Chicken Coop Desire

The scent of sawdust and fresh pine filled the air, a familiar comfort in the small workshop that served as my husband’s sanctuary. He was a craftsman, a builder of beautiful, sturdy things, and he took immense pride in his work. Lately, though, a frustrated frown had been etched onto his face, a stubborn set to his jaw that suggested he was wrestling with a particularly difficult project. As I watched him, hunched over his workbench, meticulously fitting pieces of wood together, a familiar longing began to stir within me. I was a woman who valued her independence, a self-sufficient soul who didn't require a man to fulfill her needs. Yet, in that moment, the desire for him, for his presence, for his touch, was overwhelming.

I’d been admiring his newest creation, a magnificent chicken coop designed to house a flock of Rhode Island Reds, when the idea struck me. A bold, perhaps reckless, thought that nonetheless felt undeniably right. I slipped out of my work clothes, leaving them neatly folded on the table, and pulled on my newest sundress. It was a short, flowing number with a deep V-neckline, designed to showcase my curves, and a skirt that billowed with every step. I knew he’d find it captivating, and I intended to capitalize on that. A quick swipe of mascara and a touch of lip gloss completed my transformation. Wedges, chosen to even out our height difference, added a touch of elevation, and I felt undeniably alluring.

As I approached the workshop, I could hear the frustrated sighs and the rhythmic tap of his hammer against the wood. He was clearly struggling, and the sight of his concentration, the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead, only intensified my resolve. I entered the shop, a playful smile on my face, and immediately caught his eye. His gaze lingered on my dress, a slow, appreciative appraisal that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Now, don’t you look nice,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room.

“Just nice?” I teased, my eyes sparkling with mischief. “Thank you. I thought you would enjoy it. Maybe enjoy a little break too?”

“Not right now,” he replied, his voice tight with frustration. “I can’t figure out why this isn’t working. I did all the math. It should fit.” He gestured towards the half-assembled coop, his expression conveying a palpable sense of exasperation.

I could sense his mounting frustration, the tension radiating from him like heat from a forge. Perhaps he needed precisely what I was offering – a distraction, a release from the pressure of his work. I moved behind him, my movements deliberate and slow, placing my hands gently on his tense shoulders. A light massage, designed to ease his muscles and calm his nerves, followed by a soft kiss on his cheek, then his neck, then his ear. The subtle shifts in his body language betrayed his mounting arousal. When I nibbled playfully on his earlobe, he let out a low moan, a primal sound that sent shivers down my spine.

“Oh, what you do to me, woman,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “I can’t think when you start pushing my buttons.”

“Well, then, stop thinking and start doing,” I said, my voice laced with a playful challenge. As I stepped around him and straddled his lap, my legs wrapped securely around his waist, I felt the heat radiating from his body, fueling my own arousal.

He wasted no time in responding, his hands instinctively reaching for my body, tracing the curve of my hips, the swell of my breasts. He noticed the lack of a bra, and the realization ignited a fresh wave of desire within him. He swiftly unclasped the strap of my dress, pulling it down to reveal the delicate curve of my neckline, and kissed my neck with a possessive tenderness. His hands then moved down my collarbone, lingering over the sensitive skin, before descending further, exploring the contours of my chest.

As he exposed my breasts fully, he slipped a nipple into his mouth, and I nearly lost all control. The sensation was exquisite, a symphony of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm me. My other hand instinctively caressed my breast, drawing out a deep sigh of anticipation. The anticipation was palpable, the air thick with unspoken desires.

He quickly shifted his attention to my pussy, his fingers gently stroking my clitoris while his other hand played with my other breast. The combination was intoxicating, a potent mix of touch and sensation that left me breathless. My body began to tremble, my muscles tensing with the building pressure. I felt the heat rising, the urge to lose control growing stronger with each passing moment.

As I struggled against my own inhibitions, he began to explore my body with increasing intensity, his touch both gentle and demanding. He held my thighs, guiding my movements, leading me deeper into pleasure. The anticipation intensified, the need for release almost unbearable. I gripped his jeans, carefully unbuttoning them to reveal his hard cock, eager to feel its power against my own flesh.

With a swift movement, I removed his shirt, exposing his bare chest to my gaze. His muscles were defined, strong, and glistening with sweat, a testament to his dedication to his craft. I traced the lines of his torso, my fingers lingering over his shoulders, his arms, and his stomach before finally releasing his cock from its confines. I quickly slipped it into my mouth, causing him to let out a deep moan of pleasure.

Holding him firmly, I began to suck and tease his cock, savoring each inch of sensation. My hands moved rhythmically, guiding his hand to the back of my head, allowing him to control my speed and depth. He moaned again, a guttural sound of pure ecstasy, and I continued my assault, determined to reach the precipice of climax.

As he grew closer to his breaking point, I pulled him onto his workbench, positioning myself for optimal pleasure. I lifted my dress with my legs spread wide, exposing my wet, swollen pussy to his eager gaze. “Now it’s my turn,” I declared, my voice dripping with confidence.

“As you wish,” he responded, a smirk playing on his lips. The reference to the classic film was a playful nod to our dynamic, a silent acknowledgment of the power I held over him. He moved behind me, his body pressing against mine, and slowly drew down my dress, revealing my fully exposed pussy. The sight of it ignited a fresh wave of desire within him, fueling his lust further.

His mouth dove to my pussy, and we both lost ourselves in a passionate embrace. His hands roamed my body, exploring every inch of my flesh with a hungry intensity. I reciprocated, caressing his head, running my fingers through his hair, and deepening the connection between us. As he reached my breasts, he realized I didn’t have a bra on, and this discovery only intensified his pleasure.

The world narrowed to the sensation of his mouth on my pussy, the rhythm of his breathing, and the heat of his body against mine. The pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that left me breathless and trembling. As he continued to explore me, I felt myself edging closer to the brink of orgasm, desperate to lose control and surrender to the moment.

He noticed my mounting excitement and, sensing my need for release, began to increase the intensity of his ministrations. He held my thighs, guiding my movements, and pushing me deeper into pleasure. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the need to lose control becoming increasingly urgent.

Finally, as he reached the point of no return, he let out a final, triumphant moan, and I exploded in a blinding wave of pleasure. My body convulsed, my muscles contracting with each thrust, and the orgasm washed over me in a euphoric rush. We both collapsed on the workbench, gasping for air, our bodies slick with sweat and pleasure.

As I lay there, still buzzing from the intense experience, he gently stroked my hair, his touch both soothing and stimulating. “Is that what you were wanting?” he asked, a playful smile on his face.

“Oh, I want even more,” I panted, my voice barely audible. I rolled over, pulling him closer, and positioned myself so that I could lean over the workbench, bringing myself to the perfect height. “I need you to take me against the bench.”

“As you wish,” he responded, his voice low and husky, as he expertly lifted my dress over my hips. I felt the familiar thrill of his hard cock sliding into me, and once again, I was lost in the depths of pleasure. "Oh yes," I sighed, as he began to pound into me with powerful, insistent thrusts. His strong hands gripped my hips, anchoring me to the bench, while his other hand caressed my body, guiding my movements. The pleasure intensified, reaching new heights of intensity.

As we continued our frenzied dance of passion, I realized that despite my initial desire for distraction, this encounter had become something far more profound. In his arms, surrounded by the scent of sawdust and fresh pine, I felt a sense of connection, a feeling of being completely and utterly desired. And, despite my own independent nature, I knew that I had found something truly special in this man, a man who not only built beautiful things but also knew how to ignite the desires within me. The thought brought a genuine smile to my face, a testament to the unexpected pleasure and fulfillment this experience had brought.

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