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Summer 2000

Social housing refurbishment can be fun.
My mobile phone rang and vibrated on the desk in my site office. I picked it up and glanced at the screen to see if it was a recognized number, perhaps even the caller’s name. The screen told me it was the office calling.

“Hello?” I said a second after hitting the green answer button.

“Hello, Brad, its Lucy here. I have Mr. Ash on the line for you. Just putting you through.” The line went quiet for a moment.

Mr. Ash was the Managing Director of Ash Construction who had employed me as a Site Agent. I had been with them for only six weeks, two of which had been spent on holiday in Crete.

Things had gone bad when I returned to work on the construction of a new annex to a primary school. As I walked on site, I found a seventeen-ton, 360 degree digger sitting astride a three-meter deep trench. The sides were crumbling and it had been raining all weekend.

To top it all, no trench supports had been put in place and Murphy was asking for a ladder so he could get down to the bottom to retrieve his hard hat. The machine was likely to topple into the trench and probably bury Murphy at the same time.

To cut a long story short, I stopped the job on health and safety grounds. Tore a strip off the Construction Manager who had been baby sitting my job while I was away and very nearly came to blows with the ground working sub-contractor who owned the machine.

I guess I had been expecting the call from Mr. Ash and fully expected to be invited to fuck off.

“Robin, its David Ash here.” He didn’t sound too pissed with me. “I understand you have stopped the job in Caterham.”

I told him I had and the reasons for my calling a halt to the madness. I reminded him that I was ultimately responsible for what went on on-site and I had no intention of being jailed because of some crazy Irishman and a Construction Manager too lazy or stupid to see what was wrong.

“Well yes, I see your point. However, that wasn’t what I was calling about.” He paused, perhaps to allow me to stop spluttering.

"I want you to come into the office, today, if you would. Your company car is waiting here for you. It isn’t a new one, but will do for now. I also want to go over a new project with you. I need someone to run a job we have, one hundred and eighty flats in Deptford that are being refurbished. We are sacking the two site Managers who between them have fucked it up royally. Can you get here within the hour? Oh, and by the way, your probation period is over.

I was flabbergasted; three months probation had just turned into six weeks. I guess stopping the job had been the right thing to do and I was getting a nice shiny car to boot. I called my wife to let her know.

And so, that afternoon, stepping from my Ford Focus, I found the site I was to run. Two large blocks of brick built social housing that had been constructed just after the war as a quick solution to the housing shortage caused by the bombing of London. The flats (apartments) were stacked on top of each other with a shared balcony connecting each front door and a concrete staircase at each end. They were hideous and depressing to look at.

The site compound didn’t thrill me too much either. Three converted steel containers formed the site-office; stores and an admin hut all encompassed with steel, mesh fencing. It didn’t look promising and I soon found out the extent that the two previous Managers had made a mess of things.

Each of the flats was to have new PVC double glazed windows, a new front door, a new fitted kitchen, a refurbished bathroom and a new heating and hot water system. This was to modernize the living conditions of the flats and bring them up to an acceptable European standard.

The thing was though, each flat was occupied and would be, all the way through the program. The upheaval to their daily lives was incalculable and perhaps, that is where the two Managers and the Council, who was the client, had not understood the effect on their customers.

I knew I was in for a rough ride and asked Mr. Ash a few days later if this was a punishment. He laughed and then told me it needed someone with balls to run it and dig it out of trouble. I thanked him for his faith in me and told him he owed me one. Big time.

I took me a few days to get myself sorted and to understand the degree of works in each flat. Some were having more works than others and it really came down to my assessment of the existing conditions for the dwellings. It meant that I had to visit every household to survey each room and form a specification and schedule of works. That was when the fun began.

I cannot remember exactly, the job was completed many years ago now, but I suppose it much have been about three weeks into it. I visited a flat on the fourth floor, having made an appointment.

The woman answered the doorbell in her housecoat and slippers which I though a bit odd. It was, after all, gone ten in the morning, a bit late to be undressed. Especially as she would have had to be up for her children, take them to school, feed them and so on. I accepted her invitation to enter with my clipboard and prepared forms for various rooms.

This small woman, just less than five-feet with mousey hair and a small frame, offered me coffee, which she put on the table in the living room. The survey its self took no more than fifteen minutes. I was ready for the coffee and sat in her living room to talk her through the program and what to expect. I asked if she had any questions at the end of my prepared speech.

“Any chance I can choose the tiles in the bathroom?” She asked, her head cocked to one side and an enigmatic smile on her face.

I told her that we only did diamond white. She sat opposite me in an armchair and damn! Her smile grew wider and her legs parted to show she had no underwear on. I had a grandstand view of her snatch.

“So no chance of a nice light blue then?”

I don’t remember what I said, but in fairly quick order she was on my lap, my hand buried up her hole and her tongue down my throat. Man! But could she wriggle. She smelled fantastic; her perfume was subtle and intoxicating. The housecoat was discarded and her tits, even after childbirth, were well formed, not huge and didn’t sag. Her belly was nice and tight and all in all, a neat package and willing to use her body to get what she wanted.

I fucked her over the arm of the settee, plunging into her willing body, our juices squishing merrily at the rhythmic onslaught. I don’t know how long it lasted, but I do remember blasting a massive load into her guts and then, her saying we could not allow me to leave smelling of sex. This crazy woman sucked off all of our essences.

Needless to say, her bathroom was tiled in a nice duck-egg blue.

Until this job, casual sex was not something I was overly familiar with. Not through naivety, but more a lack of opportunity. That was going to change over the next twelve months.

Men may think they have the power, not so. The female of the species has the tools to make a grown man beg, cringe or become enslaved, all for the want of cunt. We are such sad bastards really.

A misses Jackson on the third floor of block one showed me just how easily men would snatch at opportunity. My survey appointment took me less than ten minutes. I was getting more proficient at assessing the needs of each flat. She was black. She originated from Guyana and spoke with a typical accent. Mrs Jackson was tall, around six-foot and slender as a rake handle.

Memory fades what her particular want in relation to the dwelling upgrade was, but I do remember how pink and hot her mouth was as it gobbled up my dick. Her dark eyes never left mine as my pink cock disappeared into her willing mouth. I thought it would never stop. She had my whole length in her mouth and was throat fucking herself on me. She had the hottest mouth I had every come across, or cum down as a matter of fact. Her nose was squashed against me so that every available inch was twitching as deeply as possible. She maintained her stare as her tongue massaged my cock and then, just as I gasped I was about to come, she managed to find a few more millimeters to shove down her red hot gullet. She showed no signs of swallowing, but it was obvious she had and her kiss of thanks carried that taste of man juice. I had never thought about having a black woman before. Any prejudice I might have carried was blown away by her expert throat action.

After her, any woman was fair game.

The most memorable though was Sally. All she wanted was a choice of colour for her front door. Simple enough and just a matter of juggling the palette of specified choices.

I sat at her kitchen table on a wooden stool, explaining the process she and her family were going to be subjected to when the kitchen was ripped out and her bathroom was totaled. Sally kept her flat very clean and scrupulously tidy. It was one of the larger units with three bedrooms. Her flat had the advantage of overlooking the communal garden with a grandstand view of the swing park.

We were on a third week of a super hot June, when even breathing was a trial. Instead of my usual suit and tie, I was dressed casually, in a short sleeved, open neck shirt and slacks. Sally had a pair of brilliant white hot-pants on and a gingham print blouse, open at the front and tied under her breasts exposing her stomach.

I remember, as I sat at the table, dribbling on about the need for her to pack stuff up in the kitchen, thinking that she was possibly the prettiest woman in the whole complex. Sally had her dark blond hair tied back in a ponytail. Somehow it just accentuated the curve of her long neck before the collar of her blouse obscured the view. I could see the myriad of veins and arteries just under her clear skin and wanted nothing more than to be biting her, just under the ear.

She had one child, but was hoping for more. Her little daughter was about to start in primary school, but was having a holiday with her gran in Sussex for a few weeks. Hubby was a delivery driver for a tool hire company. He didn’t make a great wage, but they managed.

Her blouse only had two buttons on it and only one was done up. I tried not to stare at the swell of her breasts that showed between the openings of the garment. She didn’t make it any easier for me to ignore those partially hidden delights when she sat at the table opposite me and lent forward.

Sally was slender. Not thin in anyway, but I guess the correct term would be trim. Seeing her exposed stomach showed that she had absolutely no excess fat and the flare of her hips was just perfect. She had made her eyes up with a little colour on the upper lid and perhaps a little gloss to her lips. Those lips that were working at forming words, but were saying to my sub-conscious, kiss me.

I suppose I must have gone off track or something because suddenly, Sally touched my arm to bring me back from whatever fantasy I was wondering around in. I had to apologize and I know I blustered and she laughed. Her laughter lit up her beautiful face and put a sparkle in her eye.

I knew that I wanted her. I knew that I wanted to make love to this gorgeous woman and for her to return the passion. My mind’s eye had her naked and trembling in my hands while my mouth went to work on her like some starved vampire.

I don’t know why or even what made me ask it, but I blurted out, “Would you like to go swimming?”

She looked quizzical for a moment, and then smiled as the idea appealed.

“Yeah, why not?”

We arranged to meet in ten minutes. I needed to set my teams up for the afternoon and excuse myself for the remainder of the day. In record time, I had closed up my site-office and had the car running by the time she came down the stairs.

It was madness of course. A pure moment of irrationality, but immediately an appealing idea in the heat of this flaming June we were suffering. I didn’t have a bathing costume and had to buy one on the way to Tooting Beck Lido.

The place was rammed, heaving with bodies, all trying to get cool and find a bit of personal space in which to put their towel. Of course, I didn’t have one with me, but Sally had thought of that and brought two bath towels which, as she found me when she left the changing room, were doing a damned fine job of obscuring her curves.

I had managed to secure two sun beds at the deep end with a bit of shade from the burning sun. Sally placed the towels down and I had my first really good look at her form. She was as near to my idea of perfection as it was possible to be and my cock recognized the lust running amok in my veins. Her shorts curved into the crack of her arse and just seemed to be caressing her cheeks and holding them in pace. I was mesmerized.

I had to jump in the water and thankfully; the coldness shrank the stiffness of my dick into a manageable condition.

Sally swam like a fish. She laughed and relaxed as we splashed and messed around in the pool. Her laugh was tinkling and a joy to hear. The pleasure of floating and just being childlike was written all over her beautiful face. I guess I realized that I was in danger of falling in love with this delightful creature, but somehow, I didn’t care. I just wanted her company and if we managed to get horizontal as well, then that would be a bonus.

Sally’s costume went virtually see through when she got out of the pool. As she dried her hair the outline of her pussy was as if she had nothing more than gauze covering it and the darkness of her aureoles was plain to see. The bikini she wore was white, but at that moment, was skin coloured. She stopped rubbing her hair and stared at me staring at her.

“Like what you see?” It was not a coy question and felt like an invitation.

“Very much so. Sally, you are beautiful”. It was a simple statement of fact. I though her as gorgeous and telling her felt good.

“Shall we go?” Sally picked up her things and headed for the changing room while I went to the men’s locker room.

Ten minutes later, we were sat in the car with the engine running and the air-conditioning at full blast to take the heat out of the stifling cockpit.

“Where to, milady?” I asked smiling.

“James, why not point the car in a direction and see where it leads?” She said this in a Lady Penelope voice, posh and nothing like her normal speech pattern with its London accent. We giggled like children as I headed for the countryside of Surrey and a certain place where steppingstones crossed the river Mole.

Her hand rested in my lap, fingertips drawing lazy circles through my slacks and inching ever so slowly towards my crotch. My cock was bent double and really uncomfortable. I shifted, trying to ease the discomfort without giving the game away, but Sally was on top of that.

“A bit uncomfortable are you Brad?” It was a totally unnecessary question, teasing if anything.

“Mm, yes.” I tried to concentrate on driving.

Suddenly, she had my zip down and had fished my poor dick out of my trousers. And then, she was sucking the juice right out of it.

“That is so not fair,” I told her, but it made no difference. Sally was on a mission to empty my balls and empty them she did, without spilling a drop. God knows how we didn’t end up in a ditch as she slurped my cum down her throat.

Eventually, we arrived at the steppingstones and climbed out of the car, but not before I had managed to get my dick back to its rightful place. I had taken her to my favorite spot in the whole world, near to where I had grown up and very likely, my heart’s true home. I loved this place and knew every inch of the River over a five mile stretch as it meandered around the foot of Box Hill.

Most everyone, who braved the precarious crossing of the hexagonal blocks of concrete, spaced at about a pace across the fast flowing river, turned left and headed towards a bridge half a mile away. But I had another little spot in mind, along a little used path, overgrown with Japanese orchids and nettles. I knew of a secluded spot, under a big beech tree, right on the bank of the river and away from walkers and sightseers. The opposite bank backed onto the lawn of a large country house. In all the time I had spent in this little hideaway, I had never seen anyone in the garden.

I had to do a bit of moving weeds out of the way as we headed to my favorite spot. A few minutes later, we sat between the gnarled roots of the beech and silently watch the brown river slide by.

I didn’t have anything to say and I guess it was the same for Sally. Words seem incongruous and unnecessary.

She undid the one button of her blouse and shrugged it off. Her hot-pants were next, slipping them over her espadrille shoes until she was completely naked. Unhurriedly, I did the same, struggling to pull my feet out of my trousers in this unfamiliar sitting position. She had brought the towels which were now dry and laid these out while I folded our garments and put them out of the way, draped over a low hanging branch.

Sally, naked, was an absolute vision of perfection. I could not see even the smallest blemish on her skin. Her breasts stood out in perfect orbs, nipples pronounced at the freedom they would be unused to. I stared at her marveling at her beauty and the way the dappled sunlight, coming through the overhanging leaves of the Beech, played on her skin. I was in awe, too mesmerized to put two rational thoughts together in a string.

“Brad, will you do something for fuck’s sake, before I burst?” She had knelt between my feet facing me.

I grinned at her willingness and looked into her eyes, feeling like I would swim in them forever and die a happy man. She grasped my hand, turned it palm upwards and then guided it to her sex. She spread her knees a little to allow my fingers to brush against her folds and enter her body. Her heat was incredible as was her wetness. I slowly finger fucked her, brushing my thumb against her clit as one and then two fingers delved into her.

Sally’s head tilted back, her mouth open and her hands clasped behind her back in a classic submissive pose. My fingers hooked and began to massage her G spot while I continued to drink her body in through my eyes. Her tits just had to be touched. Without missing a beat with my busy left hand, I caressed her breast, cupping it as if taking its weight. Slow circular strokes brought her nipple to hardness with goose pimpled aureoles. I had to pinch it, not too hard, just enough to bring a gasp from between her parted lips.

Sally shuddered and gasped as she came over my fingers.

“Oh my god,” she sighed, “I’ve never done it in the open before.” She reached down and grabbed my wrist, drawing my fingers from her snatch. I didn’t know what she intended so was inclined to just wait and see where she was going.

Sally turned sideways on so her left side was facing me, but still kneeling. She grabbed my hand and again, guided it to her mound. She leant forward a little and gasped, “Use the other hand.”

My left was entering her body once again while my right was cupping the peachy softness of her arse, stroking and kneading her pliant flesh.

“Put it inside me please?” She was trembling, in anticipation I guessed, as I slid my fingers under her bottom to join those of my other hand. I pushed a finger in so that both hands were now massaging her walls. I thought that was what she wanted, but I was wrong.

“Not there. Back a bit,” she hissed. The penny dropped.

Carefully and using the slick lubrication of her sex, I pushed a finger into her arse. The position was uncomfortable for me and somehow, I managed to bring my legs underneath me so that I could get closer to her and change the angle. I had it just right after a bit of maneuvering. Sally sat down on my fingers so that I was supporting her between the two sets of digits that played in her holes. The thin membrane between arse and virginal did nothing to disguise the grip her muscles had and the growing heat she exuded.

She grabbed my cock, more for support and to keep her balance I thought. Her grasp was getting tighter and tighter as her second orgasm built to a crescendo. I had got into a rhythm of hooked fingers, massaging both canals and plunging up and down.

Sally was almost standing now. Her feet were on the ground, her knees bent and spread wide. I had most of her weight balanced between my questing hands. She had one hand gripping my cock while the other supported her with her palm flat on the trunk of the tree. She was gasping in time with my thrusting fingers and her moans became louder as her orgasm approached.

“There, oh my God! Just there.” And then, she began to tremble violently all over. Her bent knees could not keep her up, but my fingers and hands took her weight, keeping her in an upright position. Like a drunk, she let go of my cock and threw her arm around my neck while she shuddered from head to toe.

“Jesus Brad, that was fucking amazing,” she at last managed to say as my fingers gently eased out of her body. Her knees were still shaky so I put and arm around her waist and helped her into a sitting position.

“I don’t think I have ever cum so hard,” she said, her voice a little husky where she had been gasping for the last twenty minutes or so. “Give me a minute and then it is your turn.

The thought of being buried balls deep inside of her appealed very much. My cock ached from being hard for so long and was still quite purple from her vice like grip.

“That will be nice.” I nuzzled her neck and cupped a breast, savoring her musk and the softness of her skin. The thought that I would love to be doing just this for the rest of my life banged around in my head. There was no room for my wife at that very moment.

“Do me in the arse Brad?” She lent her head against my forehead. “That is how I like it best.”

I didn’t get to answer. She turned so that she was virtually sitting on my lap and grabbed my dick to guide it into her rear entrance. My fingers had made the entrance quite slick, but damned, was she tight. Slowly, she leant back, forcing the head into her sphincter until the head passed her outer ring of muscle. As soon as her sphincter allowed for the head, then the rest slid in with no resistance until I was deep in her canal. She was red hot inside, the feeling was just sublime. Sally set the paced while I helped support her weight by holding her butt cheeks. I couldn’t see, but could feel her hand plunging into her cunt, creating a friction against my cock through the thin membrane of her two holes, both stuffed full.

“I won’t last long Sally.” Already, I could feel the roiling in my balls and my cock was as hard as it had ever been. It wasn’t often I got to fuck an arsehole; it wasn’t something my wife enjoyed. So, with the added thrill of being someplace rare and deep inside a beautiful woman, my balls didn’t stand much of a chance.

“You going to cum Brad?” She asked me over her gorgeous shoulder. “Are you going to cum in my bum?”

“Yeah,” I managed to gasp. Sally suddenly increased her pace, ramming herself down on my dick and stuffing her fingers into her pussy.

“Tell me Brad. Tell me when. I want to feel it pumping inside me. I want you to fill my guts up with cum and then I’m going to suck you so fucking dry. Come on you cunt. Cum in my fucking dirty arse you bastard.” It was the first time Sally had used such language and I guessed it was her way of helping the process. It did the trick.

Suddenly, I lurched up, driving my cock even deeper into her. She grunted as it bottomed out and then squealed as I yelled that I was cumming.

“I’m cumming in your filthy rotten arse you dirty cunt. I’m going to breed you from the inside out.” I have no idea where these words came from, but being in tune with her, knew that she would enjoy them.

“Argh,” she yelled as my cock exploded, sending gallons of pent up spunk, deep into her colon.

And I, in turn, yelled “Fuck!” at the same time as I rammed into her with the final strokes of my climax.

We stayed still for a moment as the glow of a mutual orgasm flowed over us and our breathing began to settle. My cock was still buried deep inside of her as she rested with all of her arse in my lap.

“Oh my fucking god!” She took several deep breaths. “That was fucking awesome, Brad. Thank you.”

“No, thank you Sally.” And I meant it.

She slowly wiggled her bum in my lap and I reached around her to lightly stroke her clit. It was a much more languorous love making, not really designed to bring either one of us off, more of a wind down as my cock softened inside of her. I could not think of anything finer than still being attached to her as we calmed down from those dizzy heights.

After a few minutes and when I eventually left her canal, we washed ourselves in the river and dried on the ruined towels. It was time to head back to reality and the normality of our daily lives. Sally dozed all the way home in the car while I relived the scene and paid automatic attention to driving.

I dropped her off a little way from the blocks of flats. Dusk was setting, it was quite late.

“You going to be okay when you get in?” I asked, hoping that her husband wouldn’t be calling the local hospitals by now and going frantic at her being missing.

“It’s Jimmy’s poker night. He won’t be in until late, so no problem.” She reached over and brushed my cheek. “Brad, I really had a fantastic day. Thanks for taking me swimming and… well, you know.” She smiled as a thought passed through her mind. “I know you have fucked a few of the mums, but I would prefer that what we did didn’t get out. Let’s keep it between ourselves. Okay?”

“I won’t say a word, Sally. I haven’t about anyone else. So how did you know?”

“We ladies like to gossip.” Her smile broadened. “It seems you are quite the Casanova on the quiet.” She leant over and kissed me; her lips parted and tongue exploring mine. All too quickly, she broke the contact and said good night as she closed the car door.

I wish that I could tell you that we repeated our liaison. I wish I could tell you that we continued to fuck and fall in love, but it would not be true. I didn’t get to be with Sally again, but every time I saw her, she would smile and often wink at me in conspiratorial knowledge.

The job continued, gradually catching up to program. I fucked one or two of the lonely housewives, but nothing compared to sally and my heart wasn’t really in it.

I had to get her sign off an agreement that she was satisfied with the work and quality. I had an appointment and was really looking forward to having an opportunity to be alone with her again. My deflation when I spotted her little girl at home must have been evident on my face, because, as she signed with a flourish at the bottom of the document, she said that it was a one-time only thing; fantastic and far too dangerous to have been repeated. It boosted my ego a bit to know that it wasn’t because I had failed in any way. We men are vain creatures in truth.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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