Thank you, as always, to my friendly editor, graynsam for his helpful recommendations with this story.


I slowly approach the closed dark basement door with slight trepidation and caution; what lies beyond is a world that is often messy and dangerous. It is my husband’s private workshop full of sharp tools, dirty workbenches, vise clamps, and all sizes of scrap wood. I have not seen my husband in a few hours, and I am wondering what creation he is working on down here this weekend.

Peering into the brightly lit small room, I get a strong whiff of freshly cut sawdust which thickly blankets the tiled floor. The aroma is a huge turn on acting as manly cologne permeating the air teasing my feminine brain like intense, inviting pheromones. Its opaque and powerful earthy fragrance wafts up off the floor surrounding my senses producing lustful thoughts and creating in my mind a sensual loving atmosphere in this rough solid tooled world.

My husband looks so hot and sexy, deliciously standing there in his thin-tight blue jeans beside the tall turning lathe. He is working on a bowl, woven with grains of light and dark wood throughout its texture. It is clamped sideways on the large machine slowly rotating. He supervises its construction as he manually sands an oak vase in his hands with sandpaper. I can imagine the feel of the smooth, silky round wood coated with a dusting of sawdust slipping around in his fingers.

He turns around to look at me; the front of his old black shirt covered with shavings of wood. Switching off the lathe; he smiles.

Wandering over to him in my flats trying not to slip on the course wood-chip covered floor I am also looking at the chisels, hand saws, screwdrivers, and hammers all neatly organized on the walls. From the look of the mess under the table-mounted circular saw, he must be working on other projects too.

I softly kiss his seductive lips.

“I’m horny this afternoon,” I say with a hungry wide grin.

Putting down the vase and sandpaper pulling me closer he presses my short see-through pink tee-shirt up against his dirty chest; I’m helpless in his strong muscular arms. He picks me up and carries me over to the beat up old wooden workbench lying against the side wall of his shop. The block countertop is at least eight inches thick and has been in the family for a couple of generations. Nicks, holes, and knots give it character like an old man with laugh wrinkles. My bum settles down on the top near the edge; he spreads my legs to straddle his.

Our tongues wiggle in unison as we kiss with deep passion. My hands gently stroke the sides of his face fingering his two day old abrasive dark stubble. He can go unshaven and look beautiful, cuter than ever. Pushing aside the pencils, square sheets of sandpaper of various grits, a ruler, and his half empty coffee cup he prepares a temporary love-bed. I lie back alongside the lengthy bench and manage to rest a foot up on one the vise clamps that are hanging off the edge of the countertop. My long brown hair falls into sawdust on the table. He kisses me before unzipping my pants.

I lift my bum as he pulls down my jeans and little transparent lace panties dropping them on the dusty slivery floor; I love to be undressed. The rough grooves and dents in the wooden workbench feel like hard mountains and valleys against the soft skin of my bum cheeks. I’m turned on thinking about having sex in this man’s machined and dirty world. Smells of heavenly cedar and sweet pine fill my nostrils, from the depths of the workshop floor, as strong as pure essential oils fresh from the bottle. A sharp splinter of wood penetrates my bum, I wimpier in pain, he rolls me over and using a pair of pliers he extracts the sliver of wood. With a sharp slap on my ass I wimpier again, but this time with pleasure as he rolls me back.

His lips descend into my dark bushy pussy. With closed eyes my legs open further resting one foot up on his shoulder. I moan with excited anticipation. Being spread open here on top of the workbench in the basement is titillating. I start to writhe, whilst his hot wet mouth sucks my sensitive swollen clit. He reaches to my tee-shirt, while licking, and grabbing a knife from the bench cuts up the length of it between my well-rounded breasts, ripping it apart to lay either side of me on the bench. Pinching my nipples between his fingers, I submit my body for his pleasure. My nipples turn hard and pointy under his control, but never ever getting quite enough attention. My clit dances and quivers as he continues to eat. I imagine the big fat handle of a screwdriver penetrating my cunt, as I’m drugged on the wooden fragrance swirling around the room. My hips pump wanting more. He licks faster. I can feel his tongue flicking back and forth over my excited bulb sweeping me ever further upward into ecstasy. Opening my eyes I see a variety of drills, planes of all sizes, belt sanders, a jig-saw table, and near my head sorted boxes of nails and screws. Tools and machines how lovely, how dominating; the excitement throughout my groin is soaring to an ultimate climax. I pretend the big screwdriver handle plunges deeper into my wanting cunt over and over. My bum cheeks clench and my thighs squeeze tight lifting my lower back off the hard cool bench. His hot mouth covers my clit and licks me frantically. Breathing, panting from my dry lips, I let slip out a few moans of pleasure.

I yell aloud, “Yes, yes!”

A spiral path of direct sharp burning suddenly travels from my sensitive clit into the very center of my being. Wild thunderous contractions rip through my body from head to toe, as I howl and thrash into the extra strong orgasm. As I vibrate and twitch my husband grabs a tight hold on my ass and thighs preventing me from falling off the workbench.

My clit irregularly pulsates with short stings at the top of each peak until the waves of after-shock subside. He gently, lovingly, plants little kisses on my pussy.

I raise my head up to look into his dark brown eyes; my dark wavy hair is messy full of fine sawdust.

“Thank you, that was a big one!” I whisper drained of energy.

I am surrounded by extra testosterone levels from my man’s workshop ambiance and tool-driven surroundings. I’m lying on the workbench with its flaws, marks and cracks. I am still aroused. It is a dirty appealing world, one I hunger for, full of the erotic pleasant odors of earthy soiled wood and sweat.

“I see you liked the screwdriver,” he says holding up the handle dripping with my love juice.

“It was real?” I ask.

“The real thing is yet to come” he reaches down unzipping his jeans to release the hard straining bulge that’s been trying to burst its own way out…

July 2018
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