1. The Hangout


    Date: 11/3/2015, Categories: Fantasy, Consensual Sex, First Time, Job/Place-of-work, Male/Female, Oral Sex, Author: wantsomefun, Rating: 89.1, Source: sexstories.com

    were thin, her belly flat. She looked frail, but not unhealthy. “Martha, why are you surprised? Sex isn’t what we’re about, but I look.” “Okay.” “You’re making me feel like a pervert.” “No, no, it’s fine. I respect your opinion. As long as you like what you see, great. Now, I want to sketch as much as I can to get ready for Monday.” I turned on the white lights, and we assembled all the scaffolding, enough to cover about a third of the side wall. She expanded her rough drawing to fill the space she could reach. We measured, did the math, and made a shopping list. When everything was secure, she locked the door behind us, and we went home. Monday dawned sticky. I chose cut-off jeans, a tee, and sneakers. Martha met me at the curb dressed the same. “I made us a big thermos of iced tea,” she said. “It’s supposed to get pretty hot today.” The cavernous building was stuffy and warm by the time we unloaded the week’s supplies, so I started the fans. After a few trips up and down the scaffolding with paint and equipment, I said, “It’s much hotter up here than down on the floor.” “What setting are the fans on?” she asked. “Low.” “Turn them up. Please. I’m sweating like a pig.” I climbed down and checked the control box. The switch showed four speeds, so I turned it to number two. The fans sped up, and the whisper of warm air through the place turned to a breeze. I pulled a bandana from my pocket to mop my face and make a sweatband. “Is that any better?” I called. “Which speed is ...
    that?” “Two. There are four speeds.” “Try number three.” The third setting created wind. “Too much!” she yelled. She clutched at drawings threatening to lift off her perch. I had already turned the fans down. They coasted to the lower speed, and the storm subsided. When I could be heard without shouting, I said, “There’s a sign on the panel that says you have to open all the doors for the highest speed to let enough air in.” “Don’t do that while I’m up here! I don’t have a lot of weight holding me down.” She combed her hair somewhat back into place with her fingers. “I’ll deal with the heat.” “It’s pleasant down here,” I called. “Yeah? Bring the iced tea up to me. You can climb for it when you’re thirsty.” She roughed in color, and I mixed paints using recipes I wrote down watching her earlier. Soon, it was time for lunch. “They make salads at that pizza place, don’t they?” she asked. “I don’t want hot food.” “Wanna split an antipasto?” “Yeah, and get me the biggest drink they have. We have the tea, but we should save it for later.” We had our appetizer on the scaffolding and our lunch at a rickety table and chairs we found in a storage building attached to the main structure. “Can’t believe how pleasant it is down here,” she remarked. “The building has heat, but the owner doesn’t plan to air condition it until next year. Even with a bunch of kids in here, those fans should keep it manageable this fall.” “I’m glad I brought a bandana,” I said. “Didn’t even think of it this ...
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