Wet Cement

I decided to put in a new patio, intending to do the majority of the work myself. I'm quite good with my hands. I'd cleared the required area and levelled out the soil and today I'd been concreting. I had a mixer and I'd spent half the day, with a mate helping, mixing and pouring the cement. My mate shot through once the mixing was done and I got to work levelling it out.

I did a damn fine job of it, even if I do say so myself. Once the cement dried I'd move on to tiling the area. Having done enough for the day I packed up my equipment, went inside, and had a shower and changed.

While I was changing I was standing near the window looking down at the new patio area. It looked fine to me. I caught sight of some movement in my peripheral vision and turned my head to see what had caught my eye.

It was Sandra, the kid next door, but watching her romping around I had to concede she was no longer a kid. I idly wondered how old she was. She was tossing a Frisbee for her dog, scoring a fifty percent success rate, I reckoned. She'd throw, the dog would run, jump, catch and return. She'd throw again, the dog would run, jump, miss, shrug and sit down, waiting for her to go fetch. The dog had her well trained.

Even as I watched she skimmed what should have been an easy catch, even for her mutt, but I guess a breeze must have gusted past at exactly the wrong moment. The Frisbee lifted up and away from the dog, cleared the fence by a coat of paint and sailed across my yard.

You guessed it. I cursed as I saw the Frisbee sail over and land on the newly laid cement. Fortunately it was at the edge, and any damage would be easy to fix. Accidents will happen. I was about to go down to fix the damage and toss the Frisbee back when I saw Sandra come sailing over the fence in pursuit. Quite athletic, that young woman.

I saw her stand at the edge of the new cement, looking at the Frisbee, half sunk in the cement. I was idly wondering if she'd have the nerve to tell me about the accident or just grab the Frisbee and sneak back home. She went with neither of those options, it turned out.

All Sandra had to do was walk around the cement, lean over and pick up her toy. Instead, she glanced around and, satisfied that no-one was watching, walked right across the cement, leaving deep footprints the whole way.

As soon as she took that first step I was running down the stairs, absolutely furious. When I came out the back door Sandra was standing there, looking at the cement and the footprints that led across and back again. The Frisbee had vanished. I assumed that she'd heaved it back over the fence.

She looked up as I came charging out the door, just standing there with an innocent look on her face.

"Geez, Mr D.," she said, sounding so very sincere. "Look what someone's done to your cement. I think it was one of those boys down the road. I heard them talking and jumped over the fence because I knew they were up to no good. They ran when they saw me."

Was she bloody kidding me? Did she really have the bare faced gall to think she could fob the whole thing off that easily? From the look on her face, yes, she did.

"I see," I said. "And would you happen to be able to identify them?"

"I'm sorry, but not really," she said, shaking her head sadly. "They spotted me coming and ran and I only saw the back of them."

"Well, those little bastards have caused me a bit of work," I said. "Fortunately, I've found the damage before the cement dries so I can smooth it out again quickly. Just think, if we hadn't spotted this the cement would have dried like that and I'd have had to jack-hammer part of it up again and re-lay it. Quite expensive that would have been."

Sandra quietly commiserated, pointing out that it was fortunate she'd been there and chased them off.

She stood and watched as I quickly fixed up the damage. Getting onto it so fast made it a lot easier. Finishing, I turned to Sandra.

"That's not the only damage those little bastards caused, you know," I said, noting her look of surprise.

"Ah, what else did they do?" she asked.

"Would you believe that those rotten little sods took the time to smear wet cement all over your sneakers?"

What colour is red? Sandra's face provided the answer.

"I saw the Frisbee land from my window," I said. "That was an accident and not really your fault. Walking across the cement, and back, was a deliberate act of petty vandalism."

My hand flashed out and clamped on her ear. Then I strolled over to my garden seat. I vaguely remember doing something similar when Sandra was quite a bit younger, around ten I think. She'd chucked a rock through my window and I'd caught her in the act and spanked her.

She yelped when she felt my fingers clamp down, because I wasn't too gentle about making sure I had a firm grip. Before she could get her voice going I was sitting on the garden bench and she was going across my knee.

Now all I was going to do was flick her skirt away from her bottom and deliver a firm spanking. Crime and punishment, you might say. Unfortunately for Sandra, she found her voice at exactly the wrong moment.

"Don't you dare," she said frantically. "You can't spank me. I'm an adult now. I'm sorry. Honest. I won't do it again."

"I know. You'll find some other way to make mischief. However, seeing you're an adult I guess I can take one little liberty that I couldn't with a minor."

Before she could work out what I meant I flicked up her skirt and pulled her panties down. She gave a cry of shocked protest and then a yelp of pain as my hand landed on her bottom.

I proceeded to spank her properly, taking turns at delivering nice hard slaps to each cheek, while I reiterated my points about vandalism and the potential expense if I hadn't discovered it in time. I also found time to talk about crime and punishment and how you can expect something nasty to happen when you did something you knew was wrong.

Before I was finished Sandra's bottom was very nicely flushed and smarting and she was feeling most repentant and apologetic.

Finally satisfied with what I'd wrought I swung Sandra back to her feet. Now Sandra has always been one to show her emotions, quite freely expressing her opinion about anything and everything. Right then, her bottom was smarting, and she was quite willing to let me know it.

She started jumping up and down on the spot, telling me what a rotten person I was, saying, "ow, ow, ow," a lot, and generally carrying on. I found this interesting for three reasons.

One, as she jumped I noticed her panties kept sliding further down her legs. They were almost at her ankles now. Two, she was wearing what they call a flirty skirt. Because she was holding up the back of it to try and fan her bottom, the front of the skirt was pulled up slightly as well. With her jumping up and down her skirt was bouncing up and down as well, giving me repeated flashes of her pussy. She shaved, I noticed. The third reason was that, under her t-shirt, her breasts were also bouncing in a very interesting manner. They were bouncing freely enough to let me know that she wasn't wearing a bra. Altogether, she was providing a very stimulating picture.

"Ah, Sandra," I said, "If you could just calm down for a second, when you said you were an adult I assumed that you meant you were now eighteen."

She finally stopped bouncing, (a pity, really,) and looked daggers at me.

"Yes, I am," she snapped, "and what you did could be classified as indecent assault."

"Perhaps," I admitted, "but are you really going to confess to vandalism? You would have to if you wanted to complain about your spanking."

I received another dagger look, which I blithely ignored.

"The reason I asked about your age was because I was trying to work out what you were doing?"

Sandra just looked puzzled, and I elaborated.

"You seemed to be trying to draw my attention to your physical attributes," I told her. "Now it might have been chance, but when combined with your insistence that you are an adult I have to assume that it's deliberate and that you're trying to seduce me."

"You have got to be kidding me," Sandra said, barely breathing out the observation, looking totally stunned at the suggestion.

"Not at all. You let your panties drop to your ankles and I see you've actually stepped out of them now. You were also bouncing so your skirt kept flipping up showing me this."

I lifted her skirt and patted her pussy to show what 'this' was.

"I also note that you've shaved here," rubbing a thumb softly over her mons. "In a young woman that tends to indicate that she's sexually active or wants to be. Are you sexually active or still at the want-to-be stage?"

"That's none of your damn business," she snapped, blushing.

"Yes, it is," I explained, "if I'm going to be having a sexual relationship with you."

"You're mad," Sandra exclaimed, looking very indignant. "Give one reason why you think I want a sexual relationship with you, of all people."

"Um," I said, "how about the fact that you haven't asked me to move my hand?"

Now she was really blushing. From the moment I'd lifted her skirt and patted her pussy, until now, I had continued patting and stroking her. For that matter, I was still doing it. When that realisation dawned on her she hastily slapped my hand away.

That was OK. I needed that both hands to undo the button and zip on the side of her skirt. Sandra gasped and snatched at her skirt as it slithered down, but she sure didn't snatch fast enough to actually catch it. Also, instead of bobbing down to grab her skirt and pull it back up she just crossed her hands in front of her pussy.

I was standing now, and I took hold of her t-shirt and started tugging it up.

"Stop it. What are you doing?"

"I'm checking to see if I'm right and you're braless," I casually told her, lifting the t-shirt even higher, revealing a very nice pair of breasts. "And it appears I am right. They were bouncing very nicely earlier." To demonstrate I placed a hand under one and bounced it.

"Stop it, please," she gasped. "Leave my clothes alone. People will see. We are outside, you know."

"We are, and you look lovely in sunlight. However, the only windows that actually overlook my backyard are mine. No-one is watching."

I let her t-shirt drop, covering her beauties, though not for long I hoped.

"Take your t-shirt off."

"I will not. What makes you think I'll take it off just because you tell me to?"

"Because you want to. Now stop stuffing around and do as you're told."

She's very good with the dagger glares, I noticed. The glare did not stop her taking off her t-shirt, though.

She stood there, t-shirt in her hands, arms spread slightly, showing me her body.

"There. Are you satisfied? You've seen me naked. Can I put my clothes back on now?"

"No. You haven't answered my question yet."

"What question?"

"Are you sexually active? I'd really like to know before I take you. It will save me getting an unpleasant surprise when you start screaming and moaning and beating at me, because I've popped your cherry by accident."

"You aren't going to pop my cherry, as you so crudely put it."

"Does that mean you're not a virgin?"

She gave me a face palm.

"You have a one-track mind," she groaned. "If it's any of your business, which it's not, then no, I'm not a virgin."

"In that case, would you mind undoing my trousers for me? I have something for you."

She looked as though she was going to explode.

"You don't get it, do you?" she snarled at me. "I am not having sex with you."

That seemed pretty definite, but in that case, why was she still standing in front of me, in my yard, without a stitch on, excluding sneakers nicely decorated with drying cement?

"Yes, yes, so you keep saying," I agreed. "While we're discussing that you can fill in some time undoing my trousers."

Sandra was breathing hard and looking frustrated. Hopefully, before very long, she would be breathing even harder and not feeling anything like as frustrated. I caught her hand and drew it over to my trousers, pressing it against me, letting her know why it would be a good idea to help me get those trousers off.

She didn't undo them, but neither did she move her hand. Her face reddened, but she was holding what she found there. My hands had moved up and cupped her breasts, rubbing her nipples.

Eventually she called me a rude name and started undoing my trousers, bringing out her present. She looked down at it and swallowed.

"You're not seriously thinking of sticking me with that thing, are you?" she asked huskily.

"Hard and often," I said.

My hand was now covering her mound again, rubbing back and forth, slowly getting her aroused. Or not so slowly, the way her pussy was rubbing against me.

I turned her and bent her over the yard bench, moving into position behind her. Her head was turned and she was staring at me, the look on her face saying she couldn't understand why she was permitting this. It seemed quite simple to me. The spanking had aroused her and she wanted to be mastered.

Me, I'm naturally suspicious. Before I plunged ahead I did a little more checking. A little more petting, with fingers intruding internally, and I quietly satisfied myself that she wasn't virginal. I'd have hated to find out otherwise when I was driving in. As it was, I think it was all go.

Sandra gave a small gasp when she felt me probing against her slit, promising to enter. A gentle start, easing her lips slightly apart, then there was a startled squeal when I drove in hard, sheathing myself with a single thrust.

With that I went to town, driving in with everything I had. Sandra was gasping and giving out eager little cries, pushing herself hard against me with every thrust. I reached around and captured her breasts, mauling them, rather than stroking them. The way Sandra writhed under me showed me that she fully approved.

I took her hard, riding her rough as they say. Sandra seemed to be in heaven, gasping and pleading for more, while her bottom bounced energetically, hurrying to meet me as I attacked.

The whole thing was incredibly energetic and exciting. Too energetic and exciting when you got right down to it, as normally I'd enjoy a long slow loving. This was neither, but incredibly exhilarating for all that.

Both of us were highly excited, racing towards our respective climaxes. Sandra had been reduced to frantic gasps, almost screaming for relief.

Then she had her relief, and I thanked god that my own climax was close behind. I was almost at the point of collapse. I hadn't had such a frenetic bout of sex in years. I hoped it wouldn't be that long until my next bout.

I slumped down on the bench, pulling Sandra around and sitting her on my knee while she recovered.

"That," I said, when she seemed as though she was finally taking notice, "was interesting."

She didn't say anything but the look she gave me spoke volumes. Unfortunately, not being able to read women's minds, I couldn't be sure what she actually said.

"Now we really need to try that again and see if was just a flash in the pan."

I lifted her to her feet and stood up, retaining hold of her arm.

"Let's go inside and we'll try again," I decided, towing her towards the back door.

"But what if I don't want to try it again?" came the protest.

"Not a problem," I assured her. "I'll just spank you until you're agreeable."