Ch. 01 - Panting into Corners

I'd moved to a quiet little suburb about forty minutes from Hank and Becky's. Mostly for work, I told myself, but I knew I'd only taken the new job because it put me closer to them. Of course, the first thing I did was invite them to dinner and a moving-in party. Hank and I caught up and Becky peeked around the place, giving me pointers on decorating and fixing up my new flat.

Over dinner we talked about houses and the neighborhood and work. Becky promised to help me with some shopping for my new place, and I ended up promising to come by the next weekend and help paint their guest room.

Hank was going to be in Nevada on business, but he'd promised Becky to get this honey-do item done and I was his backup. It shouldn't take long and we'd have a chance to do some shopping in the city. "Besides," he added, "Becky's really good with the trim. Just needs some help with the grunt work."

I arrived the next Saturday morning in an old pair of jeans, an old chamois and a t-shirt, ready to start painting.

Becky met me at the door barefoot, in an oversized scrub shirt already spotted with various drips and smears of paint from past bouts of decorating. She showed me to the project and true to her word, she had it taped up and trimmed in neat order, with drop cloths laid out and taped neatly to the moldings all around. There was even a drop cloth taped across the hallway to the bathroom door, covering access from the guest room up to the tiled floor of the bath. On the sink, cleaning stuff and stacks of clean rags were laid out neatly.

"Looks like you've done most of the work already. This should go pretty fast."

"Well, we'll see. You know there's always something with projects like this."

"You can hang your things in the hall closet - and there's a clean smock on the sink for you. I'll get us some coffee."

"That sounds great."

"How do you take it? Black, right?"

"Sure. That's fine."

I shucked off my boots and chamois, depositing them in the closet and went to investigate the bathroom. I used the facilities, relieving myself of the coffee I'd had on the drive over and then checked out the scrub she'd laid out. I held it up for size - it'd fit fine. I whisked off my tee shirt and donned the scrub then padded out into the hall.

Becky met me with two mugs of coffee in hand and took in my painting outfit.

"Oh, you don't want to get paint on those, do you? You can put them in the closet too." She indicated my jeans.

"Oh - they're old; they'll be fine."

"I was thinking of your car on the drive back - you wouldn't want to transfer any smudges. You can - oh, I hadn't thought - you do have underwear on, don't you?" She looked meaningfully at my crotch.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. I guess you're right."

"I've done this a lot before. I know how things get messy when you paint a room. I'll just set your coffee on the ladder."

I pulled off my socks and stuffed them in my boots, and hung my jeans neatly on a free hangar. The smock covered well enough; the legs of my black boxer briefs showed just below its hem. I'd be fine; modest enough - unless of course I started to sport an erection, and around Becky I knew that that was always a possibility.

I joined her in the guest room. She sat with her legs crossed on a small step stool, sipping her coffee. In the vee of her smock, tan lines highlighted the generous top of her cleavage. The side of her thigh shown smooth and curved and tanned below the hem of her smock. Her bare foot dangled in the air and fluttered nervously.

I took my mug from the ladder and rested against a step at just below butt height, raising my mug in salute.

She raised hers as well, leaning forward to clink mine. As she did, the front of her smock fell away. Through the generous neck, the view of her cleavage expanded until I could see her nipples bobbing crinkly and dark atop the pale creamy curve of her breasts.

I locked eyes with her to keep my arousal in check and sipped quickly at the coffee; rich, dark and strong.

"Mmm. That's great coffee, Becky. Thanks."

"Glad you like it." She settled back, removing the titillating glimpse of her breasts from my view. I tugged nervously at the hem of my smock and moved my legs a bit to conceal the slight bulging beginning in the front of my shorts. She noticed the movement and flicked her eyes at me, searching my waistline and the edge of the coverall. I covered with some small talk.

"So, nice color you've picked out." It was a tawny gold, just shy of too bright. It would be pleasant in most daylight, and cozy under lamplight.

"Thanks. I like it. It didn't look quite right in the can, but it dries to a nice, warm, bright color, don't you think?"

"I do. It'll go nicely with the sheets. I mean -" I started, remembering an encounter in this very room. I covered, "and with the molding and furniture."

"Well, I think so - but we'll have to see," she mused with an indecipherable wink.

"So, how's moving in going?"

"Fine - getting settled. Looking forward to some help with the finer points."

"We can go shopping next weekend if you like. I'll give you some help picking things out."

"That's be great - thanks. I think the place needs a woman's touch."

"You've probably got lots of women's touches to choose from. I'm flattered you picked mine."

"Well, not at the moment. But I trust yours anyway."

"What, no girlfriend?"

"Left the last in Chicago; haven't gotten into the social scene locally yet."

"Then we'll just have to fix you up in that department, too, won't we?"

"Well - you know me, I hardly ever say no."

"That's one - just one - of the things I love about you," she winked and grinned broadly.

"So, shall we get started?"

"By all means. What would you like me to do?"

"Ceiling first. I think we'll work top to bottom. Cover mistakes as we go. And the ceiling's the hardest. We can take turns to stay fresh. You first. I need your reach to get the detail work around the fanlight."

"OK."

I moved the ladder over under the motor of the ceiling fan. She or Hank had already removed the blades, but she was right, it would take some reach to get around the thing carefully. I settled the ladder and looked over to where Becky was bent over an open can of paint, stirring furiously with a dowel.

If she had panties on, they were a pretty severe thong. The back of her smock rode up most of the crevice between her shapely ass cheeks, without a hint of cloth showing between them - or even a tan line for that matter. She concentrated on her work, stirring furiously. With one hand she reached behind to scratch. As she rubbed her fingers into the soft muscle at the top of her thigh, her ass cheeks parted slightly, revealing the pale skin between her cheeks, bare pussy lips and a whiff of curly hairs.

"Um, can I do something to help?"

She looked up and around over her shoulder at me, spreading her feet apart for balance. Between the vee of her legs, her smock hung open. I could see all the way down her curled belly to where her breasts dangled freely, dark nipples ringed with small triangular patches of pale behind her bikini line. I looked quickly from this and tugged again at my own smock.

Becky grinned, "Yeah - grab that roller pan over there." She turned further and pointed, the tanned side of one breast showing through the armhole of her shirt.

I brought it over and she poured a judicious amount of paint. I mounted the ladder with a small roller pan in hand. She stood on the opposite side, holding the legs of the ladder. I reached up and tested the height. I needed one more step to really reach properly around the fan fixture. I stepped up and touched the ceiling easily from this height.

"Well, let's begin, shall we?"

I looked at where Becky stood. My waist was above the top step, just in front of her face, and my smock hung loose. She was looking directly at the front of my briefs. Her stare was a caress that stirred me. I tried to ignore it but it was like a beam of heat drawing blood into my loins. I resolved to concentrate at least on the details of this task. If I could paint around the fan without actually bursting out of my shorts, I could better arrange myself later at the first opportunity.

She handed me the small drip pan and I started to edge neatly around the fan casing. I'd gotten nearly around it when a drip fell. I tried to catch it in the pan but missed. I looked down to see where it had splashed on the top step of the ladder.

"Oops - sorry."

"Missed me," Becky grinned. "Anyway, that's what the drop cloths are for. I'm sure we'll drip a lot before we're done." Again, with the wink.

She kept one hand braced on the ladder and snuck the other under her smock, between her legs.

"I hope you don't mind, but it's pretty warm today. If you smell anything, that's just me getting sweaty."

I could smell the fine beads of perspiration on her skin, and hers was a pleasant earthy tang, but the smell that wafted up as she withdrew her hand from her thighs was definitely not sweat. My cock twitched nervously in my shorts as my brain identified the sweet perfume of her cunt.

I finished up around the fan and painted out as far as I could reach from the ladder, my erection softening manageably in the process. I reached down and adjusted myself quickly.

"All done here," I said, stepping down from the ladder.

"Great - I'll paint a while and you hold the ladder, K?"

Becky took the pan and I moved the ladder over while she knelt to pour paint into the larger roller pan.

She bounced over and handed me the pan and roller, mounting the ladder deftly. I handed her the pan carefully and she filled the roller, tamped it off carefully in the shallow end and reached up.

"Uh - I need just a bit more."

She set the pan down and carefully climbed one more step. The top of the ladder was just above her knees and the front of her smock hung out as she reached up again. Her fiery bush, trim belly and softly bobbing teats all shown clearly through the open smock.

She looked down at me, cautiously.

"I can hold the pan and roller, but I need some support up here, I think. Can you put your feet on the ladder and hold me up? I'd feel a lot safer up here."

"Sure." I put my feet against the outside of the ladder and reached up to plant my palms against the outside of her thighs.

"How's that?"

"Fine," she said, reaching up to roll her first strip of paint.

"Mmm - maybe a bit higher?" she asked, still rolling intently.

I slid my hands up until my thumbs were under her hips.

"How's that?"

"Mmm - just fine, thanks!"

She rocked back and forth with the motion of painting, and my thumbs rubbed small circles in the socket of muscle just below her hips.

She reached to paint one more swath and then put the roller in the pan and stepped down one step.

"Done?"

"No - I can reach some more, I just need a clean rag - can you hand me one?"

I scooped up a clean square from the neatly folded pile of rags and handed it to her.

"Thanks!" She mopped her brow and chest. "It's a little hot up here. I'm getting a little moist." She swabbed the rag quickly between her legs and set it on the ladder. The scent of her lubrication pierced the paint smells again and I stirred inside my shorts.

"OK - hold me again?" She stepped back up the ladder.

"Oh!" she stopped. "I didn't even think..." Her hand flew to the front of her smock, bunching the fabric in front of her groin. "You can probably see my thing from down there."

"Your what?"

"My - my pussy; you can probably see my pussy; I'm not wearing any underwear."

"I hadn't noticed," I lied. "I've been watching where you're painting - so I don't get dripped on."

"I don't drip. Paint anyway."

"Just being careful, then."

"Well, OK - because I need both hands to paint, so just don't look, OK?"

"OK"

I reached up and put my hands against her hips again, watching her hips move with the strokes of her painting. Her bush glistened and the valley of her lips shown with a shimmer that was definitely not sweat. She painted a good swath more and then took one more dip of the roller before carefully handing me the pan.

"Set this down? I think I can reach just a little further before we have to move the ladder again."

"Okay"

I set the pan down and returned quickly to the ladder.

"Just hold me good and tight, OK?"

"OK." I grabbed her hips and she leaned forward, reaching to extend the painted swath of ceiling further forward. The front of her smock landed briefly across my face, but she tugged it out of the way. Her belly was right in front of me, tan skin slick with sweat.

"I'm going to lean on you a little, OK?"

"Alright"

She spread her feet tightly against the step and leaned forward until the smooth skin just below her navel rested slick and hot against my forehead. The top of her pubes brushed my nose as she stroked the roller back and forth. I could smell her pussy just inches away. My mouth watered and my cock swelled noticeably in my shorts, starting to poke into the pocket of my fly.

Her belly rubbed at my forehead and her pubes tickled my nose maddeningly. Just a little bit further and I could...

"OK - that's as far as I can reach right now. I'm just going to go back over a little bit. Move with me? And hold tight."

"OK," I answered into the space right in front of her crotch.

She leaned back and put her free hand on my head.

"Just a little bit to go over - right. Here." she said. She held my head to her and my nose rested right in the cup of her lips. She reached up and stroked the roller back and forth and the edge of her quim stroking moistly against my nose.

"You ok?"

"Just fine."

"Ok - just one more sec. Hold on - I've got an itch."

She stood up slightly and I held on to her hips. Her belly came away from my forehead and her hand appeared right in front of my eyes. She parted the folds of her pussy and stroked her middle finger into her seam, rubbing at her clit with the base of it and stroking at the wet folds with her fingertip.

She withdrew her hand, smearing her wet finger against my nose. She clutched at my head again and pressed her cunt back to the bridge of my nose, stroking the ceiling with the last of her paint and rubbing the top of her seam against my face and eyebrows.

"OK - your turn," she chirped, climbing carefully down.

She grabbed the front of her smock and fluttered it, ventilating herself and set the roller in the pan on the floor. Her hand dipped between her legs again briefly and she pointed with her other towards the next section of ceiling. "Over there. I think you can get all the way into the corner if we put the ladder right about there," she pointed.

"I think so. We'll see."

I settled the ladder and she brought the pan over.

"Oh, did I drip on you?" She raised her wet fingers to my nose. "You've got a little something right there." She brushed the bridge of my nose with her moist fingertips, smearing her juices on my cheek.

"I don't think so - it's not paint, is it?"

"No - I guess not - OK, all gone." The sticky sensation of her cunt cream drying on my cheek remained.

I mounted the ladder and she handed me the paint pan and roller. I took them in hand and started to attack the remaining bit of ceiling between her last efforts and the corner. I rolled a good bit of paint and she stood at the foot of the ladder, her face again close to my much-excited tackle.

Her breath fell hot on the top of my legs and I could feel her staring at my loins. I painted a good patch, leaving only the corner and a bit just behind me where she had left off.

"There's a bit just behind you," she said. I think you can reach it if you lean back a bit. Here give me the paint pan and I'll hold you steady."

I took a good roller full of paint and she set the pan down. As I reached back, she ran her hands up the back of my thighs her palms pressing under my briefs to hold behind the top of my legs, just under my buttocks.

I arched my back and nearly fell over when my hips moved forward and her warm breath steamed right through my crotch. Her lips were tickling my sack through the fly of my briefs and her nose poked at the base of my cock. She nuzzled lightly as I strained to cover the ceiling with paint.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Fine - nearly got it. Hold on."

She squeezed the top of my legs and nuzzled her face into my crotch some more. I was rapidly expanding and I could feel fresh air on the tip of my cock as it poked out the side of my fly. I quickly finished the patch of ceiling and stood upright again. She was staring at the pink tip decorating my briefs and her tongue ran over her lips. I convulsed involuntarily and my glans pulsed with blood. She gasped a little.

"Here -," I handed her the roller, "I think I can get the corner with the little roller and maybe a brush.

She took the roller and squatted to pick up the little pan with roller and brush, darting her other hand quickly between her legs again.

As she stood back up, I was adjusting myself, pushing my stiffened member down my right leg.

"Are you OK up there?"

"Yeah," I answered. "Just felt a little breeze. I hope you didn't see my thing."

"What thing?"

"My cock. With all that moving around, my cock was starting to poke out of my shorts."

"Oh? Oh, I didn't even notice. I wasn't even looking at your shorts," she lied smoothly, "I was watching where you were painting."

"Oh, good. Then I'll just finish this corner and we'll move on."

She stepped back between the ladder and the wall, right where I was about to lean.

"Careful," she warned, "it looks like a bit of a reach from here. I'll just support you if you need it." She handed me the small roller and hung the little pan on the side of the ladder, reaching up for the front of my thighs as I bent forward.

"Thanks," I offered and leaned to roll the last bit of ceiling.

As I painted, her hands pushed up the front of my thighs, over the legs of my briefs. Her right hand lay just alongside where I'd deposited my cock. Her thumb moved over the middle of my member, stroking slowly at my shaft through the briefs.

"Wow," she remarked, "that looks pretty hard up there. Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'll manage," I replied. I finished rolling as close as I dared to where she'd taped over the molding and ran back over the patch to smooth out the roller marks where I'd started. All the while, her thumb fumbled against my swollen shaft and I started to poke a good tent in the front of my shorts.

"Here, hand me the brush and I'll finish up?"

She took the roller and traded with me.

"Steady," she said, placing her palm flat against the waistband of my shorts, her fingers splayed across my lower abdomen, "I'll hold you, but be careful."

"I will," I promised. "Just a few quick strokes."

"Yeah, just a few quick strokes will do it," she echoed.

I braced one hand in the corner of the wall and leaned forward. Her left hand remained 'supporting' me. I felt the other snake up the leg hole of my briefs. As I applied a few careful strokes to the last of the ceiling corner, her right hand brushed the underside of my dangling cock. She twisted her hand and took my shaft gently in her fingertips, stroking me lightly, her nails brushing my balls and raking feather-light down my shaft.

I popped rigid against the front of my shorts, fully erect now. I made quick work of the corner and pushed off before she could make even quicker work of my penis. There was, after all, more painting to do, and she seemed determined to do some playing again.

"All done here," I said, bracing one hand on the ladder top and stepping down, away from her hands.

She regarded the work she'd made in my shorts, watching wistfully as my scrub top fell back in place to give some meager modesty. The tip of my cock still poked obviously, tenting the black cloth at the front of my leg.