Kleine deutsche Frau vögelt mit schwarzem Handwerker in der Küche
Title: “An Afternoon of Sweat and Sin with a Tools and Titties”
The blinds fluttered in the warm, summer breeze as the petite, blonde bomber, Helga, stood at the kitchen counter, sipping her morning coffee. The day promised to be a sweltering one, and she couldn’t help but fan herself with the morning edition of the local newspaper. Clad in only a thin, sheer nightgown that left little to the imagination, her perky, little tits bounced freely under the silky fabric with every movement.
Suddenly, a robust knock on the door roused her from her daydreams. She glanced at the clock – 8:30 AM sharp – oh yes, that’s right! She had scheduled the handyman, Kwame, to come and make some repairs around the house. Her mind wandered briefly to the photos on his website – a tall, dark, and handsome man, with rippling muscles and a smile that could make her panties wet. Helga set down her coffee and sauntered to the door, eager to let him in.
She opened the door, and there stood Kwame, shirtless and glistening with sweat under the morning sun. His abs were like a washboard, and the bulge in his overalls was enough to make any woman weak in the knees. “Kwame, darling, please do come in,” she purred, her voice dripping with barely concealed lust. He entered,;) his eyes roaming over her curvy, little body appraisingly.
The two made some small talk as they toured the house, with Helga pointing out some repairs that needed to be made. Kwame nodded, jotting down notes on his clipboard as he surveyed the damage. Finally, they made their way back to the kitchen, where Helga offered him a glass of cold lemonade.
As Kwame took a refreshing sip, Helga couldn’t help but notice his strong, calloused hands gripping the glass. Her mind raced with all the dirty things those hands could do to her eager body. Without thinking, she set her glass down and removed her nightgown, standing before him in all her glory. “I think you’re the man for the job,” she said, her green eyes glinting with mischief.
Kwame set down his glass, a smile spreading across his handsome face. “Just call me the wolf,” he said with a growl, pulling her close. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and Helga’s body melted into his powerful embrace. His hands roamed her delicate curves, caressing every inch of her creamy skin.
Helga’s breathing grew heavier as Kwame’s fingers found her slick folds. She moaned into his mouth as he massaged her clit, his thumb circling the sensitive nub over and over. “Oh, Kwame,” she gasped, “I need you inside me.”
Without hesitation, Kwame hoisted Helga onto the kitchen counter, her legs wrapping around his tapered waist. He deftly unbuttoned his overalls, freeing his massive, black cock. Helga’s eyes widened at the sight of it – thick and long, it throbbed with need, the vein pulsing along its length. She reached out to stroke it, marveling at the smooth skin and the weight of it in her tiny hand.
Kwame rubbed the tip of his cock against her wet, pink slit, teasing her entrance. Helga whimpered with desire, her hips bucking against him. “Please, give it to me,” she begged, her voice high and needy. “Stuff my little pussy with that big, black cock.”
With a grunt, Kwame thrust into her, his cock stretching her tight walls deliciously. Helga cried out in pleasure, her nails digging into his broad shoulders. He began to move, his hips snapping against hers as he pounded into her relentlessly. The force of his thrusts rocked the counter, knocking over a glass of water and sending it careening to the floor. But neither of them noticed, too lost in their own pleasure.
Helga’s body trembled as an orgasm built deep in her core. “Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted, urging him on. Kwame’s balls slapped against her ass as he fucked her harder, the kitchen filling with the sounds of their lovemaking. “Oh fuck, Helga!” he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own climax. “You feel so fucking good.”
Just then, a crash sounded from the other room, startling them both. Helga’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh my god, it’s my husband!” she cried, shoving Kwame away. “Quick, get dressed!”
They scrambled to cover themselves, righting their clothes and regaining some semblance of composure. Helga’s husband walked in, alerted by the noise. He took in the scene before him – the shattered glass, the flushed looks on their faces – and his brow furrowed in suspicion. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.
Helga stepped forward, a coy smile playing on her lips. “Why, darling, I was just telling Kwame here about our weekend getaway. I thought we could take the boat out for some waterskiing.” Her husband seemed to buy the excuse, though he eyed Kwame warily.
The handyman quickly finished up his paperwork and said his goodbyes, giving Helga a meaningful look as he left. Once he was gone, Helga breathed a sigh of relief. As much as she loved her husband, a part of her couldn’t wait for Kwame to come back for his next repair job.
The End
