She Smiles with Her Eyes

I do my best not to stumble, planting my feet and keeping my hands to myself as she continues her attentions.

With one hand, she jerks me, massaging my balls with the other. It's a strange feeling, but not unpleasant. An almost painful pleasure.

I feel two of her fingers behind my scrotum, pressing into the space between my balls and my asshole. She's creating a sort of pulsating pressure there, dangerously close to my virgin anus.

No one has ever done this for me before. Not quite this way.

I feel my orgasm mounting quickly, almost without warning. I feel suddenly very warm; the muscles around my scrotum and asshole tighten.

I try to warn her that I'm going to come gallons on her if she doesn't move out of the way.

"God," I grunt. "Fuck, I'm gonna come--"

She steps in close to me, pressing my dickhead against her bare belly. She jerks me with faster, shorter strokes. She damn near has my balls in a chokehold, a delicious pressure that holds back my orgasm.

But only for a second.

She looks up into my eyes, and I look into hers, and the first rope of thick white cum lurches from the end of my cock, rebounding off her skin onto her bra and my tank top.

She gets more aggressive, feeling up my balls, stroking my cock, as if to coax more cum out of me.

I squeeze out a few more bursts, all over her belly. It runs down onto her clit and her scrotum and her muscular thighs.

I keep going, no longer caring about the mess I'm making all over her, until I'm reduced to dribbling down the underside of my shaft onto her hand.

Once she's sure I'm done, she presses our genitals together with her hand, mirroring what I'd done earlier.

With my flagging cock resting on her damp, sticky clit, she puts her cum-drenched hand on my hairy ass and squeezes my body against hers. Softly, wetly, our bodies mesh together.

We have another embrace, my face in the crook of her neck, hers against my chest. The drying cum on our skin and our clothes holds us together, weakly.

~

Once we've straightened up, I start thinking about how we're going to clean ourselves. She just pulls her clothes back up, over the streaks and splotches of cum, and zips herself back into her coveralls.

I do the same, not having a better idea, and wanting to be as cool and unbothered about our sexual fluids as she is.

We walk together, in silence, to the edge of the property. Our trucks are parked about a quarter mile apart on the side of the road.

Before we go our separate ways, she asks me:

"Can I trust you?"

"Of course," I say.

"Okay," she says. "Because if anyone finds out this happened, it'll make it impossible for me to keep working here."

I nod. "Okay."

We linger another moment.

I say, "Do you want to do something? Away from work?"

She says, "I don't think my wife would like that."

Without another word, she leaves. I watch her walk away, literally into the sunset. Then I get into my truck.

~EPILOGUE~

That was the last time we spoke.

The next day, she got an earlier end-of-shift and a different break schedule from mine. Whether she was assigned or she requested it, I don't know.

Our regular after-work rendezvous stopped. Our massages stopped. We certainly didn't have any further sexual adventures.

Years later, after that job is long gone, I see her one more time.

The pandemic is over. People are going places again.

There's a regular flea market in town, with vendors grateful to be back in business, acoustic folk bands grateful to be performing again, customers just grateful to be out and about.

She's at the other end of the row of vendors from me. I look up from a CBD stand and notice her, purely by chance, standing at a used book stall. There's about a dozen people between us.

This is the first time I've seen her whole face, but I'd know her anywhere.

She's cute, in a pixie-ish sort of way. High cheekbones, a cupid's bow mouth, black lipstick. She's wearing loose camo pants and a tight gray tank top that shows her belly. She's looking through the books.

She's amused by something she sees. She picks up one of the books. A smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth. She smiles with her eyes.

Then a woman approaches her, who somewhat resembles me--tall, dark, all rolls and curves. Magnetically butch. They say something to each other and Allie puts the book down.

They put their arms around each other's waists and walk away.

None too conspicuously, I wander over to the book stall.

The book she was looking at is sitting on top of the pile: Nicholas and Alexandra.

~THE END~

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