Greased Ice and Flour

She sets another pie on the rack to cool and checks the time again. In a few minutes she'll take him a glass of iced tea. She sets the oven back to 350 and turns the fan to a higher setting. She keeps imagining the mercury spewing out of the thermometer as she taps it again. "It can't be that hot in here," she mumbles to herself, wiping the sweat from her brow.

She pours the tea into a tall glass, drops four cubes of ice into it, and returns the tray to the freezer. The ice cubes crackle and clink together against the glass as she makes her way outside.

He's covered in sweat and grease, and she can smell it as soon as she opens the garage door.

"Thought you could use this," she says, planting a kiss on the back of his neck, and he turns with a smile.

"Thank you, Baby." He returns the kiss, but doesn't touch her; he can tell from the flour on her cut off jean shorts that she's started baking the pies.

"Remind me again why I joined the PTA?"

He laughs the laugh that she loves.

She kisses him on the cheek and goes back inside.

She's kneading the dough for yet another pie when he creeps into the kitchen. He stands in the doorway watching her. She opens the refrigerator for another stick of butter and stands there a moment, her eyes closed and head tilted back, enjoying the cool air, and his eyes trace the curves of her sweaty body as she moves.

She starts to hum as she rolls out the dough, and he moves to stand behind her and sets the glass down on the counter.

"I didn't even hear you come in."

"Mm-hmm."

She finishes rolling out the dough and tries to turn around when she feels his lips on her neck.

"What are you---" she feels his tongue and the ice cube then, and shudders. He moves along her neck until the ice is melted, and she bucks her bottom against him. His greasy hands grip her hips and he lets out a soft moan, and she giggles as the cold water dribbles down her back.

"It's hot out there," he says, making casual conversation. He kisses her neck again and she sighs. "Hot in here, too."

He lowers his hands to her thighs and runs them back up to her stomach. "I can see that, Angel."

She tilts her head and looks at him. "I think you just made your angel dirty."

He hesitates and looks at her, and she knows he's about to apologize, and perhaps stop altogether to go clean up. She turns to face him and cups his face with flour-covered hands and kisses him.

He wraps his arms around her and picks her up, setting her on the counter, into the flour. She pulls his shirt off and wraps her legs around him, pulling him as close as she can.

He leans forward and kisses her breasts through her top and she moans and runs her hands down his sweaty back. He stops long enough to pull her shirt off and then kisses her again, running his hands up and down her back. Her legs clench around him, and he grunts when she pulls him against the counter.

He unhooks her bra and tosses it aside and cups her breasts in his hands, tasting the sweat there, and she wraps her arms around his neck. When he begins to move further down, she grips the edge of the counter and leans back.

He starts to unbutton her shorts when she pulls him back up to kiss him, but she doesn't pull his hands away. He raises her up and cups her bottom, and his other hand massages between her legs, making her wetter than she already is.

She moans as their tongues swirl around one another, and she can feel the muscles in his back move as he continues to rub.

She unfastens his jeans and he unfastens hers as they continue to kiss. She rises up and he pulls the shorts off of her, and he steps out of his pants. She scoots to the edge of the counter to hop down, but he pulls her onto him, and she gasps. She wraps her legs around him as he begins to move slowly, holding her with one arm and bracing himself with a free hand on the counter, and it isn't long before she's grinding against him.

He begins to move faster, burying his face in her neck and breathing heavily, and feeling her own orgasm building inside her, she puts her hands on the counter behind her and rises off of him. She kisses him and then turns around and bends over, and his hands grip her hips and he plunges inside her once more. She writhes against him and can feel her wetness trailing down her thighs, and after a few minutes she cums hard, calling out his name. She throbs around him and she can feel each pulse as his own orgasm overcomes him, and the last of her orgasm is spent as his cum trickles down her thighs.

He moans again and she giggles, standing upright and leaning against him, and he kisses her. She runs her fingers through her hair as he wraps his arms around her and she shivers.

"Mmm...sensitive, are you?" he teases, and she wiggles her bottom against him and he shivers, too. "Are you?"

He laughs.