Maybe it was all the chocolate I’d eaten, but I had been exceptionally horny all of Easter weekend. It was like everywhere I looked something steered my thoughts toward naughty acts. Cuddly chicks conjured thoughts of warm, intimate touch. Eggs reminded me of my own plump breasts, aching for attention. Candy’s sweet taste suggested the contrasting saltiness of cum on my tongue. And bunnies… well, we all know what rabbits are best known for. All weekend long, I was distracted and preoccupied, itching for a roll in the hay.
Typical of John, he was missing when I needed him. The holiday was a big deal to his religious parents, so he had been with family starting (Good) Friday morning through Easter Sunday dinner. In a nominal effort to acknowledge the humanity of its workforce, John’s employer, Colossal Co., had granted employees an optional half-day on Easter Monday. While John had hesitated to take the time off – knowing that any time away from the office would mean an exponentially-increased workload when he returned – he had relented after I inundated him with a weekend-long barrage of texts.
Now it was Monday afternoon and it felt like forever since I’d been fucked. With the long, religious holiday weekend, John and I hadn’t seen each other since Thursday, and that night had ended frustratingly – and without sex – when he broke my microwave. While I was changing in my room, I had invited him to heat a plate of leftovers for himself. John, trying to be chivalrous, had tried to reheat the whole containers of lo mein and sesame chicken for us, without noticing the foil liner to the takeout boxes. After hitting the “reheat” button, he’d walked away to take a work call, and so hadn’t seen the ensuing sparks and fire until it was too late to save. When I’d returned, the kitchen was filled with acrid smoke, so that had ended any thoughts of bedroom activities for the night. Maintenance had been scheduled to come fix it this morning, but they hadn’t shown up.
John didn’t know the plans I had for him and our Easter Monday afternoon together. I’d only told him to come over as soon as he got off work. While my libido had me careening off the walls, I’d talked myself into some season-themed – if also a bit silly – shopping, and I expected he would enjoy the sweet treat.
Patting myself dry following my shower, I hung up the towel and stood naked at the vanity to do my makeup. I circled rich, coral lipstick onto my pouty lips, then puffed soft pink blush on my cheeks. After applying a generous, floral dousing of John’s favorite perfume, I brushed smoky shadow in a wing behind each eye, finishing with dark eyeliner and mascara. John loved elaborate eye-makeup, and I was sure he’d enjoy today’s show.
Returning naked to the bedroom, I dug through wads of pink tissue paper into the festively decorated shopping bag, seeking my purchases. Bending at the waist in front of the full-length mirror, I ran my hands excitedly up my silky-smooth legs, then allowed my fingertips to linger for a tantalizing extra second on the velvety outer lips of my bald-shaved muff. My heart fluttered excitedly, and I hurried to dress, casting a quick glance at the bedroom clock. It was two thirty; John should be off from work and on his way!
Stepping through the leg-holes of the romper, I tugged the sequined white fabric up my legs. Shimmying my hips into the elastic material, I pulled the strapless neckline up my tummy and fitted the stretchy top over my swollen bust. Turning in front of the mirror, I plucked the tapered, cheeky bottom from between my buns and fluffed the cottony white tail that sat atop my tailbone. I stepped into a pair of glittery white four-inch open-toed heels, watched the line of my legs lengthen and tone as I ascended the shoes. Finally, for a sexy, holiday lark, I affixed the white-fur headband with its long, fluffy bunny ears over my auburn locks.
The long-eared figure in the glass cut a lusty profile more evocative of Jessica Rabbit than Peter. The glittery fabric of my costume sparkled and winked in the afternoon sunlight as it bowed tightly over the sumptuous curves of my tits and ass. The shimmering romper was matched by the twinkling of the sequins on my high heels. Meanwhile, the cottontail rode adorably atop my perky buns, and the white bunny ears waved and bent innocently above my made-up face. I shook a few strands of long, red head free of the band, draping them seductively over my eye.
I felt warm longing in my belly that sank lower and seeped swelteringly between my legs. The thought of having my body touched and my gash filled made me groan out loud. Running my hands over my fabric-molded bulges, barely compressed inside the sequined bodysuit, I craved for my delicate hands to be replaced by stronger, masculine ones. My snatch quivered in anticipation, and I hoped that once John was here and inside me, his stamina would hold out long enough to satisfy my urgent, animal needs.
Checking the clock again, I gauged that John would likely be arriving any minute. I unlocked the front door, then retreated to the bedroom and splayed on the mattress, tossing myself across the bedspread as I decided on a seductive pose in which to greet him. My unfamiliar tail gave me trouble, but I rolled onto my stomach and scrambled onto my knees to boost my tufted bottom into the air. Aligning diagonally across the bed, my head faced the bedroom door. Sloping my back, I rested my upper body on my elbows, my breasts dangling inches above the quilt.
My springy tits fought the elastic concealment of my halter as gravity tugged at them below my ribs. Upon reaching the door to my bedroom, a visitor would be greeted by an eyeful of my pale, dangling breasts, billowing from beneath my costume. The ears and tail would appear as playful embellishments on a shamelessly sexual figure. I raised my legs, hoisting the sparkling heels and playfully crossing my ankles in the air behind me.
In the stillness of my empty apartment, I heard the elevator chime in the hall. I focused my smoldering, come-hither eyes on the doorway to the bedroom, ready to draw John in as he entered. Steps outside in the hall stopped at my front door, followed by a sharp knock. ‘Why is John knocking?’ I pondered inwardly but didn’t dissect. The poor man was polite to a ridiculous fault.
“Come iiiiiin!” I called invitingly, a sultry undertone drawing out the second syllable. As I spoke, the “plunk” of a text sounded from my phone on the nightstand. The noise and flash drew my eyes as the text message popped on the screen. Riveted, I leaned forward to see the phone.
I read John’s text, “I’m SO SORRY! I got stuck at work. Going to be a little bit late for our date! <3" Then who was at the do- "Uh... You called maintenance?" The burly, wide-eyed repairman filled the doorframe of my bedroom. "Fuck! Get out!" I screeched, charging off the bed and across the room, slamming the door in the poor, confused man's face. Collapsing my back against the closed door, I hyperventilated, feeling my heaving tits threaten to burst out of my top as they rode my violently careening ribs. That wasn't Mr. Miller, the building's kindly, if sometimes unreliable, superintendent. That would have been uncomfortable enough, but the man who had seen my please-fuck-me getup was a total stranger. I reddened and shook my head in embarrassment. At the same time, my naughty excitement lingered - even amplified! An exhibitionist thrill spread a naughty smile across my lips. Calming my breathing, I listened for activity on the other side of the door. I heard two deep, hushed male voices. "What the fuck just happened?" from further down the hall. "Well, she wasn't expecting 'us'... she's dressed as some kind of slutty bunny or something..." the man nearer to the door answered. His words dripped with surprise and amusement. His companion's question was unintelligible through the door. The first man responded cheerily, "Yeah, I guess, hot enough... Great tits, though. They almost made me glad Miller's hip gave out." This was followed by a short bout of chuckling from both. "Oh! They think I'm hot..." I thought to myself. "Well, my tits, anyway..." Smirking mischievously, I pondered that I might have some wicked fun with my visitors. Just a little bit of teasing; some harmless play to keep me warm until John got home to fuck me. I grabbed the white, satin robe off the hook on the back of my door, gathering it over my chest. The sheeny fabric clearly revealed an outline of my bodysuit beneath, and the sweep stopped high up on my thigh; it covered more than the outfit I'd been embarrassingly exposed in but left plenty of ammunition for an inquiring imagination. I cinched the cord around my waist and opened the door, prepared to meet the workmen and hopefully get my microwave fixed with my newly available afternoon. If the price of a working microwave was that minor, costumed humiliation, I guess it was one I was willing to pay. Cracking open the door, I extended my neck and pushed my face through the gap to lead my exit from the sanctuary of the bedroom. The nearer man had his back to me; his figure filled the short hallway from which my bedroom and bath doors diverged. His ears pricked at the creaking hinges, and he turned toward the sound. He had dusty brown hair and wore scuffed jeans and a grey work shirt bearing a name patch identifying him as "Cliff". As I inched out of my room, the other man in the foyer came into view. Similarly dressed to Cliff - but with a "Brock" patch - he was taller and thinner than his burly partner, with two-days stubble on his jaw and cheeks. Brock carried a clipboard in one hand, a metal toolbox in the other. "Well, heh-low." Cliff accented each syllable cheekily. I smiled welcomingly, feeling the draft from an overhead vent prick up goosepimples on my exposed chest. "Hi... uh, sorry," I didn't know why I was apologizing, but the noise tamped down a rising tension in the apartment. "I must have written it down wrong; I was expecting you guys this morning..." I hadn't really expected 'them' at all; I'd expected Mr. Miller, and four hours ago, at the time I had scheduled the job. "Is Mr. Miller sick?" Their eyes crawled over the slinky fabric of my robe, an almost palpable sensation on my skin. The men exchanged a look, then Cliff spoke. "Oh, that's more than ok." He chuckled crudely, almost certainly picturing my bulging rack on ripe, dangling display. With a sharp click of his tongue, as if manually changing topics, he continued. "Miller, well, that old man fucked up his hip first thing this morning trying to lift an oven by himself." He chuckled again and turned to cue Brock to join him. "Anyway, Miller's out for a while... In the meantime, we came over from another building to cover for him. Man, we've been playing catch-up all day." Cliff brushed a theatrically exhausted hand across his brow to underscore how hard they'd been working. An upwelling of pity for the old 'super' rushed through my hormone-fueled emotions. In my mind, I had a hard time imagining him without a pre-existing limp. Amid my confused wash of sympathy and jumbled memories, I momentarily forgot my visitors' purpose in my home - and my flimsy outfit. "The, uh, microwave broke on Thursday night? And that's... in the kitchen?" Brock spoke for the first time, reading from his sheet. He hadn't shared Cliff's first, unobstructed view of my goods on display, but he clearly enjoyed the present show. However, the heft of the worklist on his clipboard was obviously weighing on him as he sought to progress with their chore. "Ahh. Well, no rest for the wicked." Cliff sighed and gave me a wink that left me feeling naked and exposed all over again, and flipped my stomach naughtily. Cliff extended an inviting arm pointing me through the apartment. I turned and led them from the hallway through the living room and to the kitchen. As I walked in front of them, I felt the sweep of my robe brushing high on my hamstrings, threatening to rise higher and bare my springy tush. A warming smile spread as I strutted atop my heels, imagining them staring at my cavorting bum. I reached the kitchen and spun towards the workers, feeling the robe pinwheel out from my butt. My heels clicked crisply on the tile floor as I leaned my rump against the cabinet. Bracing my hands on the counter edge, I pushed my shoulders forward and plumped out my rack. "Can I get offer you guys something to drink?" They both declined, so I pointed out the obvious malfunctioning appliance. Embedded above the stove, the microwave was a dead black rectangle. Scorch marks scarred the glass. Brock opened the door and a smell of burned wiring again filled the kitchen. Cliff let out a low whistle and examined me incriminatingly. "This 'just happened', huh?" He asked. I nodded unbelievably. "You didn't put any metal in it; it just died a fiery, electromagnetic death all on its own." My head bobbled atop my neck again. The transferred motion wobbled my breasts beneath the white satin robe. Beyond its tight elastic lip, the bodysuit offered little support to my bust, leaving my bouncy tits to rollick unrestrainedly as I moved. The workers exchanged a skeptical, nonplussed glance. Cliff stretched and reached into the cabinet above the microwave, unplugging the device, then unscrewing the top mount while Brock supported the base. Together, they carefully tilted and lowered the appliance then rested it on the counter. Brock leafed through the stack of paper on his clipboard, showing something at the bottom of a page to Cliff. Their eyes roamed from the ruined device to the paper, to my ripe chest, and then back to each other's stare. Cliff took a deep breath. "Do you have a copy of your most recent lease handy?" I gave a confused look and shrugged my shoulders; my mounds rippled their bafflement. "Yeah, I guess it's somewhere in my desk. Why?" "When new ownership took the building over, they updated the tenant liability terms." Cliff explained. I nodded sluggishly, wary of where the discussion seemed headed. "Where a tenant is responsible for damage to the unit, the tenant is liable for the cost of repairs and/or replacement." I frowned and crossed my arms over my rack; no more free show if you're only giving me bad news! "Do you know Bartholomew Abbott? Old guy, fucking loves plants. I think he lives on your floor..." Brock interjected. I blushed, recalling my intimate familiarity with Mr. Abbott, but calmly nodded my head. "He broke his dishwasher like three times in a year, all replaced for free. That kind of abuse is what caused the policy change." "But I already told you th-" Brock cut me off. "That's not true. Well, look, we're pretty convinced that you put metal - foil, a travel mug, a fork, whatever - in there and it caused the fire." Brock shook his head scoldingly. "Fine..." I conceded and blew frustratedly at the suddenly-irritating lock of red hair dangling across my eye. Fucking John and that goddamn tinfoil! My giddy arousal was declining under the wave of bad news. "So, what am I looking at?" I caught another glance between the two. Brock cleared his throat and pointed at a line on his page. I watched Cliff's eyes blink and narrow, as if he was doing his math with them. "Well, with a replacement - these are specialized, custom units, so that's five hundred bucks - then parts, labor, rush service - I assume you want this done tomorrow?" I nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, that's going to run you... eleven seventy-five." "What?! That can't be right!" I spluttered. "Twelve hundred dollars for a microwave?!" My arms flew out and up from my sides, waving for emphasis and sending my jugs bobbling jovially once more. Brock pretended to look away, flipping pages on his pad while peering subtly (he thought) over the top of the page. Cliff smiled and shrugged objectively. I returned my hands to their grip on the counter. "If you want it fixed, that's what it'll take. Unless..." Cliff held up a finger telling me to 'hold on' as Brock leaned in for a private conversation. The pair spoke quietly, glancing at me - or my body - periodically. The discussion must have lasted less than a minute, but still seemed that they dragged it out artificially. Conspiratorial smiles spread across each of their faces as they quietly separated. Cliff feigned a re-inspection of the dead appliance. They both held off speaking, and the room filled with a gluey tension. "So... is someone coming over for an Easter egg hunt?" Cliff changed the subject unexpectedly. I twisted my face bewilderedly. "...eggs..?" Brock bunny-hopped past me for demonstration. "Ah, fuck..." I fought the urge to smack my forehead at the obvious joke. In my frantic bustle of hiding and dressing, and then showing the damage and lying about its cause, I had forgotten I was wearing the costume rabbit ears. Grinning wildly, Brock playfully hip-bumped me on his way by, then settled on my other side, placing himself between me and the exit. I blushed in my newfound self-consciousness of my silly getup. Newly re-aware of the costume, I felt the tufted tail pressing into my butt as I leaned against the cabinets. I squirmed impatiently and felt the resulting shift and jostle of my bosom as I moved. The two sets of male eyes returned to my chest. Brock stood close enough to me that the short sleeve of my robe swept against the fabric of his shirt. Knowing that the strangers noticed the jiggling of my rack, I felt a sticky heat returning between my legs. "Okay, so 'unless'... what?" I encouraged Cliff to finish his earlier thought. He loudly cleared his throat before resuming. "You see, we have to fill out forms for the work order. So, that includes ticking a box whether the repair is due to 'tenant damage' or 'no fault'; that's for the billing department." I nodded. Cliff stepped closer, now an arm's length from me. "So, my point is, the building'll bill you twelve hundred bucks or whatever for the new unit and repairs, *unless* you can convince us that this wasn't your fault that it broke." "And how am I supposed to 'convince' you of that?" I crossed my arms in front of me again, this time folding my forearms beneath my bust to give my jugs a plumping boost. My tits struggled robustly against the stretchy edge of the bodysuit, their pale tops swelled alluringly into the open "V" at the front of my robe. "Well, me and Brock have been working really hard all day." Cliff placed sticky emphasis on 'hard', and I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes at the juvenile insinuation. "So just a small show of appreciation would most likely persuade us." Four eyes fixated on my supple chest. Smiling flirtatiously, I gauged that expanded teasing would get the job done. I reached to the neckline of my robe, delicately plucking one folded side between my fingers and bending aside the satin. As the shimmering fabric pulled away, the bulging upper dome of my breast came into view. Brock pushed against my other side, gawking down the robe's neck. "Don't forget, there's two of us!" Brock protested that my robe on his side remained in place. I nodded gamely and pulled away the other glossy fabric fringe. My skin shone ghostly pale under the kitchen lights, and the concealed curves of my breasts fought the hold of the elastic, shimmering romper. Continuing my teasing - yes, it was only teasing, I maintained to myself - I unknotted and released the belt on my waist, feeling the freed halves of my robe drift apart and open. My heart was beating a mile a minute with the rush of giving the seductive show to strangers. It felt like every thundering pulse rippled through my heaving breasts. The workers' engrossed response to my show re-lit the hot, wet throbbing between my legs. Their hands slowly but confidently stole across my spandex tummy and ribs, then to the bulging shelf of my rack. I sucked in a gratified breath through my teeth at their touch. A hot flush poured across my face and chest, as an excited buzz inflated dizzyingly in my skull. As the workmen fondled my breasts, I struggled not to get too caught up; I had invited this attention, but this had become a little more than teasing. I raised my arms and pried their hands away from my tits. "Okay, I think that's enough, boys. Convinced?" I laughed as I forced a break. The guys maneuvered, playfully combative, as they tried to reclaim contact with my bust. Cliff lunged and I blocked, then Brock swooped, and I parried. My blush spread and reddened as my excitement built; my shrieks of laughter rang in the cramped kitchen. Brock's two-handed raid pinned my arm to my hip with one hand, leaving his other hand unguarded. His fingers grasped my supple breast as a wide smile burst across his face. Cliff noticed and jokingly protested. "Hey, no fair! Why can't I get convinced more?" "I didn't let him he-..." I tried to retort but the tickling pleasure of Brock's hand on my breast disabled my voice. Cliff interrupted me, turning away and pretending to assess the scorched, disconnected appliance. "Now how did you say this 'actually happened', again?" he said turning back to make playfully accusing eye contact with me. "I told you," I paused, and took Cliff's hand in my own, guiding it back to my chest. His fingers enthusiastically cupped 'his' tit once more. "It wasn't. My. Fault." Cliff gave a preoccupied nod in response, though I doubted he really heard my words. The workers' unfamiliar hands vigorously massaged my jugs, causing sultry craving to creep humidly through my body. I chewed my bottom lip with surging desire. "And after this, you're convinced, right?" My voice was husky and low, my eyelids hung heavily. "Well... let's say it's a pretty good start." Brock replied with a lustful grin. I nodded sleepily, the warm daze of arousal settling over my senses. As my pussy moistened from the strangers' exhaustive, infatuated attention to my breasts, I thought about my weekend-long inflamed state, then of the new excitement of Cliff catching me in my seductive outfit, of the pleasure of their unfamiliar intimate touch, the thrill of being naughty with these strangers when John might arrive and catch us. The growing pressure in my loins and head, both from the lecherous workmen and my own eagerly assenting libido, threatened to drive me over the edge. I imagined a little angel in white bunny-ears on my shoulder. "Careful, Sarah. This is what happens with you! You tease, and then you give a little more, and before you know it, you get carried away and go too far!" The white bunny warned. A red devil-bunny appeared on my opposite shoulder. "Yeah, you go too far and you fucking love it!" I shook my head to clear the apparitions from my mind. "I'm not gonna fuck you to install a new microwave..." I insisted unconvincingly, trying to regain my self-control. The lie echoed in my ringing ears. I knew John might arrive any time, and even if he didn't catch us in the act, it seemed likely that he'd be able to tell that he was getting sloppy-seconds (or, more accurately, thirds). On the other hand, it was John who - in addition to being late because of work, as always! - broke the microwave and put me in this predicament! "Let's not put the cart before the horse." Cliff pumped the brakes curiously, but his hand scooped up an overflowing handful of my breast while he spoke. "First, you have to convince us it wasn't your fault. You know, we could lose our jobs for lying on paperwork." Brock's hand cupped my other tit, squeezing the meaty sphere through my top. "And besides that, I think that's another lie." Brock slipped his other hand between my legs. With a turn of his wrist, he pressed his fingers into the swamped crotch of my costume. He gave a pleased grumble as he investigated my wetness. "What do you think, Brock? Is she lying again?" Brock nodded to confirm. I gasped at the desperately needed attention to my box. "Anyway," Cliff continued, "you've got your 'egg hunt', and - hey, when is he supposed to be here?" I closed my eyes contentedly. "Mmm... who knows..." I murmured softly, enjoying the two sets of strange hands roaming my body. "Ah, got it. So, he could be here soon. Besides, sadly, we still have other jobs left to get to this afternoon. So, you convince us real quick that this microwave died a natural death." His fingers gripped the rim of my top and gruffly yanked it downwards. My bare tits popped into the room; my excited, rosy nipples stiffened as they rolled gratifyingly beneath the two rough palms. "Then, tomorrow, we'll come back and fuck you before we install the new one." "And again after, too." Brock added as he dragged the crotch of my costume aside and dipped two exploratory fingers into my dripping snatch. Both men laughed loudly in agreement. I whinnied at the penetration, bucking my hips and driving my eager pussy deeper onto his fingers. My knuckles were white in their intense grip on the counter-edge. Four unfamiliar, rugged hands fondled and squeezed and entered me in a manner I had ravenously craved for days. Fingers enthusiastically plucked and squeezed at my sensitive teats, while hands hungrily massaged and kneaded the pliable meat of my tits. My elevated excitement skyrocketed at the troublemakers' attention. Unbelievably, I found myself on the verge of cumming all over the strange fingers in my pussy. "Fuck... so good..." I whisper-groaned. Brock massaged my clit with his thumb while his two fingers pumped rhythmically into my slickened gash. In unison, both workers moved their mouths to my breasts. Each took a sensitive nipple between their lips; two tongues lashed my teats. I brought my hands to the back of their heads, forcing more of my tits into their hungrily lapping mouths. My responsive nubs tingled at the attentive suckling. The sensation intermingled with the pleasure of Brock's fingers in my snatch and drove me excitedly towards the brink. "Oh fuh-uck!" My voice cracked as I cried out, scraping my pastel nails into their scalps as I started to cum. My swiveling hips ground my crotch against Brock's hand, digging his fingers further into my quaking pussy. Unexpectedly, an instant before my orgasm could catch, both men broke free of my grasping hands and pulled their mouths from my breasts. Simultaneously, Brock yanked his hand out of my crotch. His fingers glistened, slicked with my juices. "Hey!" I bleated disappointedly. My stymied pussy constricted, aching in its abrupt emptiness. Twin smears of saliva dripped off my suddenly neglected breasts. My frustrated eyes darted between the workers, desperate for them to resume and get me off. "Hey yourself. Don't forget that you're supposed to be convincing us." Cliff reached out and gave my abandoned nipple a rude pinch to punctuate his words. Brock reached behind me and hastily slid the robe from my shoulders. He carelessly balled the garment, then tossed away the discarded satin. I watched it land and unfurl, sliding across the cold stovetop. Noticing my costume tail for the first time, Brock gave my ass a firm smack. "Damn! Watch that cotton bounce!" He rejoiced. I yelped at the sudden, sharp strike. Intrigued, Cliff whirled me around and bent me over the counter with my butt protruding into the narrow galley. Cocking his arm back, Cliff took his turn spanking my ass and watching my cottontail dance as my cheeks recoiled. Both workmen reveled, trading off turns smacking my buttocks. I moaned softly with every blow. Each strike thrust my body forward, scuffing my bare tits across the cold granite countertop and sending electrified chills down my spine. Firm hands on my waist lifted me and straightened my spine, turning me away from the counter and towards Cliff. Those hands - Brock's, I now understood - slid forward to my stomach, then climbed to their favored perch on my naked breasts. I gasped in bliss as his paws pressed over my rigid nipples. Reaching behind me, my own palm found the lively bulge extending down his legs. I gave him a welcoming squeeze, smiling as I caught Cliff watching. Encouraged by my attention to Brock's engorgement, Cliff unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. "It's time to do some persuading." He said as he dragged his throbbing erection from his pants, giving it an inviting waggle. "Yeah, hop to it!" Brock giggled from my rear. Through his hold on my breasts from behind me, Brock began tugging my body downward. I readily complied, dropping to my knees on the kitchen floor as I stared hungrily at Cliff's cock. My heels scraped on the tile. As I reached the floor, Brock relinquished his handhold on my chest. Cliff stepped forward, positioning himself between my kneeling form and the stove. I reached forward, loosely wrapping his tube in my delicate fingers. I pistoned my elbow, giving the prick a couple tenuous strokes. A thought occurred to me as I genuflected and prepared to suck the worker's dick. "Do you run this con often?" I stared at the stack of papers on the clipboard. "Well... let's say that you're the first one who's gone for it..." Cliff chortled. A warm pang rippled through my puss at his news. My brain insisted that I should feel duped - maybe even ashamed - that I was gulled into perversion when others had known better. But my libido screamed as it took control, seizing the wheel and cutting the brakes. Taking a deep breath, I leaned in and opened my jaws, taking the round head between my lips. "Mmmmmfff" I groaned around his dick. An excited bubble of satisfaction swelled in my stomach, feeding my frothing lust. My fingers tightened their grip at his base as my lips began traveling the length of his cock. Diving and receding, my mouth sailed along his erection. The effect on Cliff was immediate, as he groaned and braced himself against the stovetop. The clatter of a belt buckle and zipper sounded from behind me. I continued bobbing my mouth in Cliff's groin, awaiting further movement. As I sucked the first man, I felt a tapping against the long costume ears atop my head. Brock laughed and the drumming stopped, but the round cockhead swept past my real ear then brushed insistently against my cheek. Brock stepped around my side, then settled in against the counter beside Cliff. Looking up from my initial assignment, I lifted my mouth from Cliff's pole but kept my hand ringed on his girth. I circled my other fingers around Brock's base. Tilting to his side, I ran my flattened tongue from end to end of his shaft. My tongue danced around his round tip, then my lips flashed down his pipe, driving until they met my looped fingers at the foot of his tool. I continued jerking Cliff's rigid member while my lips and tongue pleasured Brock's. As he watched my mouth work its magic, Brock unbuttoned his shirt, tucking the open halves behind his hips to reveal a sculpted chest and stomach. I tore my mouth away for a moment, still firmly stroking both erections. "Five hundred dollars, huh? What does that microwave actually cost?" I asked, glancing between the men and the dead, chintzy device on the counter. A pearled strand of saliva hung between the edge of my lip and the point of my chin. "It's going to be seven hundred if you don't stop talking and get back to work." Cliff curtly instructed. He gripped his palm on the back of my head and pulled my mouth back to his crotch. His thick cock bullied past my lips and deep into the back of my mouth. As his tip lodged in the entrance to my throat, I choked and gagged up a thick cord of drool. Tendrils of gluey slobber coughed out from the corners of my mouth as I skimmed my lips along his pole, sliding sloppily down my chin and dripping off my jaw. "Damn, you smell nice." Cliff observed. He inhaled deeply through his nose, appreciating my perfume while keeping a dictating hand on my back of my head. "Doesn't she smell nice, Brock?" "Rich girls always smell nice like this." Brock agreed. "W'ahm ngowt wikft!" I objected through the obstructing cock in my mouth. There wasn't a point in arguing though, the guys obviously knew what my apartment cost. "Hmm, no?" Cliff considered. "Well, you sure have great tits like a rich girl." "Rich girls always have great tits like those." Brock nodded while grabbing a mittful of my swaying jugs. Wrenching my mouth free, I gasped down two desperate breaths then turned my attention to Brock's prick. His thrusting hips battered his manhood across my tongue and against my palate. Bracing the impact with my hand gripping his base, my drawn lips negotiated his broad shaft. I forced my mouth forward, plowing his cock into my throat. Gagging, I held my mouth in place, feeling tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes, streaking my makeup as they flowed down my cheeks. Switching back to Cliff, I pumped my mouth to an increasing depth along his pipe. The head of his cock drilled deep into my throat, mining up pools of spit. The drool overflowed my lips, trickling off my chin and spattering messily on my springy, bare tits. More tears smeared columns of clotted mascara down my cheeks. My long ears bent and flopped above me as I bobbed my head, unfurling and straightening each time my head recoiled. As I traded between blowing the two worker's cocks, the crotch of my bodysuit grew saturated with my juices. A gleeful, devilish idea emerged in my lusty, fevered mind. I emptied my mouth, then smiling up at the duo from my knees, pulled them closer together by my hazardous grips. Both men flinched and looked at me distrustfully as I drew their dicks alongside each other, but my biddable, wide-eyed gaze - and my naked tits below it - calmed their fears. With the two shafts pressed neatly together, I leaned forward and directed each glans to my gaped mouth. Tucking a tip into each corner of my mouth, my lips stretched comically as I crammed the two cocks into my jaws. My overextended lips contorted like a maniacal smile as I pushed the double-barreled phallus into my mouth. Slurping the crowding pricks, I flicked my tongue beneath the broad, throbbing veins. "Tfah bwaaaaahhhhh!" I trumpeted, lifting my hands away from the dicks, folded between my ludicrously straining lips. While I worked my tongue and lips around the two writhing pipes in my mouth, I theatrically scooped my tits upwards for dramatic flourish. The show garnered mock-applause from the workers. As the novelty of my doubled performance wore off - and our indefinite window of time before John's return elapsed - I ended my theatrics and removed the cocks from my mouth. I quickly returned my lips to Brock's dick, puckering my lips and swirling my tongue around his head and pole. My jaws galloped their circuit between his tip and base. My other hand heaved on Cliff's shaft, lubricated by the slippery coating of my own saliva. I released Brock with a reluctant whine and drew frantic breaths into my momentarily-free mouth. Both hands pumped the workers' cocks as I recovered. Cliff gravely checked his Timex. "You need to hurry up." He instructed as he replaced his hand on the back of my head. I readily obeyed, accepting his dick into my mouth. My lips skipped down his shaft until they furrowed around his base. I hummed my lips, soaking his cock in my vibrating mouth while massaging his rod with my tongue. My drenching excitement was flooding my costume briefs. Pausing momentarily as I swapped dicks once again, I cautioned the workers, "I need you to cum in my mouth. We can't risk a big cleanup." Both nodded their understanding. "And warn me!" Satisfied that we all agreed, I repeated my frantic dive with my jaws pursed tightly on Brock's pipe. Bucking my neck, I forced my mouth vigorously along his length. My arm rapidly pumped Cliff's rod. Feeling Brock's cock stiffen in my mouth, I moaned in delighted anticipation of a sticky payout. My pussy tensed excitedly, on the verge of orgasm without being touched. "Oh fuck! Now!" Brock grunted an instant before his cock erupted. The gelatinous, hot spray of cum shot against the roof of my mouth. "Mmmurp," I hummed, smiling around his shaft as I rushed to gulp the salty goo. 'Good. He listened.' I thought as another burst of splooge filled my mouth. His cock twitched again, and more seed spurted across my tongue. Cliff apparently hadn't listened. As I jerked his cock with my free hand, my mouth still occupied swallowing Brock's spunk, two ropes of jizz rocketed from Cliff's prick and splattered across my cheek, from my temple to my jaw. I hastily pulled my mouth off Brock's tool. "What the fuck?!" I protested as I shoved his shooting dick into my mouth. His tip spewed another load of cum into my tonsils. Brock wasn't finished either, and I felt a volley of jism smack against my forehead and tangle in my auburn bangs. A further torrent splashed under my chin and trickled down my neck onto my swollen tits. "Not you too?!" I cried, wrenching my mouth free of Cliff's glans and returning my lips to Brock. A thick gob of batter gushed out of Brock's tip into my mouth. As I gulped, Cliff speckled my supple rack with a dappling of white cum dots. "Here's some crème for those eggs, bunny!" Cliff snickered. Brock was also amused. Returning my mouth to Cliff's cock, I sucked out the last stray traces of seed. Breathing heavily, I touched my fingers to my cum-marbled face. "Neither of you guys listened!" I scolded. Neither of the workers seemed remorseful. Grinning fiendishly at the kaleidoscopic mess of jizz on my sullied tits and face, Brock remarked, "When he gets here, you should give your boyfriend a long, deep kiss. He's missing a hell of a show." Forgetting our urgent time constraints for a naughty moment, I cradled my goo-streaked rack, modeling the crisscrossing pattern of splooge on my spherical breasts. Preoccupied with my cum-spattered performance, none of us heard the bell of the elevator arriving. "Knock knock!" John called as he opened the front door. "Fuck!" I silently mouthed, scrambling to my feet. My tits wagged as I impatiently waved my arms, ordering the workers to dress. My other hand made a clutching 'gimme' motion in the air, aimed at a roll of paper towels on the counter. "Sarah? Are you here?" John followed up on to my lack of answer. Cliff tugged his pants to his waist, rushing to clip his belt with a minimum of buckle clanging. He tossed me the roll, smiling as he gave my cum-covered face and tits one last look. I smirked ironically, repeating my 'hurry up' gesture, then tore two jagged chunks of towel and wiped the rags across my spermy chin and cheeks. Dark smears of makeup and clotted globs of cum blotted off my face into the cloth. Seeing that Brock was still struggling with his shirt buttons - and I was half-naked and caked in jizz - Cliff whispered, "I'll stop him," then picked up the scorched microwave corpse and headed around the corner, through the living room towards the entry. "Ahoy there! How're you doing? I'm Cliff!" we heard Cliff hail exaggeratedly. Though they were out of sight, it was easy to picture John's bewildered response to the stranger. "Oh... hello... wasn't, uh, expecting you... I mean, to be here..." John was caught off guard by the workman. I hoped his adjusted path would buy me enough time. "Oh, you guys are gonna replace that, huh?" A tinge of guilt had entered his voice as he noticed the ruined appliance. John's progress through the living room had paused as he listened to Cliff's detailed explanation of what exactly had broken in the device. As I scooped cum out of my cleavage, I noted that they hadn't bothered giving such a technical explanation with me earlier. My tits still bore faint stains of drying cum as I hurried them back under the costume top. "Look, if there's any cost for this replacement... it was my fault. I broke it, so I'd like you to bill me, not her, if that's possible." John confessed. I wondered if he had been intimidated into the admission by the presence of the larger, blue-collar laborer. More importantly, I hoped he wasn't fucking up the deal I had worked so hard to 'negotiate'. "Oh, so she was telling the truth..." Cliff paused, and I pictured John's confused eyebrows rising, "She kept saying it wasn't her fault." Cliff hurriedly explained, seemingly to the satisfaction of my boyfriend. "And don't worry about payment, this one's on us." He concluded. "Well, that's very decent of you! I'm sure she's thanked you, but please accept my thanks, as well." John said with glee. "Oh yeah, she really did..." Another uncomfortable gap. "But believe me, it was our pleasure... and I'm sure it will be again tomorrow." John cleared his throat loudly as he curtly spoke, "Hey man..." Brock and I froze waiting for him to continue, paralyzed in terror that Cliff's recklessness had gotten us caught. "Excuse my noticing, but, uh, X-Y-Z..." We let out synchronized relieved breaths as we heard Cliff's exaggerated embarrassment and an abrupt zip. Sensing their conversation was nearing its reasonable end, I hastily scrubbed my face with a last towel. Brock had finished buttoning his shirt and hastily grabbed his pad of forms off the stovetop. In a flash of recollection, he snatched my discarded robe and handed it to me. I exhaled an indebted sigh of thanks, then tucked my arms into the sleeves and cinched the belt tightly around my waist. My hands rose to my headband, checking to make sure my costume ears were still in place. As we collected ourselves to greet my late-arriving boyfriend, Brock seized my arm and pulled me back at the last second. He pointed to his face, miming wiping his cheekbone. I reached to my own cheek, discovering a stray streak of cum below my eye. Scraping up the jizz with my fingertip, I gazed intently at Brock as I licked my finger clean. He grinned mischievously, pinching my bottom as I walked out ahead of him. "Hi Sweetie!" I chirped in my best 'Stepford Wife' voice as I turned the corner. John's eyes widened at the sight of my ears and skimpy robe, obviously baulking at my outfit in the presence of workmen. Brock passed me, staring intently at his clipboard. "Just finishing some paperwork with her." He muttered for explanation of our holdup as he nodded his head in greeting. As Brock joined Cliff in the entryway, they stopped to bid us farewell. "It was nice making your acquaintance." Cliff lifted two fingers in a sendoff. "Looking forward to filling that hole tomorrow." He boosted the microwave forward indicatively with a thrust of his hips, but the innuendo was extremely dangerous. Brock's composure was slipping, his face reddening as he held back incriminating laughter. John's puzzlement was mounting. Desperate to sidetrack John, I grabbed his face, forcefully pressing my lips to his. He enthusiastically returned my passionate kiss, seeming to forget the audience in my door. Kissing my boyfriend with the flavor of two other cocks hanging heavily in my mouth, I opened one eye and met the entertained gaze of the lingering men. The workers nodded, and, as the door closed behind them, a chorus of loud laughter echoed in the hall. John broke off our kiss. "I think those guys must have been high! They were both so flushed. And the one I talked to - uh, Cliff - he was so boisterous and not really making sense. I had to tell him his damn fly was down!" My sexual frenzy was too intense to fake my way through a rejoinder. Untying my belt, I allowed my robe to fall open then off my body. My swollen tits were again threatening to burst out of the molded elastic material of my costume. John stared hungrily at my body. A last note of protest crept into his mouth. "You were dressed like this," his fingers felt the fur of one of my ears, "while the workers were here?" I didn't respond, instead unbuckling his belt for an answer. He made a last, small noise of confusion, but I cut him off by shoving him back into the living room wall. Digging my fingers into the waist of his pants and underwear simultaneously, I insistently tugged both garments to his shins. Allowing my tall ears to flop and fold animatedly as I sank, I dropped to my knees in front of him. Despite his concerns about my outfit, John's penis didn't have any complaints. His erection was hard and firm, standing at attention in his crotch. I gave him a few cheering tugs, tickling beneath his balls with the tip of my tongue. My lips traveled the length of his vein, then puckered around his glans as I reached the tip. Diving my mouth down his shaft, I began to realize how fatigued my jaws were from their extensive labor earlier. Driving and retreating along his length, my lips pressed tightly around his dick. I hummed, sending vibrations from my mouth running up the length of his pole. "God, baby, that feels so good!" John gasped above me. I hated being called 'baby'. Feverish with lust, I pushed my mouth deeper onto his dick, feeling his tip tickle the back of my throat. I coughed and gagged lightly at the irritation. "Damn, are you choking on my cock, baby?" John asked. "I love when you gag, and your eye makeup starts to run like that..." I closed my eyes in submission, but also hiding my eyes' wicked glimmer. John was too frenzied to catch hints as to my earlier activities. Reaching down to my bust, he pried the rim of the spandex top below my mounds. I moaned loudly at the fresh attention to my breasts. The crotch of my costume was drenched; I felt my own moisture smearing down my thighs as I knelt. As he pawed at my tits, I felt his prick leap and twitch in my mouth. I knew it was time for us to move. My lips left his dick with a smack. Beads of sweat had already popped up on John's forehead. I stood and again pressed my mouth to his; this time he tasted his own manhood. I wondered if he recognized any flavor similarities to our first kiss. Hurrying us onward, I gripped him by his erection and steered him behind me and directing us to the couch. Casting a smoldering glance over my shoulder, I leaned over the arm. John's hands zoomed to my lively butt, feverishly squeezing and fondling my cheeks. "Fuck me..." I invited. I hooked my knee onto the sofa arm, the seeping wetness on my inner thighs glistening in the light as my legs spread. The sequins of my heels glittered like a mirror ball propped up on the armrest. Grasping the crotch of my bodysuit, I pulled the soaked panty to the side and uncovered my sodden pussy. John's cock impatiently battered against my hamstring. His tip was already dripping precum; it left a trail of sticky dots along the back of my leg as he moved. He leaned in behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso and grabbing up overflowing handfuls of my breasts. I moaned as his fingers tweaked and pulled my agitated nipples, and his mouth closed onto the sensitive hollow of my neck. "Fuck me! Now!" I barked, ordering now. Reaching behind me, I grasped at his prick, trying to drag John forward, towards my inviting quim. He inched ahead; his tip grazed my outer folds and I whimpered needfully. Finally, his dick parted my bald, puffy lips and sank into my drenched pussy. "Wow!" John exclaimed as he felt my overwhelming wetness. "You're really excited to see me, huh?!" I groaned deeply for a response. Folding my body over the armrest, I vigorously bucked my hips, fucking myself on John's tool even before he could begin to fuck me. He responded to my enthusiasm, digging the fingers of one hand into my plump ass cheek while greedily seizing my bouncing bust in his other. Pulling his arm back, John swung his hand and delivered a stinging spank on my butt. I pictured the cottontail dancing with the impact and moaned enthusiastically. John had second thoughts. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to be so rough, I got carried aw-" "Do that again!" I cut him off with my command. Pushing off the couch and propelling myself backwards, I could feel my buttocks jiggling each time I rammed my pussy down his dick. I was beginning to bring myself closer to my climax. John obediently smacked my ass again. "Harder!" Swinging his arm again, a louder, sharper strike landed on my cheek. I growled as I felt the churning in my snatch build. "Yes! Like that! Again!" I was almost screaming now. John slapped my ass, and I felt my skin redden beneath the impact. A sparkling buzz was flittering in my head. I galloped on the couch arm, bucking my pussy onto my boyfriend's cock. My unrestrained tits sprang wildly below me. The two loads of cum in my belly felt warm inside me, and that heat seemed to radiate into my sex, tipping me over the edge. "Fuck! Fuck yes! God oh fuck I'm cumming!" I bellowed, tilting my face behind while grabbing John by the back of his neck and wrenching him forward over my shoulder to meet my kiss as I came. As my pussy constricted around his shaft, John pulled away from my kiss as his own control failed. As he lunged to his deepest reach, I felt the warm jet splash from his tip. I never let John cum inside me, but I was too caught in the throes of my own orgasm to stop him this time. His prick twitched again, and another spurt painted the walls of my womb. He moaned as another sticky gush sprayed against my insides. As my last orgasmic quakes died away, a final load oozed from John's dick into my pussy. He pulled out of me with a wet, sticky sound. The cum seeped ploddingly from between my bald lips. I unfolded my leg from the arm of the couch, then repositioned the crotch of my bottoms. The spandex would be steeped in cum almost immediately, I imagined... not that I had bought the costume for frequent use. I bent over at the waist before John, directing his glans back to my plump, coral lips. "Happy Easter, baby." I said, taking his wilting manhood back into my mouth for a last, sensuous tongue bathing. Releasing him, I walked to the kitchen, grabbed a ream of menus out of the cupboard, then handed the stack to John. I instructed him to order delivery, anything he wanted; I truly didn't care. Then I went to the bathroom to undress and shower, exhaustedly kicking my heels away into the bedroom on my way. I peeled off the white romped, and left it lying on the tile where it landed. I stood before the mirror, staring at my naked, long-eared reflection. My pale tits were still stippled with ghostly pocks of dried cum. Good thing John was behind me, I thought. My stomach jumped as I noticed an odd mess on one of the ears caught my attention. I removed the headband to inspect closer; it was an errant glob of maintenance man cum. "This is why I told them to cum in my mouth," I tsk'd, fussily shaking my head. Smirking, I brought the headband to my mouth and licked the ear clean, then hopped into the steaming shower. Fifteen minutes later, I walked through the living room on my way to the kitchen. One towel was folded around my midsection while I vigorously rubbed my hair dry with another. "Pizza's okay, right?" John double-checked from the couch. "Yeah, that's fine." I replied. I was beginning to feel the fatigue of my busy afternoon and I drowsed as I dried my hair and opened the fridge to get a drink. I snapped sharply awake as I spotted the vacant cavity above my oven. "Hey, are you working tomorrow night?" I called to the living room. "Yeah, I will probably have to stay a few hours tomorrow, sorry. Why?" A hint of annoyance edged his voice, mistaking my question for starting an argument about his busy work schedule. With my back to him, I grinned mischievously at the empty hole where the new microwave would go. "No, don't worry about it. Workmen might be here late, is all..."