Blanco - 186
written by:
DevineOne

Blanco - 186

Carl slapped at the night stand, half hoping he would finally break the alarm clock this time, but merely managing to hit the snooze for the third time in a row. It wasn't that he really needed to get up at any particular time. As resident manger and maintenance man for the complex, all he really had to do was make sure that the apartments were rented and that everything was in working order. It didn't matter when the job was done, just that he got it done. Of course, the real estate management office that hired him didn't share his easy going nature, and ever since his "boss" woke him at 10:30 several Tuesdays ago, he made sure he was at least somewhat awake by 9:00 a.m.

Somehow, it was particularly hard to get up this morning. Perhaps it was the fact that his wife, Carol, was out of town at her annual "Girls Gone Wild" weekend. Actually, Carol and her friends never really went wild, but they loved the idea that they were away from their husbands or boyfriends in exotic locations with all the freedom of co-eds on spring break. The exotic location this year was the Smokey Mountain National Park, so Carl knew that the only wild life they would see would be very furry.

Carl managed to drag himself out of bed, more out of the need to relieve himself than out of any duty. He showered, thought about shaving (Carol hated his rough stubble) but decided not to, and dressed in his work pants, steel toed shoes and blue work shirt.

"Wow, that is really quite attractive!" Carl sneered at his reflection in the mirror, disgusted as much with the big embroidered "Carl" on his shirt as with the fact that he was forced to wear it.

Carl chewed on a rather stale bagel as he called his service to get the days work orders. "Maybe I'll be lucky, and this will be one of those Fridays where no one needs any work done," he thought. "Damn, no such luck." Five beeps. That meant he had five jobs to do. First beep, Mrs. Williams needs her toilet un-stopped. "Again," he chuckled, "God knows what she stuck down there this time." Second beep, the Harrises are moving out at the end of the month, do a complete cleaning and paint. Third beep, disregard the Williams work order. "Don't tell me she put her hand down there herself." Fourth beep, clogged sink at unit 186. "Who the hell is in 186?" He had only rented the place a few weeks ago. Fifth beep, please service unit 186, Ms. Blanca, as soon as possible. "Jeez, impatient bitch."

Carl's annoyance at "Blanca, 186" quickly faded when he realized that she would be his only work order today. "God, why can't I remember this woman?" Carl stared at his coffee, trying to place a face with the name. Suddenly it hit him - he had not taken her application. She applied directly at the real estate management office, and took the place sight unseen. Carl always thought it was weird when people did that. How the hell can you know you want to rent a place when you haven't even seen what it looks like.

He went though the files, to see if the office had sent him her application. Yes, he was in luck. Sandra Blanca, age 32, legal secretary for the last 8 years. Nothing unusual there. Recently divorced. That would explain the quick move in without worrying about the looks of the place. She obviously wanted to find a quick place to live in a reasonably safe neighborhood.

Since he only had one work order to worry about, Carl took his time. He leisurely drank a second cup of coffee and read more than just the front of the sports section of his morning paper before heading for his work van. A quick scan of the back of the van for plumbing supplies, and he was on his way.

As he walked up to 186, he chastised himself for driving the 500 feet from his unit. "How God damn lazy can you be, lard ass!" He balanced his tool box against his leg as he rang the door bell. Hmm, no body home. He knocked loudly, just to be sure. Still no response. Safe to use the pass key. Carl hated the idea of just walking in on his tenants. He always worried that they might be in the bath or asleep. As he turned the knob, he was met by the loud blare of a television set. He took one step into the apartment, Carl hollered, "Hello? Anybody home?"

"Hello?" No one answered. "Guess she leaves the TV on to scare away burglars or something," he thought. His in-laws always left a radio turned on when they were away on vacation, so other people might to the same thing while they're at work. He walked through the living room to the hall. The noise was coming from the bedroom. Suddenly he realized that the voices on the TV were moans. Carl stopped outside the room and listened for a second. It had to be a porno flick.

Carl almost started laughing. "How fucking stupid. If you're gonna leave something on to scare people away, don't use something that's gonna make them want to stay longer," he couldn't help snickering. He walked to the bedroom and pushed the door open to check out the show. There, on the bed, was Ms. Blanca. She was naked, her eyes glued to the TV set. One hand gently kneaded one breast while her other hand was flying in small circles over her crotch.

Carl gasped, "Oh, shit."

Ms. Blanca froze. The two of them stared at each other.

Carl was transfixed. Here was this attractive blonde spread out on her bed before him. Her hair was short and straight, but mussed, as though she had never gotten out of bed for the day. Gold strands matted against her face with sweat while others strayed in multiple directions on her pillow. Her neck was smooth and long. Her shoulders seemed soft and thin. She was quite fit and her arms looked toned and, yet, tender. Her breasts were small, but quite firm and round with large nipples, quite pink and stiff from the attention they had apparently been receiving. Her chest was heaving with each breath. Her smooth flat belly led down to a neatly trimmed, golden, downy bush and her pussy lips were large and swollen and covered with wetness. Her long, thin legs seemed to quake just a little.

Carl's trance was finally broken when Ms. Blanca spoke.

"Please."

"I'm sorry. I..."

"Please, I have to....

"I'm the manager, I came down to..."

But she cut him off. "I have to finish. Please. I'm so close."

Again, Carl was stunned into brief silence. He watched as her left hand began slowly stroking her leg and her right hand made lazy circles over her pussy lips and around her clit. Her lithe fingers seemed to dance as she lightly played over her wet lips. She parted them gently and ran the tip of her middle finger between her lips. She gasped slightly when her finger reached her clit. She gently tapped her clit for a second and started the process over again, running just the tip of her finger into her glistening pussy. She had still not taken her eyes off Carl, despite the show her television was putting on.

Carl could feel his own passion beginning to rise and dick began to stiffen. "Do you want me to..." he wanted to say "help," but nothing came out as he started to move toward the door. Even though every nerve in his body said stay, he knew that he should not be there, intruding on this woman's most private moments.

"NO."

Carl stopped dead in his tracks.

"No, just stay there. Please," she said in a way that he wasn't sure if she was about to cry or laugh or scream.

Carl stood completely still, watching. Never moving her eyes from his, Ms. Blanca began to move her right hand with more rhythm and purpose. No longer dancing over her clit with little taps and circles, she now moved with earnest passion. She ran two fingers between her lips and on either side of her clit. Her left hand returned to her breast, playfully teasing her nipple, which she plucked and lightly pinched. She ran her long nails over her breasts, tracing the outer rim of her areolas. Her right hand continued to slide quickly over her pussy with her juice. She moved more quickly, focusing more intently on her clit as her breathing began to match tempo with the movement of her hips.

Carl's mind began to cloud. Was he actually standing there watching this beauty work herself toward orgasm? His stiffness began to strain against his work pants. He longed desperately to unzip his pants, throw them down to his ankles and pound his cock with his hand. He could not believe how sexy this woman was, how much he ached for her, how thoroughly turned on he was watching her. He also could not shake the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he somehow knew her, like he had seen her in a dream before. Perhaps he had seen her in a store, or at the gas station. No, he surely would have remembered someone so sensual and seductive. She was more of a dream than a reality - a wet dream, at that. Carl looked down and noticed that a dark circle was forming around the fabric near the tip of his cock. God, he wanted this woman.

His attention was quickly snapped back to the lovely vision before him when he heard her let out a low, guttural moan. Ms. Blanca had moved her left hand down between her legs, and was thrusting one or two fingers, he could not tell, deep into her cunt. With each thrust of her hand, her hips came rising off the bed to meet it. Her right hand was still massaging her clit, but with hard, quick circles. Her breath was shallow and with each thrust of her hand and hips, her moans grew louder and higher.

Carl thought he might pass out from the scene - her beauty, her sexuality, her passion, her scent. Suddenly, she stopped. Even time seemed to stop for a brief instant and these strangers stared into each other's eyes. Then, just a suddenly as she had stopped, she came. Every muscle in her body seemed to tense at the same time. She almost seemed to levitate off the bed as her body was racked with wave after wave of pleasure. She screamed one long cry. For just a second he thought her scream sounded like his name. But that was impossible. Or, maybe she had read his name so boldly emblazoned on his shirt, and wanted him as much as he wanted her. "Sure, he thought, and I'm really Tom Cruise, too." His attention snapped back to her as she screamed again, her teeth clenched tight, her left hand, which had been plunging deeper and deeper inside her now clenched in a tight fist, grabbing the sheet and pulling it up as though to rip it off the mattress. Her right hand seemed to be attempting double duty, at once running deep into her and then rubbing furiously over her clit. Her orgasm seemed to last an eternity as her scream trailed off into a silent, voiceless cry.

Ms. Blanco slowly lowered her body back flat on the bed. Carl could not believe the intensity of her orgasm. His wife had masturbated for him before, as a little "show" for his birthday a few years ago, but that resulted in her just begging him to fuck her. Never had he seen anyone experience such pleasure at her own hand.

As he watched Ms. Blanco's breathing begin to slow to normal, Carl became acutely aware that he should do something. He felt a sudden rush of extreme guilt mixed with intense passion. He was in a daze. Somehow, he heard himself saying, "I should go."

Ms. Blanco said nothing. During this entire spectacle, she had not once taken her eyes off of him. When he spoke, she merely nodded. A moment later, Carl was outside the door. The air stung his face. He was snapped to a rather harsh reality. What had he done? Why the hell did he leave? Could he go back in right now and ravish this beauty? Who the hell is she?

As soon as Carl got back to his apartment, he was overcome with lust. He immediately went to the bathroom, dropped his pants and began stroking his cock for all he was worth. Images of the day's events flooded his mind. Her image was so clear in his mind, he could see every outline of her body, every fold of her gorgeous pussy, every drop of sweat. He could smell her. At that, his cock erupted in a torrent of sperm. He grabbed for the sink as the force and strength of his orgasm made his knees buckle beneath him. His head began to swim and he felt his whole body shudder as he spasmed more and more violently. When the last wave of his orgasm racked his body, he collapsed onto the floor, his prick dancing with each aftershock of pleasure.

When he regained his strength, he got up, cleaned himself off and put on some fresh boxers and pants. He had just finished wiping his face with a cloth when the phone rang. Carl rushed to answer it, both praying and dreading that it might be his wife.

He said "Hello?"

"Carl?"

"Carol?"

"No, this is Jenny from Royal Real Estate Management. We got a call from Ms. Blanco in unit 186. She asked us to call you and tell you that she was sorry she couldn't let you in today, but that she would really like you to come by tomorrow to fix her sink."

"Uh, OK, that's fine."

"I know tomorrow's Saturday, but Mr. Royal really wants you to go over to keep the new tenants happy."

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll go."

"Great, I'll let her know. By the way, why didn't you just use your pass key?"

"Uh, I don't usually like to walk in, just in case."

"Oh, right. Whatever. Thanks, Carl. Bye."

"Bye."

~~~~~~~~~

Carl barely knew what to do on Friday night. He could not get the image of his new tenant, "Ms. Blanco 186" out of his mind. Even when Carol finally called, he could not shake the memory of her, laying before him on her bed, her hand moving deftly over her honey colored snatch, moaning out...

"Carl?"

"Huh?"

"Carl, are you alright?" Carol must have asked him a question.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sorry, I was just distracted by the TV for a second. What did you say?" Please, don't let it be important.

"Fine, go watch your program." Carl could tell that she was mad. What the hell had she just said. Something about next week?

"Look, I'm sorry. I'll go turn it off."

"No, that's fine. I'm tired anyway. Just, please, do not forget to pick up that dress tomorrow. Okay?"

"Dress?"

"Jesus, Carl, I just finished asking you. You said you could pick up my dress at the dry cleaners today so I can wear it Monday. I told you I would not have time to pick it up because I need to finish that project I've been working on and I need to have that dress for Monday night when we go to the Fisher reception and the cleaners is closed on Sunday, or else I would pick it up when I get back tomorrow, which even if they were open, it would still be too late. You are going with me to the reception, right. I mean, I told you about that a month ago, and you said you didn't mind going, even though I know it's work related and you hate my boss. I really wish you would give her more of a chance, ‘cause she's really nice once you take the time to get to know her." Carl started to fade out as Carol began making the same arguments she had been making for the last six months about her boss.

"No, I remember, that's fine. I'll pick up your dress and, yes, I will go to that reception with you." Carl thought about adding that her boss really is a bitch, no matter what she said, but that would only have lead to a longer argument.

"Good. Now, I do need to get some sleep, ‘cause me and Julie are going to go hiking tomorrow before we start back tomorrow. Good night, sweetie."

"Good night."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Aren't you going to say you love me?"

"I love you, Carol."

"Oh, that was real heartfelt!" Carl hated it when she was sarcastic. "Good night, butt head. I love you, too."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Carl turned the alarm off before it even began to buzz. He had barely slept. And now, here it was 7:25 in the morning. He knew there was no way he could go back to sleep. He lay there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling. "What time should I go down there?" He wasn't sure if he should go early, in hopes of catching Ms. Blanco still in bed, or wait until afternoon, when she might be gone. "If she's gone, then I won't have to deal with this. Shit, I hope she's not gone all day."

Carl decided he had to do something to get his mind off unit 186. "God, I wonder if my gym membership card still works? I pay the dues every month, so it's not like they can keep me out." Carl found his gym back, knocked some dust off of it, and began packing his workout clothes. Black tank top? "Too tight. Better go with a t-shirt." Shorts or sweats? "Definitely sweats. I don't want anyone to run screaming from the gym, blinded by my fish-belly white legs." Towel, soap, shampoo. Everything he should need. "Maybe I should throw some cologne in there, too."

Even a two hour workout was not enough to distract Carl's obsessing mind. Every woman on the television at the club reminded him of her. Every song piped over the loud speakers seemed to take his mind back to the sexy stranger he had watched. Carl cursed himself for not bringing his swim trunks. "Cold water would be really helpful right about now," he thought, as it became more and more difficult to pedal the stationery bike with his growing hard on. This condition also made him skip showering at the club. The last thing he wanted to do was strike up a woody in the communal shower. He didn't need the anticipated looks of disgust, snickers or even winks from his fellow male patrons.

After showering at home and eating a little snack, Carl decided it was finally time to go work on the sink in 186. "Ten thirty. Maybe she likes to hit the stores right when they open." In fact, he hoped that she was not going to the store at all. He hoped that she was still lying in bed, thinking of him as he had thought of her, touching herself and whispering his name. Not that he really thought there was much chance of that, but, "hope springs eternal." He smiled as he carried his tool box and walked from his apartment the short distance to her door.

Carl rang the bell. No answer. He rang the bell again and pounded loudly on the door. He was not about to take any chances this time. After waiting longer than he thought would normally be appropriate, he banged loudly once more, before using his pass key to enter the apartment.

Just as yesterday, he was greeted by the sound of the television. This time, rather than porn, he heard the sounds of Jerry Springer, or Maury Povich, or some other shock/talk show. "Jeez, I hope she's not lying there, whacking off to that! Today's topic: ‘I'm having my brother's love child.' How does anyone watch that crap." He peeked into the bedroom as he went by and saw a neatly made bed. He was somewhat disappointed that it was empty, but at the same time relieved that he would not have to deal with another situation like yesterday.

"Carl?"

Carl stopped dead. His heart was pounding in his ears. What the hell was that? Where the hell did that come from? Had he forgotten to close the door behind him? Did another tenant come in looking for him?

"Carl, is that you out there?" The voice came from behind the bathroom door. "I'm sorry I didn't let you in. I was just getting out of the shower when I heard you knocking. I figured you'd let yourself in."

"Uh, yes, I'm me. I mean, it's me, and I'm here." Very smooth, Carl thought.

"Well, I hope you don't mind, but I'll be in here a few more minutes."

"Um, okay. That's fine. I'll get started on the sink, then. Okay?"

"That would be great."

Carl could barely move. Was she going to bring up yesterday? He was basically intimate with this woman, and now she was acting like nothing happened. I wonder if she's naked in there right now? Carl jolted himself back to reality, clumped into the kitchen and stared into the greasy, murky, disgusting watery mess for which he had been called. He was here to fix the sink.

There are few smells more disgusting than backed up sewage. That is what brought Carl the final steps back to the reality of the moment. One more mess to clean up. He baled most of the foul water out an open window, plungered the rest through the clogged pipes and began taking the pipes apart. What the hell had this woman done to this sink? Good god, it looked like she tried to run an entire rancid beef roast through the garbage disposer. The smell was sickening.

"How's it going down there?"

"Shit!" Carl yelled he hit his head on the underside of the sink.

"Oops, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." Blanco 186 was standing only a foot or so from him as he extracted himself from under the cabinets. She was wearing a white terrycloth bathrobe, tied at her thin waist. Her hair must have still been wet because she wore a towel on her head like a turban. For some reason, Carl thought that was a very sexy look today. From his view on the floor, she looked taller to him, and, even covered by the bulk of terrycloth, she looked quite trim and toned. She smiled at him and for a few moments he became entirely lost.

"Is it really bad?"

"What?"

"The sink. Is it really bad?"

"Oh, no, it's not a big deal. Just a little clog." He wanted to say yes, it is a big deal, you idiot, what made you think you could try to grind up an entire meal and cram it down the kitchen sink, but he couldn't.

"Good." She smiled again, as she sat down in one of the chairs by the kitchen table. She rather discretely crossed her legs and shifted the robe to cover them.

To keep from staring at her, Carl went back to cleaning out the pipes and reconnecting the sink. Even amid the slime and stench of a job he despised, Carl found himself longing to stand up, grab her around the waist, and kiss her passionately.

"You don't remember me, do you?" she said.

Carl racked his brain again. He had thought she was familiar, but dismissed it as a dream or just the heat of the moment. Where had he seen her before? And what was he going to say, having watched her experience a racking orgasm just 24 hours ago? How do you tell someone you have no idea who they are after you watch them masturbate for you, especially if they think you know them?

Before he could formulate any response, she rescued him. "That's ok. It's been a long time. And I was a lot heavier then. I'm Jack Reiter's sister, Carrie."

"No way! Carrie Reiter? Chubby Carrie? Oh, shit, I didn't mean that. I mean..."

"That's alright. I know I was fat, Carl. That's why I lost all that weight. You don't lose 100 pounds unless you are fat." And she was right. She had to have lost at least 100 pounds. Back in high school, he had always teased Jack about his older sister. He had called her much worse things than chubby, as well. Carrie was a Senior when he and Jack were Sophomores. She was shy and shunned by all the popular girls in the school. Jack and Carl were no prizes, either, but that didn't stop them from being typical, cruel 15 year old boys. Carl cringed at the memory of how he had treated this almost withdrawn girl.

"Wow, I can't believe it."

"Pretty different, huh? It's actually been about 5 years since I lost all that weight." She went on to tell him about her life since high school, how she had gone off to college and found herself. How she had come to like herself as she was, and, as her self-confidence grew, how she began to date guys on campus. She met her husband while she was in college and they married a year after she graduated. She loved him a lot, partly because he "never expected me to be a beauty queen or swimsuit model or anything like that. It wasn't until I got pregnant that my weight became an issue. I developed gestational diabetes, which is common among heavier women, and was confined to bed rest. I wound up losing the baby anyway. So, after that, I decided that I had to do something. So I lost all that weight. And for the first few years or so, things were great with me and my husband. But then, for some reason, he just changed. It was like he couldn't accept me anymore. God, I still don't understand it. Anyway, after trying to make things work for a while, we had just drifted too far apart, there was no saving it. He comes in one day and says: ‘You aren't the same woman I married.' I'm like, ‘D'uh, you're right, I'm about half the person you married.' So, he said that's it, and I agreed, and after a somewhat amiable divorce, I moved back into town here, to be with my family."

"But your family lives on the other side of town. That's over 25 minutes away."

"Well, I don't want to be that close! Besides, I can't afford to live where they are. Those rents would kill me. And when my brother told me that you ran some apartments over here, well, it just made sense."

"You knew I was here?"

"Yeah, I um...well, anyway." She blushed slightly.

"Well, glad to have you here. Jeez, you look great." Now it was Carl's turn to blush.

"You think so? I'm not too skinny?"

"Hell no, you look fantastic. You have..." he stopped himself.

"Go on." Her eyes twinkled in a little smile.

"Well, you..."

"Go on. I'd love to hear. I mean, after yesterday, I think you've had a pretty good look at my body." Even though she was the one to bring it up, she still turned a bright red at the recognition that only a day ago she had cum in his presence.

"You look fantastic." He was stuck. He didn't know exactly what she wanted. Was she trying to get him to confess something or trying to get him turned on? Was she mad? Was she embarrassed?

"You said that already. I'm glad. What else. Do you like my breasts?" Her cheeks still glowed a bright rose.

"Yes, I do. You have fantastic breasts."

"What do you like about them?"

Carl's head began to swim again. "They're so nice and firm looking. And smooth. And I love the way your nipples get so hard." He could not believe he was saying this. Even though he believed everything he said, he could not believe that he was able to make the words come out of his mouth. He had never been good at "dirty talk," which was fine with Carol because she hated it. Now, here he was discussing this woman's finer features. "God, they're just perfect."

"Really?" She seemed genuinely surprised.

"God, yes. You have gorgeous breasts, with pretty pink nipples. I'd love to feel how soft they are and take each one in my hand. I'd love to touch your nipples and feel them get hard and roll them between my fingers."

"Go on. Please. Tell me more." She started to breath more deeply, and as she shifted in her chair, the bottom of her robe fell partly open, exposing her long shapely legs. "Go on. What else would you do with my tits?"

"I'd stand behind you so I could run my hands over your soft shoulders and down the slope of each breast. I'd take each one gently in my hand and lightly squeeze. And then I'd let my fingers trace around the sides and up in between them. And I'd trace around each nipple with one finger, slowly in little circles."

As he spoke, she uncrossed her legs and let them fall slightly apart. She took one of her hands, pulled her robe to one side, exposing her breast while the other hand moved slowly up her belly. "Like this?" she asked as her hand reached her exposed breast.

Carl drew in a deep breath. From his spot sitting on the floor, he could see her perfectly. The late morning sun cut a bright stripe across her body, making her skin seem to glow.

"Yes, just like that." He said. "But I would lick my finger first, and get it wet." She did exactly as he suggested, placing her middle finger between her lips and running her tongue around it. Carl's pecker immediately responded. She dragged her wet finger slowly out her mouth across her lower lip. "Then what?" she asked.

"I would run my wet finger over your nipple, around you soft, pink areola and up over the nub of you nipple." Again she responded to his every word. "Then I'd take your nipple between my thumb and my finger and pinch." She did, as her breathing deepened and her legs parted, giving him a glimpse of her pussy.

"More," she directed.

"Twist your nipple a little and pull on it." He had stopped describing the scene in his mind and began telling her exactly what he wanted to see her do. "That's good. Now roll it between your fingers." As she did so, she sighed. Again, she allowed her legs to part a little more, giving him a better view of her sex. He gasped.

"Do you like it?" More than like it, he was amazed. She had apparently been quite busy in the shower, because her once golden tufted puss was now completely bare. She had shaved. "I was hoping you might like this," she said with a bashful smile.

"I do. A lot." He had never seen a completely shaved pussy before, in person. Sure, he had seen plenty of porn and pictures on the internet, but he had never been with a woman who shaved before. He loved the look of it. Her smooth skin transitioned flawlessly into the darker folds of her plush lips. It seemed like porcelain - smooth and perfect - and yet vibrant and alive.

"What next?" she asked, bringing him back from his dreamlike gaze.

"Untie your robe." She hesitated. For a moment, he thought he had gone too far, being only a few feet away from her, his head at the level of her knees. Perhaps yesterday had happened only because he had maintained his distance. Slowly, she rose and loosened the terrycloth belt.

She held the flaps of her robe together as the belt fell away. "I'm not ready for us to touch each other yet, but I don't want to stop." He wasn't sure why, but her words were both a relief and an enticement. He, too, was not sure he was ready to take such a step, but the idea of being able to watch her, and the slight promise of more to come, only fueled his passion.

"I want you to keep talking to me, but I want to see you, too." Hmm. That was something he hadn't anticipated. No one had seen him naked, except his wife, for a very long time. Sure, he had been to the gym today, but that was the first time in ages. "So, take off your shirt and your pants while you tell me what you want me to do." She sat down and let the robe fall completely open.

The sight of her naked body made Carl loose all inhibition. He stood and quickly unbuttoned his "Carl" shirt and looked longingly at her sitting before him. She leaned back in the chair, giving him a completely unobstructed view of her beautiful body. Her breasts rose and fell with her breath, cut blazing white by the shaft of sun from the kitchen window. Her soft skin sloped from her breasts, down her taut belly to her freshly shaven pussy. Now, unhidden and lit by the sun, it too seemed to glow, white and pink and deep red, glistening.

"Talk to me." She broke his trance.

"God, you are so lovely."

"Thank you." She paused. "You've stopped moving."

"Sorry." He grinned. "So have you." She giggled. "Now, I want you to touch both of your breasts. Make both your nipples hard for me. Roll them between your fingers. Yes, like that. Now, pinch them and make them really hard for me."

He unbuckled his belt, and undid his pants. He could see her looking at him, but for the first time she was not looking into his eyes. She watched intently as he pushed his pants down his hips, exposing his fully erect cock. Her eyes sparkled and a little grin crept across her lips. She looked briefly in his eyes again, broke into a full smile and then stared back at his bobbing member.

"Well?" he asked.

"Oh, I like that very much." Once again she giggled. Somehow, it made him even harder, and his prick danced slightly at her attention. "Ooh," she said, "that was fun," and she gave her lips a wicked little swipe with her tongue.

Carl continued his instructions. "Now, move your hand down between your legs. I want you to touch your pussy for me." Her hand moved immediately down to her pussy, and she began to playfully stoke her outer lips. He could not resist wrapping his hand around his shaft and slowly beginning to stoke it. At the sight of his pumping hand, Carrie drew in a quick, deep breath. Immediately her fingers began massaging her clit, rubbing over it in quick little circles.

"Hey, I didn't tell you to do that," Carl teased her. She let out a little whine and stuck out her lower lip. "Then tell me," she said. How could he resist?

"Play with your clit for me. I want you to get nice and wet. I want to see your juices running out of you. And now take your other hand and run your finger over your pussy lips. Let me see how wet you are." She ran two of her fingers around the outside of her pussy lips, down to her anus, where she brought them together and drew them up so they parted her pussy wide. Carrie was breathing heavily and she slowly repeated the process, running her two fingers along the outside of her pussy and then into her lips, this time a little deeper. Carl's breath was matching hers, as he began to pump his cock harder.

Suddenly, Carrie stopped. "I've got an idea. Follow me." She quickly stood up and exited the kitchen. Slightly stunned, Carl followed, his pants around his ankles impeding his progress, but not his determination. Carrie quickly disappeared into her bedroom. As Carl turned the corner, Carrie was standing with her back to him, by her nightstand. She grabbed the remote, shut off the television, threw the remote across the room and whirled around the meet him. As she spun, the towel that had been binding her hair fell to the ground, along with her robe. In her right hand, she held a shining silver dildo, and her face was covered with a huge smile.

Carrie sat on the edge of the bed and fell back, her legs spread wide. "Now, come over closer to me, and tell me what you would do to me with that dick of yours." Carl made his way next to the bed, between Carrie's legs. He watched as she brought her hands down close to her pussy. "Tell me. I want to hear it."

"Then spread your pussy while the tip of my dick rubs against you. Can you feel it there? Feel my cock rub up against your clit and then down between your lips. God, you're so wet. Feel my cock against your pussy." And with each word, she did. She could feel the head of his cock slowly work it's way up between her lips and over her clit. She gasped as it hovered there momentarily, gently rubbing up against her clit. Carl continued to watch her, mesmerized by her breathing and her fantasy. "Don't stop. Tell me. I want to feel it."

Carl continued to stoke his cock as she matched her actions to his words. "Rub my cock over that sweet pussy. Feel it getting wet with your juice. Now, feel it as it starts to go inside you, just a little. Just the head. Now pull it back out. And let it slide over your clit. Now, let it slide back into your pussy. God, it's so tight. Feel it as it goes deeper inside you."

Carrie was lost in a swirl of sexual feeling. She began to work the dildo in and out of her pussy, grinding against the bed directly below where Carl was standing. Carl watched her without blinking, sliding his hand up and down his cock, matching each stroke that Carrie made with the "cock." Each time she plunged the "cock" inside her, the swollen head of Carl's cock would pop from his fist, as though popping into her pussy. Neither one needed any words now. Each stroke of the dildo was like Carl's cock sliding deeper and deeper into Carrie's wet snatch. Each breath, they took together, each gasp made the other gasp, each moan brought the other that much closer.

Carrie was now moving the dildo in and out of her with greater speed. She brought her other hand down and ground it against her clit. She moaned. Carl could see Carrie's juice covering the fake cock. He was so close he could smell her sweetness. He watched her breasts rise and fall as she panted, and her nipples became like little stones. She closed her eyes for a minute, grinding her fingers around her clit while her other hand rapidly plunged the dildo deeper and deeper into her cunt. Suddenly, her hips began to buck against the bed, and her eyes flew open. "I want to see you. I want you to come closer." He moved so that his knees were touching the bed, and his thighs lightly brushed against hers. The feel of his legs brushing hers seemed to send her into deep thrusts against the dildo. "Oh god, I want you to cum on me. I want to feel you cum on me."

The scent of her juices, the sounds of her moans and the sight of her fucking the dildo sent him beyond all hope. Carl grabbed hard around his cock, pumped his hips deeply into his hand and exploded. Ribbons of cum fell onto Carrie's stomach and breasts. The feel of the hot cum and Carl's loud groan seemed to push Carrie over the edge. She suddenly froze, clamped her knees around Carl's legs and screamed. As she came, she lifted her ass high off the bed, almost even with Carl's still spurting cock. This sight - his cock a mere inch from her spasming pussy, seemed to renew his orgasm. He felt almost ready to pass out, as new wave after wave racked his body. As Carrie's body continue to jerk, she screamed again. "Oh fuck. Fuck me, Carl!" This time, there was no mistaking. She definitely said his name, this time with a passion and urgency that he had never heard before.

Unable to think, weak-kneed and spent, Carl collapsed on the bed beside Carrie. Carrie's pussy continued to clamp down on the fake cock as she lay beside him - her body occasionally jerking in response to the spasms. Carl drifted in and out of awareness, relishing the glow of Carrie's body next to his. He was in heaven.

Carl was roused by the alarm on his watch. 3 p.m. The cleaners would close in one hour. He silenced the alarm, and rose to dress. Carrie looked up at him from the bed, smiled, but said nothing. She simply watched him as zipped his pants and went off to the kitchen to retrieve his shirt. Carl was packing his toolbox as she came into the kitchen, again clad in white terrycloth.

"I didn't finish the sink. I still need to put the pipes back together. And I really need to go do something right now."

"That's fine. Will I see you later then?"

Carl smiled as he walked out. "Definitely."

As he walked up to his apartment, Carl continued to smile as he wondered just how long it would take, or if he would ever get a chance to finish putting that "pipe" in for her.