Rich Bitch Widow gets Renovated

Margaret Harrison

At forty-three, she had a fantastic body, slender legs, jaw-dropping tits, thick black hair, and a face with a perpetual haughty look. Margaret Harrison thought she was superior to men in general and men who worked with their hands in particular.

My name is Bob Gray. I own a general contracting business. She had called for an estimate. Her husband had purchased the house last year and wanted to renovate it and make it their permanent home. But the plans were put on hold when he died suddenly. Now, after a couple of months, she was ready to get started.

I did some checking up on her. Her husband was seventy-five, and they had been married fifteen years. She had sold her own business recently, a lingerie shop that had been like a hobby to her. By all accounts, she was very well off.

We settled on Monday at one o'clock for an initial meeting. I arrived on time. To say she looked fantastic was a gross understatement. The dress she wore was a light blue material, looking uncomfortably tight. She showed a decent amount of cleavage, and her nylon-covered legs were displayed as the dress ended well above her knees. But the sexiest part of her was her self-confidence. She was the type of woman who always was in control. She offered me a drink, but I declined as she finished her wine and poured another. I couldn't stop imagining how stuck up she would be, tied to her bed with my dick in her mouth, her spirit broken. Mentally I added these things to my list of projects.

We toured the house. And the amount of renovation she wanted done was extensive. I told her I would have the estimate in two weeks. She agreed and told me I could walk around the house and would be in the study if I wanted her. The massive house had a full basement with three floors above it.

This would be a huge undertaking. It would last at least a year if everything went right.

I knocked on the door to the study and walked in. She was sitting at her desk. As she turned to face me, her dress crept up, exposing her legs so that her stocking tops were revealed. I hadn't seen regular stockings on a woman since my ex-wife had surprised me on Valentine's Day years ago. I quickly averted my eyes as she slowly pulled her dress down without a hint of embarrassment.

"I hope you saw everything you needed to see. She said softly."

You could read that in two ways, and I took it to mean her legs. Interestingly, few women wear nylons these days, much less regular stockings. But she seemed pretty comfortable in them.

I offered my hand, saying it was a pleasure to meet her and would be calling soon. She gave me a sly smile, saying.

"I think you will work out fine; I look forward to working with you."

I was going crazy imagining all sorts of scenarios of us having sex in all the rooms. I had just turned thirty-five, never having been with an older woman.

The two weeks crawled by. I had to keep jerking off. Otherwise, I would end up having my dick write the estimate. I had to ensure I wasn't forgetting something important, like my profit. I finished the contract, reading and rereading it twenty times, and called her to schedule an appointment for Friday afternoon.

She had given me no signs of anything besides business except the flash of her stockings, which I was probably blowing out of proportion.

I was disappointed to see two cars in the driveway as I arrived at the house.

I knocked on the door, and she answered with an older man she introduced as her attorney. Thankfully, he was leaving.

"Well, what have you got for me." she smiled, showing perfect white teeth.

"But first, let me make you a drink."

The drink was strong, and if I were cynical, I would think maybe she was trying to get me drunk. Hoping I would screw up the contract. She seemed the type of woman who earned their way in business by any means.

I carefully nursed my drink as we started going over the plans. She didn't balk at any of my proposals. It took over two hours to finish. Finally, we were done.

She sat back, slowly crossing her legs. I can still hear the faint rustle of her stockings as she slowly adjusted the hem of her dress.

She had that superior rich bitch look. Raising one eyebrow, she said.

"Your bid is certainly the highest, but your attention to detail is the best. Besides, I like you. I think I've found my contractor."

She smiled warmly and laid her hand on my arm. Despite her drinking, her brown eyes sparkled.

"I miss my husband; I handled all the finances when he was alive, but he had final approval. Now, there's only me. I have to trust you, but can I?"

I snapped out of the trance she was creating. The room was warm, and her perfume filled the air.

"Of course, you can. I've been in business for ten years with a Triple-A rating; you can check with my previous customers."

"Oh, I did, and you do check out. You look so young to be a contractor. Can I ask your age?"

"Of course, I'm thirty-five."

I had done some checking on her; she had just turned forty-three.

She agreed on my price and put down the deposit, and we would start on Monday.

"I just have one question, Bob. I hope your men are trustworthy. I mean, I'd be alone in the house, and if they wanted to try something, I couldn't stop them. I've found that common workers have trouble controlling themselves regarding attractive women. I saw a movie recently where workers assaulted a woman in her house."

Well, I thought to myself, somebody's got some fantasies.

"I'll vouch for them. They are all professionals. And this isn't the movies."

"That's reassuring, so I'll see you Monday morning."

I couldn't wait to return to my home and jerk off. This woman's body was driving me crazy.

Monday came, and I drove to the house to meet with my foreman, Bill. He was ready to start. The only section that wouldn't be touched was her bedroom and adjoining study. She came to see us, letting us know she would be out for the day.

Her choice of clothes was interesting. She wore a snug-fitting grey suit with a crisp white blouse. But the showstopper was the off-black stockings and shiny black heels. She walked to the garage in total command, not a hair out of place. At the same time, our eyes focused on her short skirt and her tight ass as she took small steps across the driveway.

She pulled her BMW next to where we were standing, unmindful of the amount of leg she was showing.

"You have my cell number if you need me."

She called out, flashing that brilliant smile and not attempting to cover her stocking tops and garter clasps. These leg shows can't both be by accident. I watched her car disappear down the driveway, my dick as hard as a brick.

The demolition was well underway when I came back at noon. The day went quickly, with no sign of her. Unbeknownst to me, one of my guys had blocked the garage door with some lumber.

They all left at four, and I was checking on their work When I heard a horn blowing. I walked out and saw what had happened. She was definitely angry. She rolled down her window, eyes flashing.

"This is not a good start. What were they thinking? I expected more from you."

I felt like turning her over my knee and spanking her rich ass. All this over a blocked door that would be rectified in the morning.

But I composed myself and ensured her everything would be taken care of, and it would not happen again. She was still fuming like the forty-three-year-old brat she was.

She swung her door open, her skirt well up on her legs, displaying her dark stockings. Thinking to herself, take a good look, Mr. Gray. That's all you're going to get. She turned on her spike heels and strode into her house, obviously mad, not saying anything else. I would bide my time, but she would eventually crawl for me.

Since her blow-up about the garage, she seemed slightly embarrassed. But not enough to apologize for her outburst.

I looked forward to our weekly meetings, which had come to include a couple of drinks. I fooled myself into thinking we were becoming close. We talked about things unrelated to the job. And more than once, she called at night with a question that could have waited till morning. But that was her manner; she didn't care what you were doing. Her needs came first.

Work was proceeding smoothly when she called me into her house; she would be leaving on a two-week cruise and returning just before Christmas.

She offered me a drink, and I accepted. We went into the study; it was dark and smelled of perfume and leather.

After we sat down, I asked her if she would mind if my workmen could have a little party on the last workday before Christmas. I told her it would only be subs and beer. She seemed annoyed but said yes when learning it would only be three guys, including myself, as the others were at a different job.

I sat down across from her on a straight-back chair.

She sat on the couch, tucking her legs under her.

"Sit on the couch, Bob, so we can talk without shouting. I promise not to bite."

It was like she was orchestrating what we were doing.

I looked her over. She had on a sleeveless black knit dress that hugged her curves.

I sat next to her. We talked about the work and how pleased she was, her arm on the back of the couch lightly toying with my shoulder. Finally, she asked if I was seeing anyone. She blushed a little.

"I hope that wasn't too personal?"

"No, it wasn't. And no, I'm not seeing anyone." I think I would have lied if I were. I wanted to fuck her.

I don't know how much she had to drink, but she seemed drunk. There was an awkward silence. I didn't want to scare her off, so I said.

"Thank you for the drink, but I must get going."

Her hand tightened on my shoulder as she sat up, moving closer to me.

"Please stay a while. It's been so quiet since my husband died. It's nice to talk with someone. We could order food and talk about something other than the house."

She started getting up but lost her balance, falling back on the couch, forcing her dress up to her garter clasps and fully expanded stocking tops.

"You're a leg man, I see."

She gave a soft chuckle. "There's nothing wrong with that. Women are flattered over attention."

"When I had my lingerie shop, you would be surprised how many young women prefer stockings and garter belts over bare legs or pantyhose."

She gestured at her exposed stockings. "You're a man. What would you rather see, what I have on or bare legs? Most women want to be desirable to men, and the easiest way is with nylons, lace, and heels. A combination no man can resist. No offense, but men can easily be distracted."

I stepped toward her as she stood up, pulling her shoulders back, emphasizing her tits. I put my hands on her waist and kissed her lightly, her lips parting as my tongue found hers. A low moan escaped her as she wrapped her arms around me. Her soft tits rubbed my chest. I held her close, nuzzling her neck.

My hands went to the zipper on the back of her dress. I slowly eased it down to her butt. She tensed up and whispered with a little groan.

"Please don't."

Her reluctance seemed false. I got the feeling that if she didn't want to do this, it wouldn't happen.

She trembled as I pulled her dress from her shoulders and down her stocking-clad legs, leaving it in a pool around her ankles.

The high and mighty Margaret Harrison stood before me dressed only in a black bra, nylon briefs, and a garter belt trimmed in gold, her legs highlighted in sheer black nylons as she kept her knees pressed together.

I took her hand and led her to the bedroom. She murmured,

"I haven't been with anyone for a while. Please be gentle."

I got the feeling she was acting out a part. You know, the lonely widow being taken advantage of.

But she still had that same look, almost mocking me.

I sat on the bed, easing her down. I looked at her, tits overflowing her push-up bra. I gently pulled her cups down, forming a shelf for those magnificent boobs forcing her nipples straight out. I attacked them, alternating biting and sucking her red nubs.

I stood up and quickly stripped down. My rock-hard dick bobbing up and down. I knelt between her legs and kissed her thighs, finally reaching her stocking tops with my tongue before grazing her panty-covered mound with my mouth.

Then, it came to me that she had me on my knees between her legs. The roles should be reversed; women belong on their knees with a dick in their mouth.

She faintly grunted as I roughly pulled her panties off and plunged my tongue into her soft folds, her nylon-covered legs wrapped around my head, holding me in place. I carefully sucked and nibbled her swollen clit. She was grunting and twisting her legs as she neared her orgasm. Finally, she shook and held me tight as her pleasure washed over her.

Her body was covered with a fine sheen of sweat.

As I wiped her cunt juice from my face, she smiled and said,

"No one has done me that way in years. Now, what do you want?"

I pulled her up and then forced her to her knees.

She rested back on her calves, her stockings pulled tight.

"I'm going to fuck your mouth."

"I'll do a little, but I don't like it. When I say stop, I'll mean it."

She frowned but opened those puffy red lips and ran her tongue over my dripping cock. I know the saying, "Any blow job is a good blowjob." That is true, but Margaret lacked her cocksucking skills due to a lack of practice and desire. That would change soon enough. I kept her on her knees, unhappy with my dick in her mouth. She pulled my dick out and gasped. "No more. I've done enough. Do you want to fuck me or not?"

She plainly didn't like being on her knees, sucking my cock. She was too stuck up for that.

I took my cock in my hand and tried rubbing it over her face, but she kept moving her head, her lips pressed together. I should have forced her to suck some more, but that would wait for next time. That would be part of breaking her will; you can't rush it. Besides, I needed to fuck her. This bitch was going to learn.

"Now get on the bed."

I commanded, giving her a good open, handed slap on the ass.

"YEOWICH STOP IT! THAT HURTS! Nobody spanks me."

"I couldn't resist it; you've got an ass made for spanking."

She glared at me as I crawled on top of her, biting her boobs, slobbering over her nipples. My dick was probing her cunt. I kissed her mouth, our tongues working on each other. Her stockinged legs bent at the knees opened wide. I found the right spot and slipped my raging hard-on into her wet pussy with one stroke. She grimaced and reflexively wrapped her legs around me, her heels scraping my back. I pounded her relentlessly; the only sounds were her ughs and soft moans. I tried to pace myself; she was as tight as a woman half her age. I couldn't last much longer. I wanted to cum on her face, knowing she wouldn't like it. But I was unsure what she would do. So, I would save that humiliation for later. I was biding my time and making her think she was in control.

The fact she wouldn't like it made it all the better. There's nothing sexier than cumming on a pretty woman's face and not allowing her to clean up, making her sit still, preferably tied up, and letting the cum dry. Especially on her eyes.

Back to the present, I couldn't last any longer; putting her legs on my shoulders, I forced her back and shot my cum deep in her cunt. I kept pumping my cock into her till I finally was done.

We lay in silence until she rolled over and said.

"That was a surprise, but nice. Did you enjoy yourself?"

What a question. I thought, would anybody say no?

"You're a beautiful woman; it was every man's dream."

"What a load of bullshit; all you had to say was I'm satisfied. I wouldn't have canceled your contract if you didn't like it. Now, let's get dressed and get something to eat." She ordered.

We ate takeout and kissed lightly goodnight. I wished her luck on the cruise and would see her in two weeks.

The crew knocked out a lot of work, and most of the outside work was finished. I wasn't needed there daily. I had other jobs starting until she returned.

My phone rang, and the caller ID showed Margaret. I actually got excited. She sounded reserved, or should I say stuck up. And would be home by twelve o'clock and was looking forward to seeing what's been done.

I arrived around two-thirty and went directly to her study. She must have spent the whole cruise in the sun, as tan as she was. She didn't make any move to hug me, so I stayed a respectful distance. We toured the house, and she was pleased with the progress. Later, when we reviewed the details, I reminded her about the party. I told her there were two workers plus myself, so a couple of subs and a few six-packs would be enough. She was worried about them drinking and wouldn't be able to drive home. I had the feeling she wasn't worried about their safety. She just didn't want them sleeping in her house. I told her not to worry; one of them didn't drink and would be driving. I didn't tell her he smoked weed daily.

This would be her first lesson that men are the masters. I had been building up resentment toward her since the first day I met her. She would have to learn her place. We set the time for Friday around three. Ever since I suggested this, I had been planning to get even with her. She was just the kind of cunt you wanted to humiliate.

By the time of the party, I had two screwdrivers and was feeling a little buzzed. I hadn't seen her as I walked through the house. I noticed that both her study and bedroom doors were closed.

I knocked on the study door and heard her say, "Come in."

I walked in and was amazed at how beautiful she was. She wore a dark red dress that was well above her knees with sheer black stockings and black spike heels. Her thick black hair was in a French twist, exposing a black choker on her slender neck. The best thing about her dress was it was thin enough to show the outline of her garter straps.

"You look very nice,"

"Thanks, I like it too; it fits me well. I have a party in town later."

She said with no emotion. But it was like she told me she didn't dress for me. She motioned me to stand next to her. I was expecting maybe a kiss, but she looked me in the eye and said.

"What we did the other day was a one-time thing; I didn't want you to get your hopes up. We are not going to do that again."

What a cunt, she just sealed her fate.

I hoped I could control my men, or maybe I didn't.

The food and beer were in the dining room next to the study. The guys had been waiting for this day to come.

Little did I know, she had been a bitch to them, needlessly criticizing their work when I wasn't around, threatening their jobs if she was unhappy. And they were ready to see if they could get some payback. My crew were excellent workers and didn't deserve treatment like that.

They had been working hard and needed to let off some steam.

Unknown to me, they had been drinking since lunch. And we're ready for some action.

Margaret disappeared into her study. I noticed Mark and Steve talking quietly and high-fiving each other; something was up.

"Bob, could you ask Mrs. Harrison to come out? We want to thank her."

"Sure, no problem," I said. Giving them a thumbs-up sign. I opened the door to the study; she was on the phone.

"Excuse me, the guys want to thank you."

Rolling her eyes, she nodded yes, holding up a finger for a minute. I returned to the dining room, telling them I would be back. I had to check on something.

I went into the library, which backed up to the dining room. I could see everything that was happening through the partially open door.

She walked in with the attitude she wanted to get this over with.

"Thanks for everything; you're good workers," she said, barely concealing her contempt. Mark and Steve crossed the room and stood beside her, taking her drink away.