Al wore those sweet, well-worn jeans I love.

We were supposed to be hitting the home-improvement store, the grocery store, and the auto store. A whole string of errands to keep us busy on this brilliant, autumn Sunday.

I tried not to notice the way the faded fly hugged his cock. The way the back pockets stretched perfectly across his ass.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“We need the lumber first, so I’m going around the back of the store.”

I nodded, saying nothing.

When we pulled behind the home-improvement store where the lumber was stacked, I saw the area was deserted. Most people were bustling in and out the front door, already buying snow shovels and fire pits, ice-melting agents, and fall-hardy plants. I glanced around, searching with a faint glimmer of dread for other people. And thankfully, I found not a single one.

Al walked to a neat pile of two-by-fours. The smell of sawdust filled my head, and I kept my eyes on his ass. The flex of his thighs. The way the jeans fit him almost like a second skin but not quite. Form-fitting but not tight. Definitely not skinny jeans. Just old-school, red-tagged classics that happened to make my husband look like a Greek god.

When I followed close behind, he absentmindedly grabbed my hand. “I think we’ll need eight,” he said.

I nodded as if I knew or cared.

“And I think we also need to go inside and get some screws and some mulch and…”

His voice had become a distant murmur to me. When he bent to grab the wood, I grabbed his ass. He straightened quickly, barking laughter. “What are you doing?”

“Touching your ass,” I said with a mouth that didn’t seem to belong to me. Not exactly — I heard my own voice as if from far away.

“Well, I can feel that. But why?” He cocked an eyebrow, his bright green eyes studying me.

I stood on tiptoe and kissed him. After a moment, I pushed my tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

“What’s gotten into you?” But he sounded amused, and yes, at that point seriously turned on.

Good. It gave me the opening to brush my palm across his cock. It was starting to grow hard. “Jeans,” I babbled. “Your jeans got into me.”

“These jeans?”

“These jeans,” I said rubbing him to a full erection through his pants. His mouth hung open in surprise, and the scene would have been comical — almost — if I hadn’t been so aroused.

“I had no idea.”

“You’re sure?” Even as I asked, I drew his zipper down and slid my hand into the opening. I carefully breached his boxer briefs and took his fully hard cock into my hand.

I popped his erection through the opening and stroked him until he made that noise — that deep, gruff noise I love so much.

“I wiggled my tongue through his open fly & tickled his balls.”

“Stay still,” I said, leaning close. “Keep your eyes open. Pay attention. Watch for people.”

As he opened his mouth to ask me what I meant, I answered him without words. I dropped to my knees in the sawdust on the busted-up macadam and sucked him into my mouth.

I played my tongue along his length, careful to draw the rigid tip along the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock. I wiggled my tongue through his open fly and tickled his balls until I felt the muscles in his thigh go rigid beneath the palm of my hand.

I paused and mumbled around him. “Are you watching?”

“Watching you or watching for people?” he asked, sounding breathless.

“For people.”

“I’m trying!”

I smiled, my mouth still stuffed full of him, and resumed my oral ministrations. I tongued the top of his cock, gathering sweet pre-come from his glistening slit. I sucked him deep, kissed him, lapped at his cock like it was an ice-cream cone. I smelled the cotton and salty smell of him. The rich musk of man. The laundry detergent we washed our clothes with.

Running my fist up and down his slick shaft, I put all my need and desire into kissing his cock. Licking him over and over before sucking hard and then sucking soft. Somewhere in there, I’d wormed my hand down into my beat-up, errand-running joggers. I pushed my hand into my panties and began to stroke myself as I sucked him off.

I heard him groan. “You’re touching yourself,” he said.

“You’re not supposed to be watching me,” I said, flicking his cockhead with my tongue. “You’re supposed to be watching for people.”

“I’m trying,” he said, voice husky with lust. “But I can’t help it. You’re touching yourself.”

“I can’t help it either,” I confessed, shoving two fingers into my pussy. I went back to sucking him, my other hand traveling up and down his shaft over and over. My rhythm was getting more and more desperate as I grew closer to my own release.

Far off voices sounded, and we both froze for a moment. Al shook his head, his hands on my hair now. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were wide. “No one,” he said. “Just voices carrying.”

The brief scare had ignited me even more. I went back to him with a fresh vigor. Drawing my mouth down to his root, I sucked him hard, filling my throat with him and then skating my lips and teeth and tongue back up to the tip. Sucking that until he whimpered in the most manly way.

He was holding my head, thrusting into my willing mouth. Fucking my face. “I’m not going to last,” he said. “You’re killing me.”

I stroked myself faster, pushed my fingers into my cunt, drove my digits against my G-spot. I matched his whimper with a moan, and the vibration must have rumbled up through him because he groaned.

He drove into me then, taking control — taking my mouth and my throat as I swiped my tongue along the silken skin of his cock. I came with a muffled cry, and that did him in. I felt the hot spurt of his come on my tongue; the salty-ocean flavor flooded my mouth.

A truck approached, crunching gravel, and he looked down. “Stand up. We’re not alone anymore.”

We got a curious glance from the driver, but then the man went on his way. We hurriedly put ourselves back together, and Al pulled me toward him by the front of my hoodie, kissing the taste of him off my lips.

“So… wood, mulch, and I forget the rest… ”

“Yes. Whatever you want,” I said, patting his ass and kissing him once more. “After all, you are the man in the magic jeans.”

“My new favorite jeans,” he said and smiled.

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