Hardest Job Yet

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This story contains explicit adult content involving fictional characters, all 18 or older. All intimate scenes are consensual. Reader discretion is advised.

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Brian hated how tight his khakis had gotten. At 39 years old, the summer heat hit him harder these days, and every step up the staircase of Solara Bay Apartments made his thighs chafe, his navy polo pulling up just enough to flash a sliver of his soft, pale belly. His big 6'2" frame huffed like a freight train, his broad shoulders stretching the sleeves of his too-small shirt. By the time he reached the second floor, he was red-faced, sweating through the cotton, toolbox clanging in one hand.

He wiped his forehead on his sleeve, cursed the heat, and checked the unit number. 204. Shower problem.

Normally, service requests took a day or two, but Jada had sweet-talked the leasing office into marking hers urgent. She knew how to get what she wanted -- and today, she wanted her damn shower fixed.

He knocked.

The door swung open, and Brian forgot how to breathe.

Standing there was Jada -- maybe twenty-two, twenty-three at most -- tall and devastating, with deep brown skin sheened with a light sweat from her workout. Her sports bra clung to full, proud C-cup breasts, the smooth planes of her stomach leading into a pair of black shorts that hugged every sculpted curve of her ass and thighs.

Brian flinched, almost stepping back.

"Uh--hi! I'm--maintenance--" he stammered.

Her full lips curled into an amused smile, one eyebrow lifting.

"You here to fix my shower, maintenance man?" she teased, arms folding under her chest, pushing her cleavage up invitingly.

She could tell he was older -- not by the way he looked exactly, but by the slightly awkward way he stood there, flushed and fidgety, trying not to stare. Cute, she thought. Like a big, sweaty, clumsy puppy.

Brian nodded so hard he nearly dropped the toolbox. He scurried inside, not trusting his tongue to work. The scent of her hit him immediately: faint vanilla, warm skin, and the lightest trace of shampoo from an earlier rinse.

As he followed her through the apartment, Brian tried not to stare -- and failed miserably. Every sway of her hips seemed exaggerated, every flex of her thick thighs hypnotic. A slow bead of sweat slid down the line of her spine, disappearing beneath the cling of her shorts, and Brian nearly stumbled just watching it.

"Bathroom's back here," she called over her shoulder, throwing a teasing glance that made Brian's cock twitch uncomfortably in his too-tight khakis.

The apartment was neat but lived-in. A floor fan buzzed lazily, stirring the humid air.

Brian crouched under the sink like a bear trying to fit into a doghouse. His shirt rode up his back, revealing a pale, squishy roll of flesh glistening under the bathroom light. Tools clinked beside him; every grunt sounded like a man birthing a wrench.

Jada leaned in the doorway, sipping from her water bottle, eyes traveling down his form -- tight waistband, sweat-darkened back, khakis barely holding on. She smiled lazily. He was a mess. A sweaty, bumbling, oddly endearing mess.

"You okay down there?" she teased, voice syrupy sweet.

"Uh--yep, just--uh, got the valve and--it might be clogged--"

Brian fiddled with the pipes longer than necessary, tightening things that didn't really need tightening. Maybe it was the nerves. Maybe it was the view from the doorway.

"Gotta check the shower valve now," he mumbled, wiping sweat from his forehead.

As he moved toward the tub, his foot slid on a damp hand towel she'd used to wipe herself down -- the slick mixture of sweat and leftover lotion offering no grip. With a wild flail of arms, he lost his balance and crashed straight into Jada.

They tumbled together, a tangle of limbs and gasps -- her hand instinctively grabbing for balance, landing squarely on... something.

She froze.

Something thick. Heavy. Pulsing warmly against her palm.

"Oh," she murmured, blinking down at him.

Brian froze, cheeks flaming crimson, belly pressing into her toned stomach. His pants had loosened and were halfway down his thighs, boxers stretched tight around his hips. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Squeaked:

"I--I didn't mean to--I swear I--"

She didn't pull her hand away. If anything, her fingers brushed again.

Brian trembled like a cornered rabbit.

"Easy, big guy," she purred. "Don't pass out on me. You've still got a shower to fix."

With slow grace, she helped him up -- her touch lingering at his thigh, her eyes drinking in the very obvious bulge.

"And maybe," she added with a wink, "something else you can help me with later."

--

Brian got the shower working after several torturous minutes, his hands trembling every time Jada wandered into view. Maybe it was the frustration of her broken shower. Maybe it was the delicious way he blushed every time she looked at him. Jada wasn't exactly sure what tipped her over the edge -- but the more she watched his clumsy, sweaty fumbling, the more she craved the idea of wrecking him.

When she "accidentally" dropped her hairbrush, she didn't just bend to retrieve it -- she squatted slowly, thighs spreading, her round ass lowering right into his view. She made sure he was watching.

She loved the way he kept stealing glances when he thought she wouldn't notice -- the older maintenance man completely undone by a little squatting and a sweaty smile.

Brian almost dropped his wrench again.

When he finally tested the water pressure, the shower sputtered... hissed... then roared to life with a satisfying gush.

He turned, triumphant -- and almost swallowed his tongue.

Jada had peeled off the rest of her clothes, perched on the counter now with one toned thigh propped up slightly, her black thong clinging to her soaked curves, legs parted just enough. Her dark skin glowed softly under the fluorescent lights. Her breasts, full and proud, rose and fell with her breathing. The muscles in her stomach flexed slightly as she shifted her weight.

She tugged the thong aside, revealing her glossy folds parted slightly in invitation.

Brian gawked, frozen.

"Shower's working now," she said, voice dripping heat. "But looks like I've got another leak... right here."

Brian made a strangled noise. His brain blue-screened.

"You're not gonna leave me hanging here all hot and bothered, are you, maintenance man?" she purred, dragging two fingers slowly down her slick folds, collecting her wetness, and smearing it lightly across his trembling lips.

"Come on, maintenance man," she whispered. "Get a good taste first... you earned it."

He stumbled forward like a man possessed, dropping the wrench with a loud clang.

His hands found her waist, his thick fingers trembling as they met her burning skin, a slight slickness from her sweat. Her scent hit him like a warm wave -- sweet, musky, completely real.

He didn't even realize he was moving until he was kneeling between her legs, mouth open, breath shallow, heart pounding. His belly pressed to the sink's cabinets, hands awkward and shaking.

His heart hammered so loud he swore she could hear it.

What if I screw this up? he thought wildly. What if I can't make her feel good?

But then her fingers threaded into his hair, guiding him gently, and all he could do was surrender.

"I--I've never--" he whispered.

Jada's smile softened. "Then follow my lead."

And with one hand behind his neck, she guided his head toward her.

Brian groaned helplessly, his face brushing against her thigh, the musky, sweet scent of her slick pussy flooding his senses. The sensation of his thick, leaking cock trapped against his zipper made him whimper.

Brian's lips hovered just above her slick heat, his breath warm, uneven. His hands trembled on her thighs -- thick, powerful thighs now slick with lingering heat. Jada's fingers curled gently into his hair, guiding him closer.

"Start slow," she murmured. "Taste me."

He nodded -- more to himself than her -- and pressed his mouth to her with a soft, hesitant kiss. She exhaled in quiet relief. Encouraged, he dragged his tongue along the seam of her folds, tasting her. His eyes fluttered. She tasted amazing.

"Mmm, that's it, baby," she gasped, grinding gently against his mouth. "Don't be shy... savor me."

Brian's face flushed as he buried his face in her heat. His chubby hands gripped her thighs tighter for balance. He lapped at her like he was learning a language -- awkward at first, but desperate to be fluent.

Her thighs began to tremble against his ears, her slick folds fluttering under his tongue. Every shaky gasp that escaped her lips tightened the knot of desperate need inside him.

"Right there... oh God, right there," she panted, rocking helplessly against his face, her hands tangling tighter in his hair.

Her moans grew higher, hips grinding more insistently. Her body seemed to melt against the mirror behind her, the muscles in her stomach flexing and rippling with every lick.

Brian groaned into her, the vibration making her shiver.

She gripped the counter edge as her thighs tensed around his ears. "Don't stop--don't you dare stop--"

He didn't. He sucked gently at her clit, and when she came, it was with a cry that echoed off the walls. Her body clenched, trembling, a flood of heat pulsing against his tongue. Her hands held his head there as she rode it out, hips rocking in slow waves, her calves sealing him in.

When she finally pushed him back, his mouth and chin were soaked, his hair a mess, and his face beat red. He looked up at her like a man wrecked by worship, and she grinned.

"Good boy," she purred.

As she pulled him to his feet, she let her palm trail boldly over the bulge straining against his soaked khakis, giving it a slow, deliberate squeeze.

"Still hard," she whispered with a wicked grin. "Guess I'd better finish what I started."

--

The bedroom was dimly lit, a fan spinning lazily overhead, the bedspread looking crisp--like it had been made fresh that morning.

Jada climbed onto the bed, finding her spot in the center, her dark skin glowing softly against the pale lavender sheets. Her thong now lay discarded on the floor, her full, glossy folds glistening invitingly as she looked at Brian with a smirk.

Brian stood at the edge of the bed like he'd wandered into heaven by accident. His shirt was soaked through, and when his pants dropped, his cock sprang free -- thick, flushed, already slick at the tip. The heavy shaft bounced slightly, weighty and demanding attention. His pale stomach hung loose, sheened with sweat, his whole body flushed pink with anticipation and nerves.

"Come on," Jada said, arching her back invitingly. "You've already seen the problem. Now fix it."

He quickly discarded his sweaty shirt, becoming nothing more than a nervous, naked man.

He climbed onto the bed awkwardly, belly jiggling with every movement. Jada lay back against the pillows, legs spread and inviting. Brian knelt between her thighs, his hands curling under her knees to lift her legs up, angling her hips perfectly. She guided him with a teasing smile, and with one careful thrust, he buried his thick cock into her slick, yielding entrance, the angle letting his belly rest heavy against her thighs.

The moment he entered her, he gasped like a man dunked in holy water.

"Holy shit."

Jada whimpered as he pushed deeper, the thick stretch forcing a shudder through her whole body. Her hands fisted the sheets, nails clawing helplessly at the fabric as she tried to take him fully.

"Fuck," she gasped, voice breaking. "You're stretching me so good... so full..."

Brian moved within her slowly at first, savoring every desperate thrust, the heat and slippery squeeze of her body pulling broken gasps from his throat. Sweat dripped from his temples onto her breasts, slicking their bodies together. Jada wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, meeting him with eager little rolls of her hips.

"Just like that, baby... stretch me..." she murmured, voice thick with pleasure.

He groaned, hips slamming harder now, the sounds of wet, feverish sex filling the room. She dug her nails into the sheets, crying out when he hit a sweet spot that made her clench even harder around him.

Brian's mind blurred with the scent of her, the feel of her, the raw, primal need crashing between them. He drove into her with clumsy passion, marveling at the way her body took him, welcomed him.

After a few glorious minutes of messy, panting connection, Jada shifted beneath him, pushing gently at his chest. Understanding her wordless signal, Brian pulled out and helped guide her onto all fours. She arched her back beautifully, presenting herself with a teasing sway of her hips, her glistening folds begging for his return.

His belly rested heavy against her lower back, hot and damp, as he gripped her hips like they were the only stable thing in the universe.

He moved slowly at first--still shy, still overwhelmed--but her little moans and whispered encouragements fueled him:

"Deeper, baby... fuck, you feel so good inside me..."

His heavy balls slapped wetly against her clit with every thrust, adding a messy, obscene sound to the room's symphony.

Brian started to find a rhythm -- frantic, clumsy, but driven -- powered by years of untouched hunger. Their bodies made raw, wet sounds with every collision, sweat slicking their skin. His belly brushed her back with every desperate thrust, both of them coated in damp, sticky heat.

Each rough thrust sent her full breasts swinging underneath her, nipples grazing the sheets, the overstimulation making her whimper.

Her cries sharpened as her second climax built -- quick, desperate, almost frantic. She shoved back against him with wild little jerks of her hips, chasing the edge until it finally ripped through her with a ragged scream, her pussy clenching around him in spasms so strong they dragged him deeper.

"Fuck," she groaned. "You're wrecking me, maintenance man... don't stop..."

He groaned low, gripping her tighter, feeling her clench around him like she was milking every drop from his aching cock.

"I--I think I'm gonna--!"

"Do it," she gasped. "Fill me--give it to me, baby."

With a strangled, guttural moan, Brian bucked hard and came -- loudly, helplessly. His body trembled violently as he pumped thick spurts of his cum deep inside her, flooding her dripping pussy until it overflowed, wetness dripping down her trembling thighs.

Brian buried his face between her shoulder blades, gasping for air like he'd just finished running a marathon. His chest heaved against her slick back, every muscle in his body shaking with aftershocks.

"Jesus Christ," he wheezed. "I--I think I saw God."

Jada collapsed under him, laughing breathlessly, her body humming from her own second orgasm. "Best maintenance call ever," she managed between gasps.

They stayed connected for a moment, his heavy weight pressing down on her, their bodies sticky, panting, bonded.

When he finally softened and withdrew with a messy wet sound, thick streams of his seed spilled warmly across her thighs, pooling onto the rumpled sheets.

She turned beneath him, easing him to the side, and he flopped down like a great pale marshmallow, completely spent.

"I still... can't believe that happened," he mumbled, staring dazed at the ceiling.

Jada propped herself up on one elbow, smiling down at him. "You okay?"

"I don't know." He let out a tired laugh. "I think I left my soul somewhere around the second thrust."

She leaned in and pressed a lazy, lingering kiss to his sweaty forehead. "Well, if you find it, bring it back next time."

He blinked up at her, dazed but hopeful. "There's gonna be a next time?"

"There better be," she said, standing to retrieve her thong with casual, lazy grace.

Brian sat up slowly, dragging his damp boxers back over his sticky thighs. "I, uh... still gotta fix Mrs. Hendricks' garbage disposal in 117. And there's a leak up in 305..."

Jada wrinkled her nose teasingly. "You better shower first, maintenance man. You smell like gym socks left in a hot car."

He blushed, gathering the rest of his sweat-soaked clothes. As he reached for his belt, Jada brushed her fingers lightly down his sweaty spine.

"When you get a break..." she murmured near his ear, "my back door could use a little inspection too."

Brian froze mid-buckle. He turned slowly, like his brain was buffering.

"...Y-you mean--?"

She gave him the most innocent look she could muster. "What? I meant the patio door. The frame sticks. What did you think I meant?"

His face flushed deeper than ever. He mumbled something unintelligible, eyes wide, heart pounding.

As he stumbled toward the front door, he gave her one last bashful smile. "I'll, uh--I'll check on that. Soon. Definitely."

Then he turned too fast, walked straight into the doorframe with a startled yelp, and practically jogged out into the hallway.

Jada stood in the doorway, naked but for her thong and that satisfied smile, shaking her head with a laugh.

"Clumsy little maintenance man," she whispered. "You better come back."