We Sucked and Fucked After Work

His hand found its way to the waistband of my joggers, hesitating briefly before slipping inside. When he gripped me, I nearly bucked off the couch.

I was knackered by the time Darren and I finished the south wall of that posh prick's garden extension. Eight hours of laying courses in the summer heat had left us both soaked through with sweat.

"Pub?" Darren suggested, wiping his forehead with a dusty forearm.

I shook my head. "Can't face people. Let's grab a few cans and head back to mine."

Darren nodded, already packing away his trowel. "Sounds good. Your missus away still?"

"Yep. One more week of blessed fucking peace."