Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I can’t remember a summer like it.

It’s been wet-hot, humid, for weeks now: the air heavy with the promise of rain, but without the relief. It feels like the whole world is holding its breath, waiting for rain. Nobody has done any real work for weeks – everyone seems to spend time discussing the weather, if they are feeling energetic, or collapsed in the shade, if they are not.

In my garden, the grass is dry and yellowing despite a daily dose of bathwater and the flowers are gasping… the cats sleep under the lavatera, not bothering to raise their eyes at the flies anymore.

I’m even bored with sunbathing, and when the weekend trudges around again I find myself slumping around the supermarket before falling asleep on a rug under the tree. I’d wanted to do some work in the garden – bizarrely, the weeds are thriving – but I’m worn out with the heat and the dust and the air, so oppressive that it’s almost a chore to breathe.

Droplets on my face waken me….

It’s early evening but still hot. Rain? From this cloudless sky? I sit up to discover my next door neighbour is cleaning his windows, and has (playfully) decided to splash me…

“Cheers, Paul,” I grumble, but managing a smile. He’s really very nice.

“You were snoring,” he jokes, starting to climb the ladder next to the low fence that separates his garden from mine.

“Never,” I snort, settling back to watch him.

His legs are brown and glow in the late afternoon sun, burnt by weeks upon weeks in the open air, as is his back, glistening a little with sweat. I notice that he’s only wearing a pair of tattered denim shorts and a pair of work boots, presumably the ones he wears when he’s out repairing roads, wherever that may be. From my vantage point on the grass I can see right up the inside of his legs, into the dark cave formed where the shorts hang loose…

Squinting a little, I realise he’s talking to me.

“Sorry?”

He looks at me with those dark eyes, those eyes I can’t bring myself to gaze into for more than a few seconds, and says: “I asked if you want me to do you, later?”

For a second I’m aghast – he must be reading my mind – then I realise he’s talking about the windows.

But what to reply? Coy? Straightforward? (They are a state, after all) Or shall I try the direct flirtation?

Well, why not, I ask myself. Despite the drought a veritable oasis is developing between my thighs at the promise of what might lie inside those denim shorts.

“Why wait till later?” I ask, finally managing to stare meaningfully gaziosmanpaşa escort right back into those deep, dark eyes of his.

Brazen hussy, I think to myself, but he only hesitates for a moment before starting to climb back down his ladder. When he turns to face me I can see the outline of his cock straining against the demin, and, my God, its huge. He smiles at me, his mouth breaking into a wide grin, showing off those even teeth, startlingly white against his tan. He lowers his bucket to the ground and walks with a deliberate swagger to the bottom of the garden, where the fence blew down last winter and never got fixed.

And suddenly he is beside me, lowering himself onto the blanket next to me, and he isn’t smiling anymore. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me for a second, and the look in them is so intense it’s scary. He puts one hand on my thigh, and his hand is warm against my cool skin. Goosebumps spring up and I shiver, as his hand travels up my leg, up my body, until he is cupping my face.

I’m ready for his kiss but it’s a long time coming. His face is very close to me, his fingers softly moving over the skin of my sunburnt face, his eyes examining me closely. He’s so close I can see that under the tan he still has freckles, like a little boy. He looks young and healthy and I want him. Our lips brush, dry, but he’s still not ready for the kiss. I can hear and feel his breath, ragged, against my mouth. He’s teasing, waiting for me to give in first. I slide one hand onto his shoulder which is searing hot from the sun, hard and strong under my fingers. I find the hair at the back of his neck, stubbly because he had it cut yesterday, and stroke it tenderly.

Then I feel the tip of his tongue against my dry lips, and I can’t wait for him anymore, and my mouth matches his in a frenzy. My free hand finds the waistband of the shorts and struggles with the button. The zip slides down of its own accord against the pressure inside, and to my delight his hard cock springs into my hand as if it has been waiting for me.

He makes a small sound inside my mouth and pulls away, moving his face into my throat. His hands are over my breasts, feeling me through the material of the cotton sundress. He starts to undo the buttons but he’s fumbling, so I leave his cock alone, reluctantly, and undo them for him while he watches.

He’s resting back on his heels, his cock pointing out of the shorts like a loaded weapon. I’m being deliberately slow, enjoying his reaction as my body gölbaşı escort is revealed to him. I wonder if he’s fantasised about this, I wonder if he’s lain awake at night imagining me stripping for him, his hand around his hard cock like my hand was a few seconds ago. I wonder if he realises how many hot, sweet orgasms I’ve had thinking about those infernal shorts and their majestic contents, and how, far from being disappointed, he is even more magnificent than the fantasy….

He drops his head to my chest and takes one nipple in his mouth, cupping his hand over the other, rubbing it with his rough fingers. His other hand has gone exploring, and I’m surprised how gentle he is, almost reverent, running his fingers down the outside of my leg, and then back up the inside. He looks up at me while he’s licking my breasts, flicking his tongue around the nipple and kissing the skin, his eyes locked to mine. I’m trying to get to the shorts to pull them down over his backside but I can’t reach, so I make do with feeling the hard muscle under the skin of his back.

He slides down my body and his soft tongue probes my puss, warm and gentle at first. It’s so welcome, like coming home, and I sigh and lean back onto the blanket, putting one hand into his hair to hold him against me. He’s tasting me, lapping me up, and I can feel the wetness flowing from me into that warm mouth.

I’m gazing into the depths of the sky, and I can see the ghost of the moon, and the first stars in the peachy sky. Meanwhile I can feel my orgasm swimming up to meet me, just out of reach – it slides away as he changes position, comes back into view…. my breathing is fast…. If he keeps that up I’ll come, I think, as his tongue flicks over my clit rapidy.

But there’s something I want more.

I wriggle down so that his face is level with mine, and its wet and glistening. He grins, asks me if he’s doing it right. I pull him into a kiss and push those shorts over the cheeks of his bum, as far down his thighs as I can reach. His cock is hard and huge, the tip of it exposed and wet with anticipation. I place one thigh casually over his back to pull him closer, and I use his cock to rub myself with, slowly, up and down, feeling that elusive orgasm swimming towards me again. I hold his cock at the entrance to my pussy and pull him into me, slowly, with the leg that’s holding him captive.

He’s watching me, waiting for me to be ready, and when this signal comes he slides inside me obediently, as slowly as he can keçiören escort manage. He waits inside me for a second, his eyes gazing at my face, before starting a rhythmic pumping.

I feel my body thrill at this – it’s good – and I’m moving my hips in time with his. After a few moments he lifts my calves up around his shoulders, and moves into me again, deeper this time, so that I can feel the pressure in the pit of my stomach, feel him filling me up totally, stretching me….

The pumping becomes more urgent – I’m pushing myself against his hard body with a slap at each thrust, and he is sweating, his face contorted with concentration, until he gives a gasp and a grunt into my throat, and I can feel the spasms rocking him. I hold his body against me while he bucks and shudders, then the perfect delight of his slipperyness inside me.

I feel his cock slipping inside me until I lose it altogether, then he raises his head and kisses me tenderly for a long minute. He seems reluctant to stop, then suddenly looks up and says, “Now you.”

He is suddenly between my thighs again, which feel hot and tender, like I’ve been running in the hot sun. When his tongue touches me, it’s like a slap – the shock – the feeling of the contact again, I’m ready. My body arches involuntarily and I’m pushing my pussy into his face. He’s lapping at me again, tasting his juice and mine together, his face rubbing into me insistently, pushing me closer and closer to the orgasm that was there all the time, just waiting for this moment. I feel two fingers sliding into my pussy, which is wide open for him, while his tongue moves steadily over my hot skin. Then that insisent nibbling again, he’s concentrating on my clit, and the rhythm is steady and quick enough and suddenly there it is…. I’m rocked with spasms, violent, my whole body shaking and my come flows out to him, so much that it feels like I’m peeing in his face. I’ve forgotten to breathe for several seconds and I’m gasping for air, gripping his head in my hands.

Slowly, my feet come back down to earth and find contact with the dry grass. Somehow we have wriggled right off the blanket and we are halfway down the garden. He is lying next to me, propped up on one elbow, his eyes regarding me with curiosity.

My dress is twisted up under my shoulders, wide open, exposing my flushed skin. His shorts are round his knees, his work boots stayed on the whole time. The sun has gone behind the houses and it’s cool, a breeze ruffling his short hair.

At last he stands, and when he turns round I can see his white bum, and the pattern of the grass on his tanned thigh. He pulls up his shorts and turns again to give me broad grin, before heading off back to his own garden, and the bucket, and the ladder….

And suddenly, I realise, if it weren’t for me lying ravaged on my parched garden, dripping with hot sex and passion, we’d be right back where we started.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32