Brad let himself into the apartment, juggling his tool box, the work order, and his keys. He had three jobs to do this morning and a party to go to this evening, so he wanted this one done as soon as possible. He closed the door quietly and turned - and stopped still.
Directly in front of him was a pair of long legs and a tight ass, clad only in a tiny red thong. Evidently, the tenant was still home and was digging for something in her fridge. Her bare ass cheeks wiggled a bit as she reached deeper and went up to tiptoe. His breath caught in his throat, all the blood in his head drained to his cock and made it stand at attention. His hands went lax and the tool box thudded on the linoleum entry, the keys jangling as they fell, the work order floating further to the carpet.
The girl stood and spun with a squeak. She wore little but the thong – she had on a flannel shirt but it was unbuttoned and her spin had given him a brief glimpse of one nicely rounded breast. She stood just shy of his chin, with short red curls and wide green eyes. A pixie face and a curvy body...He just couldn't stop staring. Get it together, he ordered himself.
Brad held up his hands. "Maintenance, ma'am," he started, aiming for a calming tone, "I'm here to fix the sink." He took a step back, his eyes never leaving her as he waited for screams or worse.
"That was today, wasn't it?" she frowned, looking at him and then looking at his tools. "I don't suppose you can fix it while I'm still here? I mean it's not a problem that I'm home, right?" She gave him a hopeful look. "I'll stay out of the way and be quiet. Promise. I've got to go out later but I need to relax first..."
"No problem." What a lie. His cock was so hard he was sure it could hammer holes in sheetrock. Sure, he could fix a leaking faucet with a nearly naked chick in the same 800 square feet. And he could also fly.
"Thanks..." She gave him a smile that had his cock twitching. Breezing past him with a yogurt in her hand, she settled on the couch and clicked on the television. Brad stood still, enveloped by the scent of cinnamon and vanilla and horny as hell. With a sigh, he picked up his keys and tucked them in his pocket. They were big enough to pull his work pants tighter against his cock and he winced as the zipper dug in. Another sigh and he picked up his toolbox, heading into the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes. Fifteen endless minutes. 900 freaking seconds. Brad couldn't keep his mind on task; he was too aware of the girl sitting on the other side of the counter. After he rapped his knuckles with the wrench for the third time, he decided it was time to bite the bullet and say something, anything, to get her out of the apartment. He dropped his wrench on the counter.
"Listen, I..." his voice trailed off as he realized what she was watching. The sound was off, but the screen was filled with a woman kneeling before a man, his cock sliding in and out of her mouth. The guy's cock was thick and almost purple, dripping with spit. His hands were tight on the woman's black hair, holding her still while he fucked her mouth. Brad swore he could feel each tooth in the zipper of his pants.
Finally managing to tear his eyes away from the screen, he was even worse off when he looked at the girl. She had her feet up on the coffee table, her legs spread, her hand down inside the front of her panties. Her throat was flushed and she was caught up in the action on screen, totally oblivious to Brad. He watched her thighs tremble and held his breath. His gut clenched as she squirmed, panting a little, her hand moving faster and faster. His mouth went dry as she started to whimper. Right before his stunned eyes, the girl began to shake. She tipped her head back, eyes closed, as she came with a shudder. She went limp on the cushions, her head down, her breath still ragged.
It was all he could do not to tear off his clothes and drag her to the floor. His own breath was short. "Um, listen," he managed. He tried to keep his eyes on the floor, but out of one corner he could see the couple on screen fucking dog-style and the other corner had her, nearly naked and flushed from her orgasm.
"Oh!" Her gasp told him she was now aware he was standing there.
"I didn't mean...I...well...I can't work with you here," Brad babbled, tilting his head up so he stared at the ceiling.
"I was just relaxing." It took him a moment to realize her voice was closer now. Then her hands were on him, skimming up his belly, tugging his shirt out of his pants.
"I...You...whatever...I'll have to come back later," he managed, tugging his shirt away from her as he stepped back. His eyes were hot on hers. He couldn't mask the lust, but he needed this job. She gave him a wicked smile.
"Don't you want to help me relax?" she wheedled, her voice innocent, her eyes dark and hungry. He felt his body responding, tightening. She ran her fingers up and down the open sides of her shirt, then slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. The brief glimpse he'd gotten earlier was nothing compared to a full frontal view. Her breasts were big and pink and tipped with hard peaks that made his mouth water. Wearing only her red panties, she bit her bottom lip and opened her eyes wide and innocent.
"I...can't," he growled finally, damning himself, damning her silently. His body hummed with sex and he wanted this so badly.
"Sure you can," she murmured, "I won't tell anyone."
"I have to finish this and do two other..." his voice trailed off as she began to wiggle out of her panties. He started to watch them slide down until he was distracted by the bounce of her breasts as she moved. Why was he arguing? Here was a dream opportunity – a hot little body eager for his touch. Her pussy was shaved, pink and ripe, and her inner thighs glistened as she stepped out of the red silk.
"I'll make it worth your time," she whispered, cupping her own breasts. She fondled herself, her eyes on him, knowing he was remembering her earlier orgasm. Knowing he wanted to give her the next one. She was naked, offering, and he'd be stupid not to at least have a taste. No one had to know, Brad told himself.
She saw in his eyes she'd won and smiled again, a smile full of promises. Brad stepped forward this time, his hands on top of hers, feeling her small fingers against his palm even as he lost himself in her dark eyes. She pulled her hands away and his hands cupped her warm soft breasts. His thumbs stroked her nipples and he felt his body echo her shiver. Her tongue slid over her bottom lip and his mouth watered.
"Let's take this to the bed..." he started, but she was already shaking her head. She reached for his shirt again and this time he let her tug it over his head. She made a small sound of pleasure as she ran her hands over his muscular chest.