Breakfast is over... your husband has gone to work, and the children have left for school. You sit quietly at the kitchen table finishing the last cup from the coffee pot... daydreaming about nothing in particular... getting ready to start another weekday. The doorbell rings once, startling you from your morning trance. You rise slowly from the table, wondering who it might be. As you walk from the kitchen to the front door you think "what a sight I am, hair all tussled, in an old dressing gown and worn slippers... well the hell with it, whoever it is they probably don't look much better than I do."
Quickly you run your hands through your hair and down the front of your dressing gown, smoothing out the wrinkles as best you can. Standing on your tiptoes you peek through the security viewer in the door. You can see the head and shoulders of a man in a cap and work shirt. He appears to be in his mid to late thirties, with sandy blond hair peeking out from around his cap.
You open the door slightly, and peering around the edge, you say, "Yes?" You can see more of him now... a strong, athletic, tall man carrying a toolbox in his right hand. "You called about your refrigerator?" he says in a deep, but soft baritone. You remember your call to the appliance store in town yesterday, and their promise to send someone to look at your on-the-blink fridge. "Yes, I did, come in, please".
You open the door to let him in, then close it behind him. "The fridge... it doesn't work all the time, and we're expecting company this weekend". Just inside the door, he places his toolbox on the floor and turns to face you. His deep, hazel/green eyes meet yours. You stand not moving under his unblinking gaze, and a tremor of fear, or is it excitement, quivers along your spine. For what seems an eternity neither of you speaks or moves. You are riveted in place by his eyes. They seem to reach out and hold you immobile, like a fawn caught in the headlights of a speeding car.
He doesn't move, or speak. His eyes seem to see right into your soul, and you desperately want to say something to break the spell... but you can't find your voice. Something primal in the depths of your being doesn't want to move or speak, something strong and insistent, caged and yearning for the light pushes its way up through your stomach like a white fire. You stand unmoving, trembling, half-afraid.
You watch helplessly as his hands reach for you. They are strong, rough hands... a workingman's hands, but strangely graceful in their movements. Slowly, one button at a time, he unbuttons your dressing gown. You feel on the edge of panic, but the growing white fire in your belly holds you firmly, and quietly, in place. He pushes the dressing gown gently off your shoulders, and it falls silently, forgotten, to the floor.
Your knees are turning to water, and the trembling along your spine is moving in waves. Gently he places his hands on your shoulders and turns you around with your back to him. His hands move softly to your hips, and with one hand on your stomach backs you toward him, while the other lifts your teddy over your head.
His hand on your stomach seems to spread the fire upward, and for a moment, you can't catch your breath. Gently his hands move upward to caress your erect nipples. and after a moment, downward across your stomach. By now, your will to resist is vanished... you are consumed by an animal need so strong that its almost more frightening than this man, this stranger. As he holds you against his body, you can feel his nakedness against your back. Between your buttocks, you feel his erect penis pulsing gently, insistently.
He turns you around. For the first time you, see his rock hard body. The muscles of his stomach lie beneath his skin like a washboard. His belly is covered by fine blond hair, and his biceps ripple when he moves his arms. His tiny, erect nipples point their desire at you, and as your nipples touch his chest, you totter on the edge of an orgasm.
In one fluid motion, he reaches an arm beneath your buttocks and another behind your back, and lowers you to the floor. His hands begin to search every inch of your exposed body, touching, caressing, fondling. Their rough texture on your soft skin belies their gentleness. Slowly his right hand finds your clitoris and begins a gentle stroking, which sends waves of sensation coursing into your trembling belly. You close your eyes, giving yourself over completely to the sensations, feeling your mushrooming desire.
Your sensations gradually grow in intensity as the rhythm of his hand on your clitoris grows ever faster. Suddenly he stops, and you feel him move down toward your mons. He parts your thighs and with a start of disappointment, you feel him move between them. Before you can open your eyes, you feel the insistent pressure of his hand replaced by a warm, wet, raspy sensation around your vagina, which moves slowly upward toward your hot clitoris. As his wet tongue rasps gently across its inflamed head, you feel your belly explode in orgasm.
As you writhe in helpless rapture his stroking, tongue guides you from peak to peak, until you think there can't possibly be any more. But moment after moment he carries you higher until you believe you'll die. Finally, you collapse, beyond sensation, floating on a soft carpet in a warm sea. You lie exhausted, but yearning for more.
The stroking of his tongue subsides to a warm caress, which adds a gentle pink haze to your dream like state. Then, gradually you feel his tongue become more insistent, and once again, and yet again, you explode in ecstasy. Time after countless time you follow this stranger into sensations you never imagined possible, and after each, he gives you an eternity of quiet caressing to savour the journey.
Finally, his tongue abandons your clitoris, and begins a march across your belly. Nibbling, stroking, sucking, he moves up to your full breasts. You feel his warm, wet tongue gently circling your erect and sensitive nipples, first one, and then the other, as sensation shoots from their tips to the pit of your stomach. As he moves along your body, hovering just above it, you feel his penis, erect, inflamed, pressing into your thighs, and then your stomach, pulsing gently up and down. You feel his breath panting on your neck, and the extinguished flame of your desire rises again from the ashes.
You become aware of the tip of his penis pushing gently at the entrance to your vagina, as he sucks gently on the skin of your shoulders. Your hands move along his back, stroking the hard ribbons of muscle beneath his skin. You feel his body begin to thrust at your vaginal entrance, and you sense his need through the insistence of his movements. Your hands run down his back and grip his iron hard buttocks, and you pull gently, encouraging his joining with you. As he feels your hands pulling him firmly toward you, he thrusts forward, and your well-lubricated vagina engulfs his engorged penis. You both gasp with pleasure at the penetration.
His penis begins to stroke rhythmically, and with each pistoning movement, he seems to fill you completely. His body is very strong, and his desire for you is intense, but his movement is surprisingly gentle. This strong, hard man is making love to you, and the sudden realisation of it brings on an orgasmic release which is as unexpected as it is pleasurable. You rock together in a rhythm as old as time, as waves of pleasure on the physical plane, and joy on the spiritual plane wash over you both.
As your orgasm subsides into a warm glow, his thrusting grows gentler, virtually stopping at times. Still he moves in and out, almost helplessly. Each gentle thrust of his hips places his body deep inside yours. The simple pleasure of being joined rivals the intensity of the other sensations you have created together. You have no sense of time, or place, only the joining, the oneness.
You can feel beneath the tightness of his back muscles a growing need, an insistence, which is as much a part of his primal being, as the white hot fire in your belly is of yours. You can sense in him a need to climax, to finish the act, to leave part of himself inside you. You feel this need building with every pistoning of his massively erect penis, with every thrust of his hips. You can feel his buttocks clenching with increasing desperation as he nears his completion. As you feel this need, you want to join him fully. His increasingly powerful thrusts are greeted with your own ever more powerful upthrusts as you strive together to join in this most human of acts. You pound together, stripped of intellect, reduced to primitive animals, grunting, panting, sweat intermingling, senseless, inflamed, and desperately reaching for each other. In a moment, his thrusting becomes beyond his control. You open yourself totally pressing upward to meet his downward plunges until he moans, tortured, and begins to stiffen with the approaching climax.
Your own final orgasm grips you at the moment you feel his completion, and you hold him desperately with every muscle in your body. His back arches violently, and between your sweaty thighs, deep in the recesses of your clutching vagina, you feel him begin to throb. With each throb in your vagina, you hear him gasp, and you feel his hot semen pour out of you, running down the crack between your buttocks. With each thrust, it flows around his pistoning penis and gushes out. A half dozen times he fills your overflowing vagina, and each time his huge cock forces it out onto your buttocks. Its scalding wash inflames your final explosion, and you shudder together in your final release. In a last moment of conscious thought, before you collapse together you feel a completeness you've never imagined possible before.
After some time, you couldn't say how long, you feel his lips brush your cheek. Without a word, he stands up, pulls on his clothes, picks up his tools, and quietly leaves.
For a long time afterward you lie alone on your living room, floor, wondering at your lack of remorse, and pleasuring in the warm afterglow. "We never said a word," you think. And as you think about it, you realise that the silence, the anonymity, made it all right. "I'm still married, I still have the kids, I still love my husband... I'm OK." And you realise that you've gained something precious... a secret memory to place in that absolutely private place inside, never to be forgotten, or repeated.
But... dam!! The fridge is still broken.
