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The heat diffuses throughout my core, my moans emitted from the profound depths of my primal self. My calves slide further apart on the smooth surface, granting him complete access, his hand slipping in front of me, pinching my clit, his other hand still tugging my hair back, making me watch our frenzy in the mirror. I feel a bead of sweat drip from Jason’s brow onto my back at the same exact time as he delivers a firm slap to my ass, and I lose it completely, groaning barbarically, imploding, as wave upon wave of convulsion washes over me, shaking both of us.
I hear Jason cry out too, and feel him slide out of me, his hand pressed into the small of my back to keep me still. I watch him stroke his shaft rapidly, then feel the hot beads of his cum spill onto my back, down my ass and up to my shoulders, see the thrill of sweet release on his face.
He turns around to find a roll of paper towels, effectively capturing the rogue rivulets of cum that threaten to spill to the floor, cleaning the product of our tryst off my quaking skin. I slip off of the counter to face him, and he presses his succulent mouth to mine, kissing me deeply, slowly, both of us drained.
“Merci,” he murmurs against my lips, stepping away from me to pull on his clothes, watching me drunkenly locate my clothes. “Je crois que mon travail va prendre un peu plus de temps que prévu.” I think my job is going to take a bit longer than expected.
I arch an eyebrow at him, amused. “Prends tout le temps qu’il te faut,” I respond, biting my lip. Take all the time you need.
He grins widely, covering my mouth with his briefly, walking back outside to continue working under the beating sun. I can’t seem to wipe the satisfied smirk off my face, knowing I can look forward to at least one more back-room session with my delectable handyman.
Much thanks to Celis Rono, writer, for featuring this story on her blog (July 1/09) as part of a special on erotic literature authors.
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