I lay down on the stage, totally nude, as the frenzied crowd cheered him on. My lips could still taste the whipped cream I’d licked off the stripper’s massive cock. As another heavily-muscled stripper straddled my face and offered his thick member to my eager mouth, I felt the other’s hardness pushing into my gushing pussy…

“Clank! Rat-tat-tatta-tat! Drum-dra-da-drum-crash!” A cacophony of noise erupted from outside and shook the walls of my house.

“Goddamn fucking damn shit cunting mother-fuckers!” I screamed to the ceiling, in a display of cultured and refined speech. “Fucking stop it! I’m trying to cum!”

My previous evening had been spent at an all-male review in the company of Kiera, Sylva, and my friend Marcy. Fun was had and some naughtiness ensued, but nothing so crazy as to result in my waking up beside glorious male strippers and going for round two—or four. I was masturbating in my bed, enjoying the fantasy, but the damn noise outside was far too distracting.

I moved away from the city to escape the clamor. I was acrimonious! Not only was the noise not supposed to be happening, it was so loud that it sounded like major demolitions were occurring on my front lawn. If I don’t get my morning orgasm I am such a bitch and whomever was making the noise was about to meet my wrath.

I jumped out of bed, still nude, with my thighs glistening from my arousal, and stormed down the hall to look out the front window. I looked out and saw a sight to behold. A crew of four young men, half of them already shirtless in the morning heat, were repairing the giant craters in the road in front of my house.

One of the few disadvantages of living on the edge of Timbuktu is that nobody maintains the roads. Over the years the road had developed cracks, then holes, then meteor-strike-sized craters. I figured that it would always be like that and always warned guests to slow way down before turning into my front drive, lest they destroy their vehicle.

I ran downstairs and grabbed my star-gazing binoculars, a gift from my ex-husband last Yule, and took up my vantage point once more. If there’s one thing to be counted on with road construction workers it is the fact that they all have amazing bodies from doing so much hard physical labor. I was still all worked up from having male strippers grind on me and invite me to lick whipped cream off of their various body parts; plus my interrupted morning masturbation ritual ended in frustration and only left me in a major sense of heat.

“Fine then,” I said aloud to the ether. “If they won’t let me fuck myself, I’ll just have to fuck with them!”

I ran into my bedroom and quickly did my makeup. I wanted it to look sexy, but natural. That way I had plausible deniability. I knew that I was going to tease them, just uncertain as to how. I got rid of my bed-head with my brush and checked my phone. Glade had sent me a message over something. I began to answer him and then thought better of my verbiage.

“What we have here is a failure to communicate,” I said to myself. Then it hit me! Cool Hand Luke!

I messaged my lover back and called the bitch in the mirror a slutty whore. I knew exactly what I was going to do and exactly what I was going to wear. I pulled out my “work in the yard” shorts. They are old, torn, faded denim cutoffs that are just a bit too short for polite society. About an inch of my ass cheeks are exposed before I bend over, one of the back pockets is ripped half off, and there are large holes here and there that are just white strings. The side seams are becoming frayed and there is about an inch-long slit on either leg.

Up top I chose a simple white bikini top. I'd only worn it swimming twice. The first time I wore it the lining irritated my skin so I cut the lining out. The second time I wore it, I noted that without the lining it became nearly transparent when wet.

I admired the whorish slut in the mirror and sprinted down the stairs when my coffee pot chimed out that my morning brew was ready. It was now time to wash my car! I grabbed my sunglasses on the way out.

I pulled my Volkswagen about halfway down my drive. It was right at the beginning of the incline so the water from the hose would run down into the ditch rather than pool about in my yard. The crew was intently working on destroying what little bit of road was left directly in front of my driveway. All work stopped when they saw my car driving towards them. They cleared out to make room for me to pass.

I parked my Cabriolet and climbed out slowly and seductively. I was going to tease them to death. First a sandaled foot, then my pale calf. My thigh emerged from behind the door followed by my other leg swinging wide and then closing. I gently placed a hand over the top of the door and bent forward and slowly pulled myself out of the car. I then stretched my back to make my breasts jut out and softly closed the door.

I turned to them and waved, suppressing a giggle. They were all staring at me. I wonder why? “Don’t mind me, guys. I just need to wash my car.” I added some shoulder wiggling to my wave knowing that my breasts would jiggle slightly.

Four broad chests pointed straight at me. On top of each torso was a nicely featured face with a glazed look in their respective eyes. I set about wiping the imaginary dirt off of the hood of my car and bent deeply at the waist. I then sashayed to the garage to collect my bucket and car washing supplies. Work didn’t recommence until I was out of their line of sight.

I made my way back out and set down my bucket, sponge, and soaps. Oops! Silly me; I “accidentally” kicked it over. Down on my hands and knees, I uprighted the bucket and replaced everything. I really had to stretch and bend to reach everything. Work all but stopped once more as they leered at me. Through my mirrored sunglasses I could see them watching and elbowing each other.

I went to the front of my house and grabbed the hose. I pretended to struggle with it and pulled hard to unwind it from the spool. Then I hosed down the car and set to washing. I was maybe twenty or so yards away from them.

Channeling both my super-slutty friend, Kiera, and my Kryssi the Bimbo character, I got suds and water all over me. As predicted, my bikini top became mostly transparent and my already-aroused nipples stood out like beacons. Even the back of my shorts were saturated and clung to my ass. I finished washing the car and then rinsed it off, making certain to get lots of overspray on my body.

Noting that the noise of their roadwork had tapered off to almost nothing, I turned off the hose, stretched my back out, gyrated my hips a little, and then turned towards my house. As soon as I got inside the garage I burst out laughing, feeling the heat of sexual arousal nearly consume me. I leaned against the wall and shoved my hand down my wet shorts and fingered my clit for a few seconds until my breathing became ragged and my nipples grew so stiff that they almost hurt.

I quickly went into my kitchen and filled a pitcher with lemonade, grabbing four plastic tumblers. Setting them on a tray, I sauntered out to the end of my property bearing libations. I didn’t need to get their attention; I already had it. By this time they were concentrating more on me than on their work.

All four of them were now shirtless. Three of them had nice bodies; the other one was a bit scrawny but still a bit muscular.

“I thought you boys might be hot,” I said to them in my husky-vixen voice. “I have exactly what you want.”

I held the tray in front of my barely concealed boobs, knowing fully well that their eyes were on me and not on the drinks.

“Y’all will need to grab them,” I said with slutty emphasis on the last two words, nodding at the cups. I mentally noted that Kiera was rubbing off on me. “That is unless you don’t want any from me.”

Four hands reached out at once. I smiled at them and grasped the pitcher. My mirrored wayfarers allowed me to subtly check their reactions. I poured each of them a cup and set the pitcher down at the end of my driveway. Eight eyes were staring at my ass; the cups in their hands forgotten.

“I made that myself,” I lied. “Enjoy. Just bring the pitcher back when you’re done.”

I picked up the tray with one hand and let it dangle as I walked away. I could hear the wooden tray slapping against my thigh. I set the tray down near my car and proceeded to finish drying it. I made a big show of it.

Dry, bend, stretch, stick out my ass, rock forward and back on my knees, stand and stretch with my arms up high, then repeat. As I was on all fours with my ass facing them, I heard one of them approaching and saw his shadow cover me. I responded by suppressing a snicker while I arched my back deeply making my behind stick way out. I could feel the heat of the sun on my exposed ass cheeks to match the heat between my legs.

“Pardon me Missus…” he began.

I turned my head and beamed at him. “Miss,” I said. “Krystal.”

“Miss Krystal,” he said. His eyes roamed over my body, leaving scorch marks wherever his gaze traveled. “Can I borrow your hose?”

May I, I mentally corrected him. “Certainly.”

He thanked me, turned the nozzle, and proceeded to hose himself down. He looked good covered in road-dirt, sweat, and grime. Wetted down, he looked amazing.

“Do me,” I said to him. “Spray it all over me,” I smiled out to him.

He turned the hose on me and soaked me thoroughly. His jeans grew tight as he did so. I didn’t know if it was the renewed translucency of my thin bikini top or the fact that I rubbed my hands over my body under the cold spray of the hose. Nonetheless, his erection was impressive, bulging out from his soaked, tight jeans.

I went back to bending over the hood of my car to dry it off and he returned to work. It wasn’t surprising that all four of them were suddenly too hot to work and asked if they could also use my hose.

I flirted with them incessantly and was rewarded with four hard cocks from my teasing.

I had prolonged the teasing enough to get myself dripping wet. Had I not been soaked to the bone, I’m sure the front of my shorts would have been saturated from a source other than the hose. I had worked myself into a stupor to the point that my nipples were aching for rough hands. I even caught myself grinding my clit against my car. I decided it was time for relief.

I let the hose lie where it was and packed the washing accessories into the trunk. I backed into the garage and closed the door. Stripping out of my wet clothes, I ran through the house and got back to my perch that overlooked the front. They had started working again and were obviously excitedly talking about something. I fantasized that I was the topic of their conversation.

Holding the binoculars up to my eyes, I zoomed in on them. One hand held the looking glasses while the other one shot straight to my engorged clitoris. I spread my legs for easier access and quickly brought myself to the brink of orgasm. I stopped then, edging just a little, and inserted first one finger, then two, inside my pussy, and slowly fucked myself until my hips began to buck and I was moaning loudly.

Just before I was about to burst in a tidal wave of orgasmic pleasure, I saw one of the men, the handsome muscular one that had first asked to use my hose, pick up the emptied pitcher and walk towards the house.

Thankful that I have a huge yard I ran into my bathroom and turned on the shower. The water hadn’t even got warm yet, but I jumped in and soaked myself quickly. I turned off the water and threw my thin, short, satin floral robe over my body just as they doorbell rang. I waited until the second chime and shouted out that I’d be right there.

I tweaked my nipples to even greater hardness and pulled the hem open enough to show lots of cleavage and leg. I barely tied the belt, which allowed my legs and crotch to peek out. I shook out my wet hair and threw the door open. He gasped when he saw me.

“May I help you?” I said innocently.

“Thank you for the drinks, ma’am,” he said. His eyes popped when he saw the shortness of my robe.

Well, if he wants more than I’ll give him some more, I thought to myself. I took the pitcher and smiled at him.

“I was just in the shower. I barely heard the bell. Would you boys be so kind to check my mailbox when you’re done? That shaft just seems to slide around in my hole!” I pouted a little by sticking out my bottom lip.

“I’d be happy to check it out.” He smiled at me.

“Thank you,” I said to him. You can slide around in my hole any time, my inner vixen silently suggested.

He left, eventually, and as I stepped forward to close the door, my robe “accidentally” fell open enough to flash him my soaked and recently fingered pussy. His shadow hadn’t even faded from the window before my back was against the door and both of my hands attacked my pussy. With two fingers plunging inside of me and one hand furiously rubbing my clit, I had a knee-buckling orgasm.

I headed towards the shower but only made it to the landing of the stairs before I heard their jackhammer start again. This time the noise didn’t bother me because I was far too gone. It only reminded me that I loved teasing them. I fingered myself to another orgasm with my fingers matching the pummeling pace of their loud tools. I screamed loudly, my ecstasy muffled by the jackhammer.

Leaving my robe on the landing I made it up to my bedroom and into my private bath. My shower massage managed orgasms three and four.

By the time I was finished, they had finished patching the road and were leaving. It was a good thing I got my morning orgasms, albeit delayed. If I don’t get them, I’m such a bitch. I also got my mailbox post fixed in the process.