Who is Waiting in my Workshop

I visit my workshop today. I have not been there in a few days.

When I enter the main door, I am not greeted by the usual sound of silence within. Instead, what graces my ears are a woman’s soft cries of ecstasy and sensuous moans.

Peering, around for the source, I can see nothing that would make these exquisite sounds.

Listening now with more purpose, stopping dead in my tracks, I try to locate the source.

My ears track the pleasant sounds and I realize they are not coming from the main floor, but from upstairs in the woodworking area. I continue to walk toward the back of the shop where a stairway leads up.

My heart pounds at an increasing rate. I reach the bottom of the stairway, stopping there briefly. A stir of arousal strikes me like a bolt of lightning in the groin. It urges me onward with trepidation and anticipation. I know I have to ascend the stairs and find the foundation of these sumptuous reverberations.

I reach the door at the summit of the flight of steps. Again I try to assess, through the closed door. Who could be creating these extraordinary outcries, but to no avail.

Reaching with a shaking hand I unlatch the hasp and slide the pocket door slowly into its cavity in the wall.

The aroma of a woman’s sexual excitement inundates my nostrils, not the usual sent of sawdust.

The presence of a naked goddess fills my eyes, sitting atop my workbench,
head thrown back, eyes closed and her mouth agape.

She leans back on one arm, her palm resting on the bench top, the other arm reaching between her thighs. Her legs drape over the edge, slightly spread, allowing me just a glimpse of her bare swollen and glistening womanhood, as her fingers tips stroke and caress her clitoris.

Her voluptuous breasts showcase large, pink areolas centered with succulent, erect nipples that stand high above her ribs, pointing at the ceiling.

Fully aroused, I enter the work area, my manhood now pulsing, pushing, straining and begging to be released from the confines of my jeans. Precum now soaks my boxers.

Quickening my pace, not wanting to be noticed until I am close enough to touch and hold her, I cross the room and stand before my Aphrodite.

I reach my hand to the button at the waist band of my jeans, unbuttoning then unzipping.

I push them down over my hips, letting them fall around my ankles. I release my steel hard shaft from the confines of my underwear and also let them drop and come to rest on top of my jeans.

Grabbing my manhood, forcing it down from my belly, I aim it at M`ladie’s vagina, then taking two steps forward, passing her knees, letting my hips open her legs wider, I plunge my projectile into her wet sopping love tunnel.

Her eyes open wide; her moans change to a screech, as she realizes that there is someone in the room with her. Trying to push me away with her flailing arms, she stops as she recognises me.

“You nearly scared the life out of me,” she says with a shaky voice.

“I didn‘t mean to frighten you M`lady, I need to have you.”

M`lady places her trembling hands around my torso, pulling me into her, she lifts and wraps her strong, shapely legs around my waist, digging her heels into my buttocks, while pulling me deeper into the warm, slippery, tautness of her sex.

Beep! Beep! Beep! “Go away, not again” I say, as I am rocked from one of the most glorious dreams of my life.

Slapping my alarm and knocking it across the room. I hear it smash against the wall as the beeping stops.

I almost had my goddess and she has slipped away once more.


I dedicate this story to Lush’s own Mistress of Words; she has been my inspiration, teacher and mentor. Thank You for all of your help, MoW