The plumber (part two)
Suddenly she remembered the silver ball. The one she got for Christmas one year, for the tree, but liked so much she hung it up in here. She liked the way, when she had candles round the bath, that it reflected their lights, like little stars, on the ceiling. She liked how you could see the whole bathroom at once by looking into its reflection. He was looking at it now, into its reflection. Looking at her.
He turned round, and smiled sweetly at her, still lathering his chest and stomach. ‘Oh my God!’ she thought, ‘He saw me!’ and ‘Oh my God! He really does have a hard on!’ She flushed with embarrassment at the thought of this complete stranger watching her touching herself. Her mouth had been wide open too.
The plumber reached over and took a big bottle of hair conditioner from the shelf and, with his other hand, he held the base of his prick, using just his thumb and forefinger so she could see its full length. Her mouth dropped open again. Holding his cock upright, the plumber squeezed the conditioner over the tip. It was thick and white and ridiculously suggestive. A part of her was saying ‘That’s bloody expensive hair conditioner you’re wasting there matey!’ but she very quickly shut it up. The luscious liquid trickled slowly down the length of him, ‘Is he squeezing it, to make those veins stand out like that?’ she wondered. He started to play with himself, not really masturbating but more just stroking, playing, running the tips of his fingers through the creamy liquid as it dribbled down him. ‘No, he hadn’t been squeezing it.’ she realised.
The plumber stepped, dripping, from the shower and took the three paces it took to reach her. If she could have seen herself at that moment, she might not have felt very proud – her eyes gaped and her mouth hung open like a broken door, and she was staring, very obviously, at his erect cock, watching it twitch and quiver, watching little droplets fly off it as it did so. She was actually dribbling.
He hooked his forefinger into a gap between two buttons on her blouse and walked backwards into the shower, pulling her. She followed without any resistance or question, or thinking, her eyes now drawn to his – locked on them. “But bu- my clothes. I’ve still got my- but?” she found herself saying, as he pulled her to him, held her against his chest with one arm and his hotness with the other and kissed her. His kiss was like electricity and she could feel his erection through her clothes pressing against her pussy, and she thought for a second she might come right there and then. He tore off her clothes, one by one, and flung them aside, until she stood there naked, shivering with the heat. Her clothes lay in sodden, disregarded heaps in the corners of the shower.’That blouse cost four-hundred-and-fifty dollars pal!’ she almost found herself thinking.
The plumber’s eyes played over her body for a moment before he spun her round and held her, spread eagled, up against the wall. He grabbed hold of her hips and slipped his cock between her legs. He rubbed the tip of his wood against her clit for a second before entering her hot, wet pussy, pushing his way softly but deeply into her, drawing from her a long whispered moan. He fucked her slowly but fully, giving her the benefit of every millimetre. It woke something inside her, something primal. She could feel the veins on his cock, ripple the hot red flesh deep inside her, veins like thick vines climbing a great tree trunk. God, it felt good, she thought. Fuck, did it feel good? She wanted more!
A dam burst inside her and she felt a thousand frustrated, angry screams rise up from her gut. From behind the dam sprung an animal, a wild and beautiful animal, a beast, one she had thought long extinct. It stormed across the ruins of that dam and landed snorting in her bathroom.
A torrent of foul words sprung from her, words she didn’t even know she knew. Raw animal desire and lust tore through her soul and her inhibitions fell from her like a snake’s skin. She started moaning loudly each time his prick reached its depth, cursing under her breath. Her soul screamed for more.
“FUCK!” she screamed, “Fuck me harder! You motherfucker! Fucking HARDER!” He speeded up and she screamed furiously through gritted teeth in response. “Harder you motherfucker! Harder! She stamped her foot petulantly on the floor, lips curled in a snarl. “Come on you COCKSUCKER! What ARE you? Some kind of FUCKING HOMOSEXUAL?” she screamed. He kissed her neck – she tried to bite him. “Fucking COCKSUCKER!”
She spat angrily on the wall in front of her. “CUNT!” she yelled at him, spitting again “Fuck me harder I said. Fuck me harder you CUNT!” She stamped her foot again, deliberately bringing it down hard on his. She felt his wince and looked round at him, “Well? FUCK ME HARDER THEN!”
He was taller than her and had had to bend slightly to get into her in the first place; now, he straightened up with each powerful thrust, forced her on to her tiptoes, forced loud, bestial groans, from deep within her, with every plunge of his powerful cock. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes burnt like furnaces. He went to kiss her and she spat thickly, into his face, baring her teeth , trying, in vain, to kick him in the shins with her heels.
Turning back to herself, she reached down and rubbed at her clit fiercely, feeling his cock, as it slipped wetly in and out of her, with her fingers. Fire burned in her belly and monsters danced around it. She snorted like a bull and kicked back wildly again, this time her heel bone connected sharply with his shin bone. The pain stung his eyes and he pulled out of her, but she grabbed it and pulled it up in front of her and held it tightly against her steaming pussy. She rubbed herself up and down on it, faster and harder, working herself into a sexual frenzy.
He was holding her, tightly. She listened to his moaning and became aware of how the noises we make when in extreme pleasure are indistinguishable from those we make when in pain. She knew he was about to come before she felt the warm splashes on her tummy and tits, she could tell by the pulsations of his erection. She took it in her hand and watched as he squirted and dribbled his pleasure around her and over her. She squeezed his cock hard, and felt the waves of his ejaculations pulse in her hand, his hot breath on her back. He groaned behind her, like a big old lion coughing up a fur ball, and his body shuddered in great gulps.
She started coming seconds after him. Her orgasm was like fire, it burnt her, consumed her, a thousand rioting looters, rose up from her groin and torched and petrol bombed her body. He held her, firmly but kindly and she bit him, but only gently, called him a cunt, but in a whimper.
Slowly, as the violent waves of pleasure began to subside she looked down, he was spent. She let go of his cock and they both collapsed into a panting, sticky heap on the floor. They held each other until the gasping and trembling were all but gone. “Fuck!” she whispered repeatedly as they lay there delirious, unable to move or speak.
Until the hot water ran out and they were suddenly hit by an icy shower, making them both shriek and leap up.
Later, when he was back in his washed and dried clothes and they shared tea together, she apologised yet again. He assured her that it was fine, that he liked a bit of rough – he nearly said, that he’d met women like her before and knew exactly what he was getting himself into, but didn’t. She was sorry, again, about the awful language too, and the spitting. It really wasn’t like her. She didn’t even remember spitting in his face and was very sorry about that, again. She really didn’t know what had come over her. “I did.” he joked but it passed her by.
As he left he handed her a sheet of paper and winked, his number perhaps, she hoped.
His bill! Three-hundred-and-fifty dollars?! “the CUNT!”