My name is Vera. This story is about how I ordered a new wallpaper and got something completely different.
My husband, Andrey, has been promising to renovate the bedroom for six months. One day, far from ideal, tired of listening to his excuses about being busy, I just hired a team. More precisely, one person, Timur. He was advised by a friend, praising his golden hands and adequate prices. My husband reacted sluggishly to my arbitrariness: “Well, okay, let him try. Just don’t distract me with any nonsense, let him figure it out for himself.”
Timur came on Monday morning. Tall, calm, with calloused palms and sharp brown eyes. Against the background of my husband, who was always tired and slouching over his laptop, he looked like an alien from a planet where men still have arms growing out of their shoulders.
For the first two days, I watched him with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. He did everything himself: he took out old furniture, tore off wallpaper, plastered walls. Andrey, on the other hand, responded irritably to my requests to “at least hold the ladder” by saying that he had a meeting. He preferred not to notice how his wife was running around with tea for the master and choosing the colors of the grout.
โ Why does he come to us every day? Andrey asked on the fourth day, noticing that I was preparing Timur’s lunch. โ We don’t have a dining room at home.
โ A man works all day. This is basic hospitality,” I snapped. โ And anyway, you should have been standing here, not him.
Andrey just snorted and turned back to his phone.
On the fifth day, the collapse occurred. Andrey announced that he was going to stay with his mother for a week. Just because “the house is a mess, there’s nothing to breathe, and in general he urgently needs to finish the project.” I stood in the doorway of the bedroom, which smelled of paint, and watched him pack his suitcase. At that moment, I think for the first time I clearly realized that our marriage was not crumbling because of repairs. Timur, who was kneading glue in a bucket, didn’t say a word. He just looked up at me and nodded curtly: “We’ll manage, Vera Pavlovna.”
In the evening of the same day, I lost my temper. I stood in the kitchen, looked at the empty glass in my hands and felt impotent anger boiling inside. It wasn’t like crying in front of an outsider. Timur came in to wash his hands. He saw my face, took off his work jacket, threw it on a stool and silently sat down opposite.
“He’s got you,” he said, not with a question, but with a statement.
โThere’s not much,โ I grinned, amazed at my own frankness. โ Have you heard everything, Timur?
“The walls are thin, and I work quietly,” he replied calmly. โ Sorry for interfering. But to see such a beautiful woman staring into an empty glass is like an abyss… It’s not right.
He spoke simply, without sycophancy. I looked at him. Thick black hair, dark skin, biceps wrapped in the sleeves of a black T-shirt. He smelled not of office air conditioning, but of dust and some kind of woody, tart masculine scent.
“He’s gone.” Repairs are in limbo,” I waved my hand. โ And to be honest, I don’t care anymore. If only the walls had formed a house.
“It won’t work out,โ Timur shook his head. โ I know my job. It will be beautiful. But it doesn’t suit you to be discouraged. Come here.
I didn’t understand what he meant. She got up and walked over. He took my wrist and pulled me towards the wall. Suddenly, his huge hand was on the back of my head, and his dry, hot lips were digging into mine. I froze. He smelled faintly of tobacco. My knees buckled, but not from weakness, but from a blade-sharp surprise and something else. Something I haven’t felt with Andrey in a couple of years.
“What are you doing?” I gasped when he pulled back a few inches.
“I’m fighting the mess,โ he grinned. The voice was low. โ There is too much of it in your life. The husband is a wimp. I can see everything. Let me help you.
I wanted to be outraged, to say that he was overstepping his bounds. But the words stuck in my throat. Just because I was pressed against a freshly leveled wall by a burly man who looked at me not as a client, but as a woman. And I fucking loved it.
He kissed me again, deeper and more hungrily this time. His tongue was in my mouth, and his hands slid down, squeezing my buttocks. I squeaked through the kiss, feeling the power of those hands.
“I want you right here,” he whispered against my lips. โ I don’t want to wait for the putty to dry.
โThe door…โ was all I could say.
“I locked it,โ he replied, pushing the straps of my sundress off my shoulders. The fabric slid down, and I was left in just a lace bra. The cool air from the open window made my skin crawl.
He didn’t waste time on petting, as did Andrey, who was always asking if he was “pleased.” Timur just took it. He picked me up, sat me on an empty tile drawer, pulled up my sundress and tore my underwear with one rough jerk. I screamed.
“Hush, the neighbors will hear,” his eyes twinkled. “I don’t care, though.
I grabbed his shoulders, pulling off his T-shirt. I needed to feel his skin. I ran my nails over his prominent chest, feeling the muscles ripple. Andrey was gentle, he didn’t like sports. Timur, on the other hand, was as hard as the stone he put in the bathroom.
He pulled down his work pants, and I saw his excitement. Big cock, dark, throbbing. My stomach clenched.
“We’ll have to work hard,โ Timur grinned, noticing my look.
He didn’t give me time to think. He turned me around with my back, bent me over an improvised table. I heard the packaging crackโit was clearly not a film. His hand was on the small of my back, pressing me down.
“Your mouth is faster than your thoughts, Vera,” he said and abruptly entered.
I moaned so loudly that it echoed through the empty room. He wasn’t gentle. He was primitive. He moved hard, powerfully, pounding into me without any discount on the fact that we have “repairs”. I clung to the edge of the drawer, biting my lips, and he drove deeper and deeper. Heat was building up inside me, and my brain was melting from the feeling of fullness. Andrey has always been careful, concise and impersonal. Timur took me as brazenly as the owner, and from this dark, animal feeling I was ready to scream.
โ Do you like it? He growled, slapping my buttock. The sound came out loud, like the impact of a spatula.
โ Yes… yes, fuck! I shouted, not recognizing my own voice.
He grabbed my hair, wrapping my ponytail around his fist, forcing me to bend more. With his other hand, he squeezed my breasts, which had slipped out of my bra. Rough fingers twirled the nipple, sending bukvoeb.org current discharges directly into the lower abdomen. Timur did not get tired. His pace only increased. I felt my orgasm coming. It was like an avalanche.
“Right now.”.. Now! My groan rose to a scream.
โCome on,โ he pushed especially deep, and I shattered into a thousand pieces.
But he didn’t stop. While I was shaking, coming to my senses, he pulled out his cock and roughly squeezed my chin.
“Finish it,โ he demanded.
Without hesitation, I climbed down from the box onto my lap. The floor was cold, but I didn’t care. I took it in my mouth. Still hard, slippery from my juices. It was the first time I wanted to please a man so much. I sucked with abandon, helping myself with my hand while his fingers squeezed my hair.
โSwallow,” he commanded shortly, and after a couple of seconds I felt hot, salty-bitter cum in my mouth.
I swallowed everything, and then looked up at him. He stood over me, breathing heavily, and smiling. I smiled back, even though my lips were burning.
“Now the room will definitely air out,” he joked.
When he went into the bathroom to wash off the dust and my smells, I got up. My legs were shaking. I walked over to the bucket of paint. The renovation went on as usual.
Andrey called in the evening. He asked me how things were going. I said that everything is fine, the master is coping.
โThat’s nice,โ he yawned. “I’m going to stay with my mom.”
After hanging up the phone, I looked at Timur, who was laying laminate flooring. He caught my eye and winked slyly. I was ashamed. But the shame was so sweet.