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Sprinklers- A True Story

The first time my husband asked me to work from home and oversee maintenance on our sprinkler system, I rolled my eyes. I have a demanding job, and while I can occasionally work from home, it’s a pain. When the doorbell rang, I trudged down the stairs shouting “just a sec.” I threw open the door...and was greeted by a sexy smile. The sprinkler guy was hot - dark hair, golden brown eyes, a rock hard body...and that smile. I was suddenly self-conscious of my sweats and messy hair.

When it was time to program the auto water system, I was ready. This time I opened the door wearing a tight, beige t shirt that hugged my ribs and was just see-through enough to reveal that I wasn’t wearing a bra. Black yoga pants outlined my legs and left little to the imagination where my ass was concerned. We smiled at each other a lot as he explained the intricacies of the sprinkler system. We chatted about his recent trip to California, where I used to live. Was he flirting with me? He said he had a girlfriend, but then he looked at me from under those lashes and grinned as he said he’d email me in a few months to set up time to winterize the system.

*** “I think I want to fuck the sprinkler guy,” I told my husband as the weather turned colder.

This wasn’t as shocking an admission as it might seem. My husband and I had decided to open up our relationship a few months prior, and we had enjoyed several sexy encounters, some together with other couples , and some separately. But all of our play dates had been with people in the lifestyle. We had never crossed the line with anyone from our “vanilla” life.

“Well, if I get a text telling me to hurry home from work and fuck you, I guess I’ll know why,” my husband replied.

***

The day didn’t start out as planned. Instead of being able to work from home, I had to run to the office for meetings and barely made it back in time for the sprinkler winterization appointment. I had hardly set my purse down when the doorbell rang.

“Hi,” I breathed, unable to hide my smile as his smoldering gaze raked up my high heeled boots, black leggings and tight sweater, finally meeting my eyes. He smiled back.

“Hey. Just in time; it’s getting cold out there, and we need to get your system taken care of before it freezes. I need to start by shutting off the water. It’s probably under the stairs. Is that ok?” he asked.

I led him inside, and we chatted as I removed bags of ski gear from the hallway closet. He talked about snowboarding and riding motorcycles. When the closet was cleared, I opened the crawl space under the stairs.

“Ummmmm, it’s pretty dark under here. Do you have a flashlight?” I called over my shoulder.

“Yeah, hang on,” he said. “I’m crawling in behind you, ok?”

And suddenly he was on his hands and knees beside me, both of us squeezed into the dark crawl space. He looked at me, our faces close together, and we both giggled nervously. He angled his flashlight until he found the water shut off valve.

“I’m gonna reach over you to turn that off, ok?” he said. His arm brushed across me, and instead of shying away, I leaned into him. I turned over on my back, propped up on my elbows, looking up at him. We stared at each other; it was painfully obvious there was no reason for us to still be in the closet, yet it was clear neither of us wanted to move. The heat between us felt thick in the air. Slowly, we leaned towards each other, our lips colliding as our arms slipped around one another.

I felt his tongue swirl into my mouth, probing, as he tightened his grip around my back and pulled me against him. I slid one hand up his chisled forearm and behind his neck as I caught his lower lip in my teeth.

Eventually, we came up for air.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with your girlfriend,” I said.

He looked at me with what appeared to be a mixture of surprise and amusement. “It’s ok,” he said. “I can handle it.”

“Ok good because my husband’s ok with it,” I said, letting my hands wander back to his hair and pulling his mouth down to mine again. His left hand slid up my rib cage, cupping my breast, and I moaned.

“You aren’t going to get me fired, are you?” he asked. “For unprofessional behavior?”

“No,” I breathed between kisses.

“Did you know this was gonna happen,” he asked, his fingers still toying with my nipples.

“Maaaaaaybe...” I drawled. “I wasn’t sure if you would be willing. Did you know?”

“I wasn’t sure either, I couldn’t tell..”

“You weren’t sure if I thought you were sexy as fuck?” I grinned. “Yes. The answer is yes, I do think you’re sexy as fuck.”

“Let’s get out of the closet,” he said, backing away. We both crawled out of the dark, cramped space and stood up. He leaned back against the wall, pulling me up against him. Our mouths found each other again, hands roaming more freely now. He grabbed my ass and pulled me harder against his cock, rubbing his hardness against me. I rolled my hips into him and moaned, licking a trail along his neck.

“You are a hot little thing,” he muttered. His left hand gave my ass a firm squeeze. Then he smacked it, not hard, but firmly. I melted into him.

“How did you know a good spanking is the way to my heart?” I whimpered, writhing against his chest.

“Hmmmm. I didn’t do it for you,” he replied. “I did it for me.”

“Oh my god, I like that answer even more,” I said, my right hand stroking his hard cock through his pants. His hands slid under my shirt, pushing down my bra, and his fingers found my nipples. He pinched lightly, eliciting another moan from me. Then he spun me around and grabbed my hips, pulling my ass back against his cock. His fingers slid between my legs, rubbing the crotch of my yoga pants, which was soaked through with my wetness.

Pushing me ahead of him, we made our way to the guest room couch. I pushed him backwards onto it, then straddled him. He pulled my hips forward, grinding me against his cock. I grasped the hem of my shirt, whipping it off and shucking my bra quickly after. His hands and mouth descended on my now exposed nipples.

“Mmmmm. I like these nipples,” he said. “Last time I was here, you weren’t wearing a bra, and I was checking out these nipples.”

“Oh you noticed that, did you?” I teased.

As he continued to lick and nibble his way across my chest, I reached for his belt. I unbuckled it, then his pants, and released his hard cock. I wrapped my hand around it, relishing his warmth in my hand.

“Do you want to stroke me and make me cum?” he asked huskily. “Look at that. You’re already making me cum a little.”

We both looked down at the tip of his cock, which glistened with pre-cum. I slid my fingertips through the wetness and smeared it down his shaft.

“Spit on it,” he commanded. Obediently, I collected saliva in my mouth and let it drip onto his cock. I used my hand to spread it up and down his shaft, then letting my palm glide over the head. He groaned. I gripped him harder at the base and began stroking him faster, the way my husband likes to be stroked.

“Grip me lightly and slide your hand farther up and down,” he instructed. I shivered with the thrill of thinking that this guy liked different things than my husband. I loosened my grip, spit on his cock again, and began to slide my hand from tip to base, again and again and again.

“Damn. I’m gonna cum soon,” he said. He stood up, aiming his cock at my naked breasts. “Where do you want me to cum?”

I was practically panting with lust and anticipation. “Right there, across my chest. I want to see it, ok?”

I wrapped my right hand around his cock, my left snaking inside of his unbuttoned jeans to cup his balls.

“Yeah,” he groaned. “Hold my balls like that.” His breathing quickened. I tore my eyes away from his cock for a minute to watch his rock hard abs contract. But only for a minute.

“Oh god,” he grunted, his cock pulsing in my hand as he spurted cum across my nipples, some landing in my long hair.

I leaned forward and planted soft kisses on his lower belly, then laid my head against him as he stroked my hair and caught his breath. My hands slowly massaged his cum into the soft skin of my breasts.

When his post orgasmic glow had faded, he zipped up his pants and reached for his discarded shirt.

“Ummm. I hate to run but I’m pretty far behind schedule now,” he said. He ran outside and quickly finished winterizing the pipes. When he was done, he came back in and handed me a receipt. We kissed in the foyer.

“Maybe if I’m working around here I can stop by again sometime?” he suggested. I nodded.

As I shut the door behind him, I got out my phone and texted my husband:

“You better leave work early and hurry home because I need to be fucked!!!!!!!”

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