I was expecting Joel to show up that day.

He came every Tuesday to cut my front and back lawns unless the weather was bad. When I heard the riding mower fire up, I poured a glass of iced tea for him. He was an older man, early sixties, and I worried about him out there in the heat sometimes.

I opened the front door to see not Joel, but rather a strapping young man with light blond hair and very wide shoulders. Aviator sunglasses covered his eyes, giving him a wicked look, and he was shirtless — which didn’t hurt.

He saw me standing there and gave me a wave. I waved back, a bit perplexed, but suddenly very turned-on. He was probably in his mid-twenties. I’m in my mid-forties, but was I really going to worry about that?

I smoothed my shorts down over my ass, stood up straight, and walked toward him when he gave me a beckoning gesture.

He cut the motor and pushed his glasses up. His eyes were as green as fresh grass.

“You’re not Joel,” I said with a laugh. Best to be self-deprecating. Drooling on him would probably be frowned upon.

He stuck out his hand and I took it, just holding it, not really shaking. The sensation of his warm skin touching mine went straight to my pussy. I shivered despite the heat.

“I’m Trevor. His nephew. He wasn’t feeling well and since we’re in the same business, I figured I’d help him out.”

“That’s so nice,” I said. My eyes kept scanning his chest, his biceps, his shoulders, and lower. He had a true six-pack stomach and I felt the compulsion to run my fingers along it to see if his abs were as hard as they looked.

I cleared my throat when he finally took his hand from mine. “This was for him, but now I guess it’s for you. It’s only lightly sweetened, though.”

I caught him staring at my cleavage and then his gaze slid lower to my legs. I’m no braggart, but I have spectacular legs.

“I’d love it, but it’s a bumpy ride. Can I, maybe, come up and get it when I’m done?” He  looked me right in the eye and smiled.

My brain went a little wonky for a second before I remembered to say, “Sure.”

“Give me about twenty-five minutes. Then I’ll come.”

That’s what he said. “I’ll come.” It took everything in me not to giggle or just tell him to forget the lawn, come inside where it’s cool, and fuck me. Instead, I nodded and went inside. I could feel him watching my ass as I walked.

I watched him out the window as he worked. I slid my hand down into my shorts and rubbed my finger along the gusset of my panties, sliding the fabric against my clit, torturing myself while I waited.

He looked up at the window at one point. I had no idea if he could see me, but I pushed my fingers down into my panties and slid two fingers inside my cunt. I played my fingertips along my G-spot, pressing it in a way that would bring me right to the brink of orgasm but not tip me over.

When he rang the bell, I was hanging there, right on the razor’s edge of coming. I opened the door and extended the ice tea to him. He snagged it, downed it in three big gulps, and stepped all the way in the house. He pushed the door shut with his boot, took off his work gloves to reveal wonderful big hands, and then grabbed the hem of my tank. He whipped it over my head and tossed it aside. I was braless. He gave a mighty groan and palmed one of my tits while bending toward the other. He sucked my nipple into his mouth, and electricity shot through me.

I grabbed the back of his head and sighed. Hands on my wrists, he walked me back and gave me a gentle nudge until I went down, bouncing on the sofa cushion. He stood before me and pulled off his work boots, his jeans, and his boxer briefs. He was already shirtless, so that was a plus. His cock was thick, long, and hard — that was a big plus.

I took it in my hand eagerly, stroking his warm, hard flesh. I played my thumb along the weeping tip and leaned forward to suck him into my mouth. I managed to get my mouth about halfway down his shaft. That was as far as I could go. I sucked him for a few minutes, working him with my hand. He grunted, pulled free of my mouth, and got down on his knees on the floor between my spread thighs.

“Hips,” he growled.

I raised them and he tugged my shorts and panties down. His fingers delved into me and then he pulled them free to paint my wetness over my aching clit. Every time he thrusted a finger back inside me, my pussy clenched. I was a mess. A hot, horny, needy mess.

“You want that cock in you?” he asked softly, leaning over to plant a warm, wet kiss on my mouth. Then he went lower on my throat, then lower still on my breast. A lick, a suck, a nip to my nipple, and I was squirming.

“Yes, fuck yes,” I whispered, but even as I said it, I pushed his head lower. Might as well continue the kissing trail.

He chuckled and went where I wanted him to go.

I arched up the moment his mouth hit my pussy. He slid it over my clit and dragged it across my slit. He kissed my inner thighs to make me squirm. I pulled his hair lightly and said, “Eat me.”

He growled again. He liked that I told him what to do.

He went back to licking me — softly at first, then as I got closer his rhythm grew faster and his tongue dragged across me harder. When I was practically shaking apart on the sofa, he pushed a thick finger inside me and I came. I pushed my pussy against his open mouth until every last bit of my pleasure had passed.

He sat back on his haunches, took my ankles in his big hands, and tugged me forward. He got up on his knees and dragged the tip of his dick along my soaking-wet pussy. He teased me some, barely pushing into me — just the tip — and then backing off.

“Please,” I said, knowing that would be the magic word. It’s a simple word that often elicits a jolt of excitement and arousal.

I wasn’t wrong.

He shook his head, made a gruff sound, and plunged into me hard. I pulled my thighs up so he could see each thrust every time his cock disappeared inside me. He put his big hands on my knees and rocked into me.

I moved up as much as I could manage. Every time he went deep, pleasure unfurled inside me. I clenched my pussy around him, let it go, clenched it again, and released. It felt so good. Every time I did it, his face grew serious as if he were concentrating on holding on and controlling himself.

I brushed my fingers over my pussy lips while he watched, spreading my wetness on my clit. I pinched it softly, smacked it a few times, then stroked it in long, lazy strokes. He was mesmerized, watching my fingers work my pussy as he fucked me.

His grip on my knees tightened as he spread my legs just a little bit more. His trim hips pistoned like a well-oiled machine as he moved in and out of me. He hit a delicious spot deep inside me and I felt myself get closer to coming again. I wanted another. Hell, I wanted a few more. He seemed to have the stamina and I was ready, willing, and able.

I stroked myself faster, my fingers flying in circles and figure eights. He pushed my hand out of the way briefly and gave my pussy a few smacks. The thudding of his fingers on my clit trembled through me.

I yelped at how good it felt, my pussy spasming around his cock from the sensations.

“Again,” I said, looking him in the eye.

He grunted and smacked me again — one-two-three in rapid succession.

It was my turn to push his hand aside. I rubbed my now-throbbing clit as his strong hands held my legs steady.

His cock brushed the perfect place, and that was it. I came. My cunt gripped him with every wave of my orgasm. I felt how hot and wet I was.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He pulled out of me, tugged me forward, kissed me, then flipped me onto my belly like I weighed nothing at all.

I rested my head on the sofa cushion as he posed me the way he wanted. It was a turn-on the way he manhandled and moved me.

When I was on my knees, spread to his liking, my upper body cradled by my plush sofa, he drove his thick cock back inside me with a grunt.

“That okay?” he asked.

I nodded. He gave my ass a swat to make it jiggle. I laughed.

“Use your words,” he said.

“Yes, it’s okay,” I said. “It’s better than okay. It’s fucking perfect.”

He hummed softly and I smiled.

“Fuck me,” I said, “Harder. I want you to fill me up.”

I heard him inhale sharply and then the bliss of it — his huge, warm hands clamping down on my hips as he fucked me. He pulled me toward him even as he surged forward to drive deep inside me.

I let go — not trying to come, simply surrendering to the push and pull of our fucking. His fingers tightened against the meat of my hips, his hot breath rained down on my back.

“I’m going to come,” he said.

His long dick was kissing a tender place inside me.

“Not yet,” I whispered suddenly.

I counted. Seven strokes and I was coming, my fingers clutching the sofa.

He came then, going stiff against me as he did.

He dropped a kiss between my shoulder, then laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“Would it be rude to ask for more tea?”

“I think that can be arranged.”