by Swan, Carol
Without a word, Max lubricated his cock and slowly began to insert it into Emma.
She gasped at the sensation. It wasn’t painful, but she could feel her puckered hole stretching around his cock. The nerve endings were tingling and she began to play with her clit as he moved in and out a little further every time.
“Oh baby, I’m going to come soon,” Max groaned as he watched his cock move in and out of her virgin hole.
Emma wasn’t listening, her own orgasm already breaking, the sensation of her full asshole making it stronger and deeper than any she had experienced with vaginal intercourse.
Max felt her tighten around his cock and began to pump harder as he came. When he was done, he watched in awe as he pulled his dripping cock out of her ass.
“Emma,” he said as he turned her around and kissed her long and hard. “Can … I keep you?” Emma smiled to herself as he got up off the couch.
She might just keep him too.
The Mechanical Bull
Three shots in and the room was buzzing while Jenna ran her hands through her long black hair and up and down her midriff. She could tell more than one was watching her in this tiny hole in the wall. There were unshaved beards, long, unwashed hair, stained T-shirts and ancient baseball caps all turned her way.
The dive bar was nasty, but the drinks were cheap and she knew if there was one place she could come to get attention, it would be here.
The twanging redneck singing about honky-tonk stopped for a moment as she rushed up to the bar, slammed her jack and coke, and ordered another shot.
She eyed her drink for a second, slammed it, and sat at the bar to check out her prospects. The place really didn’t have much to offer in the way of men. There were husky types, bearded types, and hicks that never got into the military. They’d probably cream themselves in the first few seconds with her.
She decided to have a little fun. She might as well let off some steam. There was a cordoned-off mechanical bull in the corner and nobody ever really used it. It was dusty and clanked around. She asked the bartender for the keys to the bullpen and he could barely contain his smile. Everyone tried the bull when they really went for it, and everyone got thrown off.
Jenna didn’t care. She just wanted to see the looks on bearded faces when her breasts bounced up and down in her shirt. She knew how to ride the bull. She’d done it before. She might even get away with staying on the whole time. The way she staggered over to the massive beast, though, she doubted she’d have much luck with that.
The men smirked and talked amongst themselves. Most didn’t even try to hide their glances at this point. She was the talk of the bar this evening, and why not? She was the prettiest thing the place had ever seen.
Jenna opened the gate, climbed the beast, and stuck in some quarters.
She lurched forward and held on tight.
The reigns were dusty and lacked grip, but she managed to hang on. Almost immediately, the force of the bull caused her blouse to unbutton another notch. Things were about to get naughty, but she didn’t care. That was the point, wasn’t it?
A few seconds later, her blouse burst open, exposing her black lace bra to everyone in the room. A mix of embarrassed and proud, Jenna hung on for dear life. Eventually, she lost her grip on the reigns and was flung over the side, landing with her blouse open. Good thing she wore a bra.
Looking up to regain her bearings, she saw a pair of black cowboy boots. They were attached to a pair of piercing blue eyes with lean muscles and a crew cut. The man looked away from chatting with his friend and smiled.
He helped her up and said, “Hey now, you alright?”
She smiled and brushed the sawdust off her top then looked into his eyes. It took far too long before Jenna realized her blouse was still open. She buttoned up, laughing nervously.
He smiled and so did she.
“I’m Sam, and this is Ethan,” Sam introduced his friend.
There was a haze of tenderness between the two of them. Perhaps this place was worth more than she thought. He turned back to his friend and whispered something in his ear before the three of them made their leave to the front of the bar for a quick smoke.
Sam had his arm around Ethan’s shoulder, which somehow seemed a little… strange to Jenna. After a moment passed, she thought nothing of it.
Sam and Ethan talked for a moment until his friend finally said, in a thick accent, “We want to fuck. Both of us.”
Jenna was shocked at the offer.
She looked down for a second and thought about it. She’d never had two before, but… why the hell not?
They made their way in a four-door pickup truck to a massive trailer on the outskirts of the city. The men sat together, eyeing Jenna like she was dinner.
She eyed him and saw his cock was rock hard when they left the truck. Sam led her into a sparsely furnished living room. She sat on an old couch and prepared for what was about to happen.
Sam unbuttoned his shirt and showed a smooth chest with fierce muscles. Ethan stuck his hand down Sam’s pants and squeezed his cock while he rubbed himself against Sam’s perfect butt.
Holy fuck, Jenna thought to herself.
She was immediately wetter than a waterfall.
Jenna felt herself getting hotter and stuck her hand down her pants. She squeezed her clit as Sam reached out and started taking her dress off. Sam squeezed her hard nipples as Ethan continued to rub Sam’s cock.
She stood up and Sam’s perfect lips enveloped her own. Ethan gripped Sam’s cock and positioned it between Jenna’s legs. Teasing, he guided Sam’s cock up and down Jenna’s pussy lips.
“Oh my god,” Jenna gasped.
She took off her panties and started rubbing her clit.
“You want to fuck me?” Jenna looked up at him.
“I need to fuck you,” Sam responded.
“Well, you’re going to have to beg for it,” Jenna teased.
She strode around to Ethan and reached around to grab his firm cock and place it near Sam’s tight butt. Before sticking it in, she gave it a quick lick and suck to make sure it was rock hard.
“You like that?” Jenna asked.
Both men nodded in agreement.
She spun around to the front of Sam, dropped down to her knees, and took his firm cock in her mouth.
After a while, Sam stood her up, spun her around, and stuck his dick in her wet pussy. He started pounding her from behind as she screamed in ecstasy. Sam looked her in the eye and started attacking her mouth with his own until Jenna felt like begging herself.
“Fuck me harder!” she cried.
Ethan pulled out of Sam and positioned himself behind Jenna.
“Are you ready for this?” Ethan asked.
“Please! Please fuck me, both of you!” Jenna screamed.
Ethan stuck it in her right away and started pounding her intensely like he was hammering a nail. He filled every inch of her and screamed the entire time. He loved every second of it, and so did Sam.
She could feel the pleasure building into one intense crescendo of passion as both men filled each of her tight holes. The bursts of ecstasy flowed in time with their breathing. Their hearts beat as one.
Jenna was screaming with pleasure. She erupted like a volcano as she felt hot bursts enter her simultaneously from both the hard throbbing cocks inside her. This was an incredible feeling.
They collapsed on one another, and lay there the whole night.
Sawdust
After years of threatening to retire, Brad finally did. To make matters worse, he and his wife moved to Florida. I desperately needed someone to work alongside me in my woodshop.
Emma wasn't what I expected.
I run a commercial wood carving business, a specialized niche. For many years like any other small business, I was either swamped or wondering if I should find a new line of work. Over the last few years, however, I've managed to steady the workload and have forced myself to learn how to turn down some projects too.
It's a stable two man operation.
I didn't think replacing Brad was going to be so difficult.
I tried a couple of young guys. One guy, Carter, was great, but after several weeks he decided to start his own contracting business. Another guy was just plain unreliable. His workmanship was good, but his attitude wasn't. When it's just the two of you working alongside of each other, you've got to get along. I had to let him go.
Another guy had a serious drinking problem. Alcohol and a table saw don't mix.
Emma was the daughter of a friend of a friend's brother. She was an art school graduate, still living at home, unable to find serious work.
I'd never thought of going the art school route. I needed woodworking skills not artistic skills. I needed someone who could cut wood, plane it, use a router, set-up a jig and do lots and lots of painting. The artistic element was usually conceived by someone else. My shop requires technical skills mainly. Artistic skills are a secondary consideration.
I asked my friend to have her email me.
She was twenty eight currently working part time in a clothing store. Her hobbies included art, sculpture, and music recording. She didn't list any skills. Her experience was working in retail.
She included several photos of her sculpture. Three were in metal, four in wood and one was in what appeared to be wood, metal, glass and plastic. The stuff was okay, not my cup of tea but what I saw was a fine eye to detail and clearly the ability to work with her hands.
'Come on by for a visit,' I emailed back.
She was 5’4” and rebellious. Nose ring, short black hair, black raccoon-like eye make-up surrounding green eyes, dark lipstick, little leather neck collar with a Christian cross pendent, funny silver jewelry and when she reached out to shake my hand I could see there were tattoos running up her wrist.
Great, a Goth chick. And I thought that stuff was out of fashion. And at twenty eight?
"Come on in," I said. She stepped into the shop from the January snow outside. She wore a short black leather jacket, black jeans, I think they're called Doc Marten's boots and had a burlap handbag or backpack or something. I watched as she put it down on a pile of lumber.
"It's hemp," she said.
Oh brother.
"So this is it," I said waving my hand through the air, "this is the shop."
She looked around for a moment and then said, "What exactly do you do?"
"Commercial wood carving, signs, railings, balusters, odd bits, some furniture restoration, always in wood."
She picked up one of the pieces I was currently working on. It was a 20" x 30" x 1-1/2" thick piece of laminated maple with the outline of the 9th hole on one side and the Whistling Swans logo on the other. It still needed sanding, painting and finishing.
"This is what you do?" she asked with an incredulous look in her face.
"Yeah."
"You can make money doing this?"
"Yeah. If you do it right."
"So how much do you get for one of these?"
"I don't know, but it's not finished. It still has to be sanded, stabilized, painted and polyurethaned and then hung from a bracket which still has to be made and installed."
"But how much do you get for one of these?"
"I don't know exactly, it's part of a job that I bid on." I took the piece from her and continued, "This sign here, once it's painted and polyed twice is probably a day's work. I set up a jig for the logo on the back, the hole itself has to be scaled, carved, lettering carved, sanded, painted. You do them all at the same time, but there's twenty seven frikkin' holes. That alone is more than a month's work. Plus I've got the front entrance sign. I've got the tee-off markers, each one is carved. There's two hundred of those. The 'carts' signs, they've ordered fifty, but I'm making seventy five, I know they're going to want more. There's twenty nine miscellaneous signs, 'parking', 'washrooms', 'to 10th tee' that sort of stuff and twenty two banisters that need to be carved front and back for the patio, but that's easy 'cause it's a jig."
"Wow and you do all that by yourself?" She said as she continued to look around the shop.
"No I can't. That's my point. I need help."
"How much is the whole job worth?"
Odd line of inquiry, but fair enough, I figured she was trying to establish if I was legit.
"The original contract was for a hundred and nineteen grand. But I've negotiated an extra for fifty two grand. Originally I had a leisurely six months to do the work."
"An extra?"
"A month and a half into it, they changed the fucking logo. I always wondered why 'Whistling Swans' would only have one swan. They made that decision a month before, but no one bothered to tell me. I had to throw away a month and a half's work."
She picked up the 9th hole piece again and studied the logo on the reverse. It was two swans facing each other with their necks slightly entwined. Their wings open at their backs, all boarded by a rope pattern. "I guess it's supposed to be a W," I said.
She shook her head and put the piece down. "So it was their mistake, what's the big deal?"
"The big deal is the opening date for the golf course doesn't change."
"I don't know how to work half this stuff," she said looking around the shop. "In fact I don't know how to work any of this stuff."
"All I need is someone with a good work ethic and a good pair of hands. Give me your hands," I said holding out my palms. She put her hands into mine. "Squeeze hard," I said. She did. She had strong hands for a small woman. I could see she bit her fingernails. They were chipped and painted black. Her hands were warm. She smiled as I examined her hands. "I'll teach you everything else."
"How much would I get paid?"
"Twenty bucks an hour to start, then I can assess your productivity and pay you accordingly." I said. "Thirty bucks beyond forty hours per week. I have to do all the deductions, it's a real business."
She looked at me a bit shocked. "Are you offering me the job?"
"Yeah, when can you start?"
"I don't know. I'd have to quit my part time job. When do you want me to start?"
"How about right now?"
"Okay," she said, "I've got the rest of the day free. Let's go."
I set her up with a shop robe; I had to use a pair of scissors to cut the sleeves shorter. I handed her all the safety stuff. "Get yourself some steel toed boots," I said, and then added, "I'm sorry you'll have to take those rings off your fingers, it's a safety thing."
She seemed intelligent and eager to learn.
Later we stopped for lunch. She hadn't brought any. From my stash of canned chili and soups in the little corner kitchenette I managed to scrounge up lunch for the both of us. Soup and bag o'salad cole slaw with Three Cheese Ranch dressing. She didn't want any toast.
"Sam, tell me," she asked as we ate, "do you live next door?"
"Yeah."
"What does your wife do?"
"I'm not married."
"So you live in that big house by yourself?"
"It's not that big. It's only three bedrooms."
"How big is the property?"
"Five and a half acres, why?"
"It just seems a lot of house for one person."
"I bought the house because of this shop. I used to pay rent on an apartment and rent for some shop space. It was a no-brainer to buy this place. Now my commute is sixty seconds."
Emma just bobbed her head up and down, staring off into space while holding her spoon.
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Thirty six, why?"
"Just wondering."
Fair enough.
That afternoon I showed Emma how the jig set up worked. A frame was bolted down to the piece of wood. Then a color coded rigid PVC sheet is slid into the frame at a predetermined height. The cut PVC serves as a template for a rotary carving tool, either a plunge router or a fixed Dremel-style power carver. Depending on the carving, with three or more templates, ninety or ninety-five percent or so of the wood is r
emoved for the bas-relief carving. A little bit of hand gouging and chiseling is all that's left to do.
She understood right away. The only question that she asked was, "Why don't you use all one color template to all the pieces, then switch to the next template and do all the pieces again."
"Ah," I said, "the time is in bolting the frame to the piece. Plus, that has to be absolutely spot on. The frame location can't change."
It took her a few days to disassociate herself from her part-time job, but soon enough she became full time. She would be at the shop promptly at eight a.m. every morning even though her commute was forty five minutes. She wouldn't leave until the particular little production run was done that afternoon. Sometimes we would work until after seven. When I would teach her how to do something, I only had to show her once. Her handwork, especially in painting was fantastic. She worked quickly and diligently. She was always cheerful and professional.
I couldn't be happier.
I made sure to encourage her and let her know that she was doing a great job. Sometimes I'd offer a little advice on her technique, usually by suggesting a different tool for a given application. I made sure to end every day by saying, 'Thank you, drive carefully and I'll see you in the morning.'