Katie – the Kitchen

The kitchen was warm, the faint hum of the fridge the only sound breaking the quiet as Nurse Katie watched Richard step through her doorway. He’d always been an old friend, a familiar face from years past, with a rugged charm she’d flirted with more times than she could count. There was a spark there, a quiet desire that flickered beneath their easy banter, and it was that pull that had her calling him when her oven stopped heating. Not a handyman, not a stranger, just Richard.

He arrived with a toolbox in hand, his broad shoulders filling the frame of her small kitchen. “Let me take a quick look,” he said, his voice low and steady, before crouching down to inspect the oven. After a moment, he stood, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Gonna need to haul it out and check the wiring. I’ll change into something I can work in, don’t want to mess up your floor.”

Katie nodded, her eyes lingering as he headed upstairs to her bathroom. When he returned, he wore a single-piece denim coverall, the kind that zipped up the front, hugging his frame in a way that made her breath catch. As he walked down the hall toward her, she noticed something, a subtle movement at the top of his left leg, near his groin. It wasn’t a tool in his pocket, she was certain of that. It was the shape of him, long and heavy, shifting with each step. Her pulse quickened, a flush creeping up her neck.

Richard set to work, pulling the oven from its slot with practiced ease. In less than half an hour, he’d found the problem, a loose electrical connection, he fixed it, and started sliding the appliance back into place. But as he maneuvered it, a knife left carelessly on the counter snagged his coverall, slicing a shallow cut into his side. He winced, a sharp hiss escaping his lips.

“Richard!” Katie was at his side in an instant, her nurse’s instincts kicking in. “Take that off, let me see.” She grabbed her first aid kit from under the sink, her tone firm but laced with concern. He hesitated, then unzipped the coverall, stepping out of it to reveal loose boxer shorts and a small patch of blood staining the fabric near his hip.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to a stool. He obeyed, and she knelt before him, gently lifting the leg of his boxers to expose the cut. It was small, barely more than a scratch, but she cleaned it with care, her fingers brushing his warm skin as she applied a plaster. When she finished, her hand lingered on his thigh, the heat of him seeping into her palm. Slowly, almost unconsciously, her fingers drifted upward, grazing something firm and heavy against the back of her hand. She froze, her breath shallow, knowing exactly what it was.

“Stay there,” she murmured, standing abruptly. “You should drink something.” Turning to the cupboard, she reached for a glass, her back to him. Her fingers found the zipper of her dress, and with a deliberate tug, she lowered it past her full breasts, the fabric parting to reveal the soft curves beneath. She filled the glass with mineral water from a bottle, then turned back to him, catching the way his eyes roamed downward. His gaze traced the edge of her cleavage, lingering where the dress dipped low enough to expose the bottom curve of her breasts. He shifted on the stool, and her eyes flicked to his lap, his cock twitched in his boxers, noticeably larger now.

She stepped closer, leaning over his legs instead of standing beside him, and handed him the glass. Her hand rested on his lap, dangerously close to the growing bulge. His response was tentative at first, his fingers brushing her shoulder, then sliding down to stroke the sensitive skin of her neck. Their eyes met, and then their lips, a deep, hungry kiss igniting between them. His hand moved lower, cupping her breast through the open dress, his work-roughened palm grazing her nipple. She gasped into his mouth, the sensation sparking a wave of heat through her core, and their kiss deepened, tongues tangling with rising urgency.

Katie pulled back, her breath ragged, a teasing smile playing on her lips. She tugged the zipper lower, letting the dress hang loose, then reached for his waist. With a swift motion, she slid his boxers down, freeing his cock. It sprang out, thick and long, heavy veins pulsing along its length, swollen but not yet fully hard. She reached into her dress pocket, palming a foil condom packet, then shrugged her shoulders, letting the dress fall to the floor. She stood naked before him, her skin flushed, her body unadorned. “Good thing my underwear matches,” he said with a low chuckle, his voice rough with desire.

He stood, his cock rising higher as he stepped toward her. She pressed the condom into his hand and hoisted herself onto the edge of the countertop, spreading her legs apart. He knelt before her, his fingers finding her first, tracing her small, neat pussy with a tenderness that made her tremble. She was already wet, her arousal slick against his touch, and when his fingers glided inside her, she gasped, her hands gripping his head. His mouth followed, lips closing over her clit, teasing her with slow, sensual strokes of his tongue. Her body arched, pleasure building in waves, and soon she shattered into an orgasm, her moans filling the quiet kitchen.

He didn’t stop. His fingers curled inside her, his mouth relentless, driving her toward a second peak. Just as she teetered on the edge, he pulled back, tearing open the foil and rolling the condom onto his now rock-hard cock. He stood, using the thick tip to stroke her clit, reigniting her pleasure. She came again, quick and sharp, her body trembling as the waves crashed over her. Between her gasps, he slid inside her, his length stretching her tight, wet heat with a slow, deliberate thrust.

Their lips met again, the kiss deep and unhurried, mirroring the rhythm of his strokes. He moved with long, sensual thrusts, filling her completely, the heavy veins of his cock dragging against her inner walls. She was tight around him, her pussy gripping him with every motion, slick and hot with her arousal. Time seemed to stretch, the world narrowing to the feel of him inside her, the slow build of pleasure as he rocked deeper, then withdrew, only to plunge back in. Her hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she lost herself in the sensation.

He kept the pace steady, sensual, each stroke a deliberate caress that stoked the fire between them. Her breaths came in soft moans, her body trembling as another orgasm built, slower this time, richer. When it hit, she cried out, her walls clenching around him, and he groaned, his restraint faltering. She felt him tense, his thrusts growing slightly erratic, and then, just as her pleasure completed, he pulled out. With a swift motion, he removed the condom, his hand stroking himself once, twice, before he came, jets of warmth spilling across her breasts.

They stayed there, panting, the air thick with the scent of them. Katie slid off the counter, her legs shaky, and leaned into him, their foreheads touching. The oven hummed faintly behind them, fixed and forgotten, as they lingered in the afterglow of something long desired and finally claimed.