Introducing Your Daily F*ck!

the fluff and get straight to the heat. Each bite sized episode is a single sizzling scene of raw passion designed to be your perfect immediate escape. And I'm so excited to present this special preview just for you now. If you're interested in subscribing, and honestly, who wouldn't be, The link is in the description. Oh and if it isn't obvious already, this podcast is intended for adult listeners.

and every nerve in my body. Today I've had enough, I march across my lawn and bang my fist on his workshop door, a well rehearsed speech above zoning ordinances and common courtesy on the tip of my tongue. The sawing cuts off. A moment later, the heavy door slides open, in my entire argument evaporates. He's a mountain of a man framed in the doorway. He's shirtless, his chest and arms corded with muscle, all covered in a fine sheen

of sweat and a light dusting of sawdust. His face is a mask of annoyed concentration, his eyes dark and stormy, his jaw set under a layer of rough stubble. What do you want? He grunts, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. My prepared complaints about noise pollutions dissolve into a single primal of thought. I needed to feel those calloused hands all over my body. This was no longer or a complaint. This is a conquest. A slow smile spreads across my face.

I came over here to complain about the noise. I let my gaze drift from his eyes, down his sweat slip chest, to the low slungeans hanging on his hips, and meet his gaze again. It's good honest work and good honest noise. I ponder my next move. I can see the faint outline of his cock and his jeans. It's the kind of bulge that says, I'm not trying to show off my dick, but it's big enough that I'll need to look me screaming fuck me harder is a good honest noise too. But you don't hear me

saying that, do you. His stormy expression doesn't change, but a flicker of something new. Surprise, then intrigue ignites in his eyes. He looks me up and down a silent, thorough appraisal. But god, do I want to be screaming that? His bulge is a little more pronounced? And I smile wickedly at him. Did perhaps I say too much? He stares into my eyes. So you don't like my noise? I haven't heard your noise. I lick my lips. I think I'd probably like it at Dad, he laughs, He's

something else, you know that. Before I can reply, he yets, I get it. You need some good, honest work in your life, and without it, you're just going to complain. I'm not sure exactly what he means. Is that a subtle proposition? He's maddeningly hard to read. I decide to just plow ahead. This is either going to end up with me getting fucked or learning how to do woodworking.

give some good, honest, hard work. His mouth crashes down onto mine. It's not a kiss. It's a collision, rough, demanding and utterly consuming. I meet his energy with my own. My hand's coming up to grip his muscular shoulders, my nails digging in. This is what I wanted, this raw, unspoken passion. He breaks the kiss only to rip my t shirt up and over my head, tossing it onto

a pile of wood shavings. His calloused, sawdust covered hands are on my breast, his thumbs scraping over my nipples through my lace bra The rough texture is an exquisite torture that makes me cry out. He haankes my skirt up to my waist and with one hand pulls my panties aside. For a second, I think he's going to be gentle and go down on me, or perhaps find a soft tarp or something. But then he grabs my hips and spins me around with a shove. He bends

me over his workbench. I don't even hear him unders up his pants before I feel him, entering me with a single, powerful thrust that lifts me onto my toes. A gasp is torn from my throat. He's thick, hard and hot, filling me completely. He immediately begins to fuck me, his hips slamming against my ass with a brutal, steady rhythm that's far better than any hammer. He is all force and function, a machine of pure animal need. My

hands scrabble for purchase on the cluttered workbench. My fingers knock over a jar of screws, and they scatter across the floor with a series of sharp clinks, adding to the symphony of our fucking. He pounds into me, his powerful body, driving me back against the wood, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. I'm being taken completely and utterly by this grumpy sigment man, and it is the hottest thing I've ever experienced. The friction in the

force are building a frantic, desperate fire inside me. I'm close, so close. I throw my head back and scream as my orgasm rips through me, a violent shuddering way of a pure bliss. My climax triggers his with a final guttural roar that vibrates through my entire body. He comes deep inside me, his release a hot, welcome flood. He stays inside me for a moment, his forehead pressed against my back, my ragged breaths mingling in the dusty air. Then he pulls out, leaving me a trembling and a

weak need mess. He steps back, zips up his fly, and looks at me, a mess of sweat and sawdust leaning against his workbench. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips. I smile, good, honest work.