Shop Visit

With the honeymoon, Michael returned to work, and I arranged to finish my schooling online. It would take me longer since Daddy wasn’t paying for it anymore. For the first time, I felt stressed about school and money; I hadn’t realized before how dependent I’d been on my parents. I didn’t fully appreciate how hard it would be to give all that up. But Michael and I had each other.

When I stress out, I get horny. Intellectually, I know it’s probably diversionary, an avoidance response to the cause of my stress—at the time, school. But knowing doesn’t stop the effect; only sex does. Michael had ignored my texts all morning, so I knew he was probably swamped at the garage. I ought to have just buckled down and done the work or, if nothing else, knocked the edge off by myself, then studied. But did I? Nooooo.

I had on only a white spaghetti-strap tank top and white lace panties, but I decided that was the perfect outfit for what I had in mind. I’d surprise Michael at work. With any luck, I’d be able to pry him away from his tasks for a quickie. It was pouring outside, making my mid-length raincoat the perfect coverup for my skimpy attire. I added some strappy, heeled sandals and headed for the bus stop. Our rental was only a few miles away from Michael’s shop.

Because it was a workday, there were few people on the bus. None of the few men there looked like they were living a good, let alone happy, life. With every turn of my head, it seemed one of them was checking me out, and I started to feel uneasy. I got off at the next stop, deciding to walk the last couple of blocks. It felt like everyone was following me, so I rushed to Michael’s shop and went inside.

The door banged shut behind me with a jingle of the brass bells on the handle, and Michael stepped out of the bathroom, wiping his hands with a shop towel. I rushed to him and pressed my shaking, scared, wet body against him. He wrapped me in his arms, warming and comforting me.

When I could speak, I told him, “I’m so stressed, baby, with school stuff and then trying to get here to see you.”

“You must be very stressed to come down here alone,” he said. He knew I wasn’t yet comfortable with living on this side of town. Everything seemed just a little sinister, or at least suspicious. (Happily, as I got to know my neighbors, I lost this fearful attitude and learned to take basic safety precautions.)

I looked up at him with seductive, puppy-dog eyes and squeezed his dick through his jeans. “I’m very, very stressed,” I moaned and shoved him back into the bathroom and against the wall. Then I backed away and removed my coat. My tank had gotten wet from the open collar of the raincoat, and the translucent fabric displayed my smallish breasts and cold-peaked nipples. With one look at my clothing—or lack thereof—Michael’s grin nearly cracked his face in two.

I stepped up to him and looked him straight in the eyes. Holding that piercing gaze, I pulled his teeshirt up and over his head, then unfastened his belt and pants. First, I had to push them over his muscular thighs to his knees; then, I took his cock in my hand and started stroking it. My free hand pulled his head down, and we started kissing. I got very naughty, licking and sucking at his lips in a wet, sloppy way I’d never tried before. I found my behavior turned us both on.

As I worked his dick hard and fast and watched it harden in my hand, Michael leaned back against the wall, enjoying my efforts if I judged by his sounds. My pumping fingers closed over his cockhead with each stroke, collecting the accumulating precum before gliding effortlessly back to the base.

“Mmmmm, I love this cock.”  I squatted on my haunches and held his dick against my cheek as if hugging it. “I can never get enough of it.” Then I looked up, opened my lips in a big O, and slowly pulled him into my wanton mouth.

As I sucked and jacked him off, Michael moaned.”Yes, baby. Oooohhh, yes… suck it.” His words fueled my fire. But Michael knew I didn’t ride the bus in my underwear just to suck him off. There was only one thing that would settle my nerves and satisfy me.

Michael grabbed the hands clutching his hairy thighs, yanked me to my feet, then pushed my panties off my hips and to the floor. I jumped into his arms and wrapped my legs around his waist, and he spun and pressed me against the wall, leaving me breathless. His passionate lips found mine as he slid his cock into my pussy and thrust into me.

My eyes and mouth gaped, and I squealed. Michael’s hard-working hands released their grip on my bare ass one at a time, and he hooked each arm under my knees. Then he began to move, each stroke a concerted effort of hips and arms, one pushing, the other pulling me incessantly forward to meet his thrusts. Every time our groins met, it forced another breath out of my lungs in a frenzied pant. One of my hands remained wrapped around the back of his neck, but the other slipped down between us and attacked the aching clit exposed by the spread of my thighs.

By the time I gushed my lady-cum all over his beautiful dick, Michael was dripping with sweat and ready to explode. He pulled me off the wall, and I held on tight to him as he lifted and dropped my hips on his dick. I felt dizzy, but I begged him to keep going, keep pounding until he filled me with his cum.

Finally, Michael exploded into me. His hot cum shot several times, mixing with mine. Michael wobbled and pressed me against the wall again to keep us from falling. We panted and laughed, and I finally felt the relaxing peace I’d craved.

Michael kissed me. “Better?” he asked.

I nodded. “All better.”