Not Very Saintly

I was honestly quite pleased not to have to leave the house on Saturday. St Patrick’s Day in England is not top of my list of things to participate in. Despite it being the day worldwide that any fucker who has ever drunk a pint of Guinness claims Irishness, it’s also the biggest day of the year for people to tell me I’m not really Irish because I’m from the North.

I mean legally you’d be right because I haven’t got round to sending my Irish passport application off post Brexit. I was waiting for  the rush of suddenly green Brits to subside first but honestly don’t tell Northern Irish people what nationality you think they are. It’s literally why we had that whole conflict thing in the first place and neither side takes it well.

Seeing some Twitter beef about ‘proper’ Irish-ness after the rugby on Saturday first made me shake my head and then laugh when it reminded me of one of the finest slutty moments of my twenties in the fair city of Cork (which FYI, is quite definitely Irish by anyone’s standards even if has an English Market.)

Readers may remember me fucking a hot man who partook in extreme sports for a living. Well about six months later I happened to bump into him again in Cork over St Patrick’s weekend (and by happened to, I mean I willingly got on a bus and drove for eight hours with a bunch of hyperactive fellas with too much adrenaline and not enough sense knowing he was going to be there.) I promise it was much less stalker-ish than it sounds.

Luckily because English people don’t have a particularly good sense of geography about Ireland he didn’t look that surprised I was there not knowing it was such a trek to get round such a small island in those days and assumed I’d had not much else to do that weekend. I didn’t bother to correct him in case it scared him off.

We ended up in a pub on St Patrick’s Night in that post parade pre piss up stage of the evening along with my also Northern Irish female friend who was also on a slut hunting mission of her own that weekend hoping to impress one of the boys we’d come down with.

The craic was good when suddenly one of the local girls who had acquainted herself with the out of town men at the event earlier spoke to me. I may have had no common sense when I was twenty but being a massive slut I could always spot the other girls who were equally keen on cock but not on admitting it. We rarely ended up friends shall we say?

And sure enough there was no love lost at this moment. She very carefully directed it at me and my friend that we weren’t really Irish so what the fuck did we think we were doing in an Irish pub pretending we were? Knowing that was likely to kick off actual warfare at the table, I went to change the subject but she wasn’t finished and informed me that no wonder I only wanted to fuck fake Englishmen in that case.

There was that kind of total ‘oh fuck’ silence at that point when the air goes out of a room. The guy I was with was black along as was his friend who was sitting with us and the inference was clear. I wasn’t exactly au fait with racism in a country as white as bread but this was so overt it was impossible to miss.

I stood up picking up someone else’s perfectly poured pint of Murphy’s as I did. The silence remained for the split second that every single person in the pub thought I was about to chuck the stout in her face. Instead I necked it in one long swallow I’ve never managed before or since, banged the glass down on the table and left the pub with both the men she’d insulted allowing the shouting to start behind us.

We walked up the street a bit and the friend bumped into some other people he knew and left us to it. He was quiet after the scene in the pub and I was frankly pissed in both senses of the word. We ended up sitting on the bed in my hostel room drinking the remains of the bottle of gin we’d started on the night before and talking.

It felt like one of those nights you’d set the world to rights instead of anything else and tipsy on gin I assumed we wouldn’t end up fucking. But when I went to get more tonic I came back to find he’d moved the twin beds round for just that purpose. I was supposed to be sharing the room with my friend and having been watched before neither of us wanted an audience this time.

We pushed the bed against the door so it couldn’t open and then he pushed me up the bed with my legs open and started licking my cunt. I had always been ambivalent about oral sex until this point finding it pleasant enough but ultimately pointless for orgasms. Not this time. This guy had both a knack and a love for giving head that I had never encountered before.

He licked me into a literal haze of orgasms with absolutely no interest in stopping and taking any attempt from me to collect myself and my clit to push me into another orgasm with his tongue and fingers. The bed banged at one point as someone tried to open the door and he didn’t stop. Nor did the noise that told us the St Patrick’s party had arrived back at the hostel.

I remember getting to the stage of so many orgasms that my legs actually started to go numb and he flipped me over so I was face first in a pile of pillows on my hands and knees as he fucked me to yet another orgasm for me and his first of the evening. I was so spent with orgasms I barely noticed the bed bang again as I collapsed forward ass in the air as he licked his own come out of me for the final orgasm of the last few hours.

I lay in a completely fucked senseless heap, out of breath and unable to sit up and marvelling that my ears were actually ringing from it all. That bus journey seemed like the best decision I’d ever made. And then two things occurred to me at the same time as him. Neither of us could sit up because we’d broken the bed. And the ringing was actually the fire alarm going off.

He rolled over and reminded me that we were staying in the same hostel as the guys who would go on to host the show Dirty Sanchez on MTV and they pulled stunts like this on the tour all the time and that if we wanted to make sure there wasn’t a fire, we were going to have move a broken bed.

We thought no more about it and went to sleep on the other bed instead. We woke up hungover and fucked in the still standing bed before trying to hide the evidence of the broken one. We gave up repairing it and wen to meet our friends in the pub instead.

Turns out that everyone else had had to evacuate the building the night before not because there was a fire but because the hostel had called the Gardai to turn the alarm off and stop the party getting properly out of control. Everyone who was anyone in Cork seemed to have been there and so our absence had been well and truly noticed.

He and I walked into the pub to a chorus of jeers and cheers designed to make a scene with my nemesis from the night before sat with a face like soured milk on her. However there was a noise behind us and the cheers stopped as soon as they’d started falling into shocked silence. Unbeknown to us the only other person unaccounted for during the fire alarm was the friend we’d left the pub with and he had just walked in behind us making everyone assume we’d actually been having a threesome.

Enjoying rendering another pub speechless with my sluttiness, none of us corrected them and my fuck buddy and I very much appreciated his friend loudly and obviously buying us breakfast to add to this impression. I’m sure my comments over the soda bread about real Irish hospitality didn’t compound that suspicion at all…

Not Very Saintly

How To Have Hot Wax Fun

Unsurprisingly for such a bunch of delightful perverts you all enjoyed the tales of wax play and several readers’ eyebrows raised in contemplation at the thought of trying it  for themselves. So I thought I’d give you my tips to get you started.

I’m by no means an expert having played with hot wax a grand total of twice but my greatest kink in life is actually details so you’ll probably find something useful here to get you going on some wax play.

I’ll assume you have consent for all this because Paddington Bear fucking stare if you even considered whipping out some surprise hot wax on anyone, so the most important thing here is the wax itself.

You can’t repurpose just any old candle you have lying round the house (and unlike my sex toys all my candles are actually battery operated). Scented candles are definitely not suitable for this because the fragrance makes them hotter and more likely to burn the skin so you can’t just decide to spice up that unwanted Yankee Candle you have sitting about. This guide on the different kinds of wax is quite helpful if mainly trying to sell kink friendly products at a mark up…

I enjoy bargains almost as much as I enjoy orgasms so I always go hunting for ways to be kinky on the cheap and this time Ebay came up trumps with a 1 kilo bag of soy wax flakes for £7.99 which can be heated easily in a slow cooker (who said they were all brown stew and batch cooking for the middle aged huh?)

You’ll also need a thermometer like this you can leave in the wax while playing and a lidded plastic pudding basin. Plug your slow cooker close to where you want to play making sure it can’t tip over and is easy to lift. Put the wax flakes into the pudding basin, snap the lid on tight so steam and water from the slow cooker can’t get into the wax and the set into the slow cooker crock.

Fill the crock about half way with boiling water and set the slow cooker on high for 2 hours. My wax had melted to a bubbling and slightly too hot 95 degrees centigrade by then. The ideal temperature for play is about 55C and the wax dropped about 5 degrees every 10 minutes the slow cooker was off and the lid was off the basin.

So heating the wax higher and hotter works if you want to set the scene up and have a little time before you get stuck in. If you enjoyed delayed gratification use the keep warm function on your slow cooker once you’ve taken your lids off. This should keep the wax liquid enough to spoon, drizzle, flick, paint or drip all night.

We played with the wax straight onto my carpet because my landlord is replacing my old one. And it seemed amusing to send it out in style so the carpet fitters get a little surprise when they come to lay the new one. As you probably don’t want to fuck your floor as much as you’re hoping to be from all this kink, the best idea is to buy a cheap fabric shower curtain you can throw away afterwards.

This also comes in handy when you stand up after the wax play and your artfully draped and dripped wax cracks and peels off. If you stand on the shower curtain while someone gives you a good grope or applies ice to your wax to help it off in as sexy a way as it went on, the shower curtain stops your aftercare involving the hoover.

You’ll find the wax also comes off more easily if you apply oil to your skin before you play. Avoid either baby oil or Bio Oil or anything else mineral oil based as this is petroleum based and not a good mix with heat of any kind from a safety point of view. I’d also avoid coconut oil or anything solid at room temperature as it can burn the skin if heated too high.

Something like sweet almond oil is perfect and inexpensive. If you have body hair oil is essential for wax removal. If you are clean shaven (or using waxing for hair removal) leave 24 hours between this and applying the wax so as not to irritate your skin. Don’t apply anything fragranced like body moisturiser that might react with your skin and the wax either and be cautious about using hot wax on open wounds or skin conditions.

You want to be able to focus fully on the wax so make sure you set up your scene well in advance. You should never leave your sub tied up and alone near a bowl of hot wax or some candles while you nip to get a sex toy you forgot. So channel your slutty Boy Scout and be prepared here. Lay out anything you might want to play with. I was quite keen to try beating the wax off with a crop or paddle and this was a chance to make my kitchen implements pervertable.

If you are using rope make sure it can’t knock anything over or catch fire and have some paramedic scissors to hand  to cut the ropes quickly if needs be. Wax play is intense and a sub might need to safeword out immediately not wait while you try to untie that knot you really did learn in the Scouts. Also on a practical level, when wax gets into the knots, they are a bugger to untie and since you won’t get the wax out of the rope to reuse it, take the short cut if needed.

Respect the fact you are playing with high temperatures here and have a first aid kit close to hand. I soaked three or four cotton tea towels in cold water and froze them in a ziploc bag  in case of burns leaving it close by in case of emergency. I also had a bucket of ice handy both for injuries and general kinkery with cold ice and hot wax on nipple piercings.

It’s also useful to have a large tea tray you can set the tools you play with on you onto so you can clear up easily and not get wax on the Billy bookcase or coffee table while you play. Have some towels and tissue handy too. You don’t want anyone distracted by basic housekeeping when they could be gently tormenting you with temperature play.

Expect to spend a while in the shower afterwards (and have an interesting time cleaning out the plug hole too) but you will have the softest smoothest skin possible when you do. Paraffin wax is often used as moisturising treatment for hands and feet in beauty salons and it turns out soy wax has similar properties.

I did have some challenges getting the wax off my barbell piercings. It’s not very sexy but it’s a good idea to check none of the wax has got into any piercings so if you can remove them afterwards to clean and put them back in.

I heard dire warnings beforehand about applying hot wax to genitals but my Master definitely ended up dripping it down my vulva and some got inside my labia and round my clit. I didn’t have any ill effects but I’d still advise against applying hot wax directly to your clit or it actually getting into your cunt itself.

I’m by no means masochistic and often find pain and kink a challenge but the soy wax was very much in the camp of enjoyable pain for me. Beeswax stung more in a jarring way and I wasn’t as keen on it. If you are more into the kink of actual pain, use suitable taper candles and play with the height you drop the wax from to get your fix or you might find wax play surprisingly tame on the pain scale.

Writing this piece reminded me of a long forgotten but apparently extremely formative teenage memory of sneaking a hidden copy of a VHS my brother had of Madonna’s 1993 film Body of Evidence and watching and repeatedly rewinding the scene where she pours hot wax on Willem Dafoe’s chest. My first brush with BDSM around the age of 14 was certainly memorable.

Hopefully this piece gives you the chance to unleash your inner wax slut sooner than that…

How To Have Hot Wax Fun

Drag Hag

I was talking to Princess the other day about RuPaul’s Drag Race. Bizarrely for someone who loves make up and used to work in a drag bar back in the early days of living in London, I’ve only ever seen one episode of it (actually with Sir and Princess.)

She and I were discussing how many millions of people must have discovered their sexuality (or become allies or more aware of LGBTQ+ culture) because of RuPaul and Drag Race. We were both trying to work out who are first drag queen was and despite our age gap both of us thought RuPaul had probably been our introduction to drag culture.

I definitely remember having a card advertising the original Viva Glam lipstick back in 1994. The fifteen year old me was bewitched by the unisex glamour of MAC Cosmetics which were unobtainable in Ireland in those days and I was dazzled by RuPaul in a frock and k.d lang in a suit both gender bending for a good cause.

I stuck that card to my wall above the desk I studied for my GCSEs at and stared at it as some kind of portal to a world where anyone could wear make up and be who they wanted. And like many people before and since I found that world in the local gay bars.

My hometown only had one gay bar that advertised itself as such while one other pub had an upstairs room frequented by what we’d now call bears and tended to be too old for my friends and I to go. I got to know the gay friendly haunts well as I had several barely out gay friends and was a safe person to accompany them as they met men for fun for the first time.

It never occurred to me that some of those men were bisexual until one Monday night a female friend and I tripped along to the gay bar for Miss Penelope Pitstop’s Big Balls Bingo with our town’s possibly only drag queen mixing local banter and high camp to a mixed audience.

Since she was a minister’s daughter she got a fit of guilt about being there and left abruptly (although her parents were very welcoming when she came out as bisexual herself soon after even if she had a tendency to act like the only gay in the village after she did.)

I figured I could finish my drink safely in a bar full of men with eyes for each other and was slightly surprised when suddenly I was hugged hard and joined at my table by a guy I knew from my clubbing days. We’d always enjoyed drug fuelled conversations after big nights out crashed out on aged sofas in student houses talking earnestly while off our faces but had never really spoken sober.

I didn’t really think much of seeing him there until we were well into the bingo and drinks and he mentioned he knew Miss Penelope herself. In a stroke of almost embarrassing naivety I enquired how and he paused and batted his eyelashes at me and casually said he liked to suck her cock while she was in full make up.

I know my mouth made a perfect O in response to that. Not because as he thought for a second because I was shocked or horrified but because I was instantly turned on by the thought of it and fuelled by gin and confidences told him so. He grinned and signalled for more drinks. I knew that night wasn’t going to go home as early as my friend had.

We played several rounds of bingo, failing to make a house at any point since our attention had shifted to making eyes at each other. Having only ever discussed politics and putting the world to rights with this guy I was delighted to discover he was funny and incredibly fucking filthy.

I had no qualms when the bingo ended and he bought me a drink, kissed me on the lips and told me to entertain myself before disappearing for about fifteen minutes. I was amusing fag hag fodder to the other men in the bar who thought a wide eyed girl in a bar with a dabber had no idea what was going on.

My date reappeared and rescued me, sliding onto the seat beside me and his tongue into my mouth as he kissed me still tasting of cock and come. His hand definitely crept up my skirt and we looked very straight in a public place. That was our cue to leave together.

We fell into a cab kissing hard enough that the cab driver had to remind us we’d arrived twice. There was no pausing for drinks or polite chit chat in that way people do when they pretend they haven’t gone home together to fuck. We went straight to the bedroom.

I noticed two things that surprised me. For a man of barely twenty who appeared to live separately to his parents his room was immaculate with a properly made bed and even more unusually he was holding the first sex toy I’d ever seen.

He pushed me down on my knees and started pulling my tights down and skirt up so my panties were just low enough to sneak a peek at my cunt and for him to wedge the dildo he was holding into them so it stuck out like a cock that I had to hold tightly in place by pressing my thighs together.

I could feel my cunt soaking wet around it and making it tricky to keep in place with how slick my knickers felt. But when he knelt down, pulling his long hair off his face and started sucking the dildo like he clearly had been with Miss Penelope’s cock before we left together. I looked down watching his head bob and up and down on the dildo taking it deeper than I knew was possible.

I was so turned on and wet watching his floorshow I almost didn’t notice his final flourish as he deep throated the dildo pulling it out of my panties with his lips before putting his mouth back on my cunt and licking me with equal enjoyment and vigour.

My cunt responded in delight as I discovered my first bisexual man that night. We fucked hard that night so that my first time using a sex toy was with his mouth and ass. I did enjoy his legs eleven for me, cock in hand and getting his jackpot that way.

Maybe not the most common introduction to drag culture I’ll agree but one I’ve remembered for years since…

 

Drag Hag

Heat Me Up

I’ve had more conversations about boilers recently than anything else. Not only did mine decided to go on strike over the weekend but a friend might just have embarked on a illicit *thing* with the gas safety engineer who came to check hers the other week.

I did laugh as she sighed over a glass of wine that you can’t just fuck the boiler guy and thought to myself ‘I would’. It was only after she went home and I was clearing up the glasses that I remembered I had fucked the boiler guy once.

The only reason I didn’t text her to tell her that as encouragement is that while I didn’t mind her knowing my wicked ways but I did feel slightly embarrassed that my wicked ways are so debauched that I’ve got beyond forgetting the names of people I’ve fucked and into just forgetting whole people I’ve fucked. Being a slut is one thing. Being a slut with a terrible memory is a whole different game.

But when I was lying in bed that night I was pleased to note that I remembered the boiler guy extremely well when I thought back. He’d come to check gas safety certificate and do some maintenance work to allow the boiler to be signed off so was going to be there for a couple of hours.

Somehow the conversation went from flues and valves to tattoos. And it turns out this gas engineer was a tattoo obsessive with full sleeves and coordinating chest and back pieces of botanically accurate Japanese cherry blossom which I have to say I wasn’t expecting in deepest south London.

His face lit up in that way that happens when you give people permission to talk about the thing they love and that was the moment I realised the boiler guy was extremely good looking. I have always been an absolute slut for men who lose their self consciousness and just enjoy their interests even if they are silly or geeky or unfashionable.

And this guy loved Japanese sakura. I mentally skipped over the bit where he mentioned travelling to Japan to see the blossom in person on his honeymoon and listened to him describe how beautiful it was. I was trying to picture how that might look tattooed on his body when I realised he was asking me did I want to see the artwork?

I must have said yes but next thing I knew his shirt had come off and his tattoos were right there along with his nicely muscled torso. He turned and paraded for me so I could take in the detail of each black and white blossom and flower. And the only other thing I am a bigger slut for than lack of self consciousness is really really good tattoos on men.

And these were some of the most beautiful tattoos I have ever seen. Clearly designed as one whole piece and with an artist who wanted to use and enhance the shape of this guy’s body with light and shade, it literally flowed and cascaded down his back and arms and showed off both his skin and the sheer movement of his body with each little ripple or flex of a muscle or tendon.

It was incredibly hot. The kind of hotness where the room seems to grow thick with anticipation and time seems to slip and slide slowly but inevitably to the moment you start fucking. He lifted my hands onto his arms and let them move across this carpet of flowers and start sliding down onto the smooth but unmarked skin of his stomach.

I’m not sure if my hands moved themselves almost without control or he guided them but I was undoing his trousers and he was completely naked in my hallway, his body contrasted between the black and white of the top and the bare flesh of the bottom drawing my eye right to the middle and his hard cock.

He was still in the hall where anyone could see through my front door when I went down on my knees to suck his cock. I could feel his muscles tense and although I wasn’t able to see it from that angle I could just picture how good his back looked flexing like that. I loved that I was fully dressed and he was completely naked.

Something caused a noise outside and we both realised what we were doing and he stepped into my living room and closed the door to give slightly more privacy and possibility to fuck. I used the break to go and find some condoms in my bedroom and when I came back was greeted by another favourite sight that goes straight to my cunt.

He was standing cock in hand with that same lack of self consciousness as earlier and exactly how I imagine he makes himself come when he’s alone. I love that familiarity men have with their own bodies and it always makes me horny to watch. He just kept pulsing and clenching his hand on his cock so smoothly I hardly noticed he’d slipped the condom on while I’d got undressed.

He pulled me down on top of him on the carpet and we fucked. I had a fantastic view of his arms and chest and those tattoos almost til the last second when he pulled me down hard onto his torso and came into me. I remember grabbing his arms and pulling him against me until I came and then lying back for one last glance of that beautiful blossom.

I can’t remember how we disentangled ourselves but it wasn’t awkward. None of that ‘what the fuck just happened?’ wash of shame or regret. Almost that feeling of it just being how things are sometimes. I’m fairly sure in a stroke of pure Irish sluttery I made us tea while he got dressed again and went back to being a gas engineer without this ink superpower under his shirt.

After he left I thought many times about his tattoos and the effect body modification can have. In fact the impact lasted so long and so vividly in my mind’s eye that’s why I’d forgotten about the boiler connection til now. I think I could probably still draw his tattoos but I couldn’t tell you what his face looked like.

I’d only know it was him come to fix my boiler again in the future if he recognised me or happened to have stripped his shirt off before he got here. I won’t lie. The latter would have made a midnight boiler call out last night much more fun…

Heat Me Up

Go Faster Stripes

I’m not sure it was entirely down to shaving my legs but I’ve definitely come back to life a bit recently. Smooth skin definitely got my brain going if not my cunt and I felt the urge to start texting smut chat to Sir again.

There was definite excitement on Saturday when I arranged my first proper trip out of the house since New Year to go Master and Princess’s house. Lying in bed during the day resting a tiny bit of me felt like I should be sensible and make sure I didn’t over do it too soon. The rest of me was absolutely adamant that even if it landed me back in bed for the foreseeable I was going to fuck them when I was there.

The only thing of any warmth and interest I’ve touched in weeks has been my electric blanket and it’s a very poor substitute for the feel of my two favourite people pressed against me. I told Sir I was hoping to get naked again after getting dressed to come to theirs and wore my favourite fuck me boots to be sure I had made my point when I arrived.

Honestly I’d have been quite content to walk in their front door shedding clothes with each step and straight into their bed but Sir hasn’t lost his love of making me wait. He poured drinks and cooked an excellent dinner and left me to squirm on the sofa the whole time. I was so close to discovering my inner brat and actually begging him to fuck me when Princess let her brat flag fly and started sucking his cock while he laughed at how eager we both were.

She and I took turns to suck his cock and it was the oddest thing. I felt completely out of practice. His cock tasted and felt familiar but instead of that muscle memory of knowing a long term lover’s body I felt like I was starting all over again like I’d never sucked a cock before. And not just with him but I couldn’t get my position or rhythm with Princess’s cunt either. It was like I was a beginner again.

I always love when my Master takes charge and I needed it even more than usual as he ordered me how to kneel and what to do and pulled me onto his chest to kiss me so I couldn’t have moved away even if I wanted to. Which I didn’t. Him kissing me so hard he almost bit my lips brought me back into the pace of playing with both of them as I rediscovered the feel of them both.

I love that state. Sort of blissed out on sex and submission and open to anything Sir tells me. So when he led me over the kitchen table and bent me over it I didn’t care how much I needed to contort myself to take his cock. Or how hard he was fucking me against the edge of the table. Nor how high in the air I had to hold my legs up when he put me on the table under Princess’s cunt and kept his cock deep inside me.

I was drunk on dick and her taste barely registering what they were doing just drinking in the feeling of it all. Sir brought me right back by coming on my cunt so it dripped down onto the table while Princess licked my clit on her hands and knees with her naked ass and cunt right up against the kitchen window for all the street to see.

It felt amazing. And even better next day when I had stripes of bruising on my upper thighs where Sir had fucked me so hard against the table it had left marks. I love those markers of sex. I love the smell of someone on me next day, the feeling that my legs were pushed apart, the sensation that my cunt was fucked raw the night before.

I felt it in the ache of my muscles afterwards and the bruises that kept developing and the sheer sense that as well as being sated with orgasms, touching and fucking and playing with my Master and Princess somehow feels like being back to myself after feeling distant while the only warm touch in my life had been with my electric blanket.

Each little ache and mark reminded me that it’s like coming home to sex after a long vacation…

Go Faster Stripes

Trade

I’m in the middle of trying to get a bit of work done to my flat. It’s one of those very practical things that feels very adult indeed. I’ve been comparing quotations and checking people’s insurance and credentials. And laughing at how much I’ve grown up in the last few years because the last time I hired anyone to work on my flat, the fact he was incredibly fuckable was just as much a concern as how well he could lay my floor.

But don’t worry, even my formerly slutty self didn’t let him lay me as well. I just spent two long days flirting outrageously with him and respecting the fact that temptation wasn’t going to make him cheat on his clearly adored girlfriend. In a world where so many men will fuck you if they think they can get away with it, his honesty and conscience even when his cock was whispering in his ear made him even hotter.

That wasn’t where I learned to flirt with workmen. I think I developed that skill in my teens when I started working in service industry jobs and learned that male manual workers are often the only men who understand the use of emotional labour and platonic flirting as social interaction.

There’s probably some class dynamics in there about being the ‘hired help’ around middle class women who are paying their bill, but either way I have always loved flirting with workmen. Partly I can’t help playing up that stereotype that girly girls like me know nothing about practical things like paint or shelving because it often allows me to flirt my way to discounts or use the element of surprise that I actually know much more than I’m letting on if needed.

But mainly a lot of manual workers are hot. There’s something about the physique of a man’s body that comes from the simple act of using for hard physical work in the course of a day that always appeals to me in a way a gym honed body has never done. I love that hint of muscle and promise of strength in a body that moves and builds things for a living.

And watching people do something they are skilled at is one of my greatest turn ons. It doesn’t particularly matter what the skill is but seeing someone do something they are so confident and skilled at that they make it look easy gives me that pinch in my stomach of attraction as well as stirring in my cunt. Doesn’t matter if it’s cooking a meal, re-roofing a house or tiling a floor really. The attraction is in the expertise.

So when a friend asked me if I would stay at their flat for a couple of days while they were having some work done to the windows I agreed readily. Rather than them take time off work to let the guy in and out all day, I was happy to supervise and hope I hadn’t set myself up to stare at builder’s bum and make tea all day for a man with dubious political views which is the flip side to spending time round men who work with their hands.

But the slutty gods were smiling on me because he was young, handsome and Hungarian. I’m usually not a fan of Aryan looking men but his wholesome ashy blonde hair and blue eyes were complimented by an underlying air of filth that made me much more interested in making him tea and discussing Central European politics than I’d usually be.

He really did work on those windows the first day although there was much more flirtation on the second day. But by the third when the work had moved indoors, things stepped up a notch. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him leaning over the sills with his ass right in my line of view all morning.

This time he took his lunch break and as we moved round the fairly small kitchen he brushed against me a few times that way that could be accidental if the response wasn’t favourable. I brushed back as he insisted on helping me wash up the mugs and plates used before he went back to work.

I spent the afternoon very aware of that sensation of where he’d grazed against my ass with his crotch feeling the tingle linger in my cunt and distract me. He’d stayed out of my sight line since then and I wondered if he was feeling awkward. I decided bringing him a beer when he finished work was the way to go.

He thanked me and finished clearing up. I slunk back into the kitchen feeling foolish and horny for mistaking porn for real life and started putting the washing up away. Clattering plates I didn’t hear him come up behind me until he set the beer bottle on the counter and slid his hands round my hips pressing me against him.

I went soft against how hard he was and he brushed his hands increasingly firmly across my tits and hips before pulling the zip of my jeans down, letting his fingers explore my clit and then inside my cunt as I leaned back into him. He had strong hands to hold me but with fingers used to small skilful movements and he made me squirm as I came.

Only then did we end up facing each other and we kissed before it was my turn to run my hands over him, slipping the straps of his painters overalls down to reveal that he wasn’t wearing any underwear and his cock was right there for me to play with.

I pulled the overalls right down and slipped his cock into my mouth. I was right that he was the right kind of filthy. He was shaved smooth and scented with just enough hard work and sweat to make me really want to suck on his balls too. I alternated between cock and balls with my mouth until he pushed his dick further into my mouth.

I balanced myself by cupping my hand under his balls as I sucked his cock and he reached down and cupped my fingers further back pressing against his asshole. I paused and he widened his stance so I knew he wanted my finger inside him. I put my fingers on top his cock and drew them down it as I sucked them slick and then slipped one into his ass.

He stiffened against and then opened up so my finger was able to slide in and out in time to my mouth on his cock, literally sucking and fucking him at the same time staring up at his face from my knees. His eyes were closed and he was only moving in synch with my actions almost like he was in trance.

Suddenly he startled forward grabbing my shoulders so my finger pressed inside his ass and he came so hard into my mouth I couldn’t swallow it all running down my chin and making his cock slip out of my mouth as he was still coming. It was dripping off his cock and my face and onto the floor as he was still gripping my shoulders.

He let go and I stood up to kiss him still covered in his come. I pulled my jeans up and he stepped back, pulling his overalls off completely so he was naked from the waist down and taking a cloth he got down on his hands and knees, back to me with his just fucked arsehole visible and slowly and deliberately mopped up his own come as I watched.

Still on the floor, he tossed the cloth in the sink and pulled my jeans back down and buried his tongue in my cunt with his cock in his hand. We both came again and only just had time to get dressed and composed again before my friend arrived home with more beers to thank us both with.

I have no idea what we sat and  talked about because both my mind and cunt were still completely distracted. I’m not sure I’ll ever look at a pair of painters overalls again the same way….

Trade