Her Contractor

It was the tenth day of our bathroom being renovated.

The bathroom contractor, Josh, was a pleasant guy; hard-working and skilled at his craft, he kept mostly to himself. I had no concerns about being left alone in the house with him while my husband was at work .. and, happily married to Bill for the past 15 years, it didn't tempt me at all to have another man in the house. Although Josh's handsome smile was very welcoming, he wasn't much to look at; close to age 40, his hairline was beginning to recede, and his thin build was nothing remarkable.

Three days earlier, having made plans to meet some of my girlfriends for an afternoon coffee date, I had dressed up a little bit and put on makeup for the first time in a couple weeks. I tend to dress modestly, but the sleeveless top I chose to wear that day was cut a bit lower than usual, and when I went to tell Josh that I was heading out for a bit, he did a bad job of hiding his glance at my cleavage. He caught himself quickly, though, and wished me a nice time as his eyes diverted to make contact with mine.

Surprisingly, my heart seemed to flutter at the thought of unexpectedly capturing his attention in that way. As I drove to meet my friends, I chuckled at my own foolishness. Olivia, what on earth is wrong with you!? Who cares if he looked at you or not! My rational mind quickly overruled my emotions, but at the same time, a deeply buried part of me was ... well ... intrigued? And, if forced to admit it, I was maybe a little bit ... giddy? Giddy by the idea that -- at 37 -- I could still draw a stranger's attention? Oh stop it, Olivia, you're being ridiculous. I argued with myself until I arrived at the coffeeshop and forgot all about it.

I forgot all about it ... until the next day. Bill left for work promptly at 8am as usual, and I had the house to myself for about 30 minutes before Josh's arrival. Rather than put on my typical comfortable and yet uninspiring clothes, I rummaged through the closet and found myself looking for something ... umm, sexier? The very thought was shocking to me. Why am I looking for something sexier to wear? What am I trying to do here?!? I'm happily married, we've been totally faithful to each other, I shouldn't even be thinking about flirting, or whatever it is I'm doing ...

And yet, seemingly with a mind of their own, my hands found a cute little black shirt with lace trim. Since it was tight-fitting and somewhat sheer, it required a coordinating bra. I located my one black bra in the drawer only to remember that it was a push-up bra. Was this going too far? I never answered that question.

As I slipped off my oversized night shirt, I caught a glimpse of my naked chest in the bedroom mirror, and held up my breasts with my hands for a moment. My 36B's weren't anything spectacular, in my opinion, but they were still fairly perky. Squeezing them into the cleavage-enhancing bra, I pulled on the tight little shirt, and settled on a pair of less enticing jeans as if to offset the outfit.

Like a young schoolgirl waiting for the bus to arrive, I paced anxiously in the kitchen until I heard the key wiggling in the front door (we had given the spare to Josh to borrow). Deliberately, and yet while trying my best to appear casual, I walked out into the living room to greet him. "Good morning!" Damn, that might have been a bit too cheerful.

"Good morning!" He responded in kind, but he was carrying in some tools and hadn't actually seen me.

I pursed my lips and stood there somewhat awkwardly until he put his stuff down and looked up. His eyes widened, subtly, as his gaze reached, and then lingered upon, my more-pronounced-than-usual chest.

His ensuing question might've been innocent, but it caught me totally off guard: "Going out again?"

I could feel my face starting to flush red as my mind raced to generate a plausible explanation as to why I was wearing this ... well ... much sexier outfit. "Ummm ... yeah, later," was the best I could come up with.

Wow, that was lame. I quickly tried to change the subject. "What are you working on today?"

The diversion seemed to work, as he proceeded to share his plan for that particular day, which centered around finishing the grouting of the shower walls. When he finished speaking and the timing seemed right, I excused myself, and went into the adjoining room to marvel at what an Idiot I had been. I hadn't planned on going out anywhere, certainly not in this outfit, but now I'd have to do so in order to avoid creating suspicion. I eventually decided to just go for a drive, though I lied and told Josh that I was meeting up again with some friends. Great, now I'm lying, what have I gotten myself into.

I found various things to do, purposefully staying out long enough that Josh would be gone before I got back, but returning early enough that I could change into a less revealing outfit before Bill got home.

Embarrassed by my flawed attempt to flirt with a stranger in my own home, the next morning I wore my usual brand of uninspiring clothes and tried to avoid seeing Josh as much as possible. I did have to go grocery shopping and run some other errands, though, so after I ate lunch alone, I told Josh I wouldn't be back until after he'd have left for the day. Ever the diligent worker, he seemed unfazed, and simply responded that he'd see me tomorrow then.

I was about 20 minutes away from the house when I realized I'd left my shopping list on the kitchen counter. I groaned aloud and shook my head. Am I distracted by him? I'm not usually a forgetful person. I had no choice but to turn around and head back home.

"Forgot something," I announced as I walked through the front door ... but then froze in place.

I don't know who was more startled, me or him, but Josh was standing only a few feet in front of me ... without his shirt on.

He wasn't overly muscular, yet his broad shoulders were well-defined, and his manly pecs were ... touchable? Tempting? I never finished categorizing them, because my eyes had kept wandering. Downward. Down to his paint-covered jeans which were ... uh, riding quite low on his hips, exposing a good bit of his happy trail ... and a whole lot of skin. Too much skin. Enough skin that it made it seem like he was ... umm, perhaps not wearing any underwear??

My mind was screaming at me to look away, but I couldn't stop staring. I was hopelessly transfixed by the thought of what was hiding just beyond the edge of what I could see.

As for him, he was frozen too, most assuredly not expecting me to have walked through the door, and certainly not expecting to have been found ... like that. Thankfully, he broke the silence first: "I'm sorry, I didn't think you were coming back."

Hearing his voice broke my visual fixation on his waistline, and I looked up at his face to find it a bit flushed and sincerely apologetic. I quickly reciprocated the apology: "No, I'm sorry, I wasn't planning to come back ... I forgot my shopping list."

Now we stood there in awkward silence, mere feet apart, still virtually frozen, having apologized to each other but now not sure what to do next.

Josh must've felt compelled to explain himself: "I wouldn't normally take my shirt off while on the job, but I was hot and sweaty, and I didn't think you were coming back."

You're not the only one getting hot and sweaty, I thought to myself. I didn't say that out loud, did I??

I quickly waved him off. "Oh no, it's fine, don't worry about it."

I should've stopped there. But I didn't stop there. Why didn't I stop there?? For some unbeknownst reason, what tumbled next out of my mouth next was an unretractable question. "Too hot for underwear too, huh?"

I wanted to die. I wanted to melt, to crawl into a hole, to run away ... I wanted to do anything except stand there in front of him and think about what I just said and where on earth that had come from and why on earth I had asked that overly forward question of a complete stranger ...

But on the other hand -- as far as I could tell -- the question didn't seem to faze Josh at all. In fact, his response was startlingly calm: "I prefer going without."

Fuck. I clasped my hand over my mouth before that dirty word could escape my brain and actually reach my lips. Now my face was beet red, I was pretty sure my body was shaking, and my eyes ... what were my eyes doing?!? They were back on his crotch!! Get away from there!!!

"I gotta get my shopping list," I stammered as I hastily walked past him and extricated myself from this ungodly situation.

After finding the list, I made a second attempt to leave the house. He was still standing in virtually the same spot. Now that some of the shock had worn off, I took more time to study the surprising definition of the muscles on his wiry frame, his tanned skin, his sexy chest ... look away, Olivia, look away!!

"Well, trying again!" I laughed awkwardly as I held up the shopping list in my hand. To his credit, this man who was wearing nothing but his work boots and a pair of jeans didn't try to do or say anything other than to kindly repeat his earlier comment that he'd see me tomorrow.

I got back in my car just like I had done 45 minutes earlier, but everything was different now. The whole world was different. My heart was racing, my thoughts were scrambled, and I was feeling ... desire? Arousal?? An unfamiliar carnal urge led me to slip my hand inside my sweatpants to cautiously touch the outside of my panties. Fuck. Just as I had feared, they were damp.

Hopelessly distracted, I merely went through the motions of shopping that afternoon, my mind cycling between a) the imprinted visual of Josh's bare torso and hips, b) some feeble attempts to figure out how I would handle seeing him the following day, and c) analyzing these erotic thoughts and feelings that I hadn't felt since ... high school?

Over the past 15 years of marriage, I usually waited for Bill to initiate sex, which on his schedule was about once/week. But that particular night? I needed him. I needed ... well, I needed to get laid. I needed to release some of that quickly-rising sexual energy.

So when my husband started getting ready for bed, I put that black lacy top back on and walked seductively into the room. This time, without the bra. I could see my hardening nipples poking through. Oh, and I had no panties on. Just the shirt. This was a startlingly bold version of me. I felt like an animal in heat.

"Oh honey, not tonight, I'm sorry." Bill barely glanced at me before letting his words hit me like a slap in the face. "It's already late and I have to get up really early tomorrow for a day trip."

I stopped cold in my tracks. An overwhelming wave of frustration, embarrassment, disappointment, and anger crashed over me. It had to have been impossible for him to not notice that, but all he said was, "Rain check?" And then, with nothing but a quick peck on my furrowed forehead, he walked past me and climbed into bed to retire for the night.

I retreated to the bathroom, annoyed and equally deflated. The scowl on my face didn't complement the sexiness of my top, so I pulled it off in a huff. Now standing there stark naked, my mind raced -- out of spite -- to alternative and dangerously unfamiliar thoughts. I bet Josh wouldn't walk away from all this. I certainly know he'd appreciate me going commando.

Spontaneously, I decided to treat myself to a bubble bath to attempt to escape from the bitter reality of my husband's disinterest.

As I soaked in the warm soapy water, my focus slowly shifted from anger at Bill toward curiosity about Josh. I closed my eyes and re-pictured his bare torso ... and now pictured myself standing in front of him in the same way, in nothing but my own jeans. My mind imagined him stretching his hands forward, slowly and carefully, to gently undo the button on my pants. Then he pulled the zipper down. Then, as I held my breath, he hooked his thumbs inside my waistband and slowly tugged them down over my curved hips. Once he pulled them down far enough, they fell on their own the rest of the way to the floor. I stepped out of them and stood proudly in front of him, naked and completely exposed, yet unashamed and incredibly aroused ...

Without even realizing it, my hand in real life had drifted between my thighs and was gently tracing the line between my lips. What the ...?? Am I masturbating?!? To my surprise, yes -- yes, I was. I had subconsciously began masturbating, something I hadn't done since my teenage years. Warm sensations rushed throughout my entire body. Part of me ached to keep going, but another part of me longed for the real thing. And right in that moment, I realized what had suddenly become inevitable.

I had no choice.

There was only one way out.

Tomorrow, I would have to cheat on my husband. I would have to fuck the contractor.

Omigosh, I'm going to fuck the contractor. I slid into bed with a pounding heart and a racing mind, nervous and excited and guilty and defiant, all at the same time.

I didn't even notice when Bill left at some ridiculously early hour. When I woke up, the clock showed it was after 9am. Josh was on site. It was the tenth day of our bathroom being renovated.

It took me a few minutes to determine if my bath-induced daydream had really happened, if it was all a dream ... or if I was about to turn it into reality. With a wickedly confident smile, I settled on the latter.

No tough wardrobe decisions for me this morning. I rummaged through my underwear drawer to find my sexiest pair -- a sheer pink thong I hadn't worn since our honeymoon. I gently pulled them up my smooth toned legs. By the time that tiny piece of fabric reached my pussy, I was already wet with anticipation. Fuck, this is really happening.

Nervously, I studied my form in the bedroom mirror, but liked what I saw. I decided to pull my hair up into a cute-but-messy bun. I liked the look of my uncovered shoulders. I took a deep breath. And I headed downstairs to surrender to my previously-incomprehensible desires.

It worked out perfectly. Josh was kneeling on the bathroom floor with his back to me when I greeted him with my casual "good morning." He glanced over his shoulder to return the greeting ... and practically fell over when he saw me standing there.

In my cute pink thong.

And nothing else.

This time, I had a comment prepared. Acting as if my attire (or lack thereof) was perfectly normal, I spoke calmly: "I figured since I saw you yesterday without your shirt on, it'd only be fair for me to return the favor."

Josh was now sitting on the floor in stunned silence, mouth open, eyes wide, eyebrows raised.

Loving the attention, I continued to play innocent: "What are you working on?"

Words had escaped him. His eyes were glued on me. "I was ... uhh," was his incomplete reply.

"Is the shower ready?" I interrupted. Without waiting for his answer, I added, "I was hoping you could show me how it works." Completely overtaken by lust, I slid my panties off.

That was the final straw for him. Somehow he found the coordination to stand up, and as he did so, I could already see the growing bulge in his jeans. Opposite of my daydream, now I was the one walking toward him. I was the one slowly and gently extending my hands to undo the button on his jeans. And then pull down his zipper. Then hooking my thumbs inside his waistband, delighted to indeed feel nothing but flesh, I tugged his jeans down until an unexpectedly large package came bursting out.

Oh my ... hello there.

My husband's penis had always been good enough for me, but this one was ... bigger. Longer. Thicker. Meatier. Really hard. And expanding by the second. This wasn't a penis. This was a cock.

Without even thinking, I wrapped my fingers around it as he pulled his jeans off the rest of the way. Shivers coursed through my body; it was electric to touch. His cock was warm, its flesh was soft, and yet it was as hard as iron.

I suddenly felt compelled to get on my knees and worship it with my mouth. "What is this tool?" I whispered aloud as I put my thirsty lips inches away from its glistening tip.

"A hammer drill," was his quick and witty response.

I opened wide and instantly sucked the length of his hammer drill into my mouth.

He moaned loudly as his cock penetrated my warm, moist mouth and slid across my tongue. I stretched my jaw as much as I could to accommodate the girth of his large tool. In the midst of an erotic daze, I grabbed his ball sac with my other hand and immediately concluded that I had never held something so ... manly. Everything about him had suddenly become so desirable, so intoxicating, so primal ... I just wanted him to ravage me.

Yes, that's what I want -- I want him to ravage me. I want him to ... FUCK me. I want to fuck HIM.

I pulled off, a line of saliva extending from my mouth to his thick cock. Its head looked like it would be shaped perfectly for ... well, we were about to find out. I stood up slowly, still holding his cock in my hand. I could smell his anticipation.

"Can you show me the shower now?"

Everything moved so quickly. I'm not even sure how it happened, but suddenly we were in the shower, warm water cascading over our naked bodies, our mouths and tongues interlocked in erotically passionate kisses. I was firmly stroking his cock with my hand. His fingers were expertly exploring my crotch. The shower wasn't the only thing making me wet.

I decided to return to the previous innuendo: "What can you do with that tool of yours?"

To my delight, he played along perfectly. In a deeper (and sexier) voice then I had ever heard out of him before, he teased my mind and body with slowly-spoken words: "Well, it screws. And it ... drills. It hammers. It, umm, grinds. It ... penetrates."

After each phrase, I squeezed his cock a little harder. It would flare right back.

"Wow, that must be a pretty powerful tool." I slowly started turning around in the shower to present my backside to him.

"You have no idea." He grabbed my breasts as I began bending over away from him.

"Could you show me how it works?" I reached between my legs and spread my pussy lips apart.

"With pleasure," he grunted.

And with that, he swiftly pushed his entire massive beautiful cock into my desperate hole.

Every nerve in my body exploded. My breath departed me. And when it came back, it subconsciously exhaled with words: "Ohh FUUCCKK!!!"

I had never moaned those words so loud. The sensation of being stuffed up to my uterus, especially after so many hours of anticipation, was beyond enormous.

Instinct overshadowed my inexperience. I began thrusting back into him, almost violently, and immediately felt an unmistakable wave of pleasure rising up from deep within. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum right away ..." I barely got the words out before my body began spasming with wave after wave of a mind-numbing orgasm. I felt ready to pass out, and might've collapsed if not for his strong arms holding my chest ... and his strong rod anchored deep inside me. As soon as I could regain my breath, I made it clear that's not how I wanted it to end: "Keep going ... I want you to fuck me like there's no tomorrow."

He obliged. And his stamina and self-control were amazing. I'd feel his balls smack against me as he pounded me hard ... then he'd pause for a bit to slowly slide in and out of my tight wet tunnel ... only to resume pumping me from behind. I craved both. I strained my head as much as I could to watch his dick disappear inside of me.

And then he started teasing me. Slowly pulling back until his tip was only barely inside my entrance, he'd keep it there for what felt like an excruciating eternity ... and then slam all the way in, evoking an instinctual groan of carnal pleasure from me every time. Then he'd do it all over again.