Working for Margot

My boss was a bitch.

As a construction project manager, Margot made hard calls daily to keep things on time and within budget. And she was good at her job. If you pulled your weight, she'd leave you alone. You weren't going to get a lot of pats on the back, but we were all big boys out there and all we really wanted was a paycheck at the end of the week.

But fuck something up and she'd drop a ton of bricks on your head. I'd seen her fire guys on the spot for knocking us off schedule. Once, she grabbed a piece of rebar and chased a dumbass off the job site. He thought it was a good idea to get up in her face to intimidate her.

Her presence on the job site, though, was a serious distraction. With raven-black hair, big tits, a firm ass, and long legs, she was gorgeous. Not skinny-model gorgeous, but 1940s pinup gorgeous--like something you would see painted on the nose of a B-17 Flying Fortress.

She knew the effect that she had on the crew, but she never used her looks or body as a weapon. If anything, she dressed down at work. It made no difference. We ogled her every move.

Still, the journeymen who worked for her respected her skills in a tough role not often filled by a woman.

New guys, especially the cocky college kids working a summer job, sometimes tried to make moves on her. It was always good for a laugh when one of the old hands convinced a kid that she had a thing for young meat. Watching her shoot them down in her trademark blunt and merciless way was priceless.

I'd daydreamed about her on hot summer days while eating my baloney sandwich in the shade of my baby-shit-brown Chevy truck. Imagining her body beneath that lime-green safety vest was a nice distraction for a tired working man.

Fantasizing about her walking toward me, hips swaying as if she were on a fashion-show runway, always brought a smile to my face. Tossing her hard hat aside and shaking out her long, wavy black hair in slow motion made my heart skip a beat.

Shrugging off her safety vest, she'd let it hang off her fingertips for a moment before casually dropping it to the ground.

I imagined her wearing a thin white cotton T-shirt, low-cut enough to reveal her substantial cleavage. She grabbed a conveniently placed hose and drenched the front of it, cooling herself off in the sweltering heat. The ice-cold water plastered the translucent fabric to her tits and stiffened her nipples, as if to tear through her shirt.

I know it's a safety violation, but it's my daydream, so I gave her tight denim cutoffs short enough to be indecent. She turned to pick up a hammer, setting her feet wide but keeping her long legs straight. Bending over revealed black thong panties nestled deep into her butt crack.

Maybe it's me, but her steel-toed Red Wing construction boots completed the look. If I could afford a therapist, I'd ask about the boots.

But that's as far as it went. Maybe I didn't have a good enough imagination. Maybe, even in my fantasies, I wasn't willing to think of her as a slut. I daydreamed about her body, but she was still my boss, and I respected that.

Frankly, we were all so intimidated by Margot that we didn't know anything about her personal life. Was she married? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? We tried to get a handle on her age. By consensus, the guys in the crew thought she was about thirty-five. None of us were willing to bring it up with her.

When my half-hour ended, I'd toss my lunch box onto the bench seat of my old truck and go back to work.

Drowning My Sorrows

Charlie was my best friend. Cara was his girlfriend. I was the pathetic third wheel who spent his time wishing she were with me.

When his drinking became more important than her, she asked for my help getting the last of her stuff out of his apartment. My desperation to get out of the friend zone with her was reason enough to betray Charlie. Cara and I had sex in his bedroom while he lay passed out drunk in the living room.

Getting over that encounter with Cara was tearing me up. It felt so right to make love with her, but all she wanted was a sexual release. Right place, right time... nothing more. She didn't want to see me again. I reminded her of Charlie.

That's why I was drinking alone. I was in an upscale hotel bar because the health department shut down my local watering hole for a rodent infestation. I needed a new place to grab a few drinks to ease into the weekend. A friend told me this place had a great happy hour and a fancy taco bar with shrimp and stuff. I hadn't tried the taco bar yet.

At my usual haunt, I'd wear the same T-shirt and dirty jeans that I'd worn at work. For this place I took a shower and dressed up. I wore a dark gray Henley and a pair of tight bootcut Levi's. I pulled out my polished black cowboy boots to complete the look. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I fired off some finger guns at my tanned, muscular reflection. Maybe I was depressed and lonely, but I looked good.

The place was getting crowded. It was a favorite of the young professionals downtown. Most arrived in small groups. Then there was me, the loner at the bar.

The subtle glances and outright stares that I got from several of the women should have cheered me up, but today I wasn't feeling it. I politely declined conversations with a few attractive ladies, telling them I was waiting for someone. Soon enough the message got out, and I was grateful to be left alone.

When someone sat on the barstool next to me, I ignored her. A discreet hand touched my forearm. Yet another woman trying to get my attention. I turned, ready to make my usual excuse.

"Margot?" I was surprised to see my boss out in the real world, but the sexy red cocktail dress and matching high heels shocked me. She always wore her black hair up under her hard hat at work. Here it spilled elegantly over her shoulders. Was she was meeting someone? With that display of cleavage, she could also be looking to pick someone up.

"Why are you here, Martyn?" Her dark eyes flared. "Did you follow me?"

"I'm just blowing off some steam after work. Maybe get a taco."

She looked me over. "I've never seen you here before."

"This is your regular happy hour bar?"

"None of your business."

"I had no idea you were here," I said. "I'm drowning my sorrows over being flat-out rejected by the love of my life. The last person I wanted to see was you."

Offended, she snapped, "Bullshit. I know how the crew watches me. Especially you."

"Why especially me?"

"Because you think you might have a chance to fuck me."

I drew back. I knew no such thing.

"Look at you," she said. "You're like a shy cowboy."

"I'm not that shy," I said. "I talk to my share of women."

"Talk? Is that all?"

"No, of course not. But I'm not on the hunt all the time. I like to talk with a woman who interests me, to develop a connection before I fuck her senseless."

She laughed, maybe a little too loudly. "Pretty confident, Cowboy." She paused. "I'll talk to you while I'm waiting."

"Date?" I asked.

"Again, none of your business."

"I want to know how much effort I should put into this conversation."

"Dazzle me with your sparkling wit."

"Then don't be surprised if I charm your panties off. It won't be the first time a woman ditched her date and ended up in bed with me."

Yeah, it would be.

She laughed again, leaning into me and pressing her breasts into my arm. She was way more relaxed and talkative than she'd ever been on the job site. At work she was notoriously spare with her words.

"Maybe you're not a shy cowboy. Maybe you just don't fuck where you work."

"I'd be lying if I said I'd never had thoughts about some of the guys in the crew." We weren't really friends. Maybe it was too early to make gay jokes.

"Any naughty thoughts about me?" she asked, trailing a finger down my biceps. I'd say she sounded a little coy if I didn't know better.

This time I laughed. "Believe it or not, I've never thought about fucking you. Mostly I imagined what you would look like in a wet T-shirt and denim cutoffs... wearing your Red Wings."

"My work boots?"

I nodded sheepishly.

"You may want to talk to a therapist about that."

We engaged in some witty banter for the next hour, in which I bared my soul but learned nothing personal about Margot. I told her I fucked my best friend's ex-girlfriend while he slept only a room away. I thought I was in love. When I told her Cara said, "Thanks, but no thanks," I knew I was talking too much.

"So how was it?" she asked, leaning on me harder, making it impossible not to look at her bulging tits.

"What?"

"Fucking Cara."

"That's a little personal." I'd already told her it happened, so what did the details matter? She'd never meet Charlie or Cara.

"She was your secret love, Martyn. Did the fantasy live up to the reality?"

"I never fantasized about getting with her either. I don't really think that way. I kind of put her up on a pedestal, like she was too good for me."

"So, she was a big letdown?"

"Worse. She was amazing. The best sex I've ever had."

"I need the details, Martyn. We're too deep into the story to hold back now."

Charmed by her earnest interest, I gave her a complete play-by-play. The kinky, graphic details I shared about licking and tongue-fucking Cara's asshole raised her eyebrows.

"Did she give your asshole a good lick and tongue-fuck?"

"No," I said, recoiling. "I would never ask her, or anyone, to put their tongue in my sweaty, hairy butthole. Why would any woman want to do that?"

"Ask nicely and maybe we'll see." Suddenly our playful discussion had intriguing possibilities. I was already semihard just being next to her. Now my cock was getting stiff, struggling to find room to grow in my tight pants.

"A lot of people think it's weird, but I know the charge I get out of licking a beautiful woman's ass. What's in it for the woman to lick mine?" My chest tightened just thinking about it, remembering Cara's sweet bottom.

Margot locked eyes with me and, without looking down, placed her hand on my upper thigh, right where my boner snaked down my leg.

"A fit, handsome young man with tight buns is an irresistible magnet to an appreciative woman. If you're willing to suck his balls, it's only another inch to the grand prize." Pausing, she looked up as if recalling a special memory. "Oh yeah, Cowboy. I'm turned on just thinking about it."

"And the pubes around the back door aren't a turn-off?"

"If I told you that I was all natural from the front door to the rear exit, would that turn you off?"

A shiver of excitement rolled through me. Heat rose in my cheeks. Her glistening pubic hair, damp and matted by a mixture of saliva, sweat, and her pussy juice...

"That's what I thought." She delighted in watching my face get redder.

Champagne and Grapes

She took my hand and led me out of the bar. We were going to have sex somewhere. I couldn't take her back to my place. It was tiny, messy, and not particularly romantic. In fact, the opposite.

"Do you want to go back to your place?" I asked. I got no response, as if I hadn't said anything. If I wasn't going to get basic personal details from her, there was zero chance I would find out where she lived.

"Go get us a room," she said.

I checked room rates on my phone, gulping at even the cheapest. I was ashamed to admit it, but a room here was nearly a month's rent. "You know how much I make. What makes you think I can afford a room at this hotel?"

"Right. Use a credit card?"

I'm no bum, and I'm damn skilled at carpentry and finish work, so I'm never unemployed. But that doesn't mean I have fancy hotel money. I've also had my problems with credit cards in the past. Took a long time to dig out of that hole.

"Nope. Maybe you should pay me more."

"Not likely. You get the going rate like everyone else," she said. "Your bonus is getting to fuck me senseless. And that is a limited-time offer."

"Stay here," she continued. She went to the desk and talked to the desk clerk. The general manager came out. They embraced and exchanged a few words. She laughed loudly at something he said. He beamed at getting her to laugh. Her hand reached out to touch his arm, and their expressions got more serious. Leaning in for some privacy, she gestured to help explain what she wanted. He nodded, kissed her hand, and instructed the desk clerk about something.

She returned, still smiling. "He'll take care of us."

It worked. I don't know why it worked, but ten minutes later we opened the door to a fancy suite on the top floor. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket next to two fluted glasses, but most of the ice had melted. Next to the bucket was a vase with a bouquet of pink tulips.

Did every room come with tulips and champagne, or just the expensive suites? I would have bet that everyone else in this hotel expected flowers and champagne. That wasn't what you got at a Motel 6.

I started to ask what was going on. My boner intervened, and it ordered me to stop asking her stupid questions. Between her and my dick, I had two bosses in the room. I was way down in the chain of command.

Margot stepped into the bathroom and left me to sit nervously on the bed. A few minutes later the shower ran. Should I take another one? Couldn't hurt, especially if tonight went the way my boner wanted. I got another excited chill just thinking about it.

Someone knocked on the door. "Room service."

As I opened the door, I was ready to tell them that we hadn't ordered anything. Before I could say anything, a petite young woman rolled her cart into the room and announced, "A charcuterie board of cheese, crackers, and fruit to keep your energy up. Courtesy of the General Manager."

I stood there dumbfounded. She was quick and efficient in arranging the wooden platter of food on the desk. She popped the cork on the champagne and poured us two tall flutes.

I fumbled pulling out my wallet for a tip, but she waved me off. "No need, sir. It's all taken care of." With that, she rolled the cart out. As she turned to close the door, she gave me a knowing smile and a quick wink. "Enjoy your evening, sir."

More questions. What kind of trouble was coming my way? I popped a couple of grapes into my mouth and chewed slowly. What was really going on here?

In about ten minutes Margot came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. She was breathtaking. Where Cara was athletic and muscular, Margot was all big tits, soft curves, and long legs. Even without her high heels, she was only a few inches shorter than me. My cock stiffened at the thought of what was waiting for me behind that towel.

"You're up, Cowboy." She gestured toward the bathroom, not really giving me a choice.

I scrubbed myself top to bottom, not wanting to do anything to turn her off. A cloud of steam engulfed me as I stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Margot reclined seductively against a pile of pillows on the bed. The pose reminded me of the cover of an old-fashioned pulp detective magazine. What would I have done if she had been aiming a snub-nosed.22-caliber revolver at my heart.

Long, loosely curled black hair framed her oval face. Deep brown eyes peered out, as if defying me to resist her. Full lips, tinted a dark maroon, hinted at Mediterranean ancestry. Italian or Spanish, maybe. Why ask? She'd never tell me.

She wore the kind of expensive lingerie I'd only ever seen in the classy section of the Victoria's Secret website. As much as she dressed down at work, she knew how to dress up in her personal life. How much does a project manager make? Again, why ask? She'd never tell me.

Her soft breasts overflowed a brilliant red push-up bra. The elaborate lacework did little to hide the shading of her large, dark nipples. Her smooth belly had a slight soft bulge below her navel.

High-waisted red thong panties covered most of a jungle of thick, black pubes. About an inch of her bush peeked above the lacy triangle of fabric in the front. An unshaven trail of curling hair framed the narrow thong fabric between her legs.

Posed as she was, Margot was like a model of feminine perfection from a distant era. That era needed to make a comeback.

She looked me up and down, as if I were livestock she might buy for the right price. I considered it a testament to my maturity that I didn't say "Moo."

Tapping a finger against her pursed lips, she scanned my chest, then my belly. That earned a slight nod of approval. I had a hint of abs, nothing too showy. Doing crunches competed with drinking beer for control of my waistline.

Her raised eyebrow was the look a boss gives you in an interview while deciding if you're the right man for the job. My confidence that I was the right man plummeted with every passing moment.

Maybe I should have given her the same appraisal but watching her look me over made me gulp. My cock hardened at the leering attention, tenting the towel around my waist.

"Lose the towel, Cowboy," she said. I let it drop. It caught on my erection and hung there in a delicate balance. I did a little shimmy with my hips to shake it off. The way my cock sprang back and bounced around made her smile.

I did a bit of manscaping around the edges, but the rest of my pubes were a tangled mess. My boner thrust out from the tousled reddish-brown hair like a rocket leaving the launch pad. Margot licked slowly along her bottom lip, a show of interest more lascivious than any words could have said.

I walked over to the desk and took a glass of champagne. While I stood there, she got off the bed and walked up to press in close behind me. Her plump breasts pushed into my back and her body heat countered the chill from the air conditioner.

One hand slid around to my abdomen and up across my pecs. She teased at the hair on my chest and caressed my sensitive nipples. I stood motionless. Usually, I wrapped my arms around a woman to start feeling her up. Just like at work, she was in charge.

The lazy rhythm of her fingers winding and unwinding my chest hair calmed me. Her hot breath on my neck had the pleasant scent of sweet champagne. I closed my eyes and savored her tender kisses along the nape of my neck.

After a few moments, she raked her fingernails down my abdomen. I laid my hand over hers, stopping her inches from my pulsing erection.

"What's wrong, Cowboy?"

"Seems weird to say this, but I'm not in a hurry."

"How chivalrous of you. Is that some sort of cowboy code? How to treat a proper lady?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I want to figure out what's going on here."

She took a couple of steps back and smirked at me as I turned around. Already I missed the warmth of her body pressed against me. "You can try, but I doubt you're a good enough detective to figure me out."

"You're probably right. But it's crazy that I'm the one here with you, in this fancy suite, buck naked. What idiot wouldn't want a special night with you?"

She closed her eyes. Her lips parted just enough for a thin breath, as if she were trying to say something revealing. This brief peek behind her façade lasted a few seconds before the same smirk from before returned.

"Should we stop and have a little girl talk, Cowboy?"

"I'm not prying. I don't expect any names or explanations... but look at you. A man on his deathbed would get up and crawl across a mile of glass to be with you."

"Your compliments aren't as romantic as I think you think they are."

"I'm going to be honest with you. If this evening ended right now, it would still rank as one of the best nights of my life. Talking with you, laughing, feeling your hands explore my body... you're not at all who I thought you were--"

Her expression darkened, a scowl I recognized from the job site.

"I don't care who you thought I was!"

In an instant, the closeness between us became a yawning chasm. I wanted her to understand what being with her meant to me, but instead I touched a raw nerve. How had I fucked this up so fast?

I didn't know what to do.

So I picked up a grape and tossed it at her. Quick as a viper, she snapped it out of the air and chewed it up with exaggerated pantomime. With wide-eyed astonishment I stood there, mouth hanging open.

Then she snorted so hard that juice leaked from the corner of her mouth. Her laugh closed the gap between us as quickly as it had appeared. In a moment we were both giggling at the absurdity of a naked man dabbing grape juice from a laughing woman in her fancy underwear.

"Enough talk, Cowboy."

"You're the boss."

I pulled her toward me and gazed deeply into those dark eyes. Her arms wrapped around my back in a strong, controlling embrace. We held a long, passionate kiss. She tasted honey-sweet. The kiss lingered while my hands slowly explored her curves.

The faint, earthy tea tree scent didn't fit my picture of her as the boss. Her soft and smooth skin, only scarred around her knuckles, told the story of her other life as a woman who came up through the ranks working construction. My hard-ass boss was also a sensuous woman. The more I learned about her, the less I understood.

Funny that she didn't ask to dim the lights. I'm okay with my physique, but I'm still a little uncomfortable making love with the lights on. She had every reason to be confident.

She broke away from the kiss to catch her breath. Her breasts mashed against my chest, almost bulging out of the bra. She leaned in and we continued kissing. Our hands began to roam more freely. Everything outside this moment faded away. I tasted her lips, caressed her body, and breathed in her delicate scent.

I brought my hand to her neck, guiding her chin up so that I could kiss her throat and take an earlobe between my lips. My other hand worked the clasp of her bra and released it.

She pulled back enough to shrug the straps off her shoulders and let the bra drop to the floor. Her breasts, free from restraint, hung loose and flattened slightly into a pillowy teardrop shape. Those silver-dollar-sized dark nipples called to me. I leaned down to flick my tongue across a nipple, but she pulled me back in to continue teasing and nipping at her neck.

Her long fingers wrapped around my cock. With a firm grip at the base, she slowly stroked me. Her other hand entwined itself in the curls of my hair, and she held me in place, as if I might escape.

Lost in her touch and taste, I could have stayed standing there for an eternity. Margot, however, had more direct plans. She broke our embrace and took my hand, guiding me to the bed. She threw the comforter back with a flourish and turned to me. She flashed a wicked smile and pushed me backward onto the mattress. Moving with feline grace, she climbed onto the bed and snuggled up against me. Immediately we intertwined and kissed passionately.

We nuzzled and touched each other, a playful exploration leading to serious results. She hit the jackpot when she discovered I was embarrassingly ticklish. She delighted in using my weakness to torment me.

"Oh... is it time for some serious tickling, Cowboy? Aren't you a little big to giggle like a schoolboy when a pretty girl touches you?"

Laughing like a demon, she poked and prodded me until I twisted like a tortured soul. The silly tickling hurt, but not enough to ask her to stop. I resisted just enough to keep her tits bouncing around and her crotch rubbing against me.

Rolling me onto my stomach, she straddled my thighs to keep me from escaping. Doubling down, she probed my sides, behind my knees, and pretty much everywhere to see what made me react.

"Okay, okay, stop..."

"Make me. I don't think you can." Her eyes narrowed to slits. She jabbed, pinched, and scratched at me, no longer tickling. Was she venting some anger at me?

I bucked her off and rolled on top of her. Her wild squirming and twisting almost threw me off the bed until I pinned her arms to her sides. It took several moments before she relaxed. Her chest rose and fell in long, heaving breaths.

"What the fuck was that about?"

"You don't like a little roughhousing, Cowboy?"

Holding firmly to her wrists, I leaned down and sucked a nipple between my lips, flicking at it in my mouth with the tip of my tongue. It stiffened in response. Like magic, the aggression flowed from her and she stopped wriggling around. Instead, she writhed gently on the bed, cooing softly and turning her head side to side. She pulled her hands free of my grip and languorously stretched her arms above her head.

Encouraged by this, I squeezed her breasts more firmly, making the dark tips jut out. I nipped, suckled, and licked, seeking the right level of stimulation. She kept her arms above her head, as if her hands were tied to the headboard.

Sliding a hand down across her belly, I pushed my fingers into the thatch of black hair starting above her panties. Slipping past the elastic, I grabbed a handful of the thick, curling pubes and forcefully pulled up. Her hips rose off the bed and her legs parted.

While nipping and stretching her nipples, I slipped my fingers into her moist slit, gently rubbing up and down along its length. Her hand guided my fingers to her clit and showed me the technique she liked and the pressure to use. Just like at work, there were only two ways to do things--her way and the wrong way.

I stayed focused on her physical pleasure until she arched her back and writhed. When her breathing turned fast and shallow, she pushed my hand away.

Rolling over onto her hands and knees, she wiggled her ass in front of me.

"Thank you, Jeebus," I mumbled to myself. I wasn't religious, but I didn't like taking the Lord's name in vain.

"What are you muttering about?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking that I should start going to church again." Margot laughed. It probably wasn't the first time that a man had a religious experience with her.

My mouth watered at the thought of diving into that ass. The tan line behind a bikini bottom marked skin that was much paler than I expected. How interesting--she didn't have tan lines from a bikini top. Where was she sunbathing topless?

Following her lead, I positioned myself behind her. She lowered her shoulders to display her smooth, round ass more prominently. Dark pubes and the curtain-like folds of her labia engulfed the thin strip of the thong. Thick, glistening bush extended along the length of her pussy and continued past her sweet, puckered hole.

I loved the sight of the thong stretched tight between her ass cheeks. As I ran my fingers up and down its length, the soft lace did little to protect her from my probing. Gentle mewling sounds escaped her lips each time I pressed the fabric against her sphincter.

I pulled the thong aside, soaking up my favorite view of a woman. I salivated at the thought of nuzzling up to her unwaxed asshole and sliding my tongue in that deep valley. Knowing my weakness for this, I denied myself even the chance to rub my thumb across the area, savoring the anticipation.

Sliding along her labia made my fingers nice and slippery. She moaned softly as I caressed her butterfly folds and gently encircled her clitoris.

"What paperwork do I need to fill out to get you to fuck me, Cowboy?" she growled. "Consider my juicy pussy the permit you need to fuck me like you mean it."

Sliding my cock along her slit was all the prep I needed to give her what she wanted. When I pressed the tip to her vaginal opening, she braced for me to enter. But I was gentle, sliding in a little and pulling out to the tip. With each push I entered a little deeper, until I was fully sheathed.

Her pussy gripped my cock, resisting my thrusts and withdrawals. The undulating motion of her body displayed her supple strength as she pushed back against me.

"Fuck me, Cowboy," she said, her voice sounding distant, almost wistful.

As I plunged into her with powerful, deep strokes, she matched my rhythm and pushed back with equal force. My thrusts increased in response to her motion, reaching a furious speed.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me harder..." The mantra, starting as a low growl, got louder each time until she screamed a guttural string of words that sounded vaguely Spanish. A flood of her juices poured down her leg.

Her clenching vaginal walls resisted my withdrawal, and it took every ounce of my will not to shoot my load. Shuddering waves rocked through her body as she collapsed onto the bed, gasping.

Sweat dripped from the tip of my nose. The drops joined the perspiration in the crack of her ass, trickling down into her matted pubes. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and took a deep breath.

After I lay down next to her, she rolled up against me and I held her loosely in my arms. While our breathing settled, I caressed her thighs. She continued to shiver and twitch every now and then.

"Damn... that was pretty good. You might have some decent skills locked up in those Levi's."

"You know all the right things to say to make a man feel special," I said, pinching her ass. She slapped my hand away.

She rolled onto her side and pulled off her thong. She extended her left leg, raised her right knee, and said, "Slide up in here."

On my knees, I straddled her straight leg and moved to push myself against her. I supported her right leg in my arm as I pushed in.

Wedging herself against my crotch allowed me to plunge deep and hard. Her pussy quivered, clenched, and released several times as she alternated between curling into a shaking fetal position and stretching to her full length.

She responded to my frenzied jackhammering with a stream of dirty talk calling for me to fuck her harder. The filthy language tipped me over the edge.

I blurted, "I'm going to come!" It didn't sound nearly as manly or cool as I had hoped.

"Pull out, Cowboy. Come on my ass," she said. Her voice carried so much authority that I didn't question why.

I pulled back and grabbed my cock, aiming for her beautiful round ass. The first spurt of milky cum came out with such force and bad aim that some got up into her hair, but I had better control after that. The rest dribbled along the curve of her ass and between her cheeks. I used the tip of my dick like a paintbrush, glazing her puckered hole and the surrounding pubes.

I lifted my leg off her and lay down next to her, spooning and wrapping my arm around her waist. We stayed there, exhausted and breathing hard, for quite a while. Margot cuddled closer for warmth. She relaxed her shoulders, and I nuzzled against her neck.

Were we close enough now? Would she share some of her private life with me? I had to try. "The evening you planned wasn't a first-date sort of thing. Tonight was special, right?"

She lowered her head and glowered up at me.

"I'm here with you. Whatever my plans were, your sparkling wit won out." Her tone was snarky again, with a flash of anger underneath.

I had pushed too far again.

"Now it's time to show me how well you can tongue-fuck a woman with a hairy ass."

"Yes, ma'am." I may have even saluted her in my enthusiasm.

"Start by licking your cum off my butt."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I never said anything about slurping up my own cum."

"It's not a request. It's a requirement if you want to put your tongue in my ass."

"But..."

"You mentioned tasting your cum when you fucked Cara." This woman had a good memory. Maybe I shouldn't have had such a loose tongue around her.

"Yeah, but that was just a little bit--"

"You've never blown your load into a woman's mouth?"

"Well, no, I haven't done that--"

"Yet."

"It hasn't really been an option before."

"But you would if you could." She said it as a statement of fact, not a question.

"Um..." I might be a little slow sometimes, but I saw the logical trap coming my way.

"I know you want to get to my asshole. You're going to have to lick your way through that mess you made before I'll let your tongue in my back door." Getting on her hands and knees, she scooted backward to the edge of the bed. Her prodigious tits, stretching to rub against the sheets, swung side to side as she adjusted her position.

Looking over her shoulder at me through tousled curls, she wiggled her ass and said, "Let's get busy, Cowboy."

A smattering of finer, dark hairs extended a little past the darker tinted patch of skin around her asshole. With my nasty fetish, it was entrancing. My spent penis throbbed, excited to get back into action.

One of the basic tenets of working construction is that when there's a dirty job, it's best to just dig in. I knelt, grabbing her hips and pulling her ass back. I wrinkled my nose and grimaced as I leaned in. With a tentative dab of my tongue, I got my first taste of fresh-out-of-the-hose, unfiltered cum.

It was a little salty and slightly bitter, but otherwise it was nothing special. If anything, it was the consistency of that much cum that was a little harder to process. Still, I had a job to do, so I systematically slurped up the milky white puddles from her butt. I pressed my face into the crack of her ass and licked her clean, saving the object of my perversion for last.

The first pass with my tongue sent a charge rolling through me, the thrill of breaking a taboo. The slight moan that escaped from Margot encouraged me to keep digging. Maybe she didn't experience this nasty thrill often enough.

I lapped hungrily at her asshole, teasing and tickling. I slathered her with so much saliva that it ran down my chin and between her legs. She alternated between laughing and moaning until I stiffened my tongue and began to probe her anus as deeply as I could. She responded with a high-pitched "ooh" before changing to a throaty, low-pitched moan with each subsequent plunge of my tongue.

Her asshole relaxed, opening slightly to allow me in deeper. Every time I delved in, she clenched her sphincter around my extended tongue. That part of my psyche that relished tongue-fucking a woman's anus celebrated this moment. Enslaved by her crinkled hole, I ignored the shame and surrendered to temptation.

I reached around to rub her clitoris. It didn't take long before she was grinding her ass into my face and squirming at my touch. She was close. Her hand reached back between her legs to cover my hand, adjusting the position slightly. Then she had me use a different motion, circular with more pressure, to give her even greater pleasure. I learned quickly, and soon she was bucking and twisting as an intense orgasm coursed through her.

She lay down on her side, breathing heavily and trying to recover. I wiped the saliva from my face with the hand I had used on her clitoris. Her scent lingered. I spooned in behind her, holding her tight.

The peaceful, post-sex atmosphere was unhurried and undemanding. I wasn't going to push her to give my ass the same attention I'd given her. What we had shared was more than I had ever imagined possible.

When she finally got up to stretch a bit and refill our glasses of champagne, I reclined on the pillows, watching her. She moved with the same surety she had on the job site. But there was also a mothering warmth and softness that made me want to nestle my head in her lap. Her dark eyes looked out at me through a wild tangle of black hair, mysteriously hiding her thoughts and intentions.

She walked over to the bed and handed me my glass of champagne. She stood over me, looking down as if to assert her dominance. I was okay with that. If she had asked me to lick the soles of her feet, I would do it. I'd never been in that situation, and it wasn't something I would find appealing. But just a few minutes ago I'd licked my own cum off her asshole. In the right situation, I was up for anything.

"Hey," she said, a little too loudly. "We're both naked. And I'm getting way too comfortable chatting with you, so I'd better start sucking your cock before I spill all my secrets." With that she took a big gulp of champagne and nestled between my legs. Taking me in her firm grip, she stroked me back to hardness.

She descended on my cock, attempting to swallow it whole. It smashed into the back of her throat as she tried repeatedly to push it farther. I lay back and let the pleasure wash over me. Her head bobbed up and down and she wiggled her ass side to side. Twice she brought me to the brink, and twice she pulled me back.

She stroked me and licked along my shaft for another minute before she stopped and stood up. "Flip over, Cowboy." I stared at her, confused. A minute ago, I had been ready to release another load. Now she wanted me to do gymnastics. The math didn't compute in my sex-clouded mind.

"Ass up, shoulders down. Edge of the bed, just like I did for you." These instructions clicked, and I complied without another moment of hesitation.

And then she did for me everything I did for her, plus she continued stroking my cock. Being exposed like this was awkward, vulnerable. My cheeks burned. Please don't let her see.

I'd just had her in this same position without a thought to her feelings. Why was it so hard for me to relax at the thought of her tongue sliding across my asshole and probing my sphincter?

She coated my ass with saliva and noisily slurped it back up. She smeared dripping wads of spit onto my sack and lubricated my cock. Her tight grip slid up and down my length with increasing speed until I finally had to blurt out, "I'm coming." I shot another surprisingly large load of cum that she caught in one hand as the other continued stroking.

She milked every drop out of me and then squeezed and stroked the now hypersensitive tip of my dick. I could withstand only a few seconds of this before I had to lurch forward, away from her.

She laughed at my response. I sat up and she posed like a supplicant, on her knees holding a hand full of cum like an offering. Her dark eyes locked with mine, making sure she had my full attention. Then she licked the milky fluid out of her hand. She smiled again as she swallowed.

That was so fuckin' hot.

Then she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me in for another deep, tongue-twisting kiss. I'd now tasted so much of my own cum that she got no resistance from me.

Afterward, she got up from the bed. She paced, pausing occasionally to look at me as if she had something to say. But then she resumed pacing. Finally, she scrunched up her face, as if she were forcing herself to do something she didn't want to do.

"I was meeting someone tonight," she said.

Was she opening up to me? A dozen questions bounced around my thick skull.

Her eyes flared in anger. "It doesn't matter who... they never showed." Tears welled. She wiped them away with a sniff and clenched her jaw.

"That's crazy."

"That's life, Cowboy. I may be a little too much for some people."

It was a brutal self-awareness that must have hurt to say out loud. I didn't know if I had that courage within me.

"Not that I give a fuck what you think of me, but I don't do one-night stands."

"The evening was all planned, something special for someone special?"

She stared into her champagne glass but remained silent. This evening now made sense.

"I called and called, but it kept going to voicemail."

"You didn't want to waste all your planning on me."

"I still held out hope. Maybe I could save what I had set up for another night."

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't be."

"Then I saw you..." Her voice quivered and faltered. "I really wanted someone to talk to. You were--" she paused, searching for the right words, "in your own bad place."

"Yeah. I don't hide my feelings well."

"I felt like we could talk. And we did." Another silence, and then the familiar snarky tone returned. "You charmed my panties off, Cowboy."

"I told you I would," I said, with a cocky grin. She smiled back at me. Her smile pulled at my heart.

We lay together on the bed, holding each other. As she drifted off to sleep, she whispered, "You're not getting overtime for this." I pulled the comforter up to keep her warm. Soon I fell asleep too.

In the morning, she was gone. I'd expected it. I hoped anyway. I wanted to hold her, taste her lips, and run my fingers through her thick black hair. No more questions to ask.

While dressing, I found a note on the desk. Written in careful, tight handwriting, it read:

Thank you. I'll always remember how you were there for me, but my heart tells me not to give up. She means everything to me.

I turned the note over. In a hasty scrawl, she'd written:

Monday morning. Don't be late.