I was taught by my father that hard work and good skills can carry a person a long way in life. He also taught me that the devil is in the details.
After finishing work at Reily’s parent’s camp, her mother, Beth recommended me to another customer. The man was Beth’s regional manager, who had a large house in a gated community.
After making a phone call and exchanging information, I told my father I’d go check out the job and see what the man had in mind.
When I arrived at the front entrance of walled subdivision, there was a brick and glass guard house with a closed, wrought iron gate. A uniformed guard came out, holding a clipboard, and asked for my identification.
I handed my driver’s license, and he checked his roster for my name. Then he glanced at my company’s name on my truck’s door. Satisfied I was on the list, he handed my license back and gave me directions to the house I needed to go to.
I arrived at a large, white modern Mediterranean style home. It had large glass windows outlined in black frames, with a Terra-cotta roof.
I could only imagine what this man’s yearly income was as I pulled into the driveway.
As I approached the front door, a tall man opened it and introduced himself as Trace, smiling and thanked me for being prompt.
He was a medium-toned man and stood around six-foot-five and had a hand the size of a baseball glove, when I shook it.
As I followed him into his home, I was surprised of the size of the interior.
The den was richly furnished and sparsely decorated. A few pictures hung on the walls and a brick fireplace stood on the back wall. A few personal pictures sat on a wooden mantle. The floors were a tongue and groove pine, that was thickly lacquered, so that it looked deep.
Trace led me to the back of the house, and outside to a large terrace and patio. The swimming pool was Olympic sized, accented with white and black marble around the edges.
Trace showed me some of the wood that needed replacement and asked if I had an idea about installing a system that would create better drainage away from the structure and the pool.
We studied the house and discussed a couple of ideas that would match the existing gutters. The back of the property had a natural slope, and I suggested installing an underground drainage system. I mentioned that it could reach the lower portion of the slope and back of the property, bringing most of the water from the house there.
Trace liked the idea and told me to quote a price for the drainage system and another for repairs to the terrace.
To get the quotes together, took me the rest of the day and part of the next, as gathering prices and availability for the materials took most of my time. When I called Trace and gave him the price, he was silent for a moment.
To my surprise, he said I wasn’t as expensive as he thought the project could amount to.
“Well, I could raise my price,” I joked.
“OH! No, please!” Trace laughed. “When can you begin?”
I told him I’d need a few days to get the supplies and equipment together.
I said I’d start on Monday morning, which is the best day for a large project. I told Trace I liked to start early and if that would be a problem with the neighborhood. He recommended I begin around eight, as most people left around nine and the traffic wouldn’t be a problem.
I arrived at seven-thirty.
While proposing the task, I decided to address the drainage first and towed a trench digging machine I rented to the house that morning. Trace greeted me as I exited my truck, and we chatted about my plans.
As we walked to the back of the house, I asked Trace if it would be OK to drive the truck with the trailer and machine, so to not mess up the lawn much.
He agreed as we reached the patio.
I noticed a tanned woman wearing a white, one-piece swimsuit and swimming cap was swimming laps as Trace called out to her.
“This is the man who’s going to do the repairs. He will be here all week.”
She leaned on the edge of the pool, looked me over some, then smiled.
“I’ll be happy to see some of the eyesore gone,” she said, then resumed her swimming.
I tried not to stare, but Trace’s wife appeared to be around six feet tall, from what I could tell.
After Trace assisted me with driving my truck and trailer around the back of his house, he told me if I needed anything else, to ask his wife and she’d help before she left for her work.
As I walked out where I wanted to put the drainage trench, I could hear Trace’s wife swimming. I had to walk about twenty yards from the house to gain a better view of the slope and where I’d like the water to exit from the drain.
I carried a can of orange spray paint to map out where I wanted to run the drainage line from the house. Satisfied with the option I determined; I began to paint a dotted line on the grass up to the house.
As I painted the ground, Trace’s wife got out of the pool, and shook loose her hair from her swimming cap. Yes, without being obvious, I checked her out.
She was about as tall as I guessed, lean long legs, with average breasts and an ass that looked inviting, with shoulder-length black hair.
Before I could look back at what I was doing, she caught me looking and smiled as she put on sunglasses.
When I got near the pool, she asked if the job would be difficult.
“No, ma’am, I’ve done a few jobs like this. The machine makes life easier than with a shovel.”
She laughed and said, “Yes, I must agree. I’m Laila.” She spoke with an accent, as if she was from another country, and pronounce her name as Lah-ee-lah.
She held out her hand, and I lightly took it, as any with woman I shook hands with.
Laila had an air that seemed to me as confident, yet playful and sexual.
She smiled and went over to a table and took a drink of water, then bent over to pick up a towel.
It wasn’t what some people would call an appropriate lady-like bend, but more like a provocative one I noted.
As she toweled off, she turned to watch me as I began to get the trenching machine prepared to begin working, then she went inside.
After about an hour, Laila came outside. I was operating the trench digger, and she waited for me to shut it off.
She wore a mid-thigh, white skirt and a light blue blouse that didn’t hide her cleavage.
Yes, she was hot looking, with dark brown eyes and heavy mascara.
She asked if I needed anything as she was about to leave for work. I smiled and said I would be OK and that I would call Trace if something came up.
Laila eyed me briefly, smiled, then turned and walked into her house.
My apprentice arrived while Laila was inside, and I had to remind him to keep his observations on a professional level. I admit, it was hard for me too, especially when a pretty woman in a swimsuit is around.
I told my apprentice her husband looked like a former NFL linebacker, and it wouldn’t be a fair fight. Yes, he could whip both of our asses.
The drainage project took most of the week and the patio and terrace work took a couple more days. But each morning, Trace would come outside and complement our work.
Saturday was the last day of the project; I was alone doing some touch-up finishing and cleanup work. Laila was swimming in a black, one-piece swimsuit as I worked.
When she finished her laps, she picked up her towel and dried herself. She put on sunglasses and walked over to where I was finishing some painting.
She removed her sunglasses, putting one earpiece between her lips and eyeing me with her dark brown eyes, “You have done a great job. I’m impressed with your skills.”
“Thank you, Ms. Laila. I appreciate your confidence.”
She stepped back, looked around, then back at me. “Trace mentioned that perhaps you could be handy around here for some other tasks. Would you be interested?”
I was a bit unsure what she meant by that, but I said, “Trace has my contact information, and he can call me anytime for anything he has in mind.”
As I spoke, Laila looked at my crotch briefly, then, “What if I call you?”
“Do you have something in mind?” I asked.
“Come with me. As a matter of fact, I do.”
Laila led me through the den, the same one I entered on my first visit with Trace.
We walked past a formal room, which had a large, antique wooden table and buffet cabinet.
We got to a room that was empty, and Laila said she wanted to make a small office out of it. She wanted bookshelves installed with a place where she would put a desk, and the walls repainted.
Before I could take some measurements, Laila asked if I were in a rush.
I replied, “No, but I could return another day.”
Laila thought about my reply, then explained where she wanted to have the shelves installed, and if I could match the wood that was in the rest of the house.
As we walked through the house, I took a few pictures using my cellphone and went to my truck to retrieve a measuring tape and a tablet.
After taking the measurements, I told Laila I’d call her when I put together a quote. She took my tablet and wrote her name and number on it, then drew a heart around it.
That afternoon, while I was putting together the quote, I remembered Laila didn’t give me a color she wanted to paint the walls with. I called her number and identified myself, then asked her about the paint color.
“I suppose you and I should meet at the paint store you use, and we could pick out something” Laila replied.
“That’s fine, when could we meet? I asked.
Laila was silent for a moment, then, “How about you come by this evening with a color brochure, and we can decide. Trace will be here, and he can have some input, also.”
I wasn’t expecting her response, and I stammered, “Sure, that will be fine.”
Laila lightly laughed at my response and asked if I could return around six-thirty.
Yes, this caught me by surprise, and I agreed.
Not sure of how to dress, I decided to wear some of my better pants and polo shirt.
I arrived a few minutes early, and Trace greeted me a moment after I rang their doorbell. Smiling, he shook my hand, invited me inside while thanking me for a fine job.
Trace was wearing black slacks and a black shirt, casually dressed. He saw the color palette I was holding. “I see Laila has you for her project. She mentioned it earlier.”
“Yes, I wasn’t sure what colors she had in mind, but I brought this over for her to decide. I can leave it here for her.”
Trace laughed, then asked if I would like a drink before dinner.
I wasn’t expecting that, and I stammered, “Sure!”
We walked into another room, where Trace had his office. The office was filled with a large wooden desk and a computer sitting on it, leather chairs beside and behind it, and a large couch with some large pillows next to a wall. A large shelf with books and pictures was mounted on one wall. Another shelf with trophies and citations lined the wall behind the desk. A plush rug laid on the floor in front of the couch and another in front of the desk.
As Trace poured a couple of whiskeys, I noticed the pictures and they assured me of my first impressions of Trace: He played professional football.
He handed me a glass, and I winced at the taste of the whiskey, causing Trace to smile. “It does have a bit of a kick, but it goes down smoothly. I have a friend who makes this in his still back where I grew up.”
I laughed about his moon-shining friend and Trace told me a few stories of his upbringing and the moonshine.
We were on our second drink, when Laila entered and stood beside me.
I guess my reaction was obvious, as Laila patted me on my shoulder and Trace didn’t whip my ass.
She wore a tight black dress and heels, that made her look like she meant business in a manner that didn’t demand money. Her makeup was alluring, to say the least.
“Guys, dinner is here, so let’s go eat,” Laila said, looking at me.
I won’t spend much time about dinner, but they had some expensive takeout from a restaurant that I couldn’t afford. Included was a wine that seemed strong to me.
After dinner, they brought me back to Trace’s office, where another round of drinks had me a bit woozy. As I sat on the leather couch, Trace had another and I wondered about his stamina with alcohol, because mine was weak.
Trace sat on one of the chairs in front of his desk, while Laila sat beside me on the couch, and we discussed Laila’s project.
During a brief pause in the conversation about Laila’s office, I caught Laila glance at Trace briefly, then he got up and left the room.
Not sure what to expect, I began to tense up. Laila sensed this and moved closer to me.
“You shouldn’t be nervous. Trace allows me to have a guest now and then,” Laila whispered in my ear. Then she kissed the side of my cheek and put her hand on my crotch.
Well, it’s game on.
I turned to meet her kisses and soon that turned into Laila putting my hands on her breasts. Earlier, I noticed Laila didn’t appear to be wearing a bra, and within a moment, I found out she wasn’t wearing panties, either.
The whiskey and Laila’s attention to loosening my pants had my mind in another orbit. Especially when she found my cock and removed it from my shorts and leaned over and began to suck on it.
I was a bit nervous when Trace entered the room, thinking he’s about to kill me.
But Trace was wearing a robe.
Laila kissed the head of my cock, then stood and removed her dress, letting it fall to her feet.
She had large brown nipples, almost black and sparse black pubic hair.
Then, while Trace stood and watched, she took my hand and helped me stand, then she began to undress me.
My pants already loosened, dropped to my shoes.
Laila pulled my shirt over my head, then tossed it onto the couch. Then she knelt and slid off my shoes and moved my pants and underwear aside.
I was afraid to look at Trace, but he dimmed the lights and walked over and knelt beside his wife.
I have never had a man suck on my cock, and to see this large man take mine in his hands and suck on it had me feeling something between nervous and aroused.
The couple took turns sucking on my cock and I don’t know how I lasted as long as I did.
Then, Trace stood letting his robe drop.
I am about eight inches and Beth once told me during sex that I had good size. But Trace made me look a bit small.
He had around two inches on me and thick with a large brown head.
I was impressed and felt inadequate after comparison.
Laila took both cocks in each hand, stroking them and taking turns sucking on them. I remained nervous but enjoyed it. It seemed nasty, I thought, yet satisfying and arousing at the same time.
After a few turns of Laila’s oral play, she stood and kissed both of us. Then she laid on the couch, with her legs open.
Trace nodded at me as to say, “Go eat it.”
Laila’s scent was mixed with her perfume, and she had a sweet taste, once I began to get serious with eating her out.
When Trace knelt beside me, I wasn’t sure if he was going to mount me, and I prayed silently that he wouldn’t.
He didn’t.
Instead, I moved aside, and Trace took over.
He didn’t take much time to have Laila have orgasms. As I watched, I stroked my cock. I saw Trace eating at Liala’s pussy and finger her anus with one of his large fingers.
I don’t know what or how, but as I knelt beside Trace, I began to stroke his cock. If I think about it, I think he took my hand and put it there.
It felt like I was stroking a pipe I used for a plumbing job.
Soon, Laila was almost slipping off the couch and eventually was lying on the rug. Trace moved aside and motioned me to mount her, missionary.
Laila was wet, warm and surprisingly tight. After seeing Trace’s large cock, Laila had good muscle control with mine.
As I was fucking her, Trace put his cock in Laila’s mouth, and she sucked on it. I was impressed that something as large as that, she could put all that head inside her mouth.
I had a tough time to keep from shooting my load, but I managed.
Laila wanted to change positions, and I moved aside, and she got on her knees. I mounted her from behind and she began to moan as I fucked her harder.
Trace laid on his back in front of Laila and she began to suck his cock and his large ball sack, then licked his anus.
This was almost too much for me, and I stopped fucking Laila to watch.
Trace noticed this, then Laila moved over him and put his cock inside her pussy.
She rode him for a few minutes, and Trace began to finger her anus. Laila began to have orgasms and soon she went into some orgasmic realm.
She began to cry out, “Fuck my ass!”
Well, I do what my customers want.
Laila’s ass was warm and tight, and she exerted professional muscle control while having two hard cocks pounding inside her.
The intensity of the sex was overwhelming for Laila, and I wasn’t sure if I was becoming overwhelmed, too.
Before long, Laila couldn’t take much more and I moved back, while she got off Trace’s cock.
She moved over on Trace’s face, getting in a sixty-nine position and they began to have oral sex simultaneously.
I caught Trace’s eyes, as it appeared he wanted me to mount her again, as he licked her pussy.
I was rocking myself into a steady rhythm, as Laila’s stifled moans with Trace’s cock in her mouth. Soon, I heard Trace begin to moan as Laila was bringing him to his orgasm.
While all the sex was ongoing, the room lights were dim, but not to darken the room completely. From my position behind his wife, I could see her sucking Trace’s cock.
Soon, Trace couldn’t hold back and when he let loose, Laila couldn’t take all his cum. It seemed to squirt from her lips and down the side of his cock and onto his balls.
Well, that was about all I could take, and I began to unload in Laila’s pussy.
It felt like I shot more than I had in my life.
When I pulled out of Laila, my cock dropped, and Trace began to suck on it.
My body quivered from the hard sucking Trace was giving my cock and after a moment, I pulled away.
When I looked down, Trace was sucking the cum out Laila’s pussy as she moaned quietly.
A few moments passed as we lay silent, catching our breaths.
Then, Laila got up and rushed out of the room. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I began to get my clothes together.
A moment later, Laila returned, wrapped in a towel and handed Trace and me each a towel to clean up with.
Trace put his robe on, then left while I got dressed. Laila watched with a smile. Her hair and makeup were messed up, but I don’t think she cared at that point.
When I finished dressing, Laila escorted me to the front door, then kissed me.
As I was about to open the door, Trace returned and handed me an envelope.
“You might want to get paid for your work,” he smiled as he shook my hand.
When I returned to my apartment, I opened the envelope and took out a note that was wrapped around a check and some cash.
The note read: “Thanks for the excellent work you done. Laila and I appreciate the integrity and discretion you’ve shown us. We look forward to having you on our next project.”
The check was written for the amount of the proposal and the cash included was a couple of one hundred dollar bills.
