I Looked for a Mature Bricklayer for Much More Than the Roof

Hi, whatever time it is when you're reading this. This is the first time I've dared to write something like this and, honestly, I'm doing it with a strange mix of nerves and excitement. I want this to be my secret corner, the only place where I can say everything I think without anyone looking at me funny.

What I'm going to tell you really happened. I'm not exaggerating or making anything up to make it sound better. It's the first time in my life I've done anything like this, and I still find it hard to believe I dared to go so far. Because yes, I'll give you a preview: I ended up fucking like a bitch in heat, with my mouth full of cum and my ass spread open by more than one cock.

My name is Daniela, although almost nobody calls me that. My friends call me Dani. I'm twenty-three years old, short, with a full figure where it matters, big tits that spill out of every bra, and a round, pert ass that has always attracted more attention from me than from anyone else. I live in a small city in the south, one of those places where everybody knows everybody, which is why you learn to keep things to yourself.

I have one particularity I'm going to confess right away, because it's the key to everything that follows: I like older men. Much older. I'm not interested in looks, gyms, or designer clothes. I like experience, big, rough hands, the measured voice of someone who's already lived, and above all, I like imagining a thick cock of the kind only a seasoned man knows how to use. My friends don't understand it and make fun of me, but why should I care what they think?

It all started on a Monday when I woke up so horny I couldn't think about anything else. I hadn't fucked anyone for months, and that kind of desire builds up until you don't know where to put yourself anymore. I'd masturbated that very morning, twice, with two fingers shoved all the way into my pussy, and even that hadn't eased it. I woke up with my panties soaked and my nipples hard against the sheets. The problem was that I lived with my parents, so bringing someone home or going out to look for someone was practically impossible. I wasn't the kind of girl who slept with just anyone, either; I liked to choose, study my prey, and wait for the right moment.

Fate, or whatever it was, gave me the perfect excuse. It had rained heavily over the weekend, and the leaks in the roof, which had already been bothering us, had turned into a disaster. Damp stains everywhere, water seeping through, the ceiling on the verge of collapsing in one corner.

That morning I heard my parents talking about it from the living room.

—Honey, we need to do something urgently about these leaks —my mom said.

—You're right —my dad replied—. If this keeps up, the whole roof is going to come down.

My dad worked outside the city all week and only came home on weekends, so things like that always ended up half-done. And then, listening to them, I had an idea that made me squeeze my thighs right there in bed.

—Dad, Mom —I said, leaning out and covering myself with a long T-shirt because I had nothing underneath—, what if I took care of it? I can ask my friends if they know someone trustworthy. Since you both work, I'll stay home while they do the repairs. Besides, more rain is coming, so we'd better be prepared.

They both stopped to think. My record as the quiet daughter, the one who never caused trouble, worked in my favor.

—I think that's a good idea —Mom said.

Dad liked it too, so there was nothing more to discuss. My mission was clear: find someone to seal the leaks and repair the roof, with good work at a good price. Mine, however, was something else: find cocks.

I said goodbye to Dad over a video call, Mom grabbed her purse and left for work, and I was alone with the house and my task.

I sat on the sofa with my phone and started with Marketplace, saving the numbers of people offering repairs. Then I thought of looking for groups of bricklayers on Facebook. There were dozens of posts: contractors, plumbers, people offering work and people looking for it. I sent messages asking about prices and, in the meantime, looked through their profiles.

And then, from looking at so many of them, something I hadn't expected started happening.

I was getting turned on. Seriously. Every picture of a big man with work-worn hands and a serious stare aroused me a little more. Before I knew it, one hand was between my legs, rubbing my clit through my shorts. I was wet, drenched, and the smell of my horny pussy rose to my nose every time I moved my hips. I don't know when I stopped looking for someone to fix the roof and started looking for something else: big cocks, men who knew how to fuck me properly.

What if I go through with it? What if I conduct my own experiment?

The idea went round and round in my head until I let it grow. It was no longer just about the job, but about the person. About seeing how far I could go. I looked through countless profiles and, out of about a hundred, chose four. I chose them for the way they looked, for something in their eyes, for a feeling that was hard to explain. All four looked like older, seasoned neighborhood men, the kind who would grab a girl by the hair and put her on all fours without asking.

The good thing was that almost all of them left their numbers in the post itself, so I didn't have to go asking for them. I saved all four and started writing.

I sent the first one something simple and formal.

—Good morning, I saw your ad on Facebook and I'd like to have some leaks repaired at my house.

He replied with a voice message. A deep, calm voice, with the accent of someone who worked with his hands. Hearing it made my whole skin prickle, and I felt a pulse in my pussy, as if someone had suddenly shoved a finger inside me.

—Good morning, ma'am. Yes, we repair leaks with asphalt membrane and all that. What do you need, roughly? Send me a picture so I can take a look.

That voice turned me on immediately. Obediently, just as he'd asked, I sent him pictures of the leaks. But I decided to add something. Something that would look like an accident.

Five pictures of the roof. And a sixth that wasn't of the roof. A picture in front of the mirror, showing my naked ass in a thong, my back arched so the curve of my waist and the roundness of my buttocks stood out. An image I'd saved for myself and never thought I'd use for this.

I pressed send before I could change my mind. Then I stared at the screen with my heart racing and my hand once again under my shorts, two fingers rubbing my swollen clit, so wet that my juices ran down the crack of my ass and onto the sofa fabric.

***

While I waited for the first one's reply, I opened the second man's chat. With him, I decided to keep everything formal, like any other customer. I sent him pictures of the leaks, no tricks, and asked him to come take a look so he could give me a quote. He told me to send him the address and that he would stop by that afternoon. I confirmed it with Mom by text.

—Let me know what they tell you and how much it costs, sweetheart. Love you.

I laughed to myself, thinking what I'd tell her if she knew her darling little girl was sitting there with her tits bare and her fingers buried in her pussy while replying, “Love you too, Mommy.”

With the third one, I was much bolder. The moment I saw that he was online, I wrote quickly.

—Good afternoon, sorry to bother you. I have some leaks that need repairing. Could you do it?

—I'll send you a picture and you tell me if you can. Thank you.

I took advantage of the fact that he replied instantly and sent him a picture that, in theory, was supposed to be of the roof. But it was a picture of my ass. He read it right away. Pretending to panic, I deleted it immediately and wrote:

—Oh, sir, I'm so sorry, that wasn't the right one. I truly apologize.

—This was the picture —I added, now sending the leak.

He took a few seconds to answer. When he did, I almost stopped breathing.

—Send me the address so I can come look at the leak and give you a quote. And don't worry, sweetie, you've got a gorgeous little ass, the kind that makes a man want to bite it. I'll get there quickly, don't worry.

Reading that lit me up in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. I sat there with my phone in my hand, legs pressed together, pussy throbbing, feeling like a cat in heat. I could already imagine him walking into the house with those bricklayer's hands, grabbing me by the hair and putting his cock in my mouth before even saying hello. Without thinking twice, I sent him the address. He said he'd let me know when he was on his way.

I took advantage of the momentum and slipped my hand under my shorts at once. My pussy was streaming, my lips swollen, my clit hard as a little stone. I began rubbing it in circles with two fingers while rereading the bricklayer's messages. “Gorgeous little ass, the kind that makes a man want to bite it.” A soft moan escaped me. I brought my other hand to one of my tits and pinched my nipple hard, twisting it the way I liked, imagining the man with his mouth there, sucking and biting me. In less than two minutes I was trembling, my hips lifted off the sofa, coming just from thinking about what was to come. I put my soaked fingers in my mouth, sucked them slowly, and sighed. There was still the fourth one.

I wrote him the same thing as always.

—Good afternoon, sir. I have a job sealing some leaks. When could you come, please?

He sent me a voice message, another deep voice that seemed to sink into the nape of my neck.

—Good afternoon, miss. Where is your house? What kind of leaks are they? Do you have pictures?

—Yes, sir, here they are —I replied, sending him all the pictures of the roof plus one of me, the same mirror shot, my ass pointed at the camera and the thong wedged between my cheeks.

To my surprise, he kept writing as if he hadn't seen anything unusual. Either he was pretending not to notice, or he was waiting until he had me nearby so he wouldn't waste time with words. I liked both possibilities.

—All right, miss. I'll come to your house to get a good look at that leak so I can seal it. I'll let you know when I leave.

I imagined that quiet man arriving at the house, looking me up and down without saying a word, grabbing me by the waist and turning me against the wall to yank down my shorts. I squeezed my thighs again. I was so wet the fabric was already bothering me.

And that was how the first part of my experiment ended. Four older men, four messages, one intention disguised as a plumbing problem. I felt like the good little girl who behaved herself and, at the same time, the horniest slut in town.

***

I had good news for Mom, so I called her. I ran a hand through my hair, took a deep breath so she wouldn't hear the panting in my voice, and answered as if nothing were wrong.

—Hi, Mom. I've already spoken to a few bricklayers. They said they have to come to the house to look at it before giving me an estimate… I mean, to look at the leaks. Then they'll give me the price.

—Perfect, sweetheart. Let me know if anything comes up. And while they're there, have them check what else needs fixing, so we can do everything at once. Ask them if they can paint your room too.

—Sure, Mommy. I love you so much. See you later.

I hung up and stood silently in the middle of the living room for a while, my hand still between my legs, staring at the damp stain on the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Mission accomplished. I had the house to myself all afternoon and four men on their way, each one convinced he was coming to do a different job from the one I had in mind.

I took a long shower. Under the hot stream, I soaped myself slowly, taking my time with my tits, squeezing them and pinching my nipples until they were hard. Then I ran my hand over my pussy, spread my lips with my fingers, and washed myself thoroughly inside, imagining it was the rough hand of one of those men. Another low moan escaped me beneath the water. I got out, dried myself, and chose my clothes carefully: a thin white tank top, no bra, so my nipples would show, and a short cotton pair of shorts that squeezed my ass and rode up between my cheeks. Nothing underneath. If the first one wanted to look, he was going to have plenty to look at.

I sat down to wait. My phone vibrated. It was the first man, letting me know he was already on his way.

My heart jumped and my pussy clenched, soaking the fabric of my shorts instantly. It's started, I thought.

In the next part I'll tell you, in complete detail and without holding anything back, how things went with each of them. How the first one came in, how he stared at my tits, how I ended up on my knees with his entire cock in my mouth. And then the second, the third, and the fourth. What happened that afternoon surpassed anything I'd imagined while looking through profiles on the sofa.

With lots of love, Dani.