The construction worker had a huge bulge, absolutely massive. When he arrived at my place, very politely, he explained that redoing the floor in my dining room wouldn’t be an easy job.
— “Alright,” I told him.
Suddenly, he asked:
— “Can I use your bathroom for two minutes?”
— “Yeah, of course.”
The sound of his piss was ridiculously loud. Discretion and subtlety clearly weren’t his thing, to say the least. Without the slightest embarrassment, he walked out of the bathroom without even putting his huge Portuguese cock properly back inside his worker pants. He knew I was gay since I lived with my partner, and because my boyfriend was the one who had contacted him.
“Me and my husband,” he kept saying…
“My husband will supervise…”
My husband had a very idealized vision of our relationship. He had bought this house to, as he said, “strengthen our immense love and grow old together.”
(We were only 30… yeah.)
There were wedding pictures everywhere: in the living room, the kitchen… All day long he would send me texts:
“Baby I’m thinking about you so much”
“I love you, you know that”
“Baby I’m going shopping, want anything?”
“Baby tonight let’s do a romantic dinner”
(even though we had gone out two days earlier).
Even my mother adored our relationship:
“You found your prince charming, my son. Enjoy this fairy tale.”
But this rough Portuguese guy, with his thick 24 cm between his legs, awakened my inner slut all over again.
Without thinking twice, I dropped to my knees and started sucking him with all my love for big dicks…
The guy wasn’t even surprised. He actually seemed happy to enjoy a good blowjob between two construction jobs.
— “Hummm… suck it good,” he said.
I could tell he loved it. He watched me with a satisfied little smile, like the whole situation was perfectly normal to him. One hand resting on my head, gently guiding me, enjoying himself without any shame. I sucked his beautiful cock and licked his heavy, sweaty balls. He pushed deep down my throat while his balls slapped against my face. It was magnificent.
Suddenly, we heard a car pulling into the garage.
The construction worker turned his head:
— “That your man?”
My heart started racing.
I immediately understood that Philippe had come home earlier than expected. Panicking, I moved even faster. The Portuguese guy groaned, holding my head firmly while I tried to finish before the door opened.
Then suddenly, he tensed up.
He emptied himself straight into my mouth with a long muffled groan just as we heard the car door slam outside.
I swallowed quickly, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand while he calmly tucked his huge cock back into his work pants.
— “Baby? I’m home!”
The front door opened.
The construction worker barely had time to zip himself up and grab his toolbox before Philippe walked into the living room carrying grocery bags.
— “Oh hello!” my husband said naturally.
— “Hello boss,” the Portuguese guy answered, perfectly calm.
Philippe didn’t suspect a thing.
They even started talking about the estimate, the tiles, the renovation work… while I stood there, still half stunned, avoiding eye contact.
The construction worker eventually left calmly.
Before walking out of the house, he discreetly gave me a satisfied little smile.
The door closed.
My husband kept talking normally in the kitchen, completely unaware of what had almost happened just seconds earlier.
Meanwhile, I stood frozen in the middle of the living room.
