Overheated With Lust – Horny For His Cock

Beneath The Bougainvillea

For weeks, I’ve been watching him from behind the gauzy curtains of my kitchen window. It’s become my favorite ritual. Overheated with lust, naked except for my loosely tied silk robe and my sweet hot coffee, I wait for him to arrive every Tuesday and Thursday. Always at 8:00 a.m. sharp, always alone, and always tempting me. The gardener. I don’t know his name. Only that he moves with an easy confidence that causes me to become overheated with lust, his tan arms glistening with sweat as he trims the hedges and pulls weeds. He has a quiet intensity about him, as if the soil tells him secrets.

Growing Secrets

It started with wanting glances. Then longer stairs. He knows I’ve been watching him. Then, one hot Thursday morning, I stood nearly naked on the back patio. Pretending to prune the petunias. He was near the bougainvillea. His shirt on the ground, and his muscles rippling under the sun as he worked. The air felt thick with heat and anticipation. I cleared my throat. He turned, looking in my direction. Overheated with lust, I asked him if he would like something cold to drink. He nodded and dropped his tools. Something told me I wasn’t the first big butt slut on the block to invite him inside while he was working.

Once indoors, the air conditioning hummed quietly. But it did little to cool the fire I felt growing between my legs. I handed him a glass of iced tea. The sparks were immediate and undeniable. “You take good care of the garden,” I said softly. “I like working with my hands,” he replied. His eyes lingered on my lips. Never breaking eye contact, my silk robe slid off one shoulder, exposing my breast. Overheated with lust, he cupped my exposed breast in his hand as his lips found mine. Then ventured down my neck and silhouette before finding my clit. My robe on the floor, my hands in his hair, my head tossing back in exhilaration, my moans echoing throughout the kitchen.

Deeply Rooted Desire – Overheated With Lust

Every inch of my skin felt alive with lust. This had been building for weeks. Kissing his way up the inside of my thighs and back up my body, pausing to suck my nipples aggressively. We didn’t make it to the bedroom. The marble floor was cold against our hot bodies, overheated with lust. Gasping as his long, girthy cock moved in and out of me like it was claiming lost territory.

Slow at first, then deeper, harder, faster. My legs wrapped around him tightly, and my nails dug into his flesh as I gave into my creamy release. When we finally collapsed, tangled and breathless, the room smelled of sweat, sex, cum, and bliss. Several minutes went by, and nobody spoke. Just the sounds of us breathing, overheated with lust. He began brushing my hair from my flushed face. “Same time next week?”  He asked with a smirk. Laughing, I pulled him in close. “No”. I whispered against his lips. “Tomorrow”.

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