Hot day, hot room, air con on the fritz, no HVAC guys on callout, statewide lockdown, nothing open. Too hot to work, too hot to sleep, the only thing you could do was wait until the sun dropped far enough to let the bricks and asphalt start cooling. Ash was on her belly, sprawled on her bed, sweating through her sheets.
It didn't matter that the windows open, the air was syrup and no breeze stirred it. It couldn't even air out the room's musty smell: stale sweat, fresh sweat, beer, anal sex, unwashed socks and fried pork. Ash stared at the TV without watching it.
The sound of sloshing and clinking coming up the stairs was music to her. Charlie walked into the bedroom lugging a galvanized steel bucket filled to the brim with ice and bottles. His boxer briefs clung to his slim hips, translucent white from sweat. The briefs were the only clothes he wore, though he was still dressed modestly compared to Ash, who was entirely nude.
He set down the bucket in front of her, wiped a sweaty lock of hair off his forehead. "Took a while, to," he gesticulated, "Bucket. Sorry. To get the, uh, drinks." His speech was disjointed, almost slurring his words.
"Shush kiddo, you're one in a million." She pulled two bottles from the bucket, a beer for her, and a fru-fru hard cider for Charlie. They both took a long drink. Cold, refreshing, it blunted the heat in the same way that a bulletproof vest blunts a 9mm round: it doesn't go through you, but it still knocks you down.
It was still too hot to think. Ash grabbed an ice cube from the bucket and rubbed it on her forehead, cold water dripping down her face. She took another one and stuffed it under her armpit, sighing blissfully. It melted to nothing in seconds, but it cooled her down.
Charlie sat down on the bed. "It's hot, huh?"
"Eat my ass."
He flinched, looking hurt. "I was just making conversation, you don't need to be rude."
"Huh? No, that was a request: please can you get behind me and eat my ass."
"Oh! Sure." He paused. "Won't that like, just make everything hotter though?"
She grinned. "I got an idea. C'mere, open your mouth."
"Why? What—glhmph!"
She stuffed a handful of ice cubes into his mouth. "Ith cowb!" he cried.
"I know. So go eat my ass."
He pouted—though that may have just been the ice cubes—and got into position, laying on his belly between her legs. She stuffed two pillows under her hips, raising her ass in the air so that Charlie could watch the TV while he worked. He spread her cheeks and dug in.
His tongue felt delightfully cool on her hole, water trickling out of his mouth, running down onto her balls. Ash loved having her ass eaten, so he'd been getting a lot of practice at her request, though her "request" usually took the form of pushing him to his knees, grabbing his hair, and forcing his face between her cheeks. It had been a wise investment of effort in her mind, and Charlie hadn't complained too much.
Ash groaned softly and took another pull of beer, losing herself in the sensation. Usually Charlie would dig in and tongue fuck her like he was trying to stretch her out, but the mouthful of ice forced a slower pace, cautious, kissing it, making out with her hole.
He's such a good little ass licker, Ash thought. One day she might return the favor.
***
Charlie set his dusting cloth aside and stretched his arms. A taped-up cardboard box caught his attention. "Hey, what's in here?"
"Where now?"
"The big cardboard box in the closet."
"That thing? That's from the move, I haven't unpacked it yet."
"Ah, okay." He looked back at the box. Then, he turned around. "Ash, you've lived here for five years."
***
Physical security was a strange industry to work in during the pandemic. A lot of old jobs fell through with the lockdown, and a lot of new jobs cropped up. Some empty buildings no longer needed securing, others suddenly needed to be secured, and there were profits in unsecuring a certain few of them. On balance though it left Ash with more spare time than usual, and spare time meant practice time.
She worked through the Master loop: twenty cheap padlocks clasped onto a bicycle U-lock. She picked by feel with her eyes closed, in with the rake and wrench, snapping all but a few open in a matter of seconds, bypassing the few that weren't so easily raked.
She grinned as the last lock clicked open, and opened her eyes to see Charlie standing next to her, a cup of coffee in his hand. He set it down on the workbench in front of her.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Forty seconds." He shrugged. "Give or take."
"Jesus. Now you see why I keep getting you to tag along as a lookout, huh?"
"You just like the company."
She looked at the coffee. "That for me?"
"Of course." He smiled.
She took a sip. Good French press stuff. He'd figured out pretty quickly how she liked her coffee, and was happy to wait on her while she practiced picking.
She grinned at him. "Got anything else for me, kiddo?"
He blushed. Oh, how he blushed. "Of course."
It hadn't been her intent for him to wait on her; she'd intended to pimp him out. Lockdown nixed those plans, at least for the time being, and in the meantime he'd appointed himself as her live-in maid. The house was the cleanest it had been since she'd moved in. He cleaned, he cooked, he waited, he served.
She put an arm around his waist, pulled him close, and kissed him. He was a meek kisser, when he was sober at least. Ash found it cute. She broke the kiss, placed her hand atop his head and pressed down with light force, like depressing the filter on a French press, until he was on his hands and knees. He crawled under the workbench, on all fours on the foam yoga mat she'd glued into place shortly after he'd arrived.
Ash felt slender hands on her belt and zipper, spreading her thighs to allow him access. It was a warm day, and her half-hard cock was sticky with sweat. She could hear Charlie licking his lips as he took it into his hands. She relaxed, stretched her neck, and picked up another padlock as he sucked on the tip of her cock like a pacifier.
It was a challenge lock, one that she'd been working on intermittently for a few weeks. Six pins, a narrow and angular keyway, and some unusual-feeling security pins. She set it into the vice, took her thinnest hook and tension wrench, and began to probe. After a few minutes, it felt like she was making progress: no false sets from pin three this time. Charlie worked as she worked, holding onto her thighs, pushing his head forward onto her now-stiff cock, gagging sloppily as he took her into his throat.
She got closer, it got close, then... nothing. The same reset on pin 5 she'd ran up against last time. She exhaled, set down her tools, and stretched out her wrists and fingers. Charlie was still sucking dutifully, though she'd gone limp in his mouth. It was more from the pressure in her bladder than her frustration with the lock.
She took another sip of coffee, now lukewarm, and peeked under the desk. "Heads up," she said.
"Mhmph."
She leaned back and relaxed. Piss flowed into Charlie's mouth, his throat working furiously to swallow it all, hot and musky and salty, in a torrent she'd clearly been holding in for a while.
It used to be that she'd need to give it to him in single mouthfuls, give him time to gulp it down, but now it barely fazed him. The flood became a trickle, and then became short, fast spurts, and he sucked the last few sprays out until she was drained dry. She ruffled his hair as he kissed the tip of her cock, and then picked up a different lock. She felt him kissing and licking her balls as she fed her pick into the keyway.
It wasn't half bad, having a maid during quarantine.
***
"I get that there's a pandemic so we've gotta wear face masks when we go outside."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I get that. And I get that you run into shady characters and you don't want me saying anything I shouldn't in front of them."
"Yeah?"
"I understand that. And I understand that just to make completely sure I don't say anything, you keep me gagged under the mask."
"Uh-huh?"
"I know that. And I know that you don't have a real ball gag, so I get that you'd stuff a balled-up sock in my mouth and tape over it with duct tape."
"Mhmm?"
"But do you really have to cum into the sock first?"
"Less talking more stroking, kiddo, I wanna be out of here by ten."
***
"You still awake down there?"
"Mhm-hmm..." A sleepy, dopey smile crossed his face. He attempted a nod, and gave up halfway through.
Ash couldn't blame him. She gave a damned good massage, after all. She switched from running her oiled-up hands over his shoulders to cutting biscuits on his back. He all but melted.
"You got a sports injury or something?"
"No," he said, faintly.
"How are you always this tense first thing in the morning?"
His smile faded. For a moment, he said nothing.
"Bad dreams," he said.
"Shit, kiddo. Lemme help you unwind, then," she said, working her way up to his neck. "Later on I'll show you the free weights, we'll see if you can get some muscles worth massaging."
Charlie giggled, and relaxed under her ministrations. It wasn't all bad, living with a big buff locksmith lady.
***
"I don't see the point of this," Charlie said, though he twirled obligingly in any case. The camera flashed and a staccato cascade of clicks took a picture at every degree of his turn.
"It's easier finding clients when you've posted some pics to show off what's for sale."
"Yeah I get that. Why am I wearing a tartan miniskirt and tied-up white shirt though? Why not just regular hooking clothes?"
"Because we don't know when this pandemic will end, so we might as well get a variety of pictures and drum up some enthusiasm online. Since it's online I figured I'd dress you up like that meme, Twink Tilted Kilt."
"What the hell is Twink Tilted Kilt?" he asked, lifting up his skirt and revealing the heart-dotted white panties underneath. More camera clicks.
"It's Tilted Kilt, but all the waitresses are cute twinks instead of busty women."
"What the hell is Tilted Kilt?"
"Huh? It's the bar."
"Where?"
"Loads of places. It's a chain. You've never been to a Tilted Kilt?"
"I don't go to bars. I'm nineteen!"
"Oh yeah. Whatever, I'll get you a fake ID when lockdown is over, you'll get a kick out of it. Be a sweetheart and pose with that pitcher of beer, be slutty about it."
"Sure." He picked up the glass pitcher and held it lovingly. "Should I spill a little down my top?"
