Builder

We were having an extension built. That is to say, my parents were having an extension to their house built and since I was 17 and living at home with them I have chosen to drag myself in to the “we” of that opening sentence even though I had no input or interest and didn’t pay a penny for the work.

What I did have an interest in was the builder.

I had not long split up with my first proper boyfriend and here I am making the word “boyfriend” work quite hard since David was 35 when we split up and given the amount he like to hurt me I’m not sure he qualified as a friend even before he dumped me. Anyway, as you can imagine I was young, single, full of hormones and a true expert at bad decision making.

Building an extension to a house takes a surprisingly long time. I’ve seen whole hotels; office blocks and supermarkets rise from literal farmers’ fields and open to the public in less time than these guys took to build a single floor extension to my parent’s home. Maybe some of that was my fault.

Men, I’d discovered shortly after my boobs began growing, are quite easily distracted from any task they might be doing. I was going to college to do my A Levels (spoiler: I failed them all) so I was home a lot. The weather was nice, so I’d sit out in the garden doing my work – or playing on my laptop/phone or whatever. Since the weather was nice, I’d wear short shorts and a bikini top, which seemed to get the men’s approval.

One sunny afternoon the builder’s boss headed into our kitchen to get a drink. I followed after him. “You’re distracting my boys dressing like that,” he said cheerfully as I stretched myself next to him reaching for a glass on the top shelf of a cupboard.

“Pity it’s just the boys,” I replied cheekily. He laughed seemingly unsure what to say. Turning toward him I said, “I prefer men,” while briefly looking him in the eye as I spoke then demurely lowering my gaze while lingering a moment to let him look at my face.

“Do you now?” He asked still sounding unsure of himself.

“Uh-huh,” I nodded lifting my face toward his and sliding across the floor til I was almost pressing myself against him. My hands naturally seeming to gently grasp the belt of his workman’s shorts. Instinctively, I think, he lifted his hand so one held my face and the other held my shoulder. I lifted myself on tippy toes to kiss his closed lips. “I’m married,” he objected.

“I won’t tell.”

“And I’m twice your age.”

“Nearer three times,” I correct him. “I like men, not boys.” Then we kissed.

I had his belt undone and his shorts opened before I think he even realised it. I could feel his hard man’s cock through his boxers. Pulling back from the kiss, I smiled then sank to my knees where I took his cock in my hands, gently tossed him then sucked on it. I remember the feeling of that dick even now. Hot and sweaty from the hard work he’d been doing outside. Thick and heavily veined. It tasted salty.

I reached between my legs, fingering myself as I suck on his dick. It grew slightly bigger and felt very hard like rock. I felt so wet down there.

“We should move,” he said. “Someone might come in.”

“Ok,” I said standing and taking his hand. I led him into the house a little further. Out of the kitchen, into the hallway and around a corner to the stairs up to the next floor.

“I want you,” I told him.

“I noticed,” he replied.

“Have me right here.” I turned and climbed the first few steps. Kneeling down on the third or fourth step I stretched my body up the stairs presenting my rear to him. “I don’t have a condom,” he suddenly realised.

“Doesn’t matter,” I replied. “I took my pill this morning.” I remember thinking I wasn’t sure if I’d taken it or not, but I usually did so one missed day wouldn’t matter.

If he replied I didn’t hear it because before I’d finished speaking, he had hold of my short shorts and was pulling them down to my knees. A moment later the head of his thick cock was pressing against me and another moment later he was inside me opening me wide with his rock-hard veiny cock. I remember crying out loudly as he entered me before I remembered the other men outside and I stifled it with my thumb. I sucked my thumb like a little girl as he fucked himself deep into me. He reached around my hips so he could finger my pussy. I remember that finger rubbing my clit as he rammed every inch of his cock into my body. This is why I love older men. They know what to do – the younger guys would have thrust into me for a couple of minutes if I was lucky all the while spanking my arse as hard as they could. Instead this guy was fucking and playing like a pro. I looked back at him, still sucking my thumb. That guy was concentrating so hard I wasn’t even sure he was enjoying it. But then he grimaced and grunted. A moment later I felt him explode inside me, his hot cum warming my insides. I came too, burying my face in the step still sucking my thumb as a huge orgasm engulfed my body and consumed my mind.

When it subsided, my whole body throbbed like it had done some hugely hard exercise. I tried to roll over gracefully but instead just collapsed on my side. He was standing where he had been, cock still out, breathing heavily. I moved to him and sucked his now only semi-hard cock, my body still throbbing, my mind still clearing.

“Did you like that,” he asked after a few moments.

“You know I did,” I replied looking up at him from my knees. He helped me stand and I pulled my knickers and shorts back up while he put himself away.

“You mustn’t tell anyone about this,” he said.

“I promise.”

We went back to the kitchen where I got drinks for us and the men working outside. We took them outside; I went to sit back on my picnic blanket in the sun. I laid down for a while, my legs still shaking, and enjoyed the feeling of his cum inside me as it slowly moved down, out and into my knickers. I laid there til my knickers were soaked through then went inside for a shower.