Fucked My Plumber on the Kitchen Floor

I fucked my plumber on my kitchen floor yesterday and I can still feel him inside me every time I move.

I’m Jennifer. I’m 42 years old and I teach English at the local high school. I’ve been divorced for eight months and I live alone in a house that’s falling apart one piece at a time, just like my life felt until yesterday afternoon.

I don’t do reckless shit. I’m the responsible one who color codes her lesson plans and goes to bed at 9:30. I haven’t had sex since before my divorce was finalized and I’d honestly forgotten what it felt like to want someone.

But Derek showed up to fix my backed-up sink and three hours later I was on my back on the cold tile floor with my legs wrapped around him while he pounded into me so hard I thought I’d break in half, and I’ve never felt more alive.

He’s 28. I saw it on his license when he showed me his credentials. I know he has tattoos covering both arms because I traced every single one with my tongue later. I know exactly how his cock tastes because I had it in my mouth. I know what his cum feels like dripping down my thighs because he filled me so full it leaked out for hours after.

My body is completely marked by him.

There are bruises on my hips in the perfect shape of his fingers. I’ve got a bite mark on my breast that throbs when my bra rubs against it. My pussy is so sore I can barely walk but every ache makes me wet all over again thinking about how he used me.

I should probably be ashamed that a man young enough to be my younger brother made me cum so hard I blacked out for a second.

But I’m not. I’m sitting here squirming in my seat getting turned on just remembering it.

Let me tell you exactly what happened.

….

My kitchen sink backed up completely yesterday morning. Water everywhere, nothing draining, me on the verge of a breakdown because I couldn’t fix it myself.

I spent an hour trying every YouTube tutorial I could find before I finally admitted defeat and called a plumber. Some local company with decent reviews sent Derek, and when I opened the door I actually forgot how to speak for a second.

He was tall, over six feet, with this body that came from real work and not a gym. Tattoos covered both his arms in such designs that I wanted to study up close.

He had dark messy hair and these blue eyes… oh god, that seemed to see right through my bullshit professional teacher act to the desperately horny woman underneath.

I led him to the kitchen and tried not to stare at the way his jeans fit his ass or how his forearms flexed when he set down his toolbox.

He got down on the floor to look under my sink and I got a perfect view of his back as his shirt rode up to show skin, and I had to leave the room because my face was burning.

I’m 42 years old and I was getting flustered like a teenage girl.

But it had been so long since anyone touched me, and like, it’d been so long since I felt desired.

My ex spent the last two years of our marriage barely looking at me and here was this younger guy in my kitchen and I couldn’t stop thinking about what those tattooed hands would feel like on my body.

….

I brought him water because I needed something to do other than stare at him while he worked.

When I came back he’d taken off his work shirt and was just in a white tank top that showed off his arms and shoulders and I nearly dropped the glass.

“Thanks,” he said, standing up to take it from me, and suddenly we were very close in my small kitchen.

I noticed he smelled like soap and something masculine that made my thighs clench. I noticed his eyes dropped to my chest for just a second before coming back to my face. I noticed the air felt thick between us.

“This is going to take a few hours,” he said. “The clog is deep and I need to replace part of the pipe. That okay?”

“That’s fine,” I managed to say. “I’m here all day.”

He smiled and something in that smile made my pussy clench. “Good. I’ll try not to make too much noise.”

I went back to the table to pretend to grade papers but I couldn’t focus on anything except watching him work. I was enjoying the way his muscles moved under that tank top.

Oh god, he’d have these little grunts of effort when something was stuck, and the way his tattooed forearms flexed as he used various tools uughhhh..

I pressed my thighs together under the table because I was getting wet just watching him and I felt insane.

At some point he looked over and caught me staring. Instead of looking away I held his gaze and something passed between us. It was like some unspoken acknowledgment that we were both feeling this.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, setting down whatever tool he was using.

“Sure,” I said, my heart pounding.

“Are you okay? You seem tense.”

I laughed, kind of bitter. “Is it that obvious?”

“Little bit.” He leaned against the counter, giving me his full attention. “Rough day?”

“Rough year, honestly. I’ve been divorced for eight months and it’s been… an adjustment.”

“I’m sorry. That’s rough.”

There was something genuine in the way he said it that made my throat tight.

“Thanks. I’m managing. Or trying to. Hence the meltdown over a backed-up sink.”

“You weren’t having a meltdown. You were just stressed. It’s understandable.”

We looked at each other and the moment stretched out and I realized I wanted him. Not just abstractly or not just as a fantasy to touch myself to later.

I wanted him right now, in my kitchen, consequences be damned.

“Can I ask you something?” I said, my voice coming out lower than I intended.

“Yeah?”

“Am I imagining this or is there something happening here?”

He pushed off the counter and took a step closer. “You’re not imagining it. I’ve been trying to stay professional but I’ve been hard since you opened the door.”

My breath caught. “Oh.”

“Tell me if I’m out of line,” he said, closing the distance between us. “But I really want to kiss you right now.”

I should have said he was out of line.

“Please,” I said instead.

He kissed me and I melted into it immediately. His mouth was hot and demanding and I opened for him, my hands grabbed his tank top to pull him closer.

He pressed me back against the table and I felt his hard cock against my hip through his jeans and I moaned into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathed against my lips. “You have no idea how hot you are.”

His hands slid down to my ass and squeezed hard and I gasped.

“I’m 42 and I haven’t had sex in almost a year. I’m probably terrible at this now.”

“I seriously doubt that,” he growled, kissing down my neck. “And I’m going to prove you wrong.”

His hands found the hem of my dress and slid underneath, pushing it up my thighs. When his fingers brushed against my panties and felt how wet I was, he groaned.

“Jesus Christ, you’re soaked.”

“I’ve been wet since you took your shirt off,” I admitted breathlessly.

That made him growl and kiss me harder. His fingers hooked into my panties and yanked them down roughly. They caught around my knees and I kicked them off completely.

He picked me up and set me on the table, spreading my legs and stepping between them. His hand went straight between my thighs and when his fingers slid into my pussy I cried out.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, working two fingers inside me while his thumb found my clit.

“It’s been so long,” I gasped, my head falling back. “Oh god, don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping. I’m going to make you cum on my fingers first, then on my tongue, then on my cock. You good with that?”

I could barely process his words but I nodded frantically. “Yes, fuck, yes, please.”

He finger-fucked me hard and fast, his thumb circled my clit with perfect pressure, and I was already embarrassingly close.

“That’s it, let me feel you cum,” he said, watching my face intently. “I want to see what you look like when you fall apart.”

His words pushed me over. I came hard, clenching around his fingers and moaning so loud my neighbors definitely heard. My whole body shook with it and he didn’t stop, he worked me through it until I was pushing his hand away because it was too much.

“Fucking beautiful,” he said, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his mouth. He sucked them clean while maintaining eye contact and I nearly came again just from watching.

“My turn,” he said, dropping to his knees.

He pulled me to the edge of the table and threw my legs over his shoulders and buried his face in my pussy before I could even process what was happening.

“Oh fuck!” I cried out as his tongue found my clit.

He ate me out like he was starving for it.

He licked long through my folds, then his tongue circled my clit. He then dipped his tongue inside me to taste where his fingers just were. The obscene wet sounds filled my kitchen and I didn’t care.

I grabbed his hair and ground my pussy against his face shamelessly. He groaned against me and the vibration made me gasp.

“Yes, fuck, right there,” I moaned as his tongue worked my clit while he pushed two fingers back inside me.

He finger-fucked me while eating me out and I’d never felt anything like it. My ex never went down on me, said he didn’t like it, and here was this younger guy devouring me like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“I’m going to cum again,” I gasped. “Oh god, I’m going to cum on your face.”

He growled and sucked my clit hard and that was it. I came even harder than the first time.

My thighs clamped around his head as I screamed his name.

He lapped up everything I gave him. He did not stop until I was trembling and oversensitive.

When he stood up his mouth was wet with me and it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned.

“You taste fucking incredible.”

I couldn’t form words. I just reached for his belt with shaking hands.

He helped me, undoing his jeans and shoving them down with his boxers. His cock sprang free and my mouth watered. He was thick and hard and already leaking.

I slid off the table and dropped to my knees before he could stop me.

“Fuck, you don’t have to—” he started.

I cut him off by wrapping my hand around his cock and licking the tip, tasting his precum.

“I want to,” I said, looking up at him. “I need to taste you.”

I opened my mouth and took him in, as much as I could fit, and he groaned so loud it echoed.

“Oh fuck, your mouth feels amazing.”

I worked him with my hand and mouth, taking him deeper each time, letting him hit the back of my throat. I gagged a little but I didn’t care. I wanted to make him feel as good as he’d made me feel.

“Shit, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum way too fast,” he said, his hand in my hair.

I pulled off with a wet pop. “I want you to cum in my pussy.”

His eyes went dark. “Fucking hell, you’re going to kill me.”

He pulled me up and kissed me hard, tasting himself on my tongue. Then he spun me around and bent me over the table.

Then I felt the head of his cock pressing against my entrance and I braced myself on the table.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Please fuck me,” I begged. “I need it so bad.”

He pushed inside me in one hard thrust and we both groaned. He was so thick that he was stretching me in the best way.

He was filling me so completely.

“Oh my god,” I gasped. “You’re so big.”

“And you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, starting to move. “Your pussy feels perfect.”

He didn’t start slow. He gripped my hips hard enough to bruise and fucked me hard and fast right from the start. The table scraped against the floor with each thrust and I didn’t care if it left marks.

“Yes, fuck, harder,” I begged, pushing back to meet his thrusts.

He gave me what I asked for. His cock slammed into me over and over, hitting so deep I saw stars. The sound of skin slapping filled my kitchen along with my moans and his grunts.

“You like that? You like getting fucked hard?” he growled.

“Yes, god yes, use me,” I moaned, surprised by my own words.

That made him groan and fuck me even harder. One hand left my hip and tangled in my hair, pulling my head back.

“Such a good girl, taking my cock so well,” he said in my ear.

The praise combined with the rough treatment made my pussy clench around him.

“I’m close,” I gasped. “Fuck, I’m going to cum again.”

His hand left my hair and came around to rub my clit and I screamed. The combination of his cock pounding into me and his fingers on my clit was too much.

“Cum on my cock,” he demanded. “Let me feel that pussy squeeze me.”

I came so hard I actually blacked out for a second. My vision went white and my whole body convulsed and I felt myself gush around his cock.

It was something that had never happened to me before so it was scary, but fuck it felt good.

“Fuck yes, that’s it, soak my cock,” he groaned, not stopping his brutal pace.

He fucked me through it and past it until I was boneless and whimpering.

Then he pulled out and I whimpered at the loss.

“Floor,” he said. “I need to see your face.”

I slid to the floor on shaking legs and lay back on the cold tile. He was on me immediately, pushing my legs up and wide and sliding back inside me.

This angle was different, deeper somehow. I could see his face and see the concentration and lust in his eyes as he fucked me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, watching my tits bounce with each thrust.

“I want to remember this forever.”

“Harder,” I begged. “Please, I need it harder.”

He braced his hands on either side of my head and really started pounding into me. The tile was hard against my back but I didn’t care. All I cared about was his cock destroying my pussy.

“I’m going to cum,” he warned.

“Cum for me,” I begged. “I want to feel it.”

He thrust deep one more time and I felt his cock pulse inside me. It filled my pussy so good that it was already leaking from the amount of cum he out inside me.

He groaned my name and collapsed on top of me.

For a long moment we just lay there on my kitchen floor with his weight on me.

It felt so.. ughhh, grounding and perfect.

“Holy fuck,” he finally said against my neck.

“Yeah,” I agreed breathlessly.

We eventually had to move. He pulled out carefully and his cum gushed out of my pussy, while I just lay there trying to remember how my legs worked.

He helped me up and we got dressed in silence. I caught him looking at me and I looked away, I don’t know okay, I was suddenly shy.

“I should probably go,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he wanted to.

“Probably,” I agreed.

He walked to the door and turned back. “Can I see you again?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I’d really like that.”

He smiled and kissed me, it was softer than before but still hungry. “I’ll text you. I have your number from the invoice.”

Then he left and I was alone in my kitchen that smelled like sex with his cum slowly leaking out of me.

I’m sitting here now and I can still feel him. My pussy is sore and used and I love it. Every time I shift in my seat I’m reminded of how thoroughly he fucked me.

I’m 42 years old and I just had the filthiest sex of my life with my plumber on my kitchen floor.

And I’m absolutely doing it again.