Summer in Sörmland Ch. 01 - Pt. 01

Anna-Carin had always thought the old man next door was handsome. Helmer must've been well over 80, but you could still tell how striking he must have been when he was young. And he had that look -- steady, confident, just a little bit cheeky. She'd noticed how he sometimes looked at her. Their eyes had met a few times, and each time it sent a shiver down her spine.

She and Johannes, her husband, had even joked about it. Johannes would grin and call it "big dick calm." He liked when she got turned on by other men, and he'd tease her about it -- often with a filthy undertone. It excited him -- and her, too.

Normally, she didn't fantasize about other men's cocks. But with Helmer, something had taken root. She had imagined it, more than once. Big. Thick. Longer and fatter than Johannes -- and he was already more than well-endowed.

Earlier that day, she had said hello to Helmer at the fence. And when she went to the bathroom afterward, she noticed how wet she was. Not just a little damp -- her panties were soaked all the way to the edge. She slid a finger along the slick groove and felt a full-body shiver.

She took a long shower, shaved her legs, her bikini line -- and finally, her labia. That was something she only did when she and Johannes were staying at a hotel. This time, she left just a small patch above. It felt a little naughty, like a secret preparation.

Afterwards, she moisturized slowly, deliberately. She put on a pair of black lace thong panties and a sheer bra, but when she adjusted the panties, she realized they were already damp again. She rummaged through the underwear bag until she found a pair with an open crotch -- a gift from Johannes. They'd only used them a few times -- always in hotels, always when things got wild. She didn't hesitate. Off with the thong, on with the crotchless ones. "Easy access," as Johannes liked to say.

She did her makeup a little bolder than usual. Lips, eyes. She wanted to look fuckable -- for herself, for Helmer. She pulled on a thin summer dress and glanced out the window toward the barn, where Helmer usually tinkered. She knew Ingrid and Rasmus were in town all day. It was just her and Helmer left out here.

Her heart was pounding as she crossed the gravel road, walked up the small slope, and opened the gate. The workshop door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice a little husky.

Helmer stood by the workbench. He slowly turned toward her. His eyes locked onto hers -- steady. Steady as hell.

"Hey," he said, not looking away.

"I just thought... maybe you needed help with something?" She tried to sound casual, but her voice came out thicker than she'd expected.

He turned fully toward her. Her gaze dropped immediately to his crotch. There was a definite bulge in his pants. Something primal stirred inside her. She took a step closer.

"Thought maybe there's something you need a hand with..."

He answered calmly:

"Maybe there is..."

There was something in his voice. That unshakable confidence only men with experience -- and a reputation -- carry.

She let her hand glide across the front of his pants, feeling the growing outline beneath the fabric. A solid, heavy shape.

She unbuttoned his fly. His pants dropped to the floor. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. His cock was even more magnificent than she'd imagined -- long, thick, and already half-erect. It swayed slowly, as if waiting for her.

"Can I...?"

"Go ahead," he said, his gaze burning.

She wrapped both hands around his cock. Warm. Heavy. It pulsed in her grip and thickened with every stroke. She jerked him slowly. Helmer tilted his head back and let out a deep moan.

He was so thick. She thought of the big black dildo Johannes had bought her -- the one that only came out when she was extra horny. Johannes loved watching her use it -- loved watching her fill herself to the brim. She usually had to work to get it in, but today... today she was so wet, so ready, she felt like she could take anything.

Helmer leaned back as she stroked him. The weight, the heat, the swelling hardness in her hands made her dizzy. Her pussy was throbbing. She wanted to let go -- of everything.

She thought of how Johannes used to take out the dildo when she was really turned on. He'd ask her to lie back and show him -- how she pushed it into herself, slowly, deeply -- while he jerked off beside her, spellbound.

That's when it usually happened.

That moment when everything just let go. She didn't know when it started. Just that her body, when fully aroused, would begin to gush -- to squirt. It happened almost every time she and Johannes had sex -- at least a little. But when they had time to really go for it -- in a hotel, no kids around -- then it could be a full flood across the bed or sofa. At first, she'd been surprised. Almost embarrassed. Tried to hold it back. Wipe it up quickly. But Johannes loved it. And after a while, so did she.

He called it her superpower.

It didn't always come with orgasm. Sometimes it was just the right pressure, the right angle, or fast fingers over her clit. When she wanted, she could make it happen herself -- fluttering fingers, firm pumping, just the right spot.

Sometimes she'd put on a show for him. Sit up against the headboard, spread her legs, flick her fingers until the first spurt came -- and then a full arc landing across the blanket. Johannes would stand in front of her, jerking his cock, hard and ready to take her the second she finished.

And now, with Helmer's eyes glued to her, his cock swelling even more in her hands, she knew -- it was going to happen again.

It was already building inside her.

--

Helmer grabbed her -- firm and unhesitating -- and pulled her close. She gasped, more from surprise than touch. His hands slipped under her dress and gripped her ass. She arched her back, pressing against him, feeling his hard cock against her.

Then his hand slid down between her legs. She widened her stance, inviting him in. He found the edge of her panties and pulled it aside -- that tiny strip of fabric that barely covered anything anyway. His fingers glided over her soaked, freshly shaved slit and stopped at her entrance. One finger slid in. She moaned loudly, clutching his shoulders for balance.

Every motion made a wet sound. He massaged her from the inside with confident, experienced strokes. She felt the surge beginning -- deep, unstoppable. Her body was already on the edge. Not of orgasm -- but of squirting.

She pushed into his hand. Said nothing. Didn't have to. He knew.

"Damn... you're soaked," he muttered, sliding his finger out, then back in. She felt her juices running down her thighs.

She stepped back. She wanted to show him. Give him more.

The workbench behind him was cluttered with cans, tools and rags -- but that only turned her on more. The mess made it feel dirtier, realer. She swept some things aside, yanked off her dress, and pushed her panties down. Then she looked him in the eyes, smiled slyly, and tossed her panties at him.

He caught them instinctively. They almost stuck to his hand.

She hopped up on the bench, spreading her legs wide with her feet braced on either side. Her breasts hung free beneath the bra she'd pushed up, and between her legs, she was completely open -- glistening, inviting, drenched.

Helmer stood a few feet away. His cock was now rock-hard, and he was stroking it slowly -- reverently -- as if he could barely believe what he was seeing.

Anna-Carin ran her hand across her wet pussy. Her whole body burned with desire. She took a deep breath, grabbed her breasts and pinched her nipples hard. Then she reached down again -- one finger, then two. She began to fuck herself, slowly at first, then faster. Her wetness coated her fingers, making loud, messy sounds.

She pulled them out and showed him -- slick with juice, a thread stretching between them. She held eye contact as she brought them to her mouth and sucked them clean with a moan.

Helmer stood frozen, now pumping himself faster.

Her hand returned to her clit. Quick, precise movements. She knew exactly what was coming. Her fingers fluttered, pressed, rubbed -- and the pressure inside her built like a wave.

With a low, animalistic cry, she squirted.

A jet shot out from her, arcing through the air and splashing onto the dusty concrete floor. She flicked her fingers even harder, and another wave followed -- hot, thick, running down her legs. The floor beneath the bench was suddenly wet and glistening, puddles forming from her release.

She was panting. Her body trembled. Her voice was shaky but full of raw, urgent need:

"Please... fuck me now. I need your cock..."