The Service Call
The doorbell rang on a humid Tuesday afternoon, breaking the stillness of the house. When I opened the door, I was met with a young man who looked to be about twenty-six. He had expressive, wide eyes, short black hair, and a warm, cinnamon-toned complexion that glowed under the sun. He flashed a brilliant smile, introducing himself as a representative for a cable and internet provider.
I already had every service he was offering, but as I looked at him, I found myself captivated. There was a raw, masculine energy about him that I couldn’t ignore. I invited him inside, letting him explain his packages in the living room. As we sat close together, I found my attention drifting from his brochure to the heavy bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. Every time he shifted to point something out in the portfolio, I felt a jolt of electricity.
I offered him a glass of lemonade to beat the heat. As I walked toward the kitchen, I caught his reflection in the hallway mirror; he was watching me, his hand subtly adjusting himself. The tension between us was thick, almost tangible, vibrating in the small space between us.
When he finished his pitch, he asked to use the restroom. As he stood up, the outline of his erection was unmistakable. When he emerged, he noticed my lingering gaze and smiled knowingly. He mentioned that he also handled printer ink refills. My heart leaped; my computer and printer were upstairs in my bedroom, and I suddenly found myself in desperate need of a refill.
I led him upstairs, ensuring we were alone. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, the professional facade vanished. He stepped closer, his voice trembling slightly as he asked, “What shall we play?”
I didn’t hesitate. I reached out to touch him, and he responded by sliding his hand inside my pants, freeing me instantly. He dropped to his knees with a hunger that left me breathless, his mouth warm and demanding. I pulled him up, crashing my lips against his in a deep, tongue-laced kiss that tasted of desperation and desire.
I quickly lowered his zipper, and a magnificent, dark length of flesh sprang free—thick and imposing. The excitement was overwhelming. We moved with a frantic urgency, the risk of being caught only adding to the thrill. He groaned low in his throat as he reached his peak, and I welcomed every drop of his warmth, swallowing him whole.
But we weren’t finished. He took his turn, his tongue swirling around me, suctioning and teasing until I felt the pressure build to an unbearable point. He drank me in completely, leaving me shaking and spent.
He finished the ink refill with professional efficiency, but as he left, we both knew the real business had been concluded. I looked at my printer and smiled, already wondering when I could call him back for another service.