index


Message-ID: <62376asstr$1350306602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
MIME-Version: 1.0
From: Paco Andante <graf.von.muschi@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Hired Hand <*> (Paco Andante) (MF hand cheat)
Lines: 166
Date: Mon, 15 Oct 2012 09:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Title: Hired Hand
Author: Paco Andante
Codes: (FM hand cheat)

    Copyright by the author. Permission granted to archive, repost,
or publish in no-cost or low-cost archives of alt groups.
Permission granted to publish in periodicals and anthologies of this
type of material if attributed to the author.

    Disclaimer: Do not read this story if you believe fantasy stories
should not depict situations undesirable in real life.  Be warned that
you may not be comfortable with the sexual situations.  Do not read this
story if you are less than 18 years of age.

------------------

We, that is my husband and I, hired a kid from the local college to help
out with chores and with work around the house and yard. He was a
sophomore, neither a jock (would have been too busy with practice) nor a
geek (would have been too deep in the books). He actually was a good-
looking young man, five-ten or so, moderately athletic of build. Jack,
that was his name, knew simple repairs and light carpentry, and was a
quick learn at helping Bill, my husband, with the remodeling work we were
doing on the house. He showed up whenever his class load and homework
allowed, which was generally for a couple of hours twice or three times
during the week, and most of the day on Sundays.

One afternoon I had to attend a meeting, so I left a spare key in the
agreed-on hiding place with a note explaining my absence and outlining the
work Jack was to finish up.

Well, the meeting was called off at the last minute, so I drove back home
and let myself in. I heard a strange sound coming from the den, so I
quietly went to see what was going on. There was Jack lying on his back on
the chaise longue, his eyes tightly closed, his fingers wrapped around his
half-hard cock, his jeans down around his knees.

At first I was shocked, then amused, then fascinated. I had never watched
a man masturbate. My husband and I weren't into that kind of thing, and I
was curious. So I remained quiet and out of sight. As I watched him gently
stroke it, his shaft stiffened and thickened. It was very handsome, I
thought. Not long or especially big around, but perfectly straight, (my
husband's is curved), and circumcised (my husband is not). The crown of
the head of it was much wider than the shaft and looked beautiful, exposed
and "uncloaked" as it was. It was a bit shorter and thicker than Bill's.

I stood stock-still, watching as Jack wanked himself. The whole time his
eyes stayed tightly shut. I wondered what he was day-dreaming, and of
whom. Odd, the things that pass through one's mind at times.  I wondered
why he had not taken his jeans off entirely. And why hadn't he prepared
for the eventual conclusion of his activity with tissues or something?
He'll make a mess on my furniture!

Yet, I kept quiet and watched, enthralled.

Suddenly, a wicked idea entered my head. I had caught Jack in a
*compromising situation*, and so I was in control. My husband's commuter
train wasn't due for a couple of hours yet, so he wouldn't be interrupting.
And here was this young man in a very vulnerable situation.

Could I? Would I?

I silently went to the bathroom and fetched a box of tissues and a tube of
SlipperyStuff, then just as silently crept back to the den. Jack's eyes
were still shut, a look of rapture on his face as he slowly stroked
himself. Kneeling next to the chaise, I reached out and let my hand join
his, lightly fingering the corona as I wrapped my hand over the head.

His eyes snapped open and he made a rasping noise as his breath suddenly
sucked in. His rigid member began to deflate and his face turned crimson.

"God! Mrs. Branleur! Oh, shit!"

"Quiet!" I commanded, "Lie still. Put your hands behind your back and lie
on them."

"What... what are you going to do?"

I put on my most severe sounding voice, "I said, 'Quiet.' Put your hands
behind your back - better yet, under your butt. Do what I say and there
won't be any trouble."

He did as I told him, lifting his butt slightly to get his hands under.
I didn't want him to grope me or try to undress me, that would be
*cheating*, wouldn't it?

I sat square on his hips, his legs between mine, and his beautiful young
cock jutting up right in front of me.

I proceeded to revive his flagging member, stroking lightly. I had some
experience at this with Bill, you see. I knew where to stroke, and where
and when to feather-touch. Soon Jack's cock was back to it's proud self.
I drizzled a bit of SlipperyStuff from the tube into my right hand and
resumed my attention to his rampant spear. The sensation of my lubricated
hand encasing and stroking it must have felt good; perhaps the use of
lube was new to him, for he groaned, "Oh, God!"

I let my hand not just stroke him, but caress, squeeze and tease him. With
my other hand, I tickled and teased at the coronal ridge, the frenum, and
even toyed with the meatus. I worked slowly, enjoying his quiet groaning.
Gradually his breathing became irregular and labored, and when he tried
to buck up his hips I stopped.

"Lie still," I instructed.

He complied and I resumed caressing and stroking. After perhaps five
minutes of slow attention, his breath began to be more rapid and his hips
began to squirm.  Recognizing that he was going to come soon, I let go of
his cock and took up his balls. I gently manipulated them, massaged them
and even pulled on the scrotum.

"Oh, Jesus!" he murmured, arching his back.

"Be quiet and lie still!" I sternly commanded, but I was smiling.

I watched carefully to see him retreat from the brink of orgasm before I
took up his penis again. This time I didn't let go of his nuts, though. I
took them in my left hand, continuing to massage and manipulate them as I
resumed massaging his cock.

Several times I drizzled more SlipperyStuff on him, keeping the action of
both hands well lubricated. Several times also he showed signs of getting
close to release and I backed off, letting him cool down. Each time he
made exhortations to the Divinity and pleaded with me for release, but I
was relentless.

I haven't mentioned what all this was doing to me, have I? My panties were
soaked! I was already thinking how I would jump Bill's bones when he got
home, but for the moment I was very engaged with the staff in my hand. I
had started to think of it as "my cock," and at least for now, I did have
complete control of it.

I had been at it for maybe twenty minutes and once again he was peaking
up, for what might have been the fourth or fifth time. I turned my head to
see his face.

"Oh, please," he whispered, but the look in his eyes was far more eloquent.

I grinned, but figuring it was enough, I grabbed a bunch of tissues,
taking my hand from his nuts to do so. I held the tissues in line with his
cock, but a few inches away. I stroked him a little harder, applying more
of the action to the head. In just a few strokes he was groaning, "Yes!
God, yes!" and then he was shooting his juice onto the tissues and humping
under me on the chaise. I covered the head of his still-convulsing cock
with the tissues. But for them he would indeed have made a big mess on
himself and maybe on my furniture.

I gently eased my strokes, each one being answered by spasms of his
youthful body. I continued very gently for some time, even after the
spasms stopped, until both he and his cock had gone limp.

I stood up and wiped my hands on another wad of tissues and quietly said,
"Put yourself back together and go do the work you were supposed to be
doing," and I left the room.

I flushed the used tissues and locked myself in the bathroom for a while.

An hour later I heard him putting the tools away, so I went to the room
where he had been working and casually leaned on the doorway with my arms
crossed as he started to leave.

I asked, "When will you be *coming* again?"

He gave me a quizzical look and said, "Tuesday afternoon."

"Good," I winked as I closed the door behind him.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+