The Morning Repairman
It was barely seven in the morning when the knock echoed through the quiet house. I answered the door wearing nothing but a sheer chemise and a robe that clung loosely to my curves, barely held together by a silk tie. The repairman stood there, apologetic for his early arrival, explaining that his schedule was packed. He was a rugged man in worn work clothes, not the kind of man I usually noticed, yet there was something about his presence that immediately sparked a flicker of curiosity in me.
As he disappeared beneath the kitchen sink to inspect the leak, I found myself unable to look away. I watched the line of his back and the way his heavy work pants strained against his thighs. A sudden, inexplicable wave of desire washed over me. I began to fantasize about what lay beneath that rough fabric, imagining the strength of his muscles and the heat of his skin. My breathing grew shallow, and a familiar, pulsing ache began to bloom between my thighs.
I paced the kitchen, trying to compose myself, but my underwear was already damp. I discreetly touched my clitoris, a soft moan escaping my lips. Just then, from beneath the cabinets, he asked for a rag. Without a second thought, I slipped out of my panties and, using my bare foot, pushed the lace fabric toward him, grazing his chest and waist with the garment. I felt a surge of adrenaline as I exposed myself, my body open and craving his touch.
I heard him inhale deeply, smelling the scent of my arousal on the fabric. The signal was clear. I stepped over him, straddling his torso and revealing my wetness without shame. I reached down, my fingers trembling as I undid the button and slid the zipper of his trousers down. His member sprang free, hard and pulsing, glistening in the morning light. I leaned down, tasting him with the tip of my tongue before taking him fully into my mouth, my other hand working frantically against my own heat.
The friction and the scent of him drove me to a frenzy. As he gripped my hips, I shifted my position, guiding him toward his final destination. I lowered myself onto him in one fluid motion, gasping as he filled me completely. I rode him with a desperate intensity, our bodies colliding in a rhythmic, primal dance. He gripped my backside firmly, pinning me against him as he drove deep, filling me with a searing warmth that left me shaking.
We collapsed into a shared spasm of pleasure, our breath coming in ragged gasps. After a moment of silence, he simply tossed my panties back onto the kitchen floor. I stood up, gave him one last lingering lick to clean him, and walked back to my bedroom with a satisfied smile, leaving the stranger to finish fixing the sink.