We'd not seen a summer like this one in a long time, 2 solid months of record breaking temperatures and no relief in sight. My man off on business, I had just finished some tuneup work on my bike, and was relaxing on the deck with a cold drink when I heard the whine of the string trimmer join the constant buzz of summer cicadas. Looking left, I was presently surprised by the sight of a rather appealing looking DoT summer hire shaving back kudzu from the edge of the road. Might as well have been fertilizing it, for all the good it would do.
Damndest thing about the heat, throw in a little gin & vermouth and a lot of ice and the mind just naturally seems to wander south. Mind you, sitting in little more than a loincloth does give idle hands a natural place to rest. And the sweat glistening on the tan shoulders of the weed man across the road certainly was inspiring some idleness.
The change in pitch emanating from the trimmer dragged me back from some pleasant daydreaming. As I opened my eyes, I realized 2 things simultaneously: 1, the moisture between my legs was not entirely perspiration, and 2, the attentive public servant across the street had taken in an eyeful. I slowly removed my hand to my drink, never breaking the staring match, and took a long cool sip. He never broke his gaze, and I mentally reaffirmed my resolve to keep things simple. I really don't need this, but boy could I ever use it.
Just as I thought he would turn back to his work, he shut down the trimmer and stood it up beside a nearby utility pole, leaving his hat & vest alongside. I watched him cross the road and disappear around the side of the house. 30 seconds later, the doorbell.
I rose to answer, chastising myself all the while for such impetuous behaviour. What to hell, I thought, in this heat it could only be considered civic to offer respite. I threw on a camisole top and opened the door.
“Morning ma’am.” Very nice smile. “My name’s Jason with the DoT. I’ve been instructed to inform homeowners of potential invasive plant infestations where encountered. I thought I should let you know that your property is showing signs of encroachment along the south edge.”
“You don’t say Jason. I had no idea. What should be done?”
“Well ma’am--”. “Call me Vivian,” I interrupted. “I’m only supposed to inform the property owners,” he continued. ”But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to knock it down, seeing as it’s so small an area, and I am working right next to it.”
“Why I’d be so grateful Jason. thank you.”
The entire exchange would have been so much more believable had he actually been talking to my eyes rather than my tits,
“Would you like something cold to drink? You must be absolutely poached working in that heat.”
“That would be much appreciated, thanks.”
“Please close the door, I’m trying to keep the cool air in.”
I heard the door shut as I opened the fridge for the lemonade, which nearly slid right out of my hands at the sudden feel of a pair of rough hands squeezing my cheeks under the wrap.
“What’s the...” I spluttered with as much indignation as I could muster.
“I expect you could use a little maintenance yourself.”
He spun me around, deftly relieving me of the lemonade pitcher as he pressed both my hands above my head with his left hand as he helped himself to my hardened nipples with the right.
“I’ve been watching you all morning Vivian, and I doubt you were daydreaming about chains and brakepads back there. Well, maybe chains...”
My resolve by this time had melted away more completely than an ice cube on this guys overheated cock, which currently pressed against me in an unmistakable effort the cleave me in 2 from the crotch up. I could feel the calloused fingers through my increasingly annoying camisole as vividly as the abrasive rub of his 3 days growth against my cheek. His nipple hand dropped south to my cunt and pinched hard around my clit. My hairless cunt bucked so high that for a second I felt like I was floating. I was so beyond compliance by now.
All the while his guttural voice whispered in my ear.
“I’m gonna go out on a limb, Vivian. I think you get off on the idea of an overheated, horny worker having his way with you. I think you’d respond quite favourably to a calloused smack on that sweetly toned ass. I’ll even bet that you’d like a couple of holes filled, along with some routine maintenance. But first we need to secure the worksite.”
Rubbing his pussy-soaked fingers around in my mouth, he led me to the sofa in the adjacent living room, where I had left some bike repair crap strewn across the floor. I was thrown face first over the back of the couch, and he suddenly had a bungee cord, which soon had my hands tied behind my back. Needless to say, the camisole and wrap were long gone.
I heard a belt loosen, some fabric hit the floor, and the sudden smack of his hand against my ass cracked the still summer air. I let out a muffled shout, trying desperately to retain some control of this situation, but he seemed to sense my withholding and brought his hand down repeatedly, consistently. Each blow intensified the pain incrementally, and I was once again betrayed by my own lust. My guttural outbursts were by now involuntary and the sound of my own voice contributed to the growing puddle soaking the top of the sofa.
“Now Vivian, we’re due for a little crack sealing,” he growled. Grabbing an aching cheek in each hand, he ran the head of his cock down the crack of my ass to the entrance of my gaping cunt and plunged balls deep in one brutal stroke. An unrecognizable “uuuuuungh” was my response, as if his cock had just punched me in the solar plexus. Long deep strokes pushed me closer to the edge I couldn’t get to fast enough.
“We’ve got a couple of cracks to deal with here.” A gush of oily liquid (probably the grapeseed oil I had been rubbing into a saddlebag) washed over my asshole, and I toppled over the edge as his calloused thumb penetrated my hole.
I don’t remember the extent of profanity that escaped my lips while I came. But I’ll never forget the quiet delirium of his cock replacing his thumb as he tunneled into my rectum and the barely bearable pleasure of each stroke in and out of my blissfully wanton asshole. In the days that followed I nearly wore myself out, masturbating to the lingering soreness of my reamed out hole and the divine trickle of semen down the back of my legs.
He loosed the cord around my wrists and pulled on his pants. “You clean up this work site Vivian. A safe jobsite is an organized jobsite.”
“Do you work here often?” I heard myself asking.
“On an as needed basis, depends on how fast the weeds grow. All up to the area assessors, what they see on their rounds.”
As I lay blissed out on the couch, I made a mental note to hit that roadside with a hose on a regular basis.
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.
<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/reluctance/vegetation-management.aspx">Vegetation Management</a>