Cleaning Up Shop [Multiple Partners]

“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” You asked as my jaw figuratively hit the floor. I sat there with my mouth agape and my cock getting harder as you continued. “I didn’t exactly have time to clean-up. I didn’t know he was going to do it for me!”

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Sawdust, sheetrock, and paint/primer smell aren’t the ideal aphrodisiac for some, but it must have been working for you. You had almost told me not to stop by on my way through town, but I had a weekend free in my travels, and I felt like we didn’t get to connect much anyway. It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a remodel of your house, or that most of your available clothes had paint dried to them, I was happy to see you for lunch my first day in town. From the sound of things, you needed a break anyways.

Speaking of breaks, you and your husband were also taking one: a “trial separation” you both were calling it. You agreed to undergo the home remodel, and agreed to live in separate one-bedroom apartments. He took in the cat, and you took the dog. Your apartments were in neighboring communities, in case something came up. The plan was to work through things during the remodel, and, if things were going to work out, move back into the house. If they weren’t, then you’d sell the house and split the proceeds.

At first, he was more ready for it, you’d said, than you were. However, that seems to have changed. He always seemed frustrated, which made you feel like you needed to work harder on things and put in more effort. Living apart, it was dawning on you how needy and unattractive your husband had been acting. I remember laughing in my office when texted to tell me that he asked you to walk over and help with (basically, do) his laundry.

Since then, the texts had gotten more annoying. First it was asking for help with things. Then it was “reminiscing.” Then it was “missing you.” Each step further annoyed you more. Frankly, you wanted him to walk over in the middle of the night and man up about wanting to fuck you senseless before you both would end up just fucking on the couch.

Needless to say, that didn’t happen early on, and it was pretty much too late for it now.

You had told me, however, that there were a couple others who had just come over like that. You knew I wouldn’t judge you. Hell, I wouldn’t have judged you if you snuck another man into your marriage bed while your husband cut the grass outside. But, now you are separated. No harm, no foul, and no need for him to know regardless.

One was just a one-night stand – your first one of those since you and I had one a couple years before your marriage. The other guy who you’d lured over in the middle of the night happened to be your contractor’s son, Garrett.

You told me that you had met him on the job site at your house. You’d heard him talking about you with the other guys after you’d come over to work out something with his dad and a subcontractor. You were wearing your gym clothes, had your hair up, and never wore panties to the gym to prevent the dreaded panty-line stares. He noticed that. “You know she works out hard to get a perfect ass like that,” one of the guys had said. His diatribe started with, “I’d sure as fuck work her ass out!” His mid-twenties bravado and the line about how he’d rather “cock your holes than caulk these seams,” made you giggle.

He heard that giggle. You cornered him outside later away from earshot and out-of-sight from the other guys and confronted him. You already thought he was cute, and his dipshit apology was cuter. You stood there silently, letting him ramble until he was done. You held out a second longer. He panicked. “Mrs… It feel like my balls are hiding up in my stomach,” he said. You handed him a scrap of paper with your phone number and apartment address on it and said, “How about emptying them onto mine instead.” You told me that the look on his face was priceless.

He’s come over, and cum all over you, a few times now, you’ve said. It about as no-strings as fucking on every surface of your apartment can be. He may be eight years younger than you, but all he’s doing is making you feel like you’re in a college dorm again (in a good way). Those stories of yours were always some of my favorites.

But this story, tops those easily. BBQ is one of my favorite foods. I have strong opinions about it, you know this. But your story was the only thing I could think of that made me put the pulled pork down and listen intently.

Your contractor had given Garrett the day off, and you took the opportunity to invite him over after your morning errands. He was sitting outside your place when you got there. Before you got out of the car, your husband texted you asking if you’d be at your apartment today. You started walking up the stairs to your front door and texted him back as you did so. “I will be, but I’m busy.” Again, he didn’t need to know what kind of busy you were.

You opened the door, let Garrett inside, and closed the door behind you. Your husband texted again. “K. I’ll be at the house soon.” You ignored it, but thought that the “K” was very unlike him.

The text exchange was the furthest thing from your mind moments later. Garrett’s hand was around your throat, pushing your chin up, bring your lips closer to his. You might have just come from running errands, but that touch aroused you instantly. Your hands went straight for his jeans, and they were unfastened in seconds. His hard cock was in your hands and standing triumphantly the next moment. You were learning that you loved how fucking ready to go younger men are.

You broke off from making out to look down at his cock, to admire how upright, stiff, and weighty it was. You looked back up, into his eyes, and said, “Put this big fucking cock inside me, and don’t take it out until you’ve cum.”

The look in his eyes was primal. If you had been stroking his cock any more than gently, he might have popped off immediately. He almost tore your blouse pulling it over your head. Your bra was undone a moment later. You appreciated how fast he was at undoing it. You knew he had plenty of practice, and that just turned you on more.

He grabbed just under your ass, picked you up, and carried you to the bedroom with your legs wrapped around his waist. His pants and undwear slid awkwardly down to his shoes along the way. You didn’t mind; you just wanted to take your shorts off and feel him inside you.

He set you down on the edge of the bed and contended with his jeans, underwear, and boat shoes. He pulled off his shirt next. You normally appreciated admiring his muscled body while it was wet and sweaty, but day-off clean worked just as well for you.

You kicked off your shoes and slid down off the bed. One moment, your feet touched the carpet, and the next he was spinning you around and pushing you into a bent over position. He slid your shorts off. You imagined that his face was like a kid’s at Christmas when he saw that you weren’t wearing panties. He said he wanted to work your ass, and you had no problem letting him admire it, spank it, or lick it.

His tongue caressed everything he set his sights on. It flicked against your asshole. His lips kissed your cheeks. His hands slapped hard, but you felt like he could go harder; he didn’t usually leave a print like you liked. But, when his tongue touched your eager pussy, your eyes rolled back into your head with glee. He squeezed the inside of your thigh and his thumb gently rubbed your clit. When your husband found it, it was an accident. Garrett knew exactly where it was and exactly what to do.

It wasn’t long before you were soaking wet, and only moments later before you shouted, “Fuck!
Me!” in a voice that the neighbors surely heard through the wall. You didn’t care; you were cumming harder than you had cum at any point in your marriage.

Just at the right moment, just before the waves of orgasm ebbed away, you felt Garrett grab your ass with both hands, spread your cheeks further apart exposing your waiting pussy. It dripped just a little in anticipation. He slid his cock slowly, but fully, inside you.

You felt so full with him. Every thrust out made you yearn for him to thrust back in. He always started slow, but gradually sped up to a comfortably hard speed. He spanked your ass a couple times as he accelerated, and you could feel bliss gush throughout you once again. Your body shook with that orgasm, and your legs almost went weak.

He pulled out long enough for you to spin around and hop up onto the bed. “Face me,” you said. “I want to look into your eyes when you cum inside me.”

Those words made him hop on top of you like you had said that he had to fuck for his life. He held you down with your hands over your head, buried between the pillows. He was thrusting harder now. You glanced over to the closet mirror to watch his form. His hips pumped in a circular motion. It was hypnotizing, like it was bewitching you to cum again.

You looked into his eyes. “Cum inside me, please.” He began thrusting harder, deeper, faster. You thought about calling him “daddy,” but he was so much younger than you. The thought did the trick though: an orgasm thundered through you from your cunt to your finger and toe-tips. It tingled in your scalp. You looked back at his face, back into his eyes. “Do it!” you shouted. “Cum inside me!”

The motion stopped and the flooding started. You felt the first pop of cum inside you, then four more. You wondered how there was so much room inside you for all his cock and all his cum.

You telling me this at an old, quaint BBQ shack in evangelical East Tennessee was so fucking enticing. If I could have done more than adjust my boner through my pocket, I would have.

However, what you told me about next is where I find myself speechless.

Not long after Garrett erupted inside you, your phone started vibrating. “Matt Mitchum and Sons?” He said spying your phone beside you. “My dad is calling you.”

“He’ll leave a voice mail,” you said, and you let it ring. It stopped for a moment and Garrett finally pulled his cock out of you. You glanced down, marveling that it was still hard. You were already thinking about round two when the phone started ringing again. You reached over expecting to see a spam caller, but, instead, “Matt Mitchum and Sons.”

You answered.”Mrs…” he began following the exchange of pleasantries, “Your husband is here, and, well, I don’t know how to put this… He’s throwing a kind of tantrum. He wants everything redone differently. He’s asking who did what work, and claiming that the craftsmanship is shoddy. He’s even asked some of my guys to leave.”

You were flabbergasted, but recognized that this is how he got when he was jealous. You’d always good yourself that he was clear that he wanted a hot wife, but couldn’t actually handle having one. He was constantly commenting on your friendships or associations with other men, despite nothing having happened between you and any of them before the separation began. He even put up a fight about hiring Mr. Mitchum in the first place because your friend had mentioned how much of a silver fox he was. You agreed with that sentiment, and had fallen asleep thinking about him a few times, but your husband didn’t need to know any of that.

You groaned, and told him that you’d be there immediately. No time to clean up. You did throw on some panties, but you dressed in the outfit Garrett had taken off you and got ready to leave. You shooed Garrett out the door as you left. He went to kiss you as you got to your car, but you rebuffed his public advance. You said you’d text him later and left.

When you arrived at the house a short drive later, only Mr. Silver Fox Matt Mitchum was still there. Your husband had already left “in a huff,” according to the contractor.”He didn’t seem like someone excited to see an old friend” Matt said. When you asked who, he replied with the name Heidi. As in, the Heidi that had told him not to marry you in the first place. The Heidi who recently went through a divorce and at least two pool boys you knew of. She was always starting, or getting involved in, drama.

You talked Matt down from nearly quitting the job over your husband’s petulant antics, and told him that his guys were still welcome on the job site. They had, after all, been a welcome chapter in your life. “He almost flew off the handle, especially with my youngest’s work,” Matt protested.”Garrett’s my best guy, let alone my son. I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, miss, when I say that I don’t think your husband knows much about crafts or has seemingly never worked with his hands in his life.”

You chuckled at that.”No, he sure hasn’t,” you replied.”I don’t think he knows how to work with his hands in any capacity,” you quipped. You mostly made a face to yourself, but he clearly saw that it was a face that said you’d been left dissatisfied more than a few times.

“Have you two been married long?” He asked.

“Oh, yes,” you replied,”Five years. It feels like fifty.” You said, letting your tongue get the better of you.

“Maybe I’m old-fashioned,” he said,”but five years isn’t that long. But,” he continued, “for you to say that, I’d be thinking that this ain’t working out.”

“Oh, they aren’t. We’re in a trial separation,” you blurted out. Well, the cat you and your husband agreed not to let out of the bag was officially prancing around the dining room table you and Mr. Mitchum sat at.

“Garrett had said something was off,” he said.

Speaking of Garrett, you could still feel his cum inside you. It was starting to leak into your fresh panties. You suddenly realized how satisfyingly sore he and his big cock had made you. It was turning you on all over again.

“Well, if I may say so,” he began, “I’m sorry to hear about your separation. I know what that’s like. But, a beautiful, well-spoken, professional woman like yourself has a bright future ahead regardless of what happens between y’all.”

“I appreciate that,” you said.

“Maybe I’m out of line here, but I’d be doing everything I could to keep you happy if I were him. I wouldn’t be doing everything I could to get my ass beaten by my contractor,” he said with a laugh.

“You could take him,” you laughed.”You’re much more manly than he is.” Clearly you were dick-drunk beyond belief. You never talked like this. Maybe it was that pool of cum still in your pussy and panties acting like alcohol still in your system, but your inhibitions were gone.

As a side note, I’m absolutely impressed by you. You know I’d never judged you, no matter how much you shocked me, and I’d support whatever kind of bad decisions along these lines you made.

You didn’t remember exactly what was said next, but you do remember saying something to the effect of, “You probably still fuck more like a man than he does too.” Matt was speechless, you remembered that. But you added, “Show me,” and his trademark southern “Yes ma’am” came out.

You both leapt up at the same time like lovers who knew each other’s next move. He grabbed your throat and pushed your chin up while bringing you closer to him. “Like father, like son,” you thought.

The senior Mitchum was a better kisser you said. It was less sloppy and more intimate. It made you feel comforted and desired, despite how dirty you were feeling in the moment. Then, the your wetness came in floods when he said, “Get down on your knees and call me ‘daddy.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit. You had never called your husband that, it felt so wrong, but out of your naughty mouth slipped, “Yes, daddy.”

You dropped to your knees and he reached down for the snap and zipper of his jeans. He undid then slowly, suspense and pure carnal thrill building with each second. You could see how hard he was, how it forced his jeans wide open. “Take it out.”

“Yes, daddy.” It was remarkably similar to the younger’s cock. This one didn’t stand as high up, and was veinier. He’d been circumsized, unlike his son. “Touch it,” he said. You did. It felt so fucking hard in your hand. “Is it bigger than your husband’s?” You nodded, looking up submissively at him. “Are you a good or bad girl?” He asked.

“I’m a bad girl, daddy.”

“Then, bad girls know what to do next.” You sure as fuck did. You licked up the underside of his shafts to the tip of the head and took the whole round head into your mouth. Your lips moved further down the shaft with each back-and-forth. He grabbed your hair into a ponytail, and you kept sucking, salivating on his cock.

When it was slippery wet, with your spit starting to drip from his well-groomed balls, he pulled you back. He tugged your hair and you rose to your feet. You kissed some more with his hand around your throat. Then he picked you up, just like Garrett had. He spun you around and set you on the countertop in the kitchen. You pushed yourself up enough for him to slide your shorts and panties off. You expected him to start fucking you like that. But that’s not what happened, and that’s what prompted the exchanged I previewed this retelling with.

Garrett was good with his tongue, but Matt was a professional. You came, not once or twice, but three times sitting on that countertop. You were leaving a puddle beneath you and this man was unknowingly licking his own son’s cum off of your cunt.

It turned you on so fucking much more. I may have made a mental note to do something similar when you and I get to fuck again.

You slid down off the coated counter and said, “Let me ride, daddy.” He nodded, and followed you do a couch in the living room – the same on your husband falls asleep on after work. You were both naked by the time you got to the couch. He sat down in the middle of it and you climbed on top of him.

You took hold of his weighty cock beneath you and rubbed the tip against your sopping wet pussy. Then, you lowered yourself down slowly until you could feel it filling you nearly completely. He slapped your ass hard – hard enough to leave a print. You knew it the moment he did it. Your cunt tingled with bliss. “Fuck, yes, daddy!” you shouted.

You started riding slowly, then got faster and faster, harder and harder. You were sure the elder Mitchum would cum, but he didn’t. He smacked your ass harder again, and told you that you were a “very dirty girl.”

“Bend me over then, daddy.” You had no idea what came over you, but you really wanted another to make him cum as hard as you were cumming on his cock.

Just after your fourth orgasm peaked. He pulled you up off of him and guided you around the arm of the sofa, bending you over at the waist. Then he spanked you. Ten hard smacks, five on each cheek. “Because you’re such a bad girl for daddy,” he said. Fuck, you needed his cock back inside you.

He slid it back in with me patience than his son. His rhythm was different. He never pounded with his full, considerable length, like Garrett. He changed rhythm at the right time, power at the right time, and depth at the right times. He grabbed your hair, pulling your head back for his finale. His speed quickened, his depth seemed to somehow become greater. That tug pulled you up to face the driveway, just in time to see my car pull in.

“Fill me with cum, daddy!” you shouted watching me come to a park. It’s like that was the trigger. He pushed in as far as he could, groaned louder than any man ever had for you, and his cum flowed out him in great bursts into your wet, tight, aching, needy pussy.

You had decided that the senior Mitchum was the better fuck, but that wasn’t an excuse not to have both going forward. You watched me get out of my car as he pulled his still leaking cock out of you, cum dripped to the floor from both him and you.

You got dressed to meet me at the door but couldn’t find your panties anywhere. You secretly hoped your husband would find them – especially if he really was seeing Heidi.

“So, you’re sitting here, with cum soaking through your shorts now?” I asked as my lunch grew colder.

“I sure am,” you said.

I could feel my cock throbbing in my pants. It was surely responsible for the next words I spoke.

“Want some more in there? My hotel is five minutes that way.”

“I absolutely do,” you said. “Just let me clean up shop when we get there first.”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/ubcozk/cleaning_up_shop_multiple_partners