Ms. J was a Real Nice Lady

Ms. J was a real nice lady. Always offering me water. Always had lemon in it. I don't think I've ever even bought a lemon in my life, let alone taken the time to cut one up and squeeze it into a glass of water from the tap.

Alright, I know that's not why I'm telling you all this. But I don't want you to forget that she's actually really lovely. Cool, too. Like those girls that'll order beer and at least pretend to watch the game with you.

Ms. J had a great little body. She kept it tight and that seriously might've been her only hobby. I'd always catch her going to or from the gym, brown hair up in a ponytail. Just enough makeup around the eyes. If she was sweaty, she'd apologize for it. But damn, if that glisten didn't look great on her.

She'd sculpted an ass for the ages. A prime cut — lean, with just enough fat. And a couple years back, she topped it off by getting her tits done. Fucking cannons. When she walked, her hips swayed like she'd been practicing. I figured she wasn't quite 40, even though nothing about her looks suggested it.

Ms. J remembered things about you. Like, she actually seemed to give a shit after my divorce. In reality, I think she could see how it broke me.

"Well, I guess you won't be single for long," she teased when I started losing the weight.

Look, if you were me, you'd be second-guessing it all, too. Replaying every smile in your head, every time our eyes connected. But really, tell me what was the harm in playing along?

So this all went down when the Jodorowskis had us remodel their kitchen. Again. Ms. J wandered in before her workout one afternoon — I thought she was going to fire us she seemed so nervous. Said she wanted to "rethink the approach." I flashed five fingers at my boys. They reached for their cigarettes and made their way out the door.

"So what's the matter?"

"I think the sawdust in here is getting to me. Let's talk in the study." I swear this girl purred when she said it.

I lost track of the moments in between, but when we reached the study, this beautiful woman was walking toward and getting down to her knees.

From up there, I'd finally gotten my best view of her tits yet. Perfectly pale globes testing the limits of a low-cut tank top.

She tried her best to undo my belt. We shared a laugh as I did it myself. I'd spent the whole day working, but she didn't care I was sweaty. With her enthusiasm, she probably wouldn't care if I'd just come out of a mud bath. I made sure to help out, too. You know, keep her hair out of her face. I think she appreciated that.

The nerves had my heart beating — like it was pumping blood into my hard, thick cock. I really wanted to savor the moment when her doe-y eyes met mine, but goddamn it was too much. I leaned back and put my hands behind my head.

"Fuck."

Ms. J followed up with a satisfied "Mmmm. Mhmmm." Now, you just imagine how good that felt.

With her lips on my tip, she started stroking me. What a rhythm: mouth at the tip, mouth at her hand. A confident twist in between.

When she knew I was getting close, Ms. J took that fat cock out of her mouth, spit on it and started stroking. Really, really fast.

She caught her breath and put the tip back in. A look of concentration took over her whole face. You believe that? Poor girl was stressing over my cock. That extra effort was worth it, too. I let go of her hair and gripped the desk behind me.

"I'm coming, Katie," I squeezed out with the last bit of air in my lungs.

My loads were always pretty big and I felt this one jet out into the back of her mouth. She bobbed up and down a few more times to make sure I was really finished.

I grew soft and sensitive. Ms. J looked up at me, make-up just a little runny, hair just a little messy. Smiling, she stuck her tongue out to meet my softie, as if to show me she'd taken care of clean up.

Yeah, Ms. J was a real nice lady.