View Full Version : A Painter's Pride

01-30-2006, 11:42 PM
I was unhappy with the paint job done in the living room, hallways, family room and master bedroom. I wanted my new home to look its best. I talked about the work I wanted done with the other girls at work to see if they could recommend anyone. One of the girls had just had her home painted by a young man, who while not a professional (licensed) painter had done a quality job at a reasonable price. His name was James.
I called James and had him come out to give me an estimate for the work I wanted done. We did a walk through and discussed the fine points of the job (trim painted, doors, skylights, an extra charge for cathedral ceilings, the mantel piece on the fire place and what about moving the furniture?). We haggled for a while until we agreed on a price we could both live with. Considering the amount of work to be done I thought his price was quite reasonable. I told him I would call as soon as I raised the cash needed. It took me several weeks of overtime but I finally had the money we had agreed upon and called him back. As he would need a few days to do the work I rearranged my schedule to give me enough days off, as I personally wanted to supervise the job. I paid James half the agreed on price when he arrived and warned him he wouldn’t get the rest unless his work met with my expectations.
James started in the stairwell and moved on to the living room. The high arched ceilings meant much of the work was done perched atop a tall ladder. The paint fumes necessitated opening the doors and windows for circulation, meaning the air conditioning would have to be turned off during this heat spell we were now enduring. I busied myself with a sewing project between checking up on James progress. I couldn’t help but notice what a fine figure he cut (five-foot, eleven inches tall, one hundred seventy pounds) as he worked bare-chested with cut off jeans in the heat. Although he was half my age I knew a good-looking man when I saw one. As the work progressed I found I was spending less time checking out the quality of the work and more time trying to determine the size of his “package”. The temperature in the house seemed to be rising as each time I came back to check on his progress I had less on. I offered Jim some ice tea to refresh him in his labors and began to contemplate things other than the paint job. By the end of the third day Jim had moved to the final room and busied himself completing the job. I came by with the usual drink wearing my silk half-length robe carefully loose at the right places. I stood by the ladder and leaned forward as I offered him his drink. From his ladder perch I was sure Jim could see my exposed breasts and amble bush. I could see his eyes were not focused on my face as he reached for the drink and something began to stir in his pants. I could see my ploy was having the desired effect as I ran my hand into my robe and down my breast saying, “Why Jim whatever are you looking at?” I caught his glance and smiled as I feigned surprise and closed my robe noting his disappointed glance. “Shame on you,” I said as I turned to leave the room. As I reached the door to the room I turned back to face him saying, “I do believe you have me at the disadvantage Jim,” and dropped my robe to the floor exposing my naked form to his gaze. I turned and walked down the hall to my bedroom as I reached it I felt his arm on mine and he spun me to face his naked form, his rock hard man hood pointing proudly at me. I put my arms out to embrace him and he pushed me onto the hope chest at the foot of my bed and spread my legs to receive his cock. This was going faster than I had anticipated and I hadn’t had a chance to become lubricated when I felt his dickhead penetrate my pussy. His roughness had caught me off guard and his pile driver strokes emoted no tenderness in the moment. He was rough but his strokes were evoking a response in my canal as the juices began to flow easing his passage. My breathing began to quicken and become gasps as my body responded to his machinations. I tried to kiss him but he turned his head away and pounded his cock into me even harder. It was not long before I felt his cock swell and spew his hot load into me. I thought it was over as he withdrew his dripping cock from my pussy but he grabbed my hips pulling me from my perch to the floor. His hands slid up my body to grab my head and pull it toward his shrinking cock saying, “Didn’t anybody ever tell you how important it is to clean your brush when you’re done using it?” I knew immediately he wanted oral sex and wasn’t taking “no” for an answer. I opened my mouth and wrapped my mouth around his cock to fulfill his request. In no time at all he was rock hard again and turned me around on all fours to fuck me doggie-style. I knew what he wanted and laid my chest on the floor to tilt my pussy up to meet his dick. I heard a sharp crack as his open hand slapped first one ass cheek than the other sending a sharp stinging pain through my ass. I could feel his cock positioning itself for insertion between my legs. To my surprise he rammed his cock in my rectum. I tried to move forward but his arm locked around my waist pulling my ass up to meet his thrusts. He wasn’t happy until he had driven every inch of his cock into my ass. He began ramrod thrusts into my aching rectum saying, “You like that Slut!” This was definitely not turning out as I had hoped. I dreaded what was coming as he withdrew his cock and grabbed my hair to ejaculate on my face. “Clean it up!” he commanded, I stifled my reflex to vomit, as I tasted my shit in my mouth on his cock. This wasn’t sex; he hadn’t meant it to be. He got up and left the room to finish his work.
I had difficulty getting off the floor and went to the bathroom. In the mirror the face that stared back at me was that of an unrecognizable old woman with graying disheveled hair and sagging breasts. Sperm ran down her face and chest and suddenly I realized it was me I was staring at and turned to the toilet to hurl. I felt dirty and needed a shower. I stood in the shower’s stream for a long time using the soap to scrub the sperm from my face, chest ass and vulva. I noted small drops of blood in the water at my feet and knew it was from my inflamed ass. I had no sense of time passing as I showered but when I emerged from the shower I found James had left. He had finished his work, packed up his equipment and cleaned up his mess. I found his bill on my dresser with a note indicating payment in full was expected within the week. Blissfully, I haven’t heard from him again.

10-05-2006, 02:43 PM
Thanks...hope you all enjoy