Work Ethic Ch. 1

©January 2002 by Bob Peale

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Author's Note:

This story was originally distributed as 6 chapters.

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Beverly rolled over and reached out sleepily to her husband's side of the bed. In that place between waking and sleeping she registered that it was empty…again. Groaning, she raised her head and looked at the clock: 11:23pm. It didn't even feel warm – he'd never come to bed. She listened for sounds of him somewhere in the house. Nothing – he'd worked another double shift.

Intellectually, she understood that Paul had to work this hard. It had been 8 months since Bev had been laid off, without so much as a "Thanks for your contribution". To fill the gap Paul had started picking up extra shifts at night, often doing work totally different than his normal job. He never complained about the increased burden, but Bev could see that it was starting to take its toll on him, both physically and mentally.

Unfortunately her intellect was at odds with her emotions. Ever since she'd lost her job, Bev felt broken, like it was something she'd done that had led to it. The truth was, the division had been dissolved; only the very senior people had found positions with the parent company. All of the low and mid level personnel were let go with one week's pay.

She'd turned to sex to get validation, trying to prove her worth by bringing her husband pleasure. Of course with his schedule and the economic gloom hanging over them, sex was the last thing on his mind. Initially, he at least participated halfheartedly, but over the last few months she was lucky if he even moved, choosing instead to just lay there and let her do what she wanted. A banana had more life.

What made it even worse was that, as her sex life with her husband deteriorated, Bev's sex drive increased a hundredfold. It got so bad that she was now masturbating 3 or 4 times a day to relieve the near constant pressure.

The Internet provided an outlet. At first her surfing centered on job searches and special interest websites. Over time, she stumbled onto the wonderful world of erotica, starting first with story sites and progressing to bulletin boards and chat rooms. From there she proceeded to chat programs (first text then video) where she could connect with plenty of other people with overactive libidos.

The beauty of the online erotic community was that men outnumbered women 5 to 1. She had her pick of men who wanted to be the object of her fantasies. At any one time she was carrying on 5 or 6 cyber affairs, moving on when someone no longer "did it" for her.

Every man was different; some were more attractive than she'd ever seen in real life, others had cocks that made her salivate just to watch, while others still were willing to perform all manner of sex act while she watched with rapt attention.

Of course, over time, she started to reciprocate, displaying herself on cam and bringing her self to orgasm for the viewing pleasure of others. On several occasions she'd watched a couple perform and that had been really hot, too. Playing online gradually consumed her - if a day went by without it, Bev felt physically ill.

The next morning there was at least evidence that Paul had been home. Pajamas were balled up on the floor next to the bed and the air smelled of soap and hot water. She dragged herself out of bed and got ready. For Christmas their parents had pooled their money and sprung to have the inside of the house painted, and the painters were supposed to show up today. Bev's ranch style house hadn't been painted since they'd bought it 7 years ago, and in truth it was starting to look a little run down. Maybe a new paint job was what they both needed to lift their spirits.

She'd just pulled on her panties when she heard a loud knock. It wasn't even 8:00am yet; it had to be the painters, but who the hell ever heard of a contractor coming early? She grabbed a housedress out of the closet and slipped it on over her head, running a hand repeatedly through her short blonde hair as she ran to the front door.

She yanked it open to find three earnest and sober looking men standing on her stoop. Two were definitely older – Bev guessed mid to late 40's - and one was probably nearer Bev's age, around 35. They wore the traditional painter's outfit: white t-shirt, white denim pants, work boots, and caps. They were all shorter than Bev, but at 5'11" she was used to towering over people.

"Mrs. Matthews?" one of the older men asked.

She nodded. He licked his lips nervously.

"Ma'am, we're from Cudgins Painters." He seemed to have trouble meeting her eyes. "I'm Ryan, and this is Chris," he said, gesturing to the other older man. "The other fellow there, that's Ryan, too. Most people just call him Junior – no relation."

He snickered at the inside joke, like he probably did every time he told it. Bev smiled politely and opened the door wider, stepping back to admit them. Ryan, the one who'd done all the talking, had the sides of his head shaved military-close, the stubble mostly black with a smattering of gray. His eyes were set far apart and continued to flit around nervously, like he was afraid he'd be caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing. He had a weak jaw that had never been rugged, and his body was the type that had seen its best days, but looked like it might be struggling to hold on to some semblance of shape and vigor despite the onset of middle age.

Chris was a different story. Shorter than the others, the sides of his head were clean-shaven, and Bev suspected that the rest of his head was the same. His face was square with so little visible hair that at first it looked like he didn't even have any eyebrows. Upon closer inspection Bev was able to discern faint white blonde wisps above deep set green eyes that were also jumping around frantically. His cheekbones were prominent and his nose slightly bent, like maybe he'd been on the losing end of his share of bar fights in his youth, although Bev couldn't see how. His body was compact but well muscled, his chest and abs firm and obviously developed even through his t-shirt. He stood with the easy grace of someone who was used to being athletic, and despite their obvious age difference Bev could not help noticing how attractive he was.

The third member of the crew looked out of place next to the other two. True to his name, Junior's face reflected the wide-open innocence of youth. His shoulder length brown hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, and his body was round and soft looking – exercise for this guy probably consisted of flipping through channels. He wasn't exactly flabby, but he was also a long way from a hard body. Standing there with his doe-like brown eyes cast downward, Bev questioned her original assessment that they were around the same age; he seemed younger, more childlike. Then he looked up at her and fixed her with a look of such raw sexuality that she felt goose bumps, and she decided to stick by her earlier estimate.

The three men filed past her, taking great pains not to brush against her. Puzzled, she followed them in and closed the door behind her, and caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror.

Her neck and cheeks colored as she stared at her reflection. The dress she'd grabbed wasn't really a dress – it was more like a sheer smock, designed to be worn as a cover-up over a unitard or bathing suit. She could plainly see her panties, blonde pubic hair curling around the edges, and her breasts swelled heavily behind the thin material. Her nipples, normally a bright pink, deepened in color and hardened at the realization that standing in the doorway with the sun shining through she might as well have been naked. That's why they'd given her all those funny looks.

Bev felt her cheeks grow hot. She was still self-conscious about her body – it had taken an incredible amount of courage to show herself naked on cam. In addition to being tall, she was what men often called "thick"; large, heavy breasts, full hips, straight waist – she was never going to be mistaken for a Barbie Doll. Her stomach was a little fuller, her thighs a little larger, than the women you saw reclining in magazines, but she'd learned over the last few months to accept who she was as well as who she wasn't.

She wrestled with what she should do. She was embarrassed that she'd exposed herself to these strangers. But she also couldn't help wondering if the responses she'd received from her online lovers were an anomaly, the desperate words of desperate people. She had an opportunity to determine if she could still arouse real live men, to prove to herself that she was sexy and attractive.

Before she lost her nerve she reached under the smock and pulled her panties off. It was a weird feeling, knowing she was clothed but seeing her whole body exposed in the mirror. Taking a deep breath she joined the painters in the living room.

Ryan and Junior were sitting patiently on the sofa, while Chris stood nearby surveying the room. All three jaws dropped as she settled into the easy chair across from them. Her cheeks reddened some but she was determined to act as if everything were perfectly normal.

"So, how long do you think, it's going to take?" she addressed Ryan, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably while he rifled through a multi-page contract on his lap.

"Whole house, every room, right?"

She nodded, causing her tits to jiggle slightly. Junior sighed.

"Well, after you show us what colors you want and where you want them, it'll take a day or so to get the paints mixed. Then probably a week to ten days to paint, especially since we need to use two coats of pussy."

As soon as the word left his mouth he turned crimson. Chris managed to keep his face impassive through great effort, but Junior snorted so hard snot came out of his nose. Bev smiled.

"You really think ten days is enough time to apply to coats of paint?" she asked as if he'd said it correctly.

Her nipples were two blazing circles, standing out thick and prominent under the smock. She could feel her pussy moistening the more attention they gave her.

Ryan shrugged, afraid to open his mouth and risk saying something else inappropriate. She stood and led them through the house, showing them the colors she and Paul had agreed on for all of the rooms. Every chance she got she raised her arm to point out something, or bent over to pick something up, or brushed against one of them.

By 10:00am she'd finished the walkthrough and was flushed again, only this time not from embarrassment. She bent over the kitchen table, her ass pointed at the men, and signed the contract. Juice from her pussy dribbled down the inside of her leg and she prolonged the signature, letting the painters get a good long look at the result of her arousal. When she turned to hand Ryan the contract, she was pleased to see that each man had a noticeable bulge.

"I'm looking very forward to working with you," she said sweetly as she walked them to the door.

Closing it behind them she slumped against it and fingered herself to her first orgasm of the morning.

*******

Disclaimer:

This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead.

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