A crashing sort of sound told her the wind must have slammed the garage door. God, if only a good cock would slam into her-maybe he was ready, maybe…
Her desire, her screaming for a man made her feel fingers, tongues, a cock toying with her own ass. She almost felt the roughness of something entering her, like somebody had pulled down her jeans and-Christ, she was going crazy. She had to have something in her. But how?
"And once I went to this house where there was a bunch of Girl Scouts. Let me tell you about those Girl Scouts sometime-"
"Not now, damn it!" She wanted to roll him over, to have him give her a good dicking and yet The feeling at her ass had become more real. And suddenly there was a heavy weight on her. Fucking her rear, shoving deep in her rectum, hands circling her breasts, sliding down her cunt. She stroked against those hands, those outstretched fingers. She felt it all. Long, sensuous slides from clitoris to cunt. A long hot male rod puncturing her rear.
Jt wasn't her imagination! Someone was fucking her. She grasped the' meter man's cock harder. He/it was still there. Of course he was! Frantically she craned her neck backward.
He, the newcomer, was a handsome bucko.
"Morning," he said curteously.
Gert gasped from his vigorous shove. "You'reyou're the gardener!"
"At your service," he responded. "But try to catch the rhythm, if you will."
"Gardener," moaned the meter man. "I remember once, m-maybe it was about five, s-six months ago-go-gog..
And the body under Gert began to shudder with deep quaking spasms that her hand told her was a come. Her cock-holding fingers felt streaming hot liquid and her ass-imbedded ones were forced out with a powerful muscle contraction.
But she had little time for reflection upon her prowess. Strong rough hands still at their cunt forced her torso higher into the air. A driving weight slammed into her, but the hands held her motionless, powerless to move with the thrusts. The meter man laughed nervously as he turned his head and saw what was happening. He squirmed to turn under Gert, and the gardener lifted her higher into the air to release her hands and body from the bottom figure, never missing a beat in ramming her as he did.
Meanwhile, the meter reader was repositioning himself under her, rolling onto his back. He grinned up at her.
"Normally, us electric company employees don't like to get involved with customers-bad public relations, they tell us. But, lady, I got to say it, you are a real good hand at a jerk off."
"Th-thank… you," Gert blurted, as the gardener's prick almost found its way to her throat.
"So," the face under hers continued, "we are always being told about service, helping the customer out, and I can sure see that although your gardener friend is handling things pretty good maybe I can be of some small assistance-"
And suddenly his grasping wet mouth was on her own, and his hands were pushing her breasts together and mauling them, pulling at her nipples, pinching the skin. As she opened her mouth to gasp, his tongue shot in, exploring the sides and walls and gums. Even his cock was growing to re-erection against her stomach.
The man on top of her continued the savage shoves of his cock into her rear, only allowing her to move with slow, languorous cunt-slidings on his outstretched fingers. Her weight still was held high, but now she was almost totally supported by the strong, heaving thighs beneath her. She reached down to hold onto the meter man's shoulders but he himself took her hands and forced them down to his cock.
"Come oh, let's do some more of that whacking off stuff again," he said playfully.
But just as her fingers touched the tool, her rear end assailant pulled himself from her violently and she fell forward on the meter man's chest. Before she had time to think, the prick was in her again, powerful, atom-bombing into her and She screamed. Screamed with an orgasmic release that she hadn't even been aware was building.
But it had been, and it came upon her like a motion picture that had been set on triple speed-or a 33 rpm record suddenly switched to 78 rpm on the stereo. Not gradual, plane-by-plane building, but up and up and upupupupupupup-pow and clean out through and through-and down on the threads on the floor, and whew! And mmmmmmm…
"Hey," the meter man asked. "What about me? I ain't come yet!"
"MMMMMMMMM," Gert replied. The gardener's response was more to the point:
"Shove it up a fuse box."
"Hey now, that ain't a nice thing to be saying."
Honk.
"Honk?" Gert asked.
"Car horn," the gardener said. "You expecting somebody?" Honk honk.
"Good God!" Gert gasped. She recognized that car horn. "If s Larry!"
The meter man chuckled to see Gert scramble back into her jeans. "Who's Larry-the plumber?"
"Larry's the husband, dummy," said the gardener, sipping up rapidly. "Husband, dig?"
"Dig," repeated Gert. "The tools-get some."
He responded rapidly. The meter man however "Reminds me of the time with them Girl Scouts." He chuckled. "The little devils. Well, when the lady scoutmaster caught us-hee!"
"Shut up and pull your pants up!" Gert snapped.
Honk honk honk!
He looked at her, shaking his head. "Hardly any way to talk. After all, as an electric company representative…"
"Your pants-Jesus!" Gert hissed.
At which point the sliding garage door grated on its steel tracks, and the light of day streamed into the garage.
Chapter 11
Up went the garage door, screeching to a halt on its overhead tracks. Gert thought quickly for something to say, discarding "Good Morning" as somehow inappropriate, but failing to come up with anything better.
As it turned out, she was spared an instantaneous greeting. Her first glimpse of Larry was his back retreating toward the open door of the still-throbbing Buick. Sliding behind the wheel, he moved the car into gear and then into its spot in the garage. He stepped out of the car and looked at the three of them. "Gert," he said, his tone noncommittal.
"Larry," she said, her tone matching his.
And then it was silence.
Until it was broken by the meter man:
"Hi there, I'm your meter man."
Gert quickly followed. "I was showing him where the meters were." Thank God he'd pulled up his pants and fastened them properly.
"I'm looking for the rake," the gardener said. "Where's the rake?"
"Gert," Larry said. "Larry?"
"I saw the side door open. I knew you were here. I honked."
"I heard you," she said.
"I did too," said the meter man.
"I was going to open the door," she said.
"So was I," said the gardener.
"None of you did," Larry observed.
"Very true," said the meter man. "Very true."
"The reason we didn't-" Gert began.
"Yes," said the gardener.
Gert looked to him for completion. He shrugged. She tried again. "The reason we didn't-"
"I was talking," the meter man said. "I was telling them-"
"About your experiences," Gert quickly said.
"My experiences?" the meter man asked.
"As a meter man. You know, the Girl Scouts."
He looked at her stupidly. "Was I telling you about the Girl Scouts?"
The gardener nodded. "Good wholesome group, the Girl Scouts. Where's the goddamned rake, anyway?"
"Gert," Larry said.
"Larry."
"In the house. We've got some serious talking to do."
Serious? Gert's tummy flashed hot and cold. Did Larry suspect? Rather, did he know? Did her face show it? Did the men's faces show it?
"Gert."