Tim always tells me I’m paranoid. That I overthink things. Sometimes, he’s right. But sometimes, he’s wrong. Without a doubt, this time he was wrong.

I realized Dean, the guy who’d come in to refurbish our basement floor, was watching me. A lot. Not in a stalker way, but an admiring way. He was tall and lean, with mocha-colored skin and muscles that begged to be caressed.

I thought about him more than once, while Tim and I were fucking.

I’m not one to step out, but the man made me horny.

So, I set about fulfilling a fantasy.

One day, Dean was laboring in the basement, while Tim was upstairs working on his computer. I was in the kitchen making focaccia dough, so it would have time to rise before dinner.

Just as I finished washing up, I heard Dean coming up the steps.

I didn’t let myself think; I acted. I leaned back against the counter and pushed my hand into my shorts. I slid my finger inside my pussy, which was already wet from my sudden bold decision.

I chewed my lower lip as I thrust the digit in farther, nudging my deepest recesses and stroking my G-spot. I moved my soaking wet finger to my clit, and upon touching it, I jumped a little at how sensitive it was. I stroked my finger up and down over my button until I thought I might scream.

The basement door was open, so when Dean got to the top step, he was facing me. I had my eyes nearly shut, but I was peeking in his direction between my lashes.

He froze with his eyes wide and a half-stunned smile on his face. He leaned against the door jamb as I worked my clitoris. I traced circles atop it and moved restlessly with the need to climax.

Dean took one step back. Perhaps he was thinking if I opened my eyes, I’d see him there and stop. He stood on the second to top step, peering around the edge of the doorway, nearly out of my sight.

I pushed my fingers back inside my cunt, hooked them and worked myself until I began muttering nonsense under my breath. I moved my hand and traced circles and whirls over my aroused clit with my fingertips.

As I was about to come, I shoved my fingers into my pussy and fucked myself fast and hard. I climaxed with my head tossed back, wondering about Tim and wondering about our hunky contractor. Wondering what would happen if the two collided with me, and that notion made my raging orgasm all the sweeter.

My pussy clenched and twitched around my fingers, fluttering helplessly.

I saw Dean’s shadowy figure withdraw quickly and only then did I fully open my eyes.

I couldn’t suppress the grin on my face as I turned again to wash my hands.

I went upstairs, locked the bedroom door and fucked Tim until he shouted my name, his voice sounding like a pleading prayer.

I wanted more.

Dean had asked if I wanted him to work an extra day that week. I said yes. Because I needed another hit. I now knew he was into watching — and I was into being watched.

I just needed to ramp things up a notch.

I knew if Dean had a question while he worked, he’d come looking for one of us in the house. He also was told he was free to help himself to anything in the fridge.

That afternoon, Tim laughed when I pushed him onto the sofa. I could hear a hammer banging and other noises made by Dean laboring below. The sounds made my pussy seriously wet.

I knew, judging by the time, Dean would probably come up soon for a soda or a bottle of water. 

I got on my knees between Tim’s legs and popped the button on his pants. I drew down his zipper, watching a look of surprise light up his face as he sputtered, “What the hell?”

“Shh,” I told him. “Let’s be naughty.”

“I’m all for that, but what about Dean?”

I heard the faint squeak of Dean’s worn work boots on the bottom stair in the basement. Something I was highly attuned to now, even if Tim wasn’t.

With a wicked wink, I dipped my head. I sucked the head of Tim’s cock into my mouth and drew on it hard. He gasped, his hips shooting upward and his hands tangling in my hair.

“Fuck, baby!”

I pushed my mouth down his shaft slowly. My pussy clenched around nothing as I heard the repetitive thud of Dean’s work boots stomping up the steps.

I cupped Tim’s balls and gave them a gentle squeeze. I pushed my lips to the root of his cock and withdrew slowly, sucking him until he hissed. I made sure he was distracted as I pushed my free hand between my legs.

I rode the edge of my hand, driving my clit against it and squeezing my thighs, so the sensation reverberated inside my pussy. I was dripping wet, I was horny, and I wanted Dean to see.

I used my fist on Tim, sliding it up and down his slick cock as I tongued the tip of his dick. He had his eyes screwed shut, and his hands were clenched into fists. Tim thrust up from beneath me, filling my mouth and breaching my throat. I gagged a little, and he moaned.

I heard the creak of the loose floorboard in the kitchen doorway, which meant Dean was standing in a spot where he could see us.

I felt Dean’s gaze on my back as I sucked Tim’s dick. I worked him vigorously, squeezing his shaft and tonguing the head until he was pulling my hair and gasping.

I hummed around a mouthful of dick and wiggled my ass. I plunged my fingers into my pussy and clenched my internal muscles around my thrusting digits.

I heard the creak again, and I swore I could hear Dean’s ragged breathing.

Oblivious to our audience, Tim shouted, “Fuck!” The word announced his orgasm, and I tasted the first jet of his cream as it hit my tongue. I pulled back, so our watcher could see my husband’s come splash on my face. I climaxed, too, and announced it noisily.

I heard Dean’s retreating footsteps and realized we only had about another day or so before his work would be finished. Time was fast arriving for the grand finale.

The next day I offered Dean some coffee. He was staring at me with a half-smile on his face. Like we had a secret. Because we did.

“Everything going OK?” I asked, staring at him over the rim of my mug.

“Great. I’ll be wrapping things up this afternoon.”

I nodded and told him, “If you need anything, come find us. We’ll be in my office later, around lunchtime.”

He cocked an eyebrow, smiled knowingly and replied, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

That smile sent a jolt of excitement straight to my pussy.

Around lunchtime, I went to my office, stripped naked and texted my husband: “Can you come help me for a minute? I’m in my office.”

I waited a beat and heard him padding down the hall. He gave a perfunctory knock and then pushed the door open.

Naked, I leaned against my desk with my legs crossed and my tits on full display. Presenting wasn’t a strong enough word for what I was doing.

“Whoa, what’s up this week? Is it my birthday? Am I dying?”

I laughed and replied, “No. I’m just horny. Is that OK?”

“It is,” he said. He started toward me and reached to swing the door shut behind him.

“Leave it open,” I ordered.

“You’re dirty. I like it.”

“Come fuck me.”

I saw the time and was counting on Dean to show up and “catch” us in action.

I hiked myself up on the desk and spread my legs, so Tim had a good view of my wet, pink pussy. He came toward me, unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down. They dropped around his ankles, and he pushed himself between my thighs.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and my insides quivered. I bucked against Tim as he fucked me. I hooked my ankles behind his back, encouraging him to bang me faster and harder. He had his head buried in the crook of my neck.

When I glanced over my husband’s shoulder, I saw Dean peeking in at the edge of the doorway. I clenched my pussy tight around Tim’s driving cock and felt it jerk. I clutched his shoulders and stared at Dean as my husband moaned.

Tim pushed me back, so I was reclining on my elbows. He tugged my hips closer to the edge of the desk, so he could thrust deeper into my cunt. He reached between our writhing bodies to finger my clit. I bumped up my body to meet his. I was unable to see Dean at that point. But I felt him there. I felt his energy and knew he was watching us.

That knowledge set me off. I came, shouting out my pleasure as Tim continued to pump his hips furiously.

“Turn me over, turn me over!” I said, breathing hard.

Tim pulled out of me, his cock slick with my juices. He clutched my hips and spun me swiftly. I planted my hands on the desk and pushed my ass back, so he could once again slide inside my pussy.

Tim kicked my legs a bit wider and then drove into me on a quick thrust. His fingers bit into my fleshy hips, and I drove back to take him. I heard the repeated wet slaps of our coupling and beneath that, the sound of a single creak of the floorboard where Dean still lurked.

Lurked. That word shone in my mind like neon. He was standing there just watching. Watching us fuck like animals.

I hung my head and let out a low groan.

I angled my hips, so every time Tim pushed into me, his dick hit the most sensitive places within me — until my orgasm rocked me fast and hard. I banged the desk with my hand as the orgasmic spasms hit. Even above my own noise, I heard my husband hiss as he came. His body jerked as he emptied into me.

Tim kissed the back of my shoulder and whispered, “Such a dirty girl.”

Later that day, I saw Dean for a few minutes before he left for good.

“Nice working for you, ma’am,” he said politely.

“Nice having you.”

“If you ever need a handyman again, please consider me,” he said with a smirk.

With complete honesty, I told him, “I wouldn’t dream of hiring anyone else.”