Uncle Ken's deliverymen

I open the heavy wooden door of the cottage to reveal a powerful-looking black man of nearly two meters in height, standing on the other side of the screen door. He is wiping the sweat off the front of his shaved head as he looks back towards a large truck and his waiting colleague.

As he turns back to face the door and try the bell another time, he seems startled, and quite relieved, to see me now standing on the other side of the lightweight screen door.

"Oh, thank God, someone's home! I was beginning to think we had the wrong address," the handsome, coffee-colored man of about thirty says to me.

I watch as he pulls an invoice out of the back pocket of his dark blue coveralls and unfolds it.

"This is the Ken Dahl residence?" he asks, reading from the pink paper.

"Yes, it is, or rather, will be," I inform him politely, studying his strong shoulders as they strain against the sweaty material.

"Good!" he says and motions to his mate in the vehicle parked in the drive. "We are supposed to set up and install some office equipment, it says in the basement," he informs me. "Could you show me where we need to go?"

I smile and push open the outer door for him to come in. The door to the basement was just to my right. I was glad I wouldn't have to lead him through the house with my sport knickers rucked up in the thong my cousin had ordered me to leave them in.

Just as the deliveryman was to walk by me, my ever so helpful cousin stepped up behind me, grasping my bare shoulders as she offered a suggestion.

"Lucy, wouldn't it be easier for these gentlemen to carry their things in the outer doors Mum used when she gardened? There are far fewer steps and it leads right down there."

I looked out of the corner of my eye at my redheaded cousin's devilish smile. "Yes, Stacy, you're probably right."

"That does sound like it would be a lot easier if it isn't too much of an imposition, miss," the deliveryman smiled, hopefully.

"Of course it isn't," Stacy answered for me. "Lucy, you open the outside doors for them and I'll go down to make sure the inside door is unlocked." She put a hand on my perspiring back and practically pushed me out the screen door.

"Certainly. Follow me, gentlemen," I say, putting on a brave smile as I step out into the late day heat. The other mover is now just behind the thirty-something man. He looks about my age, with just a little stubble on his shaved head. He looks like he could be the other man's son.

"Oh, we may be here a while, so why don't I introduce myself," the first man says. "I'm Soloman, or Sol. This is my son, Soloman Junior," he says as he gestures to the other coveralled man, now eyeing me up from head to foot.

"Junior will do," he says as he offers his hand in greeting as well. I blush as I feel his intense stare. I know I must be quite a sight in my sweat-soaked strap-sleeved top and navy briefs.

As I turn to head toward the steel double doors that sit at an angle against the foundation of the cottage, I know I will be even more of a sight, with my round little bumcheeks exposed for them to see.

"I'm horribly embarrassed," I tell them as I lead the way along the country garden to the big, red steel doors. "My cousin dared me to answer the door this way. I didn't expect.." I trail off, not knowing what else to tell them as I stop before the doors and reach down to pull them open.

"Don't be, missy," assures Sol. "You're the best thing me and the boy have set eyes on all day."

I feel the serge pull even tighter against my heated pussy as I struggle to pull on the handles. The material seems to be working it's way further in my asscrack as well, as I feel more skin being uncovered as I bend further over, my legs locked straight.

"Here, let me help you," I hear Junior say from behind me as he reaches past me to yank up the stubborn door.

I feel something against my bared right asscheek.