Naughty Niki

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Damn! The slut wife was hot! d**k throbbing hot! I wanted inside her short-shorts bad and suddenly she’s looking at me. I’m looking back at her, and she crooks a finger my way, so I move toward her. The white shorts stripped away as if they weren’t even there. f**k! If she wasn’t naked underneath. ~ The Carpenter

On The Kitchen Table

Niki Sanchez’ first illicit s*x sobered her up for a time. Her body would have been happy to have a new man to screw every day Bernardo was out of the s****l picture, but her mind put on the brakes, at least for a couple weeks. Maybe she was lucky, maybe not, that Bernardo came home from his business trip the day after f*****g in the conversion van. She met him at the door just as she was about to leave for town, and immediately wondered if somehow she’d transmitted her infidelity to him across 2000 miles and he’d hopped a plane just that fast. Was that even possible?

“You’re home!” Previously, she might have jumped into his arms and covered his face with kisses. This time, she held back warily.

“What? No hug?” he had to prompt her.

Then she smiled, realizing that he couldn’t possibly know about the bar, the young stud and the conversion van.

Her p***y got quite a work out for the next three days and her physical body was sated. The brief resumption of their honeymoon behavior also reminded her of the vows she’d taken and how much she felt safe, protected and adored by her very hot, very sexy Bernardo.

“Are you enjoying your trips into Tucson?” he just happened to ask. It was his first morning back, as she was serving him coffee while wearing a brand new see-through baby doll nightie.

She immediately froze, shuddering so deeply that he must have seen.

“Absolutely.” She offered a nervous smile. Then finally having sufficiently recovered from her moment of terror, she segued into a long monologue about the new spa that had just opened up in Tucson – massage, facials, pedicures, waxing. Then there were two new dresses she’d purchased at her favorite boutique and she hoped that he wouldn’t be mad.

Bernardo, smiling, gathered her into his arms. “You’ll spend me into the poor house, won’t you?” he playfully jibed.

“You mean that? You’re going broke?”

“I don’t think so.” He laughed. “Buy whatever you like, Nicolette.”

If only they could be like this every day, she thought to herself. And f**k every night like they had the night before.

That night, a mountain storm thundered through the valley like a club wielding giant, battering the house with its vicious winds and relentless rain. A terrible crash sounded in the thick of the uproar, but it wasn’t until morning, when the housekeeper came running out, that they realized what damage the storm left in its wake. “Senor Sanchez, Senor Sanchez, you must come!” she was screaming at the top of her voice.

Bernardo and Niki went flying from their bedroom to the back of the house, into an older section where the breakfast area, an old office and the laundry had been leveled by the fierce storm. Must have been struck by lightning; it was the only explanation.

“Oh my god!” Niki gasped, excited, nervous and a little afraid. Of what, she wasn’t certain.

Bernardo was much calmer, hardly a wrinkle on his brow as he casually walked through the rubble and surveyed the mess. “Humph,” his first remark.

“What are you going to do?” Niki wondered dispiritedly, as if the whole world had suddenly disintegrated and now lay before her feet. She’d never seen anything like this before, which was pretty surprising considering that she’d grown up on an island that could easily be devastated by hurricanes.

Bernardo turned to her. “What else? I’ll call the contractor this morning. They should be up here by afternoon.”

***

The damage to the house brought a whole new world of men to Niki Sanchez, without her going anywhere. Coming and going from dawn until sunset were contractors, architects, plumbers, carpenters, stone-layers. Niki lost track of this steady stream of testosterone laden males. Bernardo had left her to watch over the progress of the rebuilt rooms while he was gone.

She really didn’t do anything to oversee the reconstruction, since Bernardo left detailed instructions with the architect and the contractor. Who was she to get involved with a lot of complicated stuff that she couldn’t possibly understand? She did love the company, all the virile sun-baked muscles, the sweating, bending, six-packs flexing, and tousled sun-bleached hair. It didn’t take long before Niki was trying out her new clothes for them. Not exactly a formal fashion show, but when she came out in some snug new t-shirt or tight skirt or sleek dress, the men were bound to notice, just exactly as she hoped they would. They were bound to ogle every bit of flesh she revealed, while secretly longing to look at what she didn’t show. Niki had a new affection for the swimming pool, going there nearly every day, walking right by the commotion in the new wing of the house, smiling, waving, laughing at their crude whistles, while showing off in one of her many string bikinis. Her breasts, while not particularly large, were perfectly shaped, and her hardened n*****s stuck right out of the fabric, tiny points of focus few men could resist observing. Her rounded behind had that special kind of jiggle that invited the eye to stare, especially when it went sashaying by in a pair of high-heeled sandals.

One early evening around sunset most of the workers had packed up and left, most but one, a bronzed kid, maybe nineteen, certainly not more than twenty. She was moving past him on her way from the pool and stopped where he bent over his toolbox.

“Hi there,” she caught his attention. At first, he just stared at her pink polished toenails, not looking up. “I haven’t seen you before, have I?” she went on.

“I’m just a sub.” He finally gazed up.

“Oh? Like you mean temporary? You won’t be back tomorrow?” Nearly a full week since she last screwed Bernardo, and something in her brain suddenly clicked on, something bigger than what had drawn her to Mr. Conversion Van.

“I don’t think so.”

Her lean tan thighs were right before his eyes, that and the little indentation in her crotch where her shorts fit snugly into her p***y lips. She bit her lip and smiled behind it, her stunning eyes drawing the boy in a little closer.

“You could just follow me,” she beckoned him. “I think there’s lemonade in the fridge. You look awfully hot.”

He thought a moment. Probably wondering why the beautiful woman of the house was inviting him inside. But…why not?

“Sure,” he bashfully answered.

Five minutes later, it wasn’t just sharing lemonade that drew the pair together, but a sudden quaking of the earth where pheromones collide. He moved on it, just a hunch to start, and began kissing her at the neck. She went wild, clawing at his hard, muscled chest, then suddenly reaching for the belt that held up his jeans, and the buckle, and the button-fly, and finally tugging his pants over his round ass and down his hips.

He did the rest, getting quickly naked and showing off an erection that appeared before her alarmed eyes, sprouting from its nest of dark pubic curls. She began salivating, thinking how much she’d like to suck this hard member, but there was no time to drop to her knees.

Where she’d begun this tryst with a simple come-on, he took charge.

Pushing her against the kitchen table, he stripped away her shorts and bikini top so that nothing of her was hidden from his view. He savored her breasts, then his gaze moved down to the neatly trimmed pubic hair between her legs and the glistening dew where she was wet and ready. After a few salacious glances at the merchandise, he smashed himself forcefully against her, then in one brusque move, lifted her to the top of the oak trestle table and climbed on top.

She started to panic for an instant, then she reminded herself that this was the housekeeper’s day off and the cook went home sick. They were alone together in Bernardo’s house and he would never know how the carpenter used his wife on the kitchen table.

After the dirty deed was done, while Niki lay panting and out of breath, the boy jumped to his feet and zipped away his magnificent c**k.

“So you won’t be back tomorrow?” she asked again, relishing the languid happiness of her sated body.

“Don’t think so, ma’am,” he replied. He looked more than a little anxious to split the scene.

“Hum. That’s too bad,” she pouted.

She really liked this one. She watched the young man leave. He seemed very self-consciousness about what he’d just done to the pretty lady of the house.

Too bad, he wouldn’t be a regular on the construction site; he could come in handy, Niki thought. But he had taught her one thing: Just as he was not her first illicit f**k, she knew he wouldn’t be the last.