Mrs. Lacy

Only six o'clock and the day was already hot. I drove in another nail, keeping my mind on the goal. That goal was to finish before she came out of the house. This was my third day on the project and the routine was always the same. She would come out and tease me senseless.

She asked me to build a shed. The lady was the boss, so I agreed to build a shed for her. When I decided to do the job, though, I had no idea what kind of torture I'd be in for. I decided to finish the damned thing today, even if it killed me.

By seven, I'd taken my shirt off. It was going to be a scorcher if the weather man was to be believed. By eight, I was trying to create enough spit to wash the dust out of my mouth. My water jug was empty.

After another narrow miss of my thumb with the hammer, I stopped to wipe the sweat from my face. That's when I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. It was a curtain in the window, moving just enough to let me know she was there, watching me.

Just great. Today was going to be the same as the last two. Well, I wasn't in the mood for it. Mrs. Lacy had better watch her backside, if she knew what was good for her.

By nine she was moving throughout the house. I heard the central air kick in, felt the blast of hot air coming from the exhaust. She was inside, probably wearing one of those skimpy nighties she liked to parade before the windows in. She was cool and comfortable while I was out in the yard, slaving away.

I looked up in time to see her sashay by the French doors that opened to the back yard. The woman was shameless in her filmy negligee. I saw the smile she flashed me with those painted lips.

To add to my discomfort, a throb started in my jeans. I did my best to ignore the situation as I picked up the first piece of siding to nail in place. I didn't want to look, but like a trained dog I turned my head to see her watching me from the doors. I swear I could see the color of her nipples through the pale cloth.

She knew exactly what she was doing. The woman was enjoying the effect she was having on me. I swiped at a whining mosquito and returned to my job. There was no way I was going to look at her again. I'd learned my lesson about married women. They were always starved for attention.

I didn't know what she did after that and I didn't care. As far as I was concerned, the sooner the job was finished the better.

An hour later, she sauntered into the back yard. I could hear her; Christ, I could even smell her when she came outside. Keeping my back to her, I kept swinging my hammer.

"You look thirsty," she crooned.

"I'm good," I muttered. I didn't stop working.

"I made you some lemonade," she said in that sultry voice of hers. "I squeezed the lemons myself. You can stop long enough to wet your whistle."

"You're the boss," I told her.

I laid my hammer down and turned to look at her. That was a mistake. I know my jaw fell open when she slipped the glass into my hand. Her fingers grazed my wrist, sending a jolt through me.

The woman was living recklessly. She stood in front of me dressed in the skimpiest bikini I'd ever seen. The top barely covered her nipples, let alone the large globes of her firm tits. I almost dropped the glass.

"Drink up," she said.

It was all I could do to pull my eyes away from all that flesh, but I had to do it. I felt like a pubescent kid who got caught staring at his buddy's older sister through the bathroom window. The tart drink did little to cool the excess heat she was causing.

I set the glass on a sawhorse and moved to the other side of the shed frame. I needed to put some distance between us. From this vantage point, though, I could still see everything she was doing. Through the framed windows, I could see her sneaking looks at me.

She took a drink from her own glass. A small amount dribbled from the corner of her mouth to land on her left boob. I wasn't so far away that I couldn't see how the little rivulet rolled down into the valley of her cleavage, heading south.

My eyes followed the path the lemonade was taking. My gaze wandered lower, taking in the way her ribs tapered to her small waist and the curves of her hips. She was wearing a thin skirt over her bottom half. It was slung low on her hips and ended at the tops of her thighs. The way the thing looked on her, she may as well have been naked.

When I looked up again she smiled, obviously enjoying the attention she was getting. I tried to ignore her and return to my job, but I kept stealing glances at her. She was unfolding a lounger, positioning it in the sun.

Once she was satisfied, she slipped off her sandals and made a big show of untying the little skirt. It fell away to reveal a postage stamp-sized piece of cloth that covered a little of her obviously shaved mound. Thin straps held it in place, wrapping around and disappearing behind her hips.

I should have turned away at that point, but like a kid in a candy store, I had to look. She turned around just then, giving me a full view of one of the best asses I'd ever seen. She was wearing a thong. The bulge in my jeans doubled in size.

With another tempting smile back in my direction, she laid face-down on the lounger. Her hand reached to untie the strap at her back. For all practical purposes the woman was naked. The day was growing hotter by the minute.

My tongue felt as swollen as my dick. I needed to cool down and my drink was on the other side of the shed near her. Decision-making was never my strong suit. I needed that drink and right then. Moving as quietly as my boots would let me, I reached for my glass when she glanced back at me again.

"Put lotion on my back?" she asked.

I just stood there like an idiot. Her shapely ass was right there, waiting to be swatted. Her golden skin begged to be handled. She knew what she was doing to me and she kept pushing the envelope. I had a strong urge to spank her there and then.

Extending her arm, she held out a bottle of lotion. The sun glinted off her diamond wedding band, nearly blinding me.

"I got a job to do, lady," I told her.

"Would you prefer to do the front?"

She rolled onto her back, giving me a bird's eye view of those luscious tits. I'd had enough. I snatched her off the lounger, throwing her across my shoulder. She let out a squeal so I popped her on the ass. All her struggles didn't slow me down as I stalked for the back door of the house.

Once inside, I plopped her down on the dining table, perhaps a bit less gently than she might have been used to. She was trying to get her blond hair out of her eyes, working herself into a fit of indignant righteousness, but I was already reaching for the scrap of cloth that covered her pussy. It didn't take much to tear the tiny bikini from her flesh.

I grabbed her wrists when she tried to cover herself, pinning them in one hand while forcing her thighs apart with the other and my knee. She let out another squeal, trying in vain to get herself free.

"Think it's pretty funny to tease the handyman, huh?" I growled. "I'm going to teach you what happens to slutty housewives who like to play games."

"Please..." she whined, but I didn't have any sympathy for her.

I drilled the middle finger of my right hand into her pussy. She was already wet, lubed with her own juices, waiting for my cock. I heard her moan, felt her body draw tight as a bow string. Enough foreplay, I decided.

Flipping her over, I pinned her hands at the small of her back. It didn't take long to get my jeans open and free my cock. Like a guided missile, it found its target when I slammed it forward. She screamed, cursed at me using words that would make a sailor blush. I only heard half of what she was saying. The pounding of blood in my ears drowned her out, for the most part.

"You call that fucking, you asshole?" she screamed.

Letting go of her hands, I grabbed her hips and really hammered into her. With her hands free, she was able to brace herself against the table and return as good as she got.

"Fuck me," she yelled.

I could feel my balls tighten. There was no way to stop the explosion that was boiling up inside them. At the moment I decided to let it go, she screamed again, her body convulsing, shaking as the muscles in her pussy got a strangle-hold on my prick. I'd never known a woman to cum so hard.

A second later, my balls erupted, a flood of hot jizz filling her wet pussy. I bucked two or three more times, growling like a wild animal. When I was completely drained, I fell forward on her back. I could hear her gasping for breath, moaning in protest when I shifted and my cock fell out of her pussy with a pop.

"You okay, Mrs. Lacy?" I asked when I got my breath back.

"Yes," she whispered. "You think you'll ever get that shed done, Mr. Lacy?"

"Not with a horny wife to keep happy," I laughed. "You ever going to stop teasing me long enough to do it?"

"No," she moaned. "Take me to bed, will ya?"

"A handyman's work is never done," I said, helping her up from the table. "I'll work on the shed tomorrow."