Dutch's Dirty Mind

Dutch Leonard · 09-08-2010, 10:29 PM

Accountable

Sometimes, in my job, I would have to knock on a door. If I had something called an “accountable”, I was accountable for it. I was responsible for getting a signature for it, in a face to face encounter. Sometimes people weren't so happy to see me, because the accountable had bad news. But sometimes it was something good, and the recipient was happy to see me.

I had come to notice someone who lived in a nice house, who I saw sometimes as I made my appointed rounds. The merest glimpse of her made my heart race. She was a magnificent busty redhead with a smile so bright I was sure it cast a shadow behind me. She filled my dreams at night and occupied my waking thoughts. But I couldn't really hope that her smiles meant anything other than that she was friendly. She wouldn't want a butch like me.

One day, I had an accountable for her house. I was going to get to knock on her door, look into her eyes and hear her voice. I looked forward to those moments. I remember hoping maybe our fingers might accidentally touch as I handed the article to her. I knew how much it would turn me on and how down I'd feel later, probably hitting the bottle a little too hard because of my unrequited lust for this woman.

It was a warm day, late morning and I was somewhat sweaty but Old Spice was holding my body odor at bay. I was in my blue uniform, with baggy shorts and a shirtjack, which allows you to have an untucked shirt, which helped to conceal the enormous dildo I was packing. I didn't pack every day for work and I didn't usually pack the Outlaw, an eight and a half inch long by two inch thick monster. Doing so made me feel like a million bucks. You don't like my looks? Suck on this.

I stood on the threshold, holding a box and a piece of paper for the signature and knocked on her door. It opened really fast, sending cool, lavender scented air through the door and there she was, taller than I remembered her. And there was her cleavage inches away from my face. My eyes lingered there for a moment, and then I looked up into hers. “What color are they?!” I screamed inside my head. Hazel, they were hazel. They seemed to twinkle with delight as they looked back into mine.

“Oh, I've been waiting for this!” she exclaimed. “Won't you please come in?”

Come in? What the... I looked up and down the street, scanning for the supervisor's Lincoln Continental or the boss's Pontiac Bonneville convertible. Sometimes they watched us. In case we were bad- breaks or lunches that took a little too long or conversations with customers that made us run into overtime. Those guys stood around thumping their watches, thinking about their bonuses. The street was empty of cars. I went inside. I hadn't said a word yet.

She stood near one end of a dining room table and indicated the other end.

“Set it there, please.” I placed the box on the table and turned to her with my piece of paper and pen but she had stretched out onto the table, her right arm reaching for the box, twisted to face me. Her breasts threatened to spill out of her top onto the table.

“I can't reach it.” She pouted. I took in this tableau, noticing how short her skirt was and how it was riding up as she bent over. I had to see what was back there.

“I'll give you a boost,” I said. I stepped around behind her and flipped the skirt up over her back. A lacy thong framed the tops of her cheeks. I fingered the fabric for a moment before I fished the string from the cleft of her ass and maintained contact with her skin as I lowered the tiny garment down to her knees. I had hoped to just brush her fingers and here I was brushing my hands over her ample bare bottom.

I cupped her pussy and tried to steady my breathing as hers became ragged and she began to moan...

“Daddy...” she said. That was all I needed to hear.

I knelt and pulled the outer lips apart to bring the tiny flower into view with it's little white pearl. I ran my tongue up one side and down the other before plunging into her wetness with it, fucking her with my tongue as she squirmed responsively.

“Daddy, please!” she cried.

I stood and kneaded her buttocks some more and unzipped, pulling the enormous cock from my shorts. The shorts crashed to the floor around my ankles from the weight of change and wallet and keys. “It's too big,” I thought, “no one has ever wanted this one She won't be able to take it. Just finger fuck her some and eat her out until she comes.”

After a few preliminary spanks, that is what I did. Just enough to pink her bottom up. She squealed “Thank you, Daddy!” with each one.

One and then two fingers revealed she was plenty wet and a third went in with no problem. I folded my pinkie and thumb in and to my shock, she sucked my entire hand inside her vagina. I had never fisted anyone before and wasn't real sure how to proceed. I held still and reached around with my other hand to knead her clit. From her reaction, I could see this was the right thing to do. And I knew she would have no problem with the Outlaw. I glanced at my watch, deciding I could save my afternoon break by moving things along. Thoughts of the Lincoln or the Bonneville rolling down the street began to intrude and she needed to climax soon. She seemed to want to...

“Oh, Daddy, that feels so good!” she cried as she forcefully ejected my hand. “I want your cock- please, Daddy, now?” she begged. There wasn't time to tease or deny, so I obliged. I lubed the Outlaw with her juices from my hand and slid it in and began to jackhammer my way into ecstasy. When she was riding the wave to the top of its crest she screamed for me to pull out. As I did, I stepped aside just in time to avoid a stream of fluid she shot a good five feet past me. I grabbed the Outlaw and ground it into myself for my own orgasm as I watched this sight. I sagged against the table, resting my hand on her tailbone as I surveyed the scene of our crime, as we both gasped for breath.

I washed up in her bathroom and came out to find her mopping up the cum. I noticed the thong on the floor and retrieved it for her and guided her to lean back against the table as her breathing was still labored and she seemed shaky. She let me kiss her and fondle her neglected breasts as she stuffed the pink piece of paper with her signature and another with her phone number into my shirt pocket.

“Call me,” she said.

“I will.” I gathered up my satchel and headed back out to the street, scanning it for Lincolns and Pontiacs and seeing none. A door or two later, I had a letter that required a signature.

The door opened to a set of breasts encased in a lowcut top, framed by long black hair below a pair of large brown eyes that smiled warmly at me as she invited me inside.

I looked up and down the street one more time and knew there would be no time for an afternoon break or a lunch today.

09-08-2010, 10:29 PM	#1
Dutch Leonard Member How Do You Identify?: Stone Butch Tournaments Won: 7 Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: East of the Rockies Posts: 291 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 1,901 Thanked 389 Times in 120 Posts Rep Power: 4100777	Dutch's Dirty Mind Accountable Sometimes, in my job, I would have to knock on a door. If I had something called an “accountable”, I was accountable for it. I was responsible for getting a signature for it, in a face to face encounter. Sometimes people weren't so happy to see me, because the accountable had bad news. But sometimes it was something good, and the recipient was happy to see me. I had come to notice someone who lived in a nice house, who I saw sometimes as I made my appointed rounds. The merest glimpse of her made my heart race. She was a magnificent busty redhead with a smile so bright I was sure it cast a shadow behind me. She filled my dreams at night and occupied my waking thoughts. But I couldn't really hope that her smiles meant anything other than that she was friendly. She wouldn't want a butch like me. One day, I had an accountable for her house. I was going to get to knock on her door, look into her eyes and hear her voice. I looked forward to those moments. I remember hoping maybe our fingers might accidentally touch as I handed the article to her. I knew how much it would turn me on and how down I'd feel later, probably hitting the bottle a little too hard because of my unrequited lust for this woman. It was a warm day, late morning and I was somewhat sweaty but Old Spice was holding my body odor at bay. I was in my blue uniform, with baggy shorts and a shirtjack, which allows you to have an untucked shirt, which helped to conceal the enormous dildo I was packing. I didn't pack every day for work and I didn't usually pack the Outlaw, an eight and a half inch long by two inch thick monster. Doing so made me feel like a million bucks. You don't like my looks? Suck on this. I stood on the threshold, holding a box and a piece of paper for the signature and knocked on her door. It opened really fast, sending cool, lavender scented air through the door and there she was, taller than I remembered her. And there was her cleavage inches away from my face. My eyes lingered there for a moment, and then I looked up into hers. “What color are they?!” I screamed inside my head. Hazel, they were hazel. They seemed to twinkle with delight as they looked back into mine. “Oh, I've been waiting for this!” she exclaimed. “Won't you please come in?” Come in? What the... I looked up and down the street, scanning for the supervisor's Lincoln Continental or the boss's Pontiac Bonneville convertible. Sometimes they watched us. In case we were bad- breaks or lunches that took a little too long or conversations with customers that made us run into overtime. Those guys stood around thumping their watches, thinking about their bonuses. The street was empty of cars. I went inside. I hadn't said a word yet. She stood near one end of a dining room table and indicated the other end. “Set it there, please.” I placed the box on the table and turned to her with my piece of paper and pen but she had stretched out onto the table, her right arm reaching for the box, twisted to face me. Her breasts threatened to spill out of her top onto the table. “I can't reach it.” She pouted. I took in this tableau, noticing how short her skirt was and how it was riding up as she bent over. I had to see what was back there. “I'll give you a boost,” I said. I stepped around behind her and flipped the skirt up over her back. A lacy thong framed the tops of her cheeks. I fingered the fabric for a moment before I fished the string from the cleft of her ass and maintained contact with her skin as I lowered the tiny garment down to her knees. I had hoped to just brush her fingers and here I was brushing my hands over her ample bare bottom. I cupped her pussy and tried to steady my breathing as hers became ragged and she began to moan... “Daddy...” she said. That was all I needed to hear. I knelt and pulled the outer lips apart to bring the tiny flower into view with it's little white pearl. I ran my tongue up one side and down the other before plunging into her wetness with it, fucking her with my tongue as she squirmed responsively. “Daddy, please!” she cried. I stood and kneaded her buttocks some more and unzipped, pulling the enormous cock from my shorts. The shorts crashed to the floor around my ankles from the weight of change and wallet and keys. “It's too big,” I thought, “no one has ever wanted this one She won't be able to take it. Just finger fuck her some and eat her out until she comes.” After a few preliminary spanks, that is what I did. Just enough to pink her bottom up. She squealed “Thank you, Daddy!” with each one. One and then two fingers revealed she was plenty wet and a third went in with no problem. I folded my pinkie and thumb in and to my shock, she sucked my entire hand inside her vagina. I had never fisted anyone before and wasn't real sure how to proceed. I held still and reached around with my other hand to knead her clit. From her reaction, I could see this was the right thing to do. And I knew she would have no problem with the Outlaw. I glanced at my watch, deciding I could save my afternoon break by moving things along. Thoughts of the Lincoln or the Bonneville rolling down the street began to intrude and she needed to climax soon. She seemed to want to... “Oh, Daddy, that feels so good!” she cried as she forcefully ejected my hand. “I want your cock- please, Daddy, now?” she begged. There wasn't time to tease or deny, so I obliged. I lubed the Outlaw with her juices from my hand and slid it in and began to jackhammer my way into ecstasy. When she was riding the wave to the top of its crest she screamed for me to pull out. As I did, I stepped aside just in time to avoid a stream of fluid she shot a good five feet past me. I grabbed the Outlaw and ground it into myself for my own orgasm as I watched this sight. I sagged against the table, resting my hand on her tailbone as I surveyed the scene of our crime, as we both gasped for breath. I washed up in her bathroom and came out to find her mopping up the cum. I noticed the thong on the floor and retrieved it for her and guided her to lean back against the table as her breathing was still labored and she seemed shaky. She let me kiss her and fondle her neglected breasts as she stuffed the pink piece of paper with her signature and another with her phone number into my shirt pocket. “Call me,” she said. “I will.” I gathered up my satchel and headed back out to the street, scanning it for Lincolns and Pontiacs and seeing none. A door or two later, I had a letter that required a signature. The door opened to a set of breasts encased in a lowcut top, framed by long black hair below a pair of large brown eyes that smiled warmly at me as she invited me inside. I looked up and down the street one more time and knew there would be no time for an afternoon break or a lunch today.