls on, so that they could protect my knees from the dirty hot shop floor as I worked his cock with my mouth.

As soon as I was on my knees, he grabbed my long braid and used it to push his hard cock deep into my mouth. With each hard stroke, his cock continued to grow, until he was soon reaching the back of my throat. I took his balls in my hand and began to play with them as he fucked my mouth, obviously pushing him quickly towards cumming. I could barely keep from gagging, and nearly couldn't breathe, but I didn't care - I was lost in the heat of the moment, and I wanted to make this man cum right here in the hot shop.

"Oh, god, Ariel, your mouth is so hot - I'm going to cum!"

He pulled his cock out of my mouth and pushed me back, just in time for his cum to hit my breasts as it spurted from his hard cock. Covered with his thick, dripping cum, I stood up and pushed my overalls past my hips, so that they fell to the floor. As he watched, I massaged my own tits, my hands lubricated with cum, and occasionally let a hand slip down towards my sex, slipping a few fingers under my panties to brush across my clit. It wasn't long before the panties were just in the way, and I stepped out of them one leg at a time, finally flinging them across the room with one pointed toe.

Before I could return to pleasuring myself in front of his feasting eyes, he stood up from the stool, quickly walked towards me, and lifted me up onto the work bench in one smooth motion. He grabbed me by my thighs and pulled me to the edge of the bench, so that my dripping pussy was in his face as he knelt down in front of me. I eagerly spread my legs for him, putting one foot on each of the stools as he buried his face in my pussy. With long, smooth strokes, he moved his tongue from my clit to my pussy, sometimes lingering just outside, sometimes jutting into me. After a few minutes of this divine torture, he added one, two, and then three fingers to the mix, finger fucking me as he nibbled and sucked my clit. Just before a powerful orgasm began to overtake me, he stopped and stood up.

Lifting me just as effortlessly as he had before, he helped me down from the bench, and I could see that his cock was hard again, obviously ready for more action. I turned away from him, put my arms down on the work bench, and spread my legs apart, my ass in his face, inviting penetration. He groaned with delight, obviously pleased that I wanted to be taken from behind. Knowing how wet I already was, he quickly came up behind me and plunged his cock deep into my pussy. I let out a deep moan as he started fucking me, first in long, slow strokes, and gradually moving faster and harder.

"You're a fantastic cock-sucker, Ariel. And I love fucking your tight little pussy," he said as he spanked my ass, gently at first, then harder as my responses revealed how much I enjoyed it. "Do you want me to do more to your ass than just spank it?"

"Oh, yes, please fuck my virgin ass!" I had never done it before, but was ready to live out that dark fantasy with this hot stranger.

That was all he needed to hear, and he pulled his cock from my pussy and placed the tip at the entrance to my asshole. I was tight at first, and wet as his cock was with my juices, he struggled to enter me. He reached around with both of his hands and stroked my clit and pussy lips, and as I sighed with pleasure and relaxation, he was able to fill my ass with his cock. The brief moment of pain was quickly replaced with ecstasy - ecstasy which became all-consuming when he began finger-fucking my pussy and stroking my clit as his cock pounded my ass.

I wouldn't have remembered my name at this moment if he hadn't used it - "Ariel, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!"

I had already started - a long, intense orgasm that was the result of his expert hands and cock penetrating my pussy and ass simultaneously. I was in the midst of this release when I felt his cum deep inside of me, felt him slump on top of me in exhaustion. Even after he pulled his cock from my ass, I was still bucking, pushing myself down onto his fingers still in my pussy.

It seemed like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, before I returned to the real world. He had gathered up my clothes - which I had flung all around the room - and was offering me my panties, saying, "The others will be back to the studio soon, we should probably get dressed."

I smiled and slowly began to get dressed, and then said, "You didn't get to see me finish a piece!"

"Oh," he said, "I think there will be plenty of time for those details later, if you come to work in my studio."

"Really?" I was glowing - and not just from the great sex.

"Absolutely - you're a great talent. Plus, you have to come work with me. I'm the only one who truly knows which is your glory hole."