Putting in Some Overtime

I could receive a blow job from a woman that could deep throat a fire hose, and I would still prefer to lap my tongue over a woman’s pussy and ass any day of the week. I’ve never gotten a complaint. Oral sex is like Christmas on crack for me. I don’t know why. Ever since I first saw my first spread pussy in a 70s Penthouse magazine I have been fascinated with those pink folds of flesh.

We all have those stories of the best oral we got or gave. For me, the best blow job I had made me shoot like a cannon, but that memory pales in comparison to the best oral sex I have given. That memory is in Technicolor.

During the year, I teach high school English, but in my free summers, I work as a butcher, a job that put me through college. A friend owns a small shop and I help him out twenty hours or so during the week. Extra money and an enjoyable job.

I was thirty. Lisa was twenty-one. She looked just like a Barbie doll and I’m not saying that as a lazy description; it was absolutely true. She DID look like a Barbie doll. Heavy breasts with half-dollar nipples that sprung to attention like baking timers. Bronzed, flawless skin. Hair so blonde it shimmered.

Lisa had two things that made me as helpless as a three-legged kitten with her. One, she always smelled fantastic. Always. Lisa was a cashier girl going to school part-time. Saying she smelled good might not sound impressive, but you try always smelling great at a butcher shop. She somehow did. Her perfume smelled like roses and vanilla. Still, smelling great wasn’t even enough. Affairs are a huge risk as some of you might know. I won’t take that plunge haphazardly. Those are the assholes that get caught.

But this second thing won me over.

She made no secret out of wanting to fuck me. I am tall and reasonably good-looking, but I am not Sean Connery. I wasn’t used to knockouts approaching me so aggressively. Later on, when I asked why she pursued me, she said part of it was being a teacher. She had a thing for teachers.

“Would you let me fuck you in the ass?” I asked.

She replied “yes” instantly.

I would have to be a eunuch to turn that down. She answered that question a half-hour before the butcher shop closed. I stood in the cutting room, a bottle of bleach in one hand and a scrub brush in the other and heard myself say, “Come back an hour after close.” The regular workers left at seven in the evening but I always stuck around until eight, sanitizing and scrubbing the place. We ran a clean shop.

Her eyes lit up like road flares. “Really?” she said.
I nodded and turned away to clean. My head swum with visions of her naked and wet and wanting, but I had to concentrate on cleaning for now.

That was the longest hour of my life.

Putting in Some Overtime 2

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About Kink Note

Free sex stories and erotic short stories, daily updates. Some stories are real, some are fiction. We'll leave that for you to decide. kinknote.com View all posts by Kink Note

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