Possum

I fronted up at the address bright and early on a Saturday morning. It was my first call of the day. Actually, the only one I had scheduled. I rang the bell and waited and eventually the door opened and this young lady was standing there.

Definitely what I'd call a nice young lady. She was in her early twenties and looked as though she'd just scrambled out of bed. Her hair was tousled and she had no make-up on, not that she needed it. She was dressed in what looked like silk pyjamas but could have been a silk lounging outfit for all that I know about women's fashion. I did know that it was silk and that any movement she made caused the material to cling to her. It especially seemed to cling to her breasts.

"Yes?" she said.

"Mrs Asters?" I asked. "I'm Peter from Pete's Pest Control. I was asked to come and see if I could do something about a possum in your roof."

"Did you have to come this early?" she asked grumpily.

"Your husband did ask me to come first thing this morning," I gently pointed out.

"Asshole," she grumbled. "Him, not you. He damn well knew I'd have to get up to answer the door. He's out playing golf."

She looked at, looked at my truck, and then looked at the possum cage I was holding.

"What's that supposed to be?" she asked.

"It's a possum trap," I told her. "I'll bait it and put it in your ceiling and leave it overnight. I'll check in the morning and you'll probably find the possum safely locked up and I can move him to a place where he can go and play with other possums."

"Not with that cage, you won't," she said, sounding rather smug.

"Why not?" I politely asked.

"See that man over there?"

I turned and looked and there was a man walking what looked like a German Shepherd on the other side of the road.

"Yes," I acknowledged.

"Well, that dog is about the same size as the blasted possum in our roof."

"They sound a lot bigger than they actually are," I explained. "It'll be a ring-tail and they're really quite small."

"It sounds as though there's a horse galloping around up there," she said sweetly, "and unless it's suffering from giganticus it's not a ring-tail. Or it could be a were-possum, because it's very large and very hairy. Personally, I'd go with large brush-tail possum."

A ring-tail is small and weighs around a kilogram. A brush-tail is a lot bigger and weighs in at two to three kilograms.

"I'll go and get the larger trap," I told Mrs Asters and she smiled.

"Good idea," she said.

I fetched the larger trap and Mrs Asters escorted me through to the laundry where there was a manhole to access the ceiling. Before I fetched my ladder I explained exactly what I was going to do. She seemed genuinely interested. I was genuinely disconcerted because she kept moving around, doing a lot of talking with her hands. Every time she waved her arms around her breasts would wobble and I could see them wobbling under that thin silk. Like I said, disconcerting.

I went up the ladder and looked around. I promptly saw a pair of beady eyes looking at me from a corner. It was a brush-tail, alright, and a big one. I manoeuvred the cage as close as I dared, hearing it quietly snarling as I did so. Then I backed away with more haste than grace.

"No worries, sweetheart," I said to Mrs Asters, coming down the ladder. "He's up there and he'll investigate the cage as soon as he gets hungry."

"Are you trying to flirt with me?" she asked, sounding slightly suspicious.

Eh? Flirt? I was twice her age. Why would she thing I was trying to flirt? Oh, of course, the sweetheart bit.

"No, no, sorry, darling," I said quickly before my brain caught up to my mouth. I mean, they're just common endearments, not meant to be taken seriously, but I tend to forget about how politically correct some people can get.

"Oh. Are you trying to get in a little gentle seduction, knowing that I'm home alone?"

Bloody hell. Watch your mouth, boyo.

"I wouldn't dream of it, love" I assured her and mentally kicked myself. Maybe I should tape my damn mouth closed.

"I wouldn't react well to a more forceful seduction, either," she warned.

"No, no. I have no such intention."

Geez, she'd be screaming rape next.

"You wouldn't dare rape me just because I'm alone," she snapped at me.

"Certainly not," I said, trying to sound shocked at the idea.

"Why not?" she demanded.

Not knowing what to say to that I said nothing.

"You're as bad as my husband," she went on. "Out playing golf when he could be here with me. All you men are the same. Totally useless. I mean, look at me! Wouldn't you want to spend some time in bed with me?"

She gestured at her body, throwing her shoulders back as she did so, which tended to highlight her lovely breasts.

"Well, yes, I guess," I mumbled. "From what I can see you have a lovely body."

"From what you can see?" she snapped. "Well, can you see these?"

She seemed to just rip her top open, proving a couple of things quite conclusively. Namely that she wasn't wearing a bra and that even someone with 'D' cups didn't need to wear one to have firm upstanding breasts.

"Look at me. I have wonderful breasts and all perfectly natural. But do men like you and my husband appreciate them? No! You'd rather work or play golf. It's sickening."

I was looking. Oh boy, was I looking.

"You're quite right," I told her, "and if I was your husband I'd be curled up in bed with you and those breasts right now. Unfortunately, I'm not."

She gave me a suspicious look and I smiled.

"True. If you weren't so young I'd be tempted even now to make a grab for you. Especially if those trousers slip off as easily as I think they do. Do they?"

"So young?" she said indignantly. "Just how old do you think I am?"

"Oh, probably around twenty," I guessed. "You have to understand that I'm forty and have a lot more experience than you. Yes," I continued, nodding thoughtfully. "If you were a few years older I'd definitely be tempted."

"Typical man," she snapped, glaring at me. "Full of talk but unable to change words into action. And you say it's the woman's fault, of course. As for these pants. . ." She just reached down and I'll be damned if they didn't just slither down her legs, pooling around her ankles. Definitely silk.

With her top gaping open to show her breasts and her trousers gathered around her ankles she was effectively naked. The skimpy pair of panties that she wore was more a decoration that a practical item of clothing. I had an erection just looking at her.

"Okay, you've convinced me," I said with a smile. "Lose that excuse for a pair of panties and I'll play with you for a while."

Her eyes seemed to open a little wider as she looked down at herself, slowly realising what she'd done. I expected her to blush and hastily start putting her clothes in order but she just stood there, not doing anything.

"That's what I thought," I murmured. "I guess I'll be going."

With that her head jerked up to look at me. She flexed her shoulders and her top dropped right away, falling down her arms and off, floating down to the floor. She followed this up by hooking her thumbs into her panties and pushing them down, stepping out of them and her trousers at the same time.

She stood there, really naked now, hands behind her back, and smiling smugly. Her shoulders were back, throwing her breasts into prominence (not that they weren't already fairly prominent), and her legs were parted slightly, letting me see that she was aroused to the state that her inner lips were protruding, plain for me to see.

"Now what, big mouth?" she asked in a sweet voice.

Damned if I was going to back off. I started slowing undoing the fly to my trousers. I unzipped, pushed my jocks down out of the way, and then pulled my erection into view. It was what you might consider a little above average, being nearly eight inches when erect and thick. Her eyes opened a little wider when she saw what I was bringing to the party. I've noticed that no woman is really offended by a man getting an erection. They may act offended but really they're pleased that they've got what it takes to do that to a man. (Even more pleased if it's a man they don't like. A touch of you want me but you'll never get me.)

"Let's see if you can handle what I've got," I said, doubt plain in my voice.

Any second thoughts that she'd had were now rejected in favour of an I'll-show-him attitude. I moved closer and she found herself leaning back against the kitchen table. I simply slipped my hand between her legs, spreading her lips a little and guiding myself into position. Then I started pushing.

I pushed firmly against her, sinking in quite smoothly. She was wet and ready and pushing against me from the moment I started. I had no trouble embedding myself fully inside her, just holding steady for a moment. She was looking at me, breathing somewhat harder, eyes wide.

I pulled out again and indicated that she should turn around. She did so with some haste, her urgency flattering me somewhat. Once again I drove into her, but this time with more urgency, easily matched by her eagerness to accept me.

I pulled out again.

She was all, "What? What?" while I pulled a chair away from the table, pushing my trousers down and sitting, my erection jutting proudly into the air. I reached for her, turning her so she was facing me.

"Your turn," I told her patting my lap and drawing her closer.

She had a somewhat shocked look as she eyed my erection and realised what I expected her to do. Apparently it was one thing to not resist when I entered her but it was something else entirely when she was going to be the one initiating the action. She must have hesitated for all of two seconds before starting to lower herself, face blushing fiercely.

Her face got even redder when she found that I wasn't going to guide myself into place. That didn't stop her reaching down to take a delicate hold of me and position me the way she wanted. Then she was sinking down, my shaft being driven up her passage by her actions, me being an innocent bystander.

She was funny to watch, looking pleased as punch with herself as she wriggled about on top of me getting herself comfortable in her new position. Satisfied that she was properly set up she gave me a look that seemed to ask what was I going to do now. I gave her the same sort of look and she was shocked and blushing all over again to find that I expected her to do the work.

It didn't slow her for long. She started sliding up and down my cock, taking her pleasure. Now that she'd initiated the action I had no problems moving with her, giving some extra oomph to what she was doing.

I suspected that she was trying to prove that she wasn't as young and innocent as I'd suggested. What she was actually proving was that she was young and, let's say, eager. I was holding her breasts, enjoying the feel of them. Hell, I was enjoying the total experience of her young body moving against me. The only thing that I had to worry about was her getting too carried away and bouncing right off me. A tragedy in waiting.

She was sounding off with little cries every time she came sliding down my pole, totally wrapped up in what she was doing. I don't think she gave one thought to how I was reacting being too involved with her own feelings.

She bounced along quite happy, taking me with her, to my quiet delight. She reached a point where she was ready to climax and I equally quietly started to interfere with her rhythm. I don't think she noticed the rhythm change but she certainly started to notice that she was not quite reaching her climax. A slightly desperate note crept into her voice as she did her best to push herself over the cusp, so desperately wanting to finish.

I couldn't hold her off for long. I was too near to finishing myself. It was only by rigid self-control that I hadn't already cut loose. I relaxed and gave her that little extra she was seeking, being rewarded by my own climax even as she gave a strangled cry and had her climax.

She leaned bonelessly against me for a moment, and then I felt her stiffen as she realised what she'd just done. The look on her face said it all. Before she could start with any recriminations, against me probably, I caught a lucky break.

There came a loud shriek from above, followed by a lot of banging and some more shrieking. Now she was clinging tightly to me, looking fearfully at the roof.

"I do believe that we've already caught your little friend," I told her. "If you'll excuse me I'll just climb back up and see."

I moved her onto her feet and stood up, pulling up my trousers as I did so. Then it was back to the manhole and up the ladder. Sure enough the cage was now full of one angry possum. I flicked on the lock on the door so it wouldn't come undone by accident, and lowered it to the floor. Then it was down the ladder and I caught a good look at my prisoner. A very big, very angry, male brush-tail, one of the largest I'd come across.

"You're lucky," I told her. "Sometimes it's days before we trap the little pests. I'll escort him to a nice park on the other side of the river so he won't be tempted to come back."

I was a trifle disappointed to see that she had those silk pyjamas back on. They spoiled a nice bit of scenery in my opinion.

"You might like to tell your husband that he needs to block the holes under the eaves where your friend got in. That'll stop his family moving in. If your husband doesn't want to do it himself give us a call, as that's one of the services we provide."

"I'll have him get onto it right away. I don't want that monster back in the house," she said.

I wasn't quite sure how to take that as I was prepared to swear she flicked a look at my groin when she said it. I politely took my leave.

Turned out that her husband was so impressed with the speedy removal of the possum that he's hired us to block any holes. I'm to go out there first thing Monday morning to attend to it.