It was ninety-degrees out today and the blue, Georgia sky promised only more heat to come. Far from where she was sitting on her back porch, Peaches could see the glassy surface of the stream out behind her house. The sound of running water and the silver shine of the stream was almost enough to make Peaches get up from where she was sitting on her front porch and jump into the water.

But Peaches was no fool. She knew that black clouds of mosquitoes would chase her back to the house and she'd spend the rest of the night in a hot bath with chamomile to soothe the itching. While a night spent in a hot bath might have otherwise seemed pleasant, the thought of submerging herself in a tub of hot water when she was already sliding around inside her sweaty clothes seemed too high a price to pay.

Instead of jumping in the water and splashing around like a child, Peaches sat on her front porch and sweated. She sweated and she ate popsicles. She was uncomfortable, she was tired, and she wanted to go inside. However, she had a reason for sitting on her porch. She had a reason for sweating her way through her sundress instead of sipping something cool on her living room sofa.

The air conditioner repairman was now six hours late. What made this all the more infuriating was that this was a Saturday and the office was only open from ten to three. For the past two hours, Peaches had received only two hasty calls from the guy's cell, and the office apparently meant it when they said they closed at three P.M. on a Saturday because they never returned a single one of her calls and the message system now picked up after one ring and asked her to call back during business hours. Then, the message reminded her of those hours (which was becoming more infuriating each time she heard it) and the company's voicemail disconnected the call.

Because he was the only one from the company that called her, the repairman (who said he was "held up at a job that ran long") had received the full brunt of her anger. Even though he apologized, seemed to mean it, and said that he was just a contractor helping out a sick friend for the day, she demanded that he explain why no one answered the phone at the office, how it was that her home wasn't the first job completed for the day, and to disclose his yearly pay.

Of course, he really couldn't answer a single one of her questions, but said that he would absolutely be there today. Peaches told him what she'd have waiting for him when he showed up and he apologized again before she hung up on him.

Just to stay pissed off so she'd have a full head of steam when he arrived, Peaches had been sitting on the porch since his last call, a little over an hour ago. It was absolutely crazy and she realized that, but she was not going to let this guy show up with an "aw shucks" grin and some halfhearted apology after wasting her entire Saturday.

If Lamar had arrived ten minutes later, Peaches would have gone inside, drank a glass of ice water, rolled up a blunt, and as a result of the weed and the temperature change, she would have been considerably less hostile when he knocked on her door.

However, Lamar Perry did not arrive ten minutes later. He arrived exactly when he did, and as a result, Peaches watched his shiny white van pull into her yard and idle for a few moments before the engine went quiet and the driver's door opened. She did not have the calming presence of marijuana to remind her that this was not worth the effort. She did not have a cool glass of ice water in her hand to remind what it was to not be hot and sweaty, discouraging her from working herself into a lather.

What she did have was an ornery pair of white cotton panties working its way inside her, and the smell of her own sweat-soaked dress under her nostrils. She didn't "stink", she'd taken two showers today, and she rubbed oil into her skin every day to keep it fragrant and shiny. However sweat is still a strong smell, pleasant or not, and after an hour on the porch, she started to suspect that she was becoming "intense".

Focused as she was on the face that came out from around the side of that van, Peaches stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the face that came around from the side of that van. After she'd taken in the broad shoulders, gleaming chocolate skin, and easygoing smile of the man under that face, she was leaning against the porch railing to steady her knees.

Goddamn, he was fine. Dark skin glistening under a heavy denim work shirt and jeans. His thighs flexed with each step, bringing his muscles out in sharp definition as his thick legs sawed their way across her yard. She watched him all the way to the bottom of her steps where he put one foot up on the stairs and a bulge made itself known below his belt buckle.

"Sorry about the delay ma'am."

"Uh-huh" Peaches said. She wasn't really listening to him, or answering him for that matter. What she was doing was simply making a sound when his rate of speech and tone of voice told her she should. She did it without noticing because she was too busy staring at Lamar's crotch to notice anything else.

"I know you don't think that I care, but I really am sorry. I didn't learn about this job until it was two hours past due."

Peaches snapped out of it when she realized that he was trying to get her to believe him but that she hadn't been listening to what he was trying to get her to believe. That's when the both of them caught her staring at his dick. Lamar smiled and shifted his weight to make himself less pronounced and Peaches turned and pointed into the living room.

"Oh!'s all right."

Aware that she was pointing into her living room, but having no idea why, Peaches quickly remembered what this man was here for, and told him her air conditioner was blowing hot air.

"All right," Lamar said, stepping into the house and wading through the thick, hot air. "Let's see what we've got here."

When Peaches turned around, Lamar was holding a clipboard out to her. Pinned under the metal blade was a stack of papers with "X" marks in the places where she was supposed to sign, and on top of that, right under the clip itself, was Lamar's identification.

"I've got to ask you to sign this. It's says you asked me to be here and so on and so forth. Basic paperwork."

Peaches might have been smitten for a moment. After all, he did carry himself handsomely across her lawn, but she read each thing she was about to sign thoroughly before signing anything. It took her a minute or so, but she understood enough of the carefully-worded legalese to come to the understanding that this guy was a professional repairman and that he was in her home at her request to fix a problem with her air conditioning. So on and so forth, just like he said.

It seemed a lot of work for a fairly simple interaction, but that's how it was these days. Besides, she couldn't deny a sense of relief when she saw that the strange man that she'd allowed into her home was registered with consumer and government agencies. It put her at ease enough to get back to the matter at hand.

"So, how long is this going to take Lamar? I'm not going to be here all night am I?"

"It shouldn't take long Miss Thomas"

"Call me Peaches," she said with a stingy smile. "She wanted to be mad at him, but she also wanted to hear her name in that smooth, deep voice of his."

"All right, Peaches."

Attractive or not, Peaches was not about to let him off the hook that easy. Arms crossed under her breasts, she leaned in the doorway of her kitchen with the copper glow of the setting sun to her back. She intended to watch him get the job done.

"Well," Lamar began, and then stopped. Lamar's eyes traveled slowly over Peaches body, seeming to take everything in, but lingering in the areas of her breasts, her hips, and the joining of her thighs. His gaze was so open and natural that Peaches didn't have time to be surprised.

However, as he continued to hold his eyes against her, Peaches began to feel his stare. She was somewhat surprised and more than a little embarrassed that she wasn't uncomfortable by his attention, and a secret, silent part of her enjoyed it. Still, she wasn't the sort of woman to let a strange man enter her home, ogle her, and let it go unchecked.

Then, Peaches caught sight of herself in the mirror just to the right of Lamar. The mirror wasn't full-length, so she couldn't see herself completely, and a copper bowl full of mail and a spare set of keys blocked her reflection below the waist, but she could see enough in the small mirror hung above her hall table.

Peaches was wearing a simple, yellow sun dress and sandals. Beneath that, she wore only a pair of white, cotton panties due to the heat. Peaches choose her bras for support and comfort, but mostly for shape and fashion. As a result, she purchased her underwear in sets and her bra and panties always matched.

There were, however, two occasions when Peaches did not care about whether her bra and panties matched. The first was when she slept. Peaches wasn't overweight, but she was definitely "thick", a term that had grown on her since she'd entered the full blossom of womanhood, and sleeping in a bra was out of the question.

The second occasion which didn't call for matching underwear was when Peaches was only wearing one of the two articles that comprised a matching set. This didn't happen often, but a ninety degree Saturday spent on her hot porch would have been intolerable with her breasts mashed together and sweat pooling between them.

So, as soon as Peaches caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she knew what caught Lamar's eye. The yellow cotton of her sundress was plastered to her mahogany skin, hugging the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts and the soft slope of the mound between her legs. Her nipples darkened the fabric of her dress noticeably and the telltale peaks of each let Lamar know that she wasn't wearing a bra. Where the dress wasn't clinging to her, the setting sun behind her rendered the damp cotton invisible.

"Umm, were you going to fix my air conditioner," Peaches asked politely. She could have said something, but she supposed she owed him one after staring herself. She was about to excuse herself and step into the kitchen where she could get something cool to drink when she remembered how long he'd left her sweating on the porch.

So what if her clothes were a little damp? So what if she wasn't wearing a bra? So what if she walked around her house that way? It was her house and she was entitled. After all, he was the reason the house was at hot as it was. He was the reason her clothes hung wet and limp against her body. what if he looked?

Over the next hour, Peaches watched Lamar fix her air conditioner. Inside her sweltering living room, it wasn't long before his clean white uniform was darkened down the middle of his back and against his chest. Looking back at her and taking her and smiling that killer smile of his, he pulled his shirt away from his skin occasionally, appearing embarrassed that he was sweating.

Finally, a good twenty minutes before he tightened the right screw or connected the right wire that brought the machine coughing and sputtering to life, he unbuttoned his shirt all the way and pulled it off his back. It hung from one thick shoulder before he turned to Peaches and smiled.

"Is it all right if I take this off? It's kind of hot in here."

"I know," Peaches said laughing. The laugh was fake and sounded it, but if she hadn't done it, she might have licked her lips right in front of him. She was enjoying the show and she didn't mind if he knew it but she couldn't let him think he was about to get some.

Lamar chuckled, clearly aware of the game, and removed his shirt completely. Peaches was surprised at the twinge of disappointment she felt when she saw that he was wearing a white wife beater t-shirt under his work shirt. However, when he folded the shirt neatly and set it on his thigh, she bit her lip watching the tight skin on his arms and shoulders flex and crease with the delicate work of folding cloth. As he finished the job he'd come here to do, and went about moving the machinery inside her air conditioner, she watched the large muscles in his back rub and push against each other.

When the air conditioner labored itself back into the steady, even hum that marked it was working properly, Lamar turned to Peaches and stood, smiling that easy smile that never left his face the entire time he'd been here.

"So, I think that'll take care of it. With machines this old, you're gonna have to replace that part about once a year."

"Mmmm, so I suppose I'll see you in a year then?"

Later, when she told her girls where she'd been all day on Saturday, she would swear that she had every intention of shaking Lamar's hand, giving him a cute smile of her own, and sending him home with a hard dick. No one, not even Peaches, would believe this part of the story when it was told.

In defense of her honesty, Peaches believed it at the time and to her credit, she gave Lamar her hand demurely as if expecting it to be kissed. Not exactly a handshake, but close enough to the version she'd tell later that it could be forgiven. Even when she felt Lamar's lips against her curled fingers and loved the heat of him on her skin, she intended to see him to the door once he'd pulled away.

The problem was he didn't pull away.

Lamar made a sound that would have been "Mmmm," under different circumstances but in the close, hot air of her living room, not yet cooled by the ancient air conditioner, it rumbled in his chest as a low growl. This was the first break in his composure that she'd seen since she started flirting with him. The first peek at what lay behind that easy smile aside from a courteous professional registered with consumer and government agencies.

Then, Peaches became aware of a telltale heat between her legs. It wasn't the heat that usually accompanies the dull throb spreading outward from the crease between her thighs, and she was having trouble placing the sensation until she felt the familiar tickle of air meeting recently uncovered skin. It was then that she realized Lamar slowly inhaling the fragrance on the tips of her fingers, a fragrance that she was only just now becoming aware of.

What the hell had she been doing with her hand this whole time?

Peaches prepared to say something, something that would cleverly explain what the both of them now knew. Instead, Lamar saw her glistening pink lips separate ever so slightly and felt the sighing breath she released in place of speech stir the air between them. In that space of time, Lamar pursed his own lips and gently slid Peaches' manicured fingertip into his mouth.

Peaches gasped as he began to softly suck the tip of her finger and roll his tongue over the tender skin at the tip. Her knees lost their place beneath her until they knocked against each other and she found them in time to keep from sliding to the floor. When he pulled her finger from his mouth, it was with a soft kiss and she responded with a low moan.

Peaches didn't know she was falling until he encircled her waist with a heavily muscled arm and steadied her against his chest. He could have done anything he wanted with her at that moment, but he waited for her to turn her face up towards his before placing his lips over hers. Her body responding with a need that she could feel him react to, she cupped the back of his head in her hand and returned the kiss.

Their breath intermingled in their mouths and on their faces as they kissed one another deeply. In concert, Peaches cradled the back of his neck at the bend of her elbow as he lifted her until one of her sandals slapped against the wood floor. His hands grabbed her ass and the fingers dug in as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Peaches moaned again, her body loosening and relaxing against the sound, an admission of her need as unmistakable as the pressure in her belly pushing against her damp panties or the smell of her thickening the air. Lamar groaned and leaned her against the wall where he could grind his body against her. Peaches tightened for a moment as the burden of Lamar's larger, heavier body crushed up against her small, soft one but then he eased the hard roll of flesh between his legs into the hot valley between her own and her entire body opened up for him.

Peaches bit her bottom lip and felt her asshole tighten as folds of wet cotton creased between her legs ground against her clit. She tried to lean back to get away from the intensity and steadiness of the pressure he was applying to her but the wall wouldn't let her. She tried to push him back before she did something she wasn't sure she was ready to do yet and he just smiled while her hands got tired pressed against his chest. It was more than she'd had in a long time. Even when she touched herself, she never touched herself there this hard, this long. She's never been this rough on herself, or this demanding. She was quivering and shaking, on the verge of screaming and he still rolled his hips against her in a slow and constant rhythm.

"Oooooh, you can't do that," Peaches said, despite the fact that she was now limp, breathing heavily against his shoulder and had little intention on stopping him. A moment later, she felt the telltale flutter of an orgasm between her legs and pressed against Lamar, holding him in place long enough to catch her breath.

The sun had dipped low enough in the sky for the spreading bruise of night to color the horizon. From the doorway leading into the kitchen Lamar could see the flicker of fireflies in the tall grass outside Peaches' home. From that same doorway, Peaches could feel the soothing caress of the first evening breeze in the few spaces between her and Lamar.

Together, the two of them turned to the kitchen table and, as one, moved towards it. Lamar laid Peaches across the table and pushed her dress up around her waist, kissing her exposed navel. She giggled playfully as he tickled her with the tip of his tongue. Then, she nodded "Yes" as he produced a condom from his wallet.

Peaches closed her eyes and sighed aloud while she listened to the wrapper open and the click of latex unrolling over him. She began to sit up to watch, or better yet, to slide the condom over him herself when he placed a warm hand against her stomach and pressed her down on the kitchen table. A moment later, she felt his tongue on her again, parting the slick folds of flesh between her legs.

Peaches groaned and strained to keep from screaming. She gripped the edge of the kitchen table and curled her toes while Lamar flicked his tongue steadily against her throbbing clit. She rocked her hips back and forth before she gave herself over completely to his tongue and pushed her pussy against his soft lips and hot mouth.

"Ooooh, fuck", Peaches wailed as another orgasm built inside her. This time she didn't pause to compose herself, but whipped her hips up and down in time with Lamar's tongue. She gripped the sides of Lamar's head and chewed her bottom lip, moaning into it as her insides knotted against each other.

When her orgasm hit, Peaches was breathing through clenched teeth and squeezing her eyes shut so tightly a tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and came to a stop in her ear. Incredibly, Lamar was still sucking at her pulsing pussy and loudly swallowing everything that gushed out of her.

Lamar raised his head from between her thighs and smiled at her. Breathing hard, trying to get her breath back, Peaches smiled back.

"Mmmm," Lamar said. "Tastes like Peaches."

It wasn't the first time she heard that joke, but Peaches laughed anyway, somehow finding it funny despite it being a joke she'd heard constantly, in varied forms, since she was sixteen. Lamar chuckled with her, seeming to know the joke wasn't very good, but in agreement that it was good enough as he placed his hands on her waist and pulled her to the edge of the kitchen table.

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