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The Housewife and the Painter

Jennifer gets bored of decorating her house...

“Honey, I’m tired of painting now.”

Rich smiled to himself, shaking his head. He knew from the tone of his wife’s voice what she was doing. He didn’t need to turn around to know that Jennifer was standing across the room in her blue painter’s coveralls, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail, strands falling over her paint splattered face, one hip dropped with a hand resting on the other. In the other hand a paint roller hanging loosely from her fingers, a pout making her already full lips look even more inviting.

Her mouth was one of the first things he’d noticed about her when they’d met in college ten years ago, that and her breasts. He knew at the time it was shallow, but boy was she pretty, and her breasts were amazing, two round, firm mounds of 34D flesh. 

And they were just as incredible now. 

Sometimes she would ask what it was that most attracted him to her in the beginning. Sometimes he would tell her it was her beautiful face, her sexy smile and her quick wit, but other times he would say, “baby, I’m not gonna lie, it was your rockin’ tits.” 

Both answers made her smile. One lead to an evening of slow gentle love making, the other was a precursor to half an hour of frantic, sweaty fucking. 

They enjoyed both equally.

“Baby,” he said, still not turning around, “we talked about this. We’ve lived in this house for three years and we’ve been too busy to decorate, so we took this time off work to get it done.”

Jennifer huffed. 

“I know we did,” she said like a school girl being chastised, “but we’ve been working for hours and I’m bored with it now. Let’s stop, order pizza and start again tomorrow.”

“Honey, you know the deal. We work until 5 o’clock and then we stop, otherwise we’ll never get it done.”

“Fine!”

Rich smiled again. 

He knew he was fighting a losing battle. Despite being successful in his chosen profession, when it came to his wife she pretty much got her own way. Jennifer knew it too, but she pretended she didn't just to add to her leverage.

The room fell quiet, paint rollers on the walls the only sound. 

Rich bent forward to dip his roller in his tray, but he stopped when he realised that there was no sound coming from Jennifer’s side of the room. He turned but the room was empty. 

He sighed, he knew she wouldn’t have completely abandoned him to watch Netflix in their bedroom, but he was aware that his wife’s painting was done for the day. 

He turned back to his wall and resumed running his roller over the beige paint that had been on there since before they’d moved in, a feeling satisfaction as the new colour overtook the old.

Behind him a door opened and he knew that his wife had come back into the room. He kept painting, wanting to make a point that he was still working, that he was still sticking to their agreement about working office hours to get the job done.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Jennifer’s voice said from across the room. “I’m going to be the lonely housewife helplessly trying to decorate her house while her husband is working away, and you’re going to be the sexy decorator who she hires because she’s bored - uh, I mean, because she can’t do it herself.”

Rich grinned, the satisfaction of covering the old painted walls starting to dissipate. 

“Tell me more,” he said, not turning around.

There was silence from across the room, then Jennifer spoke again. 

“Well, like I said, I’m a lonely housewife. My husband is away and I’m trying to decorate, but I’m not making a very good job so I call you to come do me - uh, I mean, do it for me…decorate.”

“Okay, so how does it start?”

“Well, I call your company and they send you. You show up at the door and I’m all frustrated with trying to paint, which is obvious to you because you see me like this…”

Rich turned around. 

The last time he’d looked over at his wife she was wearing her coveralls over one of his t-shirts, which was about three sizes too big for her, and a pair of old sweat pants. But now the oversize t-shirt had been replaced with a white push-up bra and the bib at the front of the coveralls was now much lower, allowing a good view of his wife’s cleavage. The sweat pants had also gone and the three buttons on the hips of her coveralls were left undone, showing white lacy panties beneath. 

Jennifer gave him her best stressed, exasperated look as she blew a strand of wayward hair from in front of her face. Rich felt a familiar twinge from the front of his own coveralls, but he fought the urge to blow off the game and take his wife right there.

“So, Mrs…?”

“Turner.”

He smiled at her use of her real last name.

“Okay, Mrs. Turner, I hear from my office that you’re having some trouble decorating.”

Jennifer wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, pushing her hair out of her eyes. 

“That’s right,” she replied with an exasperated hand gesture. “My husband has been called away for work and he’s left me to finish off the decorating, but I’m just not that good at it.”

Rich took a step closer to her, looking over at the wall she had been working on. 

“Well, I don’t think you’ve done a bad job so far,” he said, stopping a few feet from his wife. “Y’know, for a woman.”

He saw the flash of annoyance cross Jennifer’s face and a grin started to crease the corners of his mouth. She held back any comments, not wanting to break character and knowing that she’d let herself in for the uncustomary comment from her husband.

“Thank you, but I think I just needed a man to help me,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. Rich grinned, continuing to inspect her wall. 

“Yes, I can see that you’re not a pro.” He paused, letting the noun hit home. Jennifer raised her eyebrows at him. 

“But I’m sure I can do something that will make you feel better.”

“Really? I was hoping you would say something like that. Usually my husband does all this kind of thing, but like I said, he’s away. Oops, I dropped my roller!” 

Rich looked back to see his wife bend forward at the waist to retrieve her roller, one of the straps of her coveralls now un-buttoned. 

Picking up the roller, she stood up, her breast, still contained in her bra cup but no longer inside her coveralls. She looked at him, pretending to be oblivious to her wardrobe malfunction. 

Rich made a point of looking directly at her breast but offered no comment.

“So what do you think your services will cost, and how long do you think you’ll take to finish me off?”

Rich looked up at the wall his wife had been working on. 

“Well, I’ll have to go over what you’ve already done. You see these little patches in the paint? Us professionals call those holidays, it’s where the paint hasn’t gone on evenly.” 

He looked back at Jennifer. 

“It’s a common mistake made by people who don’t really know what they’re doing.”

Jennifer smiled through gritted teeth. 

“Really. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Right, sorry. You wanted to know how long it would take for me to finish you off.” 

He looked at her, her left breast still hanging from her coveralls. 

“I usually find that most housewives I meet are quite used to certain…techniques, y’know in decorating, and so when I arrive with my tools - brushes etc. I can finish them off quite quickly.”

Jennifer’s eyes sparkled, but the thought of her husband with other nameless women caused a surge of jealousy. 

“Oh, so you see a lot of horny, I mean, lonely housewives?”

“Well, it depends on what you mean by a lot.”

She nodded slowly. 

“So what techniques will you use to bring me to a satisfactory conclusion?”

Rich took a step closer to her, his erection starting to flex beneath his coveralls. 

“Well, they say that preparation is the key to doing a good job, so I’d start off with some stripping and rubbing down, then I’d concentrate on some long strokes to get the job finished.”

Jennifer felt a rush in her stomach at her husband’s closer proximity. 

“I see,” she said, feeling her nipples swell a little at the increasing tension between them. “But I think I might need to be finished off quite quickly. You see, my husband could be home early and I wouldn’t want to still be wet when he gets back. I don’t think he would like that.” 

Jennifer pushed her hair out of her face, her roller brushing against her bra and the visible curve of her breast above it. 

“Oh, look what I’ve done,” she said, rubbing at the paint mark with her fingers, spreading it across the material and her skin. 

“This is my favourite bra. Do you think it’s ruined?”

“Don’t worry,” Rich said, pulling a cloth from his pocket. “Let me take care of it for you.” 

Licking the cloth he began to rub it gently over the material, causing her nipple to stiffen. 

“Thank you,” she said, her breath quickening as her husband rubbed her breast. “I think there’s still some paint on my skin there. I’d do it myself but I already have paint on my hands.”

“It’s okay,” Rich replied, “I’m used to doing this.”

“You are?” she said. “Does this happen a lot?”

“You’d be surprised,” he replied. 

Jennifer cocked her head to one side. 

“I would? So are you good at getting out stains?”

“Well, I find that working in other people’s houses you have to be careful not to leave too many stains. It’s easy to get carried away and make a mess, which doesn’t go down well when the husband gets home.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t,” Jennifer said, “I can see how one’s husband might be annoyed to find that a strange man has come in…come into his house and made a mess with his wife while he was out hard at work.” 

She looked down at Rich’s hand still stroking her nipple which was now protruding through the lacy material of her bra. 

“I don’t think that paint is coming off.”

Rich looked down, lifting his hand from his wife’s breast.

“I didn't say stop,” she said. “I need you to try for a little longer.”

He inspected the material closer

“I think the problem is that I can’t press hard enough to be able to really rub it.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Well, maybe if you could put your hand inside your bra we could press harder.”

“Hmm, I see, but the problem is I have paint all over my hands.” 

She paused for a moment, looking up at her husband. 

“Do you think you could do it for me?”

“Of course. Hold this,” Rich replied, passing her his roller. “I wouldn’t want your husband to come home and find you covered in stains.”

Jennifer held up both rollers, pushing her shoulders back and her breasts out. She watched as Rich pulled her bra cup away from her firm mound, slipping his fingers inside, making sure not to touch his wife’s nipple. 

“Are you getting it off?” she asked.

“I think so, but you may need to take off your bra later and wash it with some stain remover,” he replied.

“Okay,” Jennifer said. “I’ll wait until you go. I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed by me walking around with no bra on.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he replied. “I’m no stranger to housewives walking around with very little on. In my line of work, when you’re in other people’s houses for a few days they tend to just forget I’m there and get on with their normal routines.”

Jennifer smiled, the thought of her husband with other women was making her crazy, but the game they were playing was causing her panties to become damp.

“I think I might need to rub this a little harder,” Rich said, the cloth pushing his fingers against her nipple. Jennifer sighed at the sensation.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, looking at her.

“No. Why?” 

“Oh, I just thought I heard you make a sound, and I thought I’d maybe pressed too hard.”

“No, no you didn’t hurt me. Please keep going.”

Rich looked back at her bra, still rubbing the cloth over the paint stain, allowing his fingers inside the cup to part and begin scissoring his wife’s stiff nipple.”

“That’s it,” she said, her voice taking on a husky tone from the back of her throat, “I think you’re getting it.”

“Is this having the desired effect?” he asked, catching her eye.

“I think so,” she replied. 

Looking down she could see inside her bra cup, watching as Rich’s fingers moved either side of her stiff bud. 

“Maybe just a little longer.”

“Hmm,” Rich said, moving closer to her breast. “I don’t know, I’m worried that I might damage your bra.”

“Okay, so what do you suggest now?”

“Well, I think that maybe you should get this off and put it in to soak.”

“Okay, well if that is your professional opinion, then who am I to question it,” Jennifer said, sighing as her husband’s fingers released her nipple. “I’ll go take off my bra then.”

“Okay, Mrs. Turner. I’ll just start some painting,” he said, taking both rollers from his wife. 

Jennifer looked down as she stepped back.

“Oh my,” she said, her eyes widening, “Is that another roller in your pocket?”

Rich looked down at his erection beneath his coveralls. 

“No, I just really like my job,” he replied.

“Hmm, I like a good job too,” Jennifer said, appraising the bulge in her husband’s pants. “Okay, I’ll be right back, once I’ve taken off my bra. And I hope you’ll put that thing away before I get back, I don’t think my husband would like it if he came home and found you here all aroused like that.”

“I’ll do my best,” Rich replied as his wife turned around, watching her tight ass as she began to walk away. “Can I just ask - do you work out?”

Jennifer stopped, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“I do. Why do you ask?”

“I just saw your ass in those coveralls and it’s so firm, it looks like you must do about a hundred squats every day. I bet your husband appreciates it.”

“He does,” she replied, “but I don’t think he’d be too happy about a tradesman checking it out. But in case you’re wondering anything else, yes I do like to have it slapped from time to time.” 

And with that she turned and disappeared into the utility room, leaving Rich with two paint rollers and a hard on.

 

“Okay, so I’ve put my bra in to soak,” Jennifer said, walking back into the room. 

Rich turned to look at her. The stained bra had indeed gone and the bib on her coveralls was pulled back in place, but still looser than intended.

Stopping a few feet from her husband, Jennifer turned to look up at the wall he was working on, giving him a good view of the side of her breast. Managing to pull his eyes away from his wife’s breasts Rich looked down, noticing that the three buttons on her coveralls were still undone but now the white panties were gone.

“Do you feel more comfortable now?” he asked, looking his wife up and down, feeling his erection begin to flex again.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, not looking at him. “You haven’t done very much, have you.”

Rich smiled, looking up at the wall. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t like to rush things. I know that most people want a tradesman to get the job done quickly, but I find that most of the housewives I work for don’t like it if I finish too fast - unless of course they’re expecting their husbands home, and then they like it if I get in, finish the job for them and get out again.” 

He watched as his wife’s shoulders tensed as he spoke about other women. 

“You know, I find that they like -.” 

Jennifer cut him off, shaking her head, but not turning around to look at him.

“So you said something about using long strokes to get the job done. What did you mean by that?”

“Well, I can show you if you like.”

Jennifer looked at her watch. 

“I guess that would be okay,” she replied. “My husband shouldn’t be home for a while.”

“So do you want me to get the job done quickly?” Rich asked. “Or do we have time for me to show you how to do a good job, slowly?”

Jennifer looked over her shoulder at him. 

“I think I would like you to show me how you would use those long strokes to get the job done quickly. But I wouldn’t want you to be too fast, I want to make sure I get value for money.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m worried that if you finish too soon I might not be as satisfied with your work. After all, I’ve never had you before, and so I don’t know anything about you or the quality of your work.”

“I understand,” Rich replied. “I’ll do my best to make sure you get the results you’re looking for in a timeframe that is acceptable to you. Shall we start?”

“I think we should. Where would you like me?”

I think we’ll start right where you are,” Rich said, picking up one of the rollers and handing it to her.

“What do I need this for?” she asked, looking down at the roller and then at her husband.

“I’m going to show you how I get the job done with those long strokes you’ve been asking about.”

“Okay,” Jennifer said slowly, suspicion creeping into her voice as she took the roller from him.

“Right, turn to face the wall,” Rich said, placing his hands on her hips, his fingers slipping inside the slits of her coveralls, turning her away from him. “Now, the paint tray is on the floor, so put some paint on your roller.”

The feel of Rich’s fingers on her hips sent goosebumps over her skin and caused her nipples to rise and brush against the rough material of her coveralls. Following her husband’s instructions Jennifer bent at the hips, allowing her firm buttocks to push against his growing erection.

“Okay, I have paint on my roller,” she said, still bent over, looking back over her shoulder. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Well, now we need to get some paint on the wall. Let's start at the top.”

Jennifer straightened up, reaching as high up the wall as she could, the movement causing her breasts to press against her coveralls again.

“Oh, I almost fell ,” she said, placing her free hand on the wall.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Rich said, slipping his fingers inside her coveralls again and onto her hip bones.

“Are you aware that you have your hands inside my clothing?” she asked, pausing, her roller pressed against the wall.

“I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fall, Ma'am.”

“Ma'am?”

“That’s what most of the housewives I meet like me to call them,” he replied, smirking as his wife shook her head at his comment. 

“Now, you need to put some pressure on the roller to get a good coverage. If you push back into me I’ll make sure you’re in the right position.” 

As he spoke he slid his hands deeper into her coveralls, down over her flat stomach towards the smooth, waxed mound below. Jennifer didn’t outwardly react, but Rich’s encroaching hands were making the entrance to her vagina slick, adding to the wetness from their continued teasing. 

Rich flexed his erection against his wife’s buttocks.

“Can you reach any higher?” he asked, his hands moving ever closer to her warm, damp cleft.

“No, I think that’s as high as I can get,” she replied, trying to stay in character despite the pressure between her butt cheeks, and the movement of her husband’s fingers.

“Okay, you need more paint,” Rich said, his lips just behind her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

“I do?” Jennifer replied, the teasing almost too much for her. 

This had gone on long enough, she needed gratification and she needed it soon. She had started the game, and as much as she was enjoying it, she wanted the next stage. But she also wanted the teasing to continue. She hated the thought of him with another woman, and even though she knew it would never really happen, his words dangling the images in front of her made her hot and wet, building the tension to what she knew would be a powerful climax.

“Yes, you’re getting a little dry,” he replied.

“I’m really not,” Jennifer said, trying to subtly move her hips so that his hands slid closer to her wetness. 

But he didn’t want to go there yet, he was enjoying feeling his wife’s excitement and frustration too much.

“Your roller,” he said, sliding his hands back up to her stomach, “it’s getting dry.”

Without a word, Jennifer bent again at the waist, dipping her roller into the paint tray, pushing back against Rich’s hard on.

“Let me just check your technique,” he said removing his hands from her waist and stepping in front of her. 

Jennifer knew that the loose bib of her coveralls was falling open, giving him a perfect view of her breasts hanging down, her nipples erect and sensitive.

“How does it look?” she asked, looking up at him.

“It looks perfect. None of the others have had such a great action as you. Your husband would be proud.”

Jennifer stood and placed her roller on the wall again. 

“Am I still doing it right?” 

Rich stepped behind her again, sliding his hands back inside her coveralls, this time sliding them upwards. 

Jennifer gasped, feeling his hands approach her breasts, her nipples hard and sensitive. And then his hands were on them, his thumbs and forefingers pinching and pulling at her hard buds. It was all she could do not to cry out.

“I think it’s time to show you those longs strokes,” Rich said into his wife's ear. 

Jennifer felt one hand leave her breast only for it to be replaced by the other as he stretched his fingers over, trying but failing to take both of her large, firm mounds in one hand.

“I appreciate your effort,” she said, her voice becoming more breathy, “but I’m not sure if my husband would approve of your teaching techniques.”

Rich didn’t answer, except to slide his hand back inside her clothing, taking both her breasts again. 

When Jennifer pushed back against him in response to his caressing she could no longer feel the denim on denim from before, and she realised that her husband had undone his own coveralls and slid his boxer shorts down, leaving him naked from the ankles up.

She closed her eyes as she rubbed her buttocks against his erection, only her own clothing separating them. 

Slowly Rich slid first one hand then the other up, unbuckling the straps, the only things holding up her coveralls, releasing them and allowing them to drop to the floor, stripping her. The feeling of being naked and exposed increasing her arousal, and the wetness between her thighs.

“Get some more paint on your roller,” her husband growled softly into the back of her neck.

“But I just put some on there,” she replied in her most innocent voice.

“Get some more.”

Jennifer bent at the waist, placing the roller in the tray. As she moved she felt Rich take a half a step back, lining himself up to her.

“Is this when you show me how to stroke?”

“Yes it is,” he replied, edging the swollen head of his erection towards her wet opening.

Jennifer dropped the handle of the roller, letting it fall into the tray, splashing paint onto the bare floorboards.

Her hands braced her against the wet wall as she felt her husband’s rock hard shaft slide forcefully between her slick lips, parting them with one long, inexorable movement.

Jennifer cried out, her hands sliding across the paint covered wall as Rich held her hips until his full length was inside her, filling her. 

He grunted as his shaft was taken by his wife’s perfect opening.

“Your pussy feels fucking amazing,” he said, holding himself inside her. He started to withdraw his hard on, watching as his shaft appeared from between his wife’s lips, leaving him coated in her juices. 

Jennifer moaned, trying to hold herself up on the slippery wall, her heavy breasts swinging with each movement. 

Reaching up to grab her breasts, Rich slid back inside her, hard, fast, unrelenting. 

Jennifer cried out as she felt him enter her again.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” Rich growled.

“What about my husband?” Jennifer asked, surprising herself that she was managing to stay in character despite Rich being inside her, his hands holding her breasts. 

“What’s he going to say if he comes home and finds the painter with his cock inside his wife and his hands on her tits.”

“He’s going to think he was a fucking fool to leave his gorgeous wife at home alone with a man who wanted to fuck her the moment he laid eyes on her.”

“Is that what you thought?”

“It was. The second I saw you I knew I wanted to fuck you. I wanted to hear and see you cum.”

“Even though you know another man gets to fuck me?”

“That just makes it hotter, knowing that even though you look so innocent, you’re really a little slut.”

“I am a little slut,” Jennifer gushed, her hands trying to find purchase on the wet wall as Rich drove back into her. 

“That’s it, stroke that cock into me,” she moaned. “Fuck me until you cum, I want you to fill my slutty little pussy with your cum.”

Her words spurred him on, increasing the speed with which he fucked his wife, each thrust filling her, pushing her closer to her own orgasm.

“Don’t stop, I’m so fucking close.”

“Are you ready to cum for me, you little slut?”

“I’m ready. Grab my tits. Fuck me until I cum. 

Rich’s hands dug into her breasts, pinching her nipples as she clenched her pussy around his cock.

“Fuck, Rich, I’m gonna cum.”

And then she cried out, a moan which came involuntarily as her orgasm exploded through her. She cried out again and again as the spasms rocked her body until she felt him stroke into her once more, his body going rigid as he came, spurting inside her, calling her name.

Jennifer’s legs gave way and she dropped to her knees, Rich following her, not wanting to release his cock from inside her. 

Jennifer’s hands went to the floor to support her, leaving perfect hand prints on the wood. 

Her breathing was ragged as she held herself on all fours, feeling her husband still inside her, still thrusting gently until she felt him start to pull out, trying to catch his breath, collapsing on the floor next to her. 

She fell to the side, her head on his chest, her hands spreading paint on his face as she kissed him between deep breaths, her stomach and breasts coated in a film of perspiration.

“Well it wasn't like that with any of the other lonely housewives,” Rich said as his breathing returned to normal.

“Fuck you,” Jennifer replied, slapping his face with painted hands. “I hated having those images of you with other woman, you bastard.”

“Me? What about you and your ‘husband’?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because that didn’t make me jealous.”

“I’m glad it made you jealous.”

“Fuck you,” she repeated, nestling her head beneath his chin.

“Give me a minute.”

 

 

 

  

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