When Summer Rolls Around

When summer rolls around, with its thick, warm air and endless blue skies, many college students find themselves searching for work -- something that pays the bills and keeps the brain engaged but leaves room for freedom. For Jake, a 23-year-old senior, the answer came in the form of an old push mower and a collection of suburban lawns stretching down quiet streets lined with maple trees. What started as a simple summer job in high school turned into a summer-long paycheck to help fund his education. He reflected on his experience as a journey of sweat, solitude, and self-discovery.

Jake's mornings began early. The sun wasn't yet high, but the heat was already whispering promises of the afternoon scorch. He'd toss on an old T-shirt, worn shorts, and his trusted baseball cap, the one that had faded to almost white after years of sun and sweat. He wore old crusty, stained work boots. They were hot to wear but offered protection from dirt and whirring blades. He loaded the mower in the bed of an old but serviceable pick-up truck and began his rounds. At his first stop, the mower started like an old companion, its engine humming to life with a familiar growl after a few pulls.

The first lawn of the day was usually the smallest -- Mrs. Reynolds' yard, a tidy rectangle of green bordered by blooming hydrangeas and a cherry tree that smelled faintly of spring blossoms even in July. Jake pushed the mower back and forth in methodical lines, the blades slicing through blades of grass, sending a fresh, earthy scent into the air. The rhythmic noise of the engine became a steady soundtrack, interspersed with the chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves in the light breeze, and the occasional bark from a neighborhood dog.

Mowing lawns was repetitive, but not mindless. Jake learned to read the landscape. The way the grass grew thicker and taller near the shady spots, the patches where dandelions thrived, and the stubborn tufts by the fence line that required extra attention. All caught his eye. The work was physical, demanding endurance and a certain muscle memory. He was skilled in the way to steer the mower without tearing up the turf, the posture to avoid back pain, the timing to stop and empty the catcher before it overflowed.

By mid-morning, sweat would start to soak through his shirt, his arms feeling pleasantly tired. Blades of cut grass clung to him. He'd pause for water, sipping from a bottle and wiping his brow, taking a moment to appreciate the quiet. The neighborhood was mostly still. Families went away on vacation, offices closed for the weekend. The only real activity was his own labor, with the tangible result of effort visible in freshly trimmed lawns.

A new couple had moved into the neighborhood and soon hired him to tend their lawn. Jake has a good reputation. Jake noticed the guy seemed to work a lot. Often leaving home early and returning in early evening. He guessed that he was some sort of business guy and maybe ambitious to the point of being driven. That he drove a new black BMW added to that opinion of him being an up-and-coming executive.

His wife seemed pleasant. She often worked from home. She had hired him and shown him her gardens that she added after they purchased the house. It was a lovely home. They seemed like a nice successful couple. She looked younger than the guy not that it mattered.

She was toned and attractive in a quiet way. Something about her intrigued him. Maybe it was the mysterious smile in her eyes. That day, when she led him around the property, he felt welcomed. Her attention to details surprised and pleased him.

As they spoke it almost felt like secrets whispered softly. They talked about college days, of the stress and uncertainty of life after graduation. He sensed an unspoken story, just beneath the surface. It was subtle yet magnetic, a glimmer of warmth mixed with a hint of longing. Her gaze held a delicate balance of knowing and playful mischief, inviting him to wonder what she's thinking, what she's hiding. It was not a smile of full revelation but a quiet, shimmering promise of something deeper, something only a few might discover.

Jake's job wasn't just about cutting grass; it was about presence or so he tried to convince himself. Jake often found himself in a kind of flow state, where time seemed to stretch and compress simultaneously. His thoughts drifted between the mundane -- the errands he needed to run later, the texts he'd send his friends -- and the more profound, like the feeling of independence growing with every lawn mowed, every dollar earned honestly.

There was something grounding about shaping the landscape, about leaving behind a visible mark that was neat, orderly, and cared for. He liked being self-employed and thought of himself as a budding entrepreneur. Talking with Jill that day affected him. He found himself thinking about his final year at the university and what his future might bring.

He also thought often of his girlfriend, Amy, who had returned from campus to her parent's home for the summer. This was out of state, and they settled into a long-distance relationship. They had a semi-serious romance, and both knew being apart over the summer would not restrict their social lives. He missed her smile, her toned body, and her sensual blowjobs. Thoughts of her occupied his mind for long stretches of the day.

Around early afternoon, the heat would peak, and Jake would retreat to the shade of a tree or the porch of a client's house for a brief break. Lunch was usually something simple: a sandwich, maybe some cheese and fruit, eaten on the steps as he watched neighborhood kids ride bikes or chase each other with water guns. These moments felt like small gifts. They were brief pockets of rest in a day marked by steady physical work and relentless and increasingly erotic daydreams.

Afternoons brought the bigger lawns, sprawling yards where Jake's push mower sometimes felt like a tiny boat crossing an endless green sea. He learned to pace himself, breaking the work into manageable sections, finding a rhythm that balanced speed with care. The mower's engine, sometimes sputtering and coughing, became a companion in solitude. On days when clouds drifted across the sky, the work felt easier, the sun less relentless.

The job wasn't without its challenges. The summer rain would sometimes catch him off guard, forcing him to pause and shelter under a porch until the downpour passed. Uneven ground tested his balance; hidden roots or rocks demanded caution. And the monotony could be a mental hurdle, especially on days when his mind wandered to far-off places or the stress of upcoming exams, or how he missed Amy. But even these moments taught patience and perseverance.

Through the weeks, Jake got to know the neighborhoods in a new way. He'd greet Mrs. Reynolds with a wave, exchange nods with Mr. Patel who watered his rose bushes, and sometimes chat briefly with the kids running past on skateboards. The lawns became more than just yards to mow. They were small ecosystems, little worlds where he connected to a community in subtle ways.

By evening, as the sun dipped low and soon would paint the sky in streaks of pink and orange, Jake's last task was usually the biggest yard -- the sprawling green behind a white picket fence on Maple Street. He'd finish the final pass, shut off the mower, and lean on the handle, breathing deeply and surveying his work. The freshly cut grass smelled sweeter in the cooling air, dew beginning to settle in the shadows.

This was Jill's house. He always saved it for last. Sometimes, he'd notice her working at her desk. Sometimes she was riding her stationary bike. He liked that she waved and took note of his work.

One day, he saw she had spread a towel on a chaise lounge on the patio. It was wrinkled and askew. What really caught his eye was the tangled strings and fabric of a very skimpy bikini draped over a small table by the lounger. It intrigued him. From them on his erotic daydreams drifted from Amy to Jill. He wondered if it was a sign, a hint of possibility. His cock stiffened at the thought.

That night, he made himself cum, as he often did. This time Jill rather than Amy was partner to his fantasy of wild coupling. He wondered about her. He guessed that she was in her 30s and some sort of professional. He did not ask. He knew not to pry. She certainly was fit, smart, and attractive. No doubt she was dedicated to her work, whatever it was. Best of all, she tanned nude on the deck behind her home. This captured his imagination.

After washing off the sweat and dirt, Jake would count his earnings for the day, the tangible reward of honest labor. The money wasn't huge, but it was enough to cover books, a few nights out, fuel the truck, and the freedom to take a spontaneous weekend trip. More than that, though, the job gave him a sense of pride -- proof that he could handle responsibility, that he could show up and make a difference, however small. And now, Jill added an exciting edge to the work.

Mowing lawns for the summer wasn't glamorous. It was hot, sometimes tiring, and repetitive. But it was real. It was work that grounded Jake, connecting him to the rhythms of nature and community in a way that late-night studying or campus life rarely did. It taught him the value of steady effort, the satisfaction of finishing what you start, and the simple joy of a job well done. His thoughts often turned to Jill and erotic moments. Some were sweet, some were quite dirty. He let these thoughts run. He imagined her on that chaise lounge under the warm sun.

And as July faded towards August, Jake realized that these lawns -- these strips of green he'd tamed with sweat and grit were more than just a paycheck. They were a chapter of growth, a rite of passage, a reminder that sometimes, the most ordinary work holds the most extraordinary rewards.

Jill's day begins before dawn, long before the first glow of sunlight slips through the curtains. The house is still and quiet, the gentle hum of the distant city not yet awake, but Jill is already up, preparing herself for a day that will blur the boundaries between work and home.

She usually sleeps nude and slips on one of Sean's t shirts to begin the day. She moves through the kitchen with practiced ease, the clink of the coffee maker the only sound as she fills mugs, the rich aroma awakening her senses.

Sean, her husband rises early too. He showers and dresses for the office. After a quick breakfast, he pecks her cheek and rushes out to his car in the garage. He loves the sound of its engine as he fires it up. He speeds to the office to immerse himself in the day's demands. Somedays, Jill joins him in the shower for a quick release of tension. Today was one of those days.

Her workspace, a small nook in the corner of the living room, is both her office and her refuge. The room is open from the modern kitchen. She is part of a research group at a nearby university. A simple desk holds her laptop, a notebook full of scribbled ideas, and a couple of vacation photos -- reminders of the life she cherishes beyond the glowing screen. The walls are painted a soft cream, and a potted fern reaches toward the ceiling, a touch of nature in an otherwise digital world. Jill sets her phone to silent, takes a deep breath, and logs in to start her day. She changed into a nice top and shorts knowing she'd have video conference calls. Her colleagues regard her as very professional and reliable. Her work is up to very standards.

Working from home is a challenge in its own right. Her consistency in delivering her assignments gave them trust for her to work at home after Covid when many returned to the office. There's no clear division between office hours and personal time. Emails ping in constantly; video calls can start back-to-back; urgent tasks pile up like an avalanche. Yet, Jill values this setup. It gives her the flexibility to be present for her husband, to manage household chores, and, crucially, to find moments of calm in the chaos.

She edits reports, rewriting the words of busy researchers who lack her writing ability. She never edits for content. She knows they know their stuff. She makes awkward technical reports more readable. She feels part of the team even if she is remote to the lab. She manages budgets with care and precision.

One such moment of calm comes late day, when the sunlight has shifted, bathing the room in a warm glow. Jill glances at the clock and feels the familiar pull of her stationary bike, tucked neatly beside the window. It's not a luxury; it's a necessity. The bike is her sanctuary, a place where she can reconnect with herself amid the demands of work and life. She also knows Jake's schedule and now arranges to cycle when he is there.

One time, she had been out sunbathing, stripped off her bikini, and heard him arriving. She dashed, nude, into the house just as he entered from the side gate. That event spurred her imagination. She saw him notice her towel and bikini. She saw his sly smile. She thinks she noticed a swell in his chest and imagined a bulge in his shorts. Those thoughts enflamed her imagination.

Jill chooses comfort and practicality for her exercise routine. She usually wore a fitted, moisture-wicking tank top. The soft cotton blended with performance fabric that keeps her cool and lets her skin breathe. She did not like the feel of a bra. One really wasn't needed to support her firm breasts. Paired with that top, today she would slip into a pair of stretchy, low-waisted lycra shorts in a muted charcoal tone, which offer flexibility and support during her ride. On her feet, she prefers lightweight, cushioned sneakers designed for indoor cycling, ensuring good grip on the pedals.

Sliding off her work chair, she stretched briefly. Raising arms above her head, reaching for the ceiling, then bending to touch her toes, stretched her muscles. She warmed up before stripping off her work shorts, thong, and top and changing into today's cycling outfit. That moment of nudity by the windows pleased her and she thought of spending more of her days without garments. She thought of Jake walking in early.

Today she pulls her hair into a loose ponytail, secured with a simple scrunchie, keeping her long reddish brunette hair out of her face as she pedals steadily through her workout.

Her thoughts always clear when stepping onto the bike. The seat is cool against her skin, and she adjusts the resistance dial with a practiced twist. With the first pedal stroke, the hum of the room fades slightly, replaced by the rhythmic sound of the chain spinning smoothly.

Jill's breathing deepens as her legs move steadily, each rotation a steady heartbeat. The stationary bike faces the window, and beyond the glass, the garden glows under the afternoon sun. The lawn stretches along the house and up the side. The leaves on the maple tree shimmer gently in the breeze, and birds dart from branch to branch. For these moments, the outside world becomes a quiet spectator to her solitary ride.

The bike's pedals press against her feet with a comforting resistance, challenging her but not overwhelming. Jill focuses on the sensations. The tightening of muscles in her calves, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the warmth spreading through her arms and back are familiar. Her breasts jiggle and sway freely under the soft cropped top. The thin fabric caresses her nipples. Her mons is shaved bare and presses on the saddle. Only the padded lycra cushions her hot labia that grow slick from the rhythmic pressure.

She never wears panties when cycling, just the shorts. Her thoughts begin to untangle, shifting from the stressful work email she just answered to simpler, lighter things: the plans for the weekend, a funny conversation with her husband the night before, blowing him that morning in the shower, the next book she wants to read, and to Jake. Yes, Jake would be by today.

Sweat beads form on her forehead and temples, trickling down in cool rivulets. The physical exertion feels cleansing, washing away the tension she didn't fully realize had accumulated. She pedals faster now, pushing through the burn in her legs, the burn between them. She is feeling alive in a way she rarely does when seated at a desk. Droplets trickle between her breasts. Her top dampens.

The stationary bike is more than exercise; it's a daily meditation. With each turn of the pedals, Jill sheds distractions and stress. The familiar rhythm steadies her mind, allowing her to breathe deeply and be present. The mental clarity she gains on the bike trickles back into her workday, making tasks feel less overwhelming, decisions sharper. Her toned muscles reveal her dedication to fitness. Her sexual desires seem heightened by the exertion. She feels almost addicted to the glow it always produces.

Jake arrives and sets to work. He looks especially sexy today, wearing his shorts and work boots. His cap shields his eyes. He is shirtless and his lean, toned torso is glistening with sweat. Her pussy responds. She imagines he strokes to thoughts of her and that is exciting. She certainly has thought of him at moments of passion with her husband.... and when she is alone in the shower. She's no longer resisting those thoughts. She delights in them.

Her phone buzzes gently on the nearby table. It's a notification that her husband will be delayed at the office. Jill ignores it, savoring this moment. He's often late and she accepts his ambitions to advance in his career. The bike's screen displays her speed, distance, and calories burned, small markers of progress in a day that otherwise feels intangible and scattered. She smiles to herself, knowing that this small act of self-care is a cornerstone of her balance. A balance that is now seriously challenged by the sight of Jake laboring on her lawn.

She leans forward on the bike, lowering to the drops in the handlebars. Her breasts dangle and sway. In this position, her clit is pressed to the saddle. Her hips rock with each pedal stroke. It's an erotic rhythm.

After twenty minutes, Jill slows her pace, her breath coming in steady, satisfied bursts. She presses the "cool down" button, allowing the resistance to ease and her legs to spin gently. She releases the handlebars and sits upright, stretching her back by pressing her arms upwards. Her full round breasts jut forward. She is starting to ovulate, and they have swelled. Her nipples are puffy. The garden outside deepens in color as shadows lengthen, the late afternoon sun casting a golden sheen across her. Jake glances up to see her.

Stepping off the bike, she wipes her damp hair back from her face with the back of her hand and takes a deep breath, feeling invigorated. Her muscles hum pleasantly, the ache a reminder of effort and resilience. The ache between her legs is dominating her thoughts. The flavor of Sean's semen has lingered all day from her service to him in the shower. In the brief pause before acting on her desires towards Jake, she drinks a glass of water and gazes out the window, grateful for this opportunity. She kicks of her shoes preferring to be barefoot.

Jill glances out her window. Storm clouds are brewing. It is humid. There might be a thunderstorm soon. Her eyes land on the lawn. It's perfectly manicured and the young man pushing a mower methodically across the grass captures her thoughts. He wears that faded baseball cap, no shirt, and sweat-dampened shorts. Those work boots amuse her. There is something quietly earnest about him, the way he works steadily, focused yet unhurried. She imagines his girlfriends must drip when he looks this way.

Jill finds him attractive; it began as a quiet, understated feeling rather than an overwhelming attraction. She notices the way he works. The focused determination in his movements, the slight flush on his cheeks from the heat, and the casual confidence in how he handles the work impresses her. There's something genuine and grounded about him that appeals to her: a mix of youthful energy, steady responsibility, and sexual energy.

He's like a coiled spring. She imagines his strong cock bursting with forceful spurts. Spurts inspired by her. Imagining him like that sparks a wet curiosity, a slippery appreciation that lingers between her legs long after he's finished mowing and she showers to rinse of her smoldering desire.

Her husband has been the beneficiary of this prelude to his arrival home on more than one occasion. Often that summer, she's greeted him in her sexiest lingerie and with open legs.

Jill feels a soft smile tug at her lips. Seeing him reminds her of simpler summers, of youthful independence, honest effort, and frantic animal fucking at the lake with her latest summer crush. She admires the way he takes pride in his work, even in something as ordinary as cutting grass. It has sparked the moist warmth inside her, and a gentle appreciation of small acts that might bring them together.

Jill touches her bare midriff and runs her hands up to cup her breasts under the cropped top. Her nipples are tight despite the heat. She enjoys watching the steady rhythm of his mowing. It's a grounding sight that spurs her imagination. It's reminder that sometimes, the simplest things can bring unexpected desire and connection. She longs for him to run his hands over her.

Jill feels a sudden impulse to offer a small kindness. She is unsure but must test the waters. She quickly goes to the kitchen, fills a tall glass with cold water, adding generous cubes of ice that clink softly as they settle. The condensation soon forms tiny droplets on the outside of the glass, promising relief from the heat. Her damp top clings to her. She too is sweaty from exertion. She touches the cold glass to the damp fabric over her breasts. Her nipples respond. The wet fabric clings.

Carrying the glass carefully, Jill steps onto the rear deck, the wooden boards hot beneath her bare feet. She calls out gently, "Hey! I thought you might like some water."

The mower pauses, and the young man looks up, surprise flickering across his face before softening into a grateful smile. His eyes roam over her and immediately he understands her appearance as taunting him. He had hoped for such a moment.

In the thick heat and humidity, he had felt the weight of the day pressing down on him physically and mentally. Sweat beads quickly formed on his forehead and trickled down his neck, soaking his skin. The heavy, moist air made each breath feel a little harder, as if the oxygen is thicker than usual. His muscles tired faster, the resistance of the mower feeling heavier with every push. Yet, despite the discomfort, her place spurred a quiet determination in him--a resolve to finish the job well. The heat tested his endurance, but it also sharpened his focus on her, turning the chore into an erotically charged moment.

When she had stretched on her bike, her top lifted, revealing the lower curve of her breasts. He did not see a tan line. He had come to wear his shorts commando style on days he worked on her lawn. It had been his thought to do so since finding her bikini on the chair. His sweaty cock dangled heavily beneath the faded cotton. He realized she must tan nude on that chaise lounge and now he knew for sure.

Jill noticed that after being freshly mowed, the lawn smelled incredibly vibrant and alive. There's a sharp, green aroma--a mix of freshly cut grass blades releasing their natural oils, a scent both sweet and slightly earthy. It's like the air itself is tinged with crispness, a hint of dew lingering from early morning moisture mingling with the warm afternoon sunshine. Sometimes, subtle notes of wildflowers or damp soil drift up, adding complexity to the scent. That smell feels refreshing and grounding, evoking memories of summer days, outdoor play, and erotic moments spent just breathing in nature's simple, fresh essence.

She walks over to the edge of the lawn, extending the glass toward him. "It's really hot out here -- thought you could use a break." His eyes met hers, and he accepted the water with a nod, the gratitude clear in his voice as he said, "Thank you, Jill. This means a lot." The soft grass feels good under her bare feet.

Jill watched him take a long, refreshing sip, the tension easing from his shoulders. In that brief exchange, a simple moment of connection blossomed. They were two strangers linked by a small act of care on a summer afternoon. The scent of him fueled her erotic desire. It was musky, manly, intoxicating. She wanted to taste him, his sweat, his lips, his seed. She noticed the swell in his shorts. The unmistakable bulge at the tip thrilled her.

When Jill brings him the glass of ice water, he feels a rush of gratitude and a surprising warmth beyond the physical relief. The cold water is a refreshing balm against the sticky heat, but it's her thoughtful gesture that truly lifts his spirits. He thinks of lifting her top up and off. His cock stirs in his damp shorts. He's jerked to thoughts of her.

Now she is close and boldly showing her excitement. It makes him feel confident and appreciated, not just as someone doing a job, but as a person also with undeniable desire. His shaft juts down the leg of his shorts. At that moment, the hard work feels lighter, the day a little less relentless. He's touched by the realization that her desires match, maybe exceed his.

Offering water was a small act but her shameless display of her arousal tells him there's more, much more to be enjoyed. It gives him confidence to lean closer. He savors her scent. It's some delicate perfume, faint but enticing. His nostrils flare.

Jill sees the realization in his eyes and welcoming of her initiative. She brushes blades of grass off his slick shoulder and arm. Her titties jiggle freely, and she sees he notices. Both feel the spark of first touch.

It breaks the dam holding back his curiosity. "Is you husband around? Home soon?" His voice is hoarse. He takes a sip of water. He loves that she wears such a skimpy top. Her nipples are there.... right there! Her tight shorts reveal every curve of a well-toned ass.

"He texted and said he'd be a few hours late today." She rests her hand on his arm, admiring the definition of toned muscles. She looks at him, sees his comprehension.

"You know, I like watching you work. It's a highlight of my week." Her fingers caress his arm and move to touch his hot torso.

He stammers. "I've seen you too...... cycling, working, yours is my favorite house."

She leads him along the deck to the chaise lounge that is now in the shade. Jake watches as she gracefully lifts her top up and off. She tosses it on the deck. He sees the soft tanned skin of her entire back, unmarred by tan lines, and the curve of her spine. The side glimpses of the swell of her tanned breasts thrills him. He follows her as if in a trance.

She turns to sit on the sleek chaise lounge nestled in the shade behind her house. The warm humid air bathes her skin in a golden glow as she looks up at him. She beckons him to come close. Her eyes are bright, and a wide, contented smile plays on her lips. She's topless and proudly displays her tanned tits. He is at a loss for words.

He moves close. "Wow, are you sure?" His voice is incredulous. He had imagined her, but the view still takes his breath away. The light complements her sun-kissed complexion.

"Yes, very sure."

She reaches to touch his taut abs and she unfastens the button of his shorts. He gasps and looks to check that they are indeed alone. They are. She leans forward to kiss his toned belly. He tastes salty.

A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the garden around them. Otherwise, there is silence. No one is nearby. The breeze and their breathing blend to a peaceful soundtrack. The moment and all the sensations fuel her determination to taste him. After seeing him so often, with so many thoughts, she is still stunned by her brazenness.

Thoughts of Sean still in his office evaporate and she is transported back to her summer days in college and the lucky boys who learned of her talents. Only now, she takes the lead. She unzips him and loves that he does not wear underwear. She struggles to free his stiff member from his shorts.

He gasps as her fingers grip and pull him. He feels urgency and helps by tugging down his shorts. He sees pure lust in her eyes as she looks up. He stands before her. His cock springs upright, thick and trembling. He yearns to fondle her firm breasts.

Jill is impatient and tugs his shorts down to around his ankles. She is too eager to pull off his work boots. He watches with some amazement as she strokes his hot cock. "You have a gorgeous cock....... I knew you would" she murmurs as she leans in to rub it across her face.

He is damp, hot, hard, and sweaty. That pleases her. She inhales his scent. She kisses his hot sack. His balls dangle and churn as they tighten. Her tits brush across his toned thighs.

Her warm mouth engulfs his cock. He has enjoyed blowjobs before but never like this. Never this sudden and direct. The sensations make him pulse. He watches her head begin to bob.

She feels slutty and surrenders to her long building desire to have him. Her enthusiasm is genuine. She feels the heat of him, the slickness of his cock is like creamy silk. His knob reaches the back of her mouth. The tip enters her throat.

Her head is twisting and spiraling as she adores him. He growls and moans a lusty "ohhhhhhhhhhh". She moans loudly in response as sign the pleasure is mutual.

He is close. He tightens his abdominal muscles, clenches his fists. He knows he won't last long. He is uncertain but loves every moment. Her tongue is magical. Her lips are soft and glued around his shaft. She tickles his balls. "Jill, I'm close, really close!" Her attention is almost frenzied.

Jill feels more than tastes the soft, warm, early cream that now coats her tongue. It lubricates her throat as she takes him deep. His hot balls touch her chin. She feels immense satisfaction. His words confirm what she already knows. She welcomes the explosion.

Her hands reach to his ass, and she pulls him tight. His shaft stretches her lips and pushes down her throat. She is beyond any restraint. Her desire is not changed as his volcano erupts. Hot spurts enter her throat. He thrusts his hips reflexively.

She pulls back a few inches and more, much more spurts into her mouth. She swallows the thick creamy seed. The taste is stronger, a blend of salty, musky, earthy, metallic flavors. The creamy texture is sticky. Her moans surprise him.

No girl has ever swallowed him with such pleasure. The feelings are so intense. His cock is pulsing and twitching. Yet, she keeps him in her mouth. Jill softens her motions. His cock is resting on her soft tongue. She swallows most but some cream dribbles down her chin and onto a titty. She feels it dripping.

Jake is gasping for air as his explosion literally took his breath away.

Jill feels remarkably horny. Making him cum was enough to bring her close. She has been told she is a fine cocksucker. Hell, she knows it's true. She takes pride in it and Jake's reaction is very satisfying.

She feels the edge melt from his hardness, and she lets his cock slip from her lips. She sits on the lounger and motions for him to sit beside her.

Jake's knees are wobbly as he recovers his senses. He sits besides her, drained, sweating, and deeply satisfied. He feels awkward with his shorts bunched around his ankles. That was unexpected, far better than his fantasies of her.

Jill touches his shoulder and neck, lightly tracing along him. "You know I've thought of that for some time" she admitted explaining her actions.

"Yea, I thought things too, but that was amazing. I never guessed..." His thinking drifted to nights jerking off to thoughts of her.

Jill read his mind and whispered, "I've made myself cum thinking of it." There was no need for them to whisper, yet they did. They were alone in the humid cocoon of the deck. The scent of sweat and sex heavy in the air.

"We need to keep this a secret... okay? No one can know." Jake nodded earnestly. He would keep their secret. She knew he would.

Jill felt the gob of his seed streaking along her breast. She giggled as she touched it and smeared it over her nipple. "See, you made a mess of me!"

Jake laughed. He reached to fondle her slippery tit. She tilted to offer him full access. "Next time, cum on my titties." She pursed her lips teasingly. She had given two guys blowjobs that day, not since college had she done that. She knew Jake's youthful ways would ignite her in new and exciting ways.

Jake knew there would be a next time and he pondered the implications. She was married. She was hot beyond belief. He was up for what might be ahead.

Jill saw that Jake was not one to reveal her action. She felt a pang of guilt but surmised that she could keep things under control. Maybe, she would be content giving him blowjobs and her pussy was reserved for Sean. She wondered if that was at all possible.

Jake's cock had softened and he regained his composure. A few droplets had dripped from his tip onto his balls. Jill noticed too.

Before he could react, Jill slipped from her place on the lounger, knelt beside him, and licked the last drops. He shook his head.

She looked up. "I don't think there is time to shower...... so, I want you clean." She smirked at him, delighted in his surprise. His cock started to stir.

"I can be very thorough too." Jill revealed. She glanced at the perfect lawn, his gorgeous cock and smirked at him as they both savored the intimacy.

"I think you should head out soon," she offered as the fading sunlight suggested the late hour. "He will be home soon." She sensed Jake's disappointment and resignation.

Jake nodded. Jill leaned forward to kiss the tip one more time. "Until next time." She purred.

"Next time, I do you," Jake promised as he reluctantly tugged his shorts back up.

"I'll hold you to it" Jill shared, loving the idea. Jill stayed topless as Jake pulled his mower from the grass. The landscape looked great. He smiled at Jill who reclined on the chaise lounge, posing for him. That image was unforgettable.

She rose to join him and pecked his cheek with a farewell kiss. The scent of semen was strong on her breath. She knew she needed to shower and brush her teeth.

Jake stowed his mower in his rusty pickup and drove off. Glancing back, he marveled at the events of the day. The neighborhood looked different somehow. He wondered what other secrets hid behind those fences.

Jill went inside, pulled off her shorts and tossed them in the wash with her other clothes. She set the washer at heavy duty cycle to rinse away her secret. She showered and made sure to clear away all traces. She shaved her smooth legs and all between her legs. She only needed a touchup. Her soft, smooth pussy stayed slick.

She brushed her teeth and gargled with mouthwash. She felt fresh, clean, horny, and dirty all at the same time. It was a heady blend of contradictions. She liked the feeling.

She went to the bedroom and slipped on a crotchless white lace g-string panty and matching short robe. She tied it loosely and slipped on a pair of sexy heels. She went back to the kitchen.

She stood by the doorway of their cozy home, her face lighting up with a bright, genuine smile as she hears the familiar sound of her husband's car pulling into the garage. She's dressed more provocatively than usual--her hair casually pulled back, radiating the effortless heat of someone who wants to fuck. She has been wet all day. Her time with Jake literally made her drip.

The BMW door clicked softly as Sean opened it. He stepped out, shedding the last remnants of the day like a heavy coat. His dress shoes made a faint tap on the garage floor as he crossed to the door into the kitchen, each step echoing the weariness that had settled into his bones over the past twelve hours. The hum of the drive from the city faded behind him, replaced by the quiet solace of his suburban home.

He paused for a moment, loosening his tie and running a hand through his thick dark hair, now slightly tousled from the day's tension. The tailored navy suit he wore still held the crispness of the morning, but the creases along his sleeves and trousers told a story of meetings, presentations, and the constant push to meet deadlines. His jacket hung limp over his arm. His shirt, once bright white, now bore faint sweat marks under the arms, evidence of the stressful afternoon rush.

Sean recalled Jill's wet blowjob as he showered that morning. A subtle but satisfying swell tingled along his member. He loved release of tension that she gave so eagerly. For a moment, he stood still, letting the silence wash over him, savoring the absence of buzzing notifications and urgent pings. Savoring the potential of the night ahead, he opened the door.

He entered the kitchen. The warm glow illuminated the neat countertops and the small stack of unopened mail on the table. He closes his eyes briefly, feeling the pulse in his temples slow. The day had been long -- negotiations that stretched into late afternoon, a surprise client visit that demanded extra hours, and the relentless pace of the corporate world that never seemed to pause.

As he steps inside, she takes a step forward, eyes sparkling with horny desire, reaching to untie her robe that falls open. She reaches out to gently touch his arm offering a wet kiss. The soft glow of the setting sun filters through the windows, casting a golden hue over the scene, making the moment feel intimate. "Baby, since sucking your cock this morning, I've been wet for more."

Sean shakes his head, appreciating how his wife welcomes him. Her hair, face, open robe, proud bare breasts, taut abs, and smooth pussy framed in white lace glistened in the warm light. "Sorry I was late. Reports were due." He tosses his jacket on the counter. He is fully hard.

She lets her robe slither to the floor. She burns with a heightened desire as she moves to lean forward on the back of a couch in the living room. She wiggles and sways her hips obscenely.

Sean sees the wet slick lips revealed by her crotchless panty. Her ass is tight and round, her stance invites a hard pounding. He loves when she is this way. He unzips and frees his member. He moves close as she awaits him. He undoes his tie and opens his shirt.

He spanks her ass. Jill flinches at the sting. She looks back. "Yea...... like that, you know I love it hard." He smacks again, this time holding his hand on her cheek.

She is spread so he sees her tight hole under the thin lace string between her cheeks. He momentarily wishes he had lube to take her ass. Her slick labia are open and glistening. He drives his cock deep in his very willing wife.

Jill is leaning over the cushions in a submissive pose that she knows excites him. Her pussy is slick and hot as it clenches his shaft. He draws almost out, loving the view of her labia enveloping him.

He pauses. He can feel her spasms around the knob. She must be horny as fuck he muses and assumes she is ovulating. He loves that she gets like this as if on schedule.

She reaches back to spread her taut cheeks. He regards that as an invitation, a dirty request to tease her tight hole. He holds a cheek and presses a thumb to her anus. Her moan confirms his notion. He circles the delicate rim.

Her urge to submit, to make amends, is heightening her desire. But more than that, the anticipation of what he might want touches some deep desire to be taken to the heights of pleasure. Her pleasure.

She rocks her hips. He plunges deep again. His thumb presses against the resistance of her tight sphincter. His lubes it by running his thumb along her slick slit. He returns and presses in knuckle deep.

Jill feels her orgasm building from some deep reservoir of passion. The day has been a steady climb to this. Her pussy and ass are burning wetly. She drips as she approaches climax.

He loves her kinkiness. He snarls, "you are a dirty girl, aren't you?" He holds her hands together at the small of her back.

"Yea, I am" she replies as she has so many times when he taunts her this way. She clears her throat and detects the unmistakable hint of Jake's semen. Today, she was especially bad. A moan escapes her lips.

Sean wraps his tie around her wrists and restrains her arms. This is more symbolic than anything and both play along. But Jill feels a pang of guilt. She wants to be punished for unspoken acts. Acts she knows she will repeat.

Tied this way, Jill is pounded hard to an explosive and quivering climax. Her body shakes convulsively. She is glistening wet with sweat. His cock and thumb press the thin tissue between them. Her clit is throbbing as waves of pleasure rush from between her legs. Her asshole puckers and releases.

Sean cannot hold back and explodes at the sight of his gorgeous wife. His seed floods her.

She feels the warm flow, the spreading slickness. After a few more thrusts, he withdraws, spent, drained, breathless.

Jill remains in place, still tied. Her head is down. Her breathing is loud, panting for air.

Sean sees gobs of his seed bubbling like a wet frothy broth at his wife's cunt. He unties her.

She remains in place. Thoughts race through her head and she is surprisingly at peace with the day's events. That calm acceptance is a relief. She could maybe juggle the complexities that she turned loose. A warm trickle of seed flows from her. She focuses on the feeling of being taken so thoroughly.

He sits on the arm of the couch. She remains draped across it. He gently caresses her bare ass and plays with her slippery, creamy labia.

She moans. "Feel what you do to me. I needed that."

He gathers some of his seed and smears it around her anus. She arches her back. She loves the dirtiness of that. He could have her ass if he wanted, she thought. He knew it too.

"Let's clean up. We can head out for dinner. I'm famished." He felt exhaustion overtaking him. The day had been long. Two orgasms drained his energy. Tomorrow would be another tough day. The weekend promised to be very erotic.

Jill rolled to her feet. Her movement was graceful, like a dancer. She stood, smiling, dripping, content. "Just a quick shower and I'm ready. Casual place? "

"Yea, new Mexican place I hear they have authentic food..... great fish tacos."

Soon, they were enjoying margaritas and tacos. Both content that the summer would roll on.