Speaker 1: Hey there, This is Annie and I play Emma in
Speaker 1: the Swipewright series of episodes here on Roxy's Erotic Whispers.
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Speaker 3: It's Monday, September first, and time for your daily fuck.
Speaker 3: The sound of a power saw screaming through wood has
Speaker 3: been a soundtrack to my life for three weeks. It
Speaker 3: starts at eight in the morning. It doesn't stop. My
Speaker 3: new next door neighbor is a reclusive, noisy menace. I've
Speaker 3: never seen him, only heard him, a phantom of hammering, sanding,
Speaker 3: and sawing that has rattled every picture on my walls
Speaker 3: and every nerve in my body. Today I've had enough,
Speaker 3: I march across my lawn and bang my fist on
Speaker 3: his workshop door, a well rehearsed speech above zoning ordinances
Speaker 3: and common courtesy on the tip of my tongue. The
Speaker 3: sawing cuts off. A moment later, the heavy door slides open,
Speaker 3: in my entire argument evaporates. He's a mountain of a
Speaker 3: man framed in the doorway. He's shirtless, his chest and
Speaker 3: arms corded with muscle, all covered in a fine sheen
Speaker 3: of sweat and a light dusting of sawdust. His face
Speaker 3: is a mask of annoyed concentration, his eyes dark and stormy,
Speaker 3: his jaw set under a layer of rough stubble. What
Speaker 3: do you want? He grunts, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
Speaker 3: My prepared complaints about noise pollutions dissolve into a single
Speaker 3: primal of thought. I needed to feel those calloused hands
Speaker 3: all over my body. This was no longer or a complaint.
Speaker 3: This is a conquest. A slow smile spreads across my face.
Speaker 3: I came over here to complain about the noise. I
Speaker 3: let my gaze drift from his eyes, down his sweat
Speaker 3: slip chest, to the low slungeans hanging on his hips,
Speaker 3: and meet his gaze again. It's good honest work and
Speaker 3: good honest noise. I ponder my next move. I can
Speaker 3: see the faint outline of his cock and his jeans.
Speaker 3: It's the kind of bulge that says, I'm not trying
Speaker 3: to show off my dick, but it's big enough that
Speaker 3: I'll need to look me screaming fuck me harder is
Speaker 3: a good honest noise too. But you don't hear me
Speaker 3: saying that, do you. His stormy expression doesn't change, but
Speaker 3: a flicker of something new. Surprise, then intrigue ignites in
Speaker 3: his eyes. He looks me up and down a silent,
Speaker 3: thorough appraisal. But god, do I want to be screaming that?
Speaker 3: His bulge is a little more pronounced? And I smile
Speaker 3: wickedly at him. Did perhaps I say too much? He
Speaker 3: stares into my eyes. So you don't like my noise?
Speaker 3: I haven't heard your noise. I lick my lips. I
Speaker 3: think I'd probably like it at Dad, he laughs, He's
Speaker 3: something else, you know that. Before I can reply, he yets,
Speaker 3: I get it. You need some good, honest work in
Speaker 3: your life, and without it, you're just going to complain.
Speaker 3: I'm not sure exactly what he means. Is that a
Speaker 3: subtle proposition? He's maddeningly hard to read. I decide to
Speaker 3: just plow ahead. This is either going to end up
Speaker 3: with me getting fucked or learning how to do woodworking.
Speaker 2: Show me.
Speaker 3: He moves aside and waves me in. I walk into
Speaker 3: his workshop and the heavy door rumbles shut behind us,
Speaker 3: plunging the workshop into a dim, dusty light. The air
Speaker 3: smells a fresh cut pine wood stain in his sweat.
Speaker 3: Before I can speak, he shoves me back against a
Speaker 3: massive solid wood workbench, the rough edge digging into my
Speaker 3: my lower back. He cages me in his hands planting
Speaker 3: on the bench on either side of me. You want
Speaker 3: honest work, he growls, his face inches from mine. I'll
Speaker 3: give some good, honest, hard work. His mouth crashes down
Speaker 3: onto mine. It's not a kiss. It's a collision, rough,
Speaker 3: demanding and utterly consuming. I meet his energy with my own.
Speaker 3: My hand's coming up to grip his muscular shoulders, my
Speaker 3: nails digging in. This is what I wanted, this raw,
Speaker 3: unspoken passion. He breaks the kiss only to rip my
Speaker 3: t shirt up and over my head, tossing it onto
Speaker 3: a pile of wood shavings. His calloused, sawdust covered hands
Speaker 3: are on my breast, his thumbs scraping over my nipples
Speaker 3: through my lace bra The rough texture is an exquisite
Speaker 3: torture that makes me cry out. He haankes my skirt
Speaker 3: up to my waist and with one hand pulls my
Speaker 3: panties aside. For a second, I think he's going to
Speaker 3: be gentle and go down on me, or perhaps find
Speaker 3: a soft tarp or something. But then he grabs my
Speaker 3: hips and spins me around with a shove. He bends
Speaker 3: me over his workbench. I don't even hear him unders
Speaker 3: up his pants before I feel him, entering me with
Speaker 3: a single, powerful thrust that lifts me onto my toes.
Speaker 3: A gasp is torn from my throat. He's thick, hard
Speaker 3: and hot, filling me completely. He immediately begins to fuck me,
Speaker 3: his hips slamming against my ass with a brutal, steady
Speaker 3: rhythm that's far better than any hammer. He is all
Speaker 3: force and function, a machine of pure animal need. My
Speaker 3: hands scrabble for purchase on the cluttered workbench. My fingers
Speaker 3: knock over a jar of screws, and they scatter across
Speaker 3: the floor with a series of sharp clinks, adding to
Speaker 3: the symphony of our fucking. He pounds into me, his
Speaker 3: powerful body, driving me back against the wood, each thrust
Speaker 3: deeper and harder than the last. I'm being taken completely
Speaker 3: and utterly by this grumpy sigment man, and it is
Speaker 3: the hottest thing I've ever experienced. The friction in the
Speaker 3: force are building a frantic, desperate fire inside me. I'm close,
Speaker 3: so close. I throw my head back and scream as
Speaker 3: my orgasm rips through me, a violent shuddering way of
Speaker 3: a pure bliss. My climax triggers his with a final
Speaker 3: guttural roar that vibrates through my entire body. He comes
Speaker 3: deep inside me, his release a hot, welcome flood. He
Speaker 3: stays inside me for a moment, his forehead pressed against
Speaker 3: my back, my ragged breaths mingling in the dusty air.
Speaker 3: Then he pulls out, leaving me a trembling and a
Speaker 3: weak need mess. He steps back, zips up his fly,
Speaker 3: and looks at me, a mess of sweat and sawdust
Speaker 3: leaning against his workbench. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk plays
Speaker 3: on his lips. I smile, good, honest work.
Speaker 2: Huh at that?
Speaker 3: He smiles, turns, picks up his sander, and flicks it
Speaker 3: on the roar fills the workshop once more. I walked
Speaker 3: back to my blessedly quiet apartment, my body both jazzed
Speaker 3: and sore. He fucked me like he'd hammer in a
Speaker 3: stubborn nail, with no preparation other than knowing that if
Speaker 3: he pounded good and hard, he'd get the job done.
Speaker 3: God did he get the job done. I decide, I
Speaker 3: don't mind the noise, although after a few more visits,
Speaker 3: the other neighbors might