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The Handyman

By: JEdwins



Pt I

I was one of those young guys who always dropped pencils in class, dreamed about hiding in the girls locker room at the pool, and thought about sex 25 hours a day. Did I do anything about it? Never! I had no line, no guts, and was incredibly shy. Even in the Air Force, I ran from sure things, twice. Once in a girl's apartment in Minnesota, my arriving to take her roller skating while she was still showering was followed by her coming into the living room in a fur coat, plopping herself down on the opposite end of the couch, and demurely opening the coat for my approval. I clearly remember thinking, while I was running down the stairs from her apartment, that she was beautiful and I was very dumb. A couple of years later I went to fix a phone for a young officers wife at a base in Louisiana. While I was checking the lightening protector at the bottom of the basement stairs, she sat on the top step. Legs open. Robe mostly open. A crystal clear, absolute, bona fide invitation. By then, at least, I was no longer a virgin. But did I accept the offering. No! True to form, cussing myself out all the way, I left the house and went back to the telephone central office and my private misery.

Even after 16 years of marriage, when widowed, I couldn't initiate a sexual situation with a woman. By offering my house for parties, Parents Without Partners at least afforded me the opportunity to meet people in a situation where everyone came to me. That, at least, got me to know some women. Some of them even wanted to date me (bless this new morality) and broached the subject when it became clear that I seemed incapable of asking them. One of them, after a couple of dates, asked me if I wanted to make love to her. I did and I did.

Once started, I am a good lover. I'm caring, slow, very attentive, and work very hard to satisfy (and get a lot of satisfaction in return.) And where I can comfortably talk to ten or a hundred people, about any topic, I can't talk intelligently to one woman in whom I am sexually interested. Besides the world of business, where I am a fairly senior company manager who never appears shy or tongue tied, I was also a very popular discussion leader in PWP; especially if the evenings topic contained sexual overtones. And, of course, in a singles club full of people who are struggling with dramatic personal/social changes, via divorce or the death of a mate, every topic is fraught with overtones of some type. People found me to be open, frank, informative (I believe), and always packed the discussions in which I was scheduled to be the moderator. But, one on one . . .?

Anyway, that was when I was about 36. I was married again for ten years and then my wife and I decided to separate while we were still friends. The first time there was an opportunity for me to recover youthful losses there was Herpes (not only a good excuse to keep it in my shorts, but a very scary disease.) Then in my 46th year a second chance; except for AIDS. But, I'm not cut out for celibacy, so some degree of risk must be taken.

In my avocation as a part time Handyman, mostly for older people, I have built up a nice clientele by referral. People know that I charge reasonably, do good work, and can be trusted with the keys to the house. Now, although I have not met too many women around my age (50) who have fit into my mental profile of delectable, I also am old enough to know that very young women are nice to look at but better lovers require some aging. Here it comes.

Pt II

The work I had been doing for a sixty-three year old lady in Anaheim was the type where progress is slow because of the difficulty in recreating crown and chair rail molding that no one has made in fifty years. So the effort on that and other tasks had been going on for months. Periodically, while working in the house, the lady's divorced daughter would come over to visit her. If I was working in a room where it was convenient, they would often include me in their conversations. So, the daughter and I were not strangers.

For the last three weeks of June, the owner went on an extended bus tour with a lot of other elderly people from her "club", leaving me the key so I could continue my work. Knowing she would not be home for that length of time, I had planned on doing some of the really messy work when I didn't have to worry about constantly cleaning as I went along.

Arriving at the house at about 8:00 on that first Saturday, I dragged in the oak paneling and started back out for the plaster board when Pam (THE thirty-two year old daughter) enters the dining room area with one towel wrapped around her body, toweling her hair with another. I stared. She yelped. I left saying I would wait in the back yard until she was dressed. During the ten minutes that that took, I went through more fantasies in my mind than this essay has room to relate. But most of them focused on my favorite subject; tasting her to confirm my belief that she would taste very good when she was reqady to be loved. Even in my limited experience, I'm amazed at the number of women who do not seem to know that a simple soapy wash cloth applied diligently to every luscious fold and crevice, front and back, can be the prelude to long duration pleasure. I always form an opinion of how women I find desirable will taste. Being me, however, I almost never get to find out if my guess is correct. But since I had decided that Pam would taste good, my fantasies revolved around at least a half hour of carefully determining if I was right. By the time Pam was dressed I had myself thoroughly convinced that two tries would be required; once before we made love, and once after she came the first time. The change in the texture of a women's lubrication after she comes, and the marked increase in glucose, absolutely fascinates me.

Letting me know she was dressed, my work began, and the talk. Subject to subject, as idle conversations always go. She finally commented that she had decided to stay over at her mothers so that we could visit while I was working and she wouldn't feel so alone on another weekend. She just hadn't anticipated such an early arrival on my part. During lunch break there was an item on the news station of the radio in which Dr. Joyce Brothers stated that a recent survey showed that 65% of the women polled felt that their sexual relationships were unfulfilling. I commented that that was a shame. Pam said that she felt that the fault rested squarely on the shoulders of the men involved. I admitted that there was probably an appreciable percentage of cases where that was true, but that she shouldn't dismiss the fact that many women contribute significantly in a number of ways also, enlightenment on matters sexual being the most prevalent.

That theme pretty much prevailed during the rest of the day. At times I launched into my old PWP lead role of John teaching the masses. We touched on style, variety, communication, patience, hygiene, mood, all in a very cool, detached manner. In fact I was anything but cool and detached. By then my most earnest goal was to be attached to this beautiful women. Face first and then cock first. By now I new her well enough that I wanted to "communicate" with her. In my mind, long-duration lovemaking is my way of demonstrating to a woman I feel strongly about how much I care about her. There are no words that can replace the actions of caring lovers making love to each other. That is communicating on a level which leaves no doubts.

Finally I finished my work, cleaned up, said good-bye, went home.

Pt III

On the following Saturday morning I woke up fantasizing about Pam. Would she be there again? Should I arrive at nine so as not to "catch" her again? Should I arrive at eight to be predictably consistent? How could I convince her to change into nylons and a garter belt, a skirt and blouse, with no panties or bra, and get up on the top of a ladder while I held it for her from below? Could I get her to spill something in her lap and then offer to lick it clean for her? Would she think it was too obvious if I brought in my Polaroid camera to take the "after" pictures before I was even finished with my work? Those kind of thoughts continued all through the drive to her mother's house. How I kept from being killed on the Riverside Freeway that morning is a wonder. All I could see in front of me was what I imagined her body would look like; as the towel fell slowly to the floor; as we lay reverse to each other, her over me, sucking each others nipples as we moved toward the real treats; as she crawled lithely across the bed on all fours, back arched, ass high, pussy lips slightly open and inviting. Finally I pulled into the driveway, put on my tool pouch, grabbed some other tools I might need, and let myself in the back door.

The shower was running. It was 8:00 exactly. This had to be an invitation, didn't it? Quietly I walked through the living room, into the hall, and found the bathroom door slightly open. A definite invitation, right? Having painted that bathroom five weeks before I knew that you could only get an oblique view of the bath tub from the door. But the new shower doors I had installed were three-section sliders; one is a mirror, one is patterned, and one is clear glass. She was primarily behind the worst two and the clear one was spotted and kind of steamy. But eventually she moved back to the clear one so that the water would hit the lower part of her body as she rinsed off. I was quaking with sexual energy. What I could see was gorgeous. She sort of pushed her hips forward as she obviously rinsed her pussy. Then she turned her back to the shower (and me), thrust her ass out and wiped soap out of the crevice of her ass. In the few brief seconds of viewing her I could have been whipped by any kitten I was so shaky and weak kneed. I ducked back toward the living room before she turned off the shower, banging my damn hammer on a parsons table in the hall.

Now my primary problem was to be in a not-too-obvious location if she repeated the towel on the body routine so that I could look at her longer before we "discovered" each other and went on to the "yelp!" bit. Since I had to remove the base molding by the step into the kitchen, I crouched down there and watched the archway from the hallway. Sure enough, here she came. Towel and all (or towel and nothing else). She didn't see me right away and walked over toward the window. When she lifted the bottom of the blinds to look out in the driveway she bent down, the towel crept up in the back, I began to salivate. Knowing I had to do something I pried out on the molding (now with my back to her), it groaned after 65 years of not moving, she yelped, I jumped up and stared. BUT I DIDN'T RUN OUT OF THE HOUSE. I also didn't move. Just stared. Pam had to walk somewhat toward me to get back to the hallway and she did, slowly. She stopped about eight feet from me and asked me why I was staring at her. Because you're beautiful was my horse reply. She said she thought I would have sense enough to arrive later after having this same thing happen the previous week. My thought was to be consistent was my response. Well, replied she, if you're waiting for the towel to come loose you have a long wait. I didn't say anything. I was too busy willing the towel to do just that. Well say something, John, she finally blurted. I barely got out some statement about the longer we stood there the longer I got to look at her and dream. Off she went. DAMN. How come tons of men would have done or said something worthwhile, and I get her to leave the room. My sergeant used to call me Dip Shit. He probably knew how I would turn out.

Slowly I went back to work. About twenty minutes later she came back into the room and walked up behind me. Before I could turn around she said, "I owe you an apology, John. My game didn't turn out the way I thought it would. I shouldn't have tried it. I'm old enough to know better."

Now I turned around and looked up at her from my position on the floor. She was in a pale blue buffed cotton robe that reached down to her ankles. "I'm not good at boy/girl games, Pam," I explained, "but you are truly beautiful."

"Well, I was going to prove to myself that you were not like your words, but just like any other man who will jump at the chance for a quick piece and then be gone. This was all a set-up. I even left the bathroom door ajar for you."

"I know. I looked at you as you were rinsing off. My shakes still haven't gone away from watching you."

"I knew you wouldn't hurt me," she said, "but why didn't you run over to me and rip the towel off like I expected you to?"

"Because I am like my words, Pam. I couldn't do that. I mean not today. When we knew each other better, and if I knew you liked me to do that to you. But not yet." After a long silence I continued, "But I wanted to. I still do. You don't know how desirable you are. For weeks I've been fantasizing about you."

"Tell me," she demanded in a very quiet voice.

"I can't. I could tell ten or a hundred people, easily. But I can't tell just you - now."

"Why not? John, I want to hear them. I need to hear them. I need to know I'm still desirable." She looked so very sad. I guess her divorce had been a bad one. We had never talked about it. Just that she had been alone for about seven months.

Standing stone still, I said, "Let me show you. Let me make love to you. I'll be clumsy at first because I don't know what you like; what excites you. Let me taste you and show you how desirable you are to me." Although I could hardly believe those words came from me, I had finally said something positive. Me! The runner.

She looked at me for the longest time without saying a word, but I could plainly see she was arguing with herself. Probably wondering why she should risk being hurt again, or some such thing. Then she turned, walked around the chair between us and the hallway, saying, "Come into the spare room in five minutes." Then she stopped walking, turned back to me, and added, "And love me." Then she left the room.

Even with all that had just happened (the shower, the window, the towel-clad body, the robe and the talk) I was stunned. I was glad for the five minutes. It would take me that long to get my body to move from the spot to which I was firmly riveted. Shy old John was going to get to make love to this luscious woman. She would be in heaven if there was any possibility of it at all. She deserved confirmation of her sexuality and release from that age old itch and I was the guy who was going to do everything I could to make it happen. From a slightly dictatorial role, which I felt she needed for her self-esteem, I was going to love this lady into oblivion.

Pt IV

Pam was on the bed, in her robe, on her back, head on a pillow, and looking at me when I came to the doorway. She giggled nervously and asked me if I thought I really needed twenty pounds of tools with me. That is the first time I realized I still had my tool pouch on my waist. I laughed, equally nervously, and took it off, along with my moccasins. Walking up to the side of the bed, I kissed her lightly on the lips and told her to turn over with her hands at her sides. Starting at her neck and shoulders, I did my best imitation of a masseur. Down her back to her waist and then back up to her shoulders and neck. As badly as I wanted to see and feel her skin, the robe stayed in place. Even as an amateur I could tell that her neck was more relaxed the second time there. Next I went down her arms, palms, and fingers. Someone once told me that pushing into the palm by the base of the thumb with your thumb, and rubbing in that little hollow there, was very pleasant and relaxing. I tried that for a couple of minutes on each palm. Then back up Pam's arms and down her back to her waist. By now I was on the bed, straddling her hips, because that was most comfortable for me. But I had to move down quite a ways in order to massage her legs. I left her ass alone (but I didn't want to) and did not force the robe between her thighs, but only massaged what could comfortably be reached.

By the time I reached her feet Pam was laying with her face turned sideways. Every now and again I heard a very faint moan. When I massaged her feet, especially with my thumb in the soft part of the sole of each foot, she actually commented on how good that felt. Telling her to just lay there as she was, I got off of the bed on the side away from her face and undressed. When I was again straddling her feet, I worked my way back up her legs. The difference this time was that I was moving her robe up her body as I went. Instead of just massaging, I kissed the backs of her calves, licked the backs of her knees when I got to them, and kissed her thighs as they became exposed. I know she liked all of this attention because of the way she moved her sweet ass around in little movement all during the process. When I had to move further up her body, my cock dangled between her legs and she felt it. She lifted her head and looked back at it and then up at my face, smiling.

By the time I got to the tops of her thighs and moved her robe up to her waist I'm sure she thought the sex would begin. But as difficult as it was, and it was, I never touched her ass. Instead I reached under her, untied the robe, pulled it out from under her body and down off of her arms. Finally, she was naked. When I moved up further to work my way up her back again, my now fairly erect cock rubbed along that delectable stretch of womanhood at the tops of her thighs and the base of her ass cheeks. But, I was only massaging my way to her neck again. While I was gently rubbing into her hairline Pam moved her left hand so that she was holding my very excited cock. She didn't fondle or rub, but just held it still.

Instead of having her turn over, I decided to start from where she was. With kisses, I started back down toward her waist. Women, who I believe are so much more in touch with their bodies than are men, have so many places which are erogenous (or at least satisfying) that you could spend hours kissing and nibbling your way around until they ravished you. It's wonderful. This time when I got to her waist I didn't skip down to her thighs. I kissed all around her waist and hips, rubbed my face and hair all over her soft cheeks, and she was again demonstrably pleased. Finally, I couldn't wait any longer. Telling Pam to raise her hips up some, I started at the top of her pussy, wet-kissed all around her mound and on the super-soft skin of her thighs. About the time I had kissed down both sides and the logical next step was to lick her lips, she pushed her pussy back against my mouth and moaned, "Oh! Yes! Do it, please."

Now came some more of the soft dictatorial stuff. "Do what, Pam?"

"Kiss me in the center."

"Kiss you where?" I wanted her to tell me exactly. I had already found out during our conversations the week before that she didn't seem to use sex words, so if I could force her to use them during sex, she would become either more excited or she would get angry. The odds were for getting more excited.

"Keep kissing me down the center. You know what I mean."

I kissed her again, Just at the top of her seam, but just a peck. "You have to tell me exactly where. Tell me, Pam!"

She lifted her ass even higher (isn't it amazing how exciting it is to see a woman lift her ass to you.) "Kiss my lips, John. Please. Kiss them nice like you were just doing." To hear is to obey, right? And she moaned so nicely when my tongue flicked out and probed between pussy lips that were looking for an excuse to open. So nice, in fact, that I let my tongue linger there for a couple of minutes while she moved her hips, pleasuring herself. Then came time to move even lower. Although difficult, and kind of hard on the neck, reaching a tongue down to a waiting clit, from behind, has always resulted in the highest ass lift a woman can manage. I think it's because they find it incredibly sexy and satisfying. So do I. With my face almost completely buried in her, my first feel of Pam's soft inner flesh and the taste of her pussy was all it took to get me as hard as I ever get. I spent considerable time poking and prodding gently in her luscious folds with my tongue and lips. I pulled sections of her lips in between mine so that I could run the tip of my tongue back and forth across them. Now that I had her pussy scent all over my wet face, it came time for my planned next step.


The Handyman



"Turn over, Pam." My voice was almost horse again with my own pent up lust.

She turned over slowly. Now, for the first time I could see her pussy and her nice, nice breasts. Moving up the right side of her body, I put my wet face to hers and kissed her deeply. I could hear and feel her inhaling her aroma. She began licking around my lips and chin. This was my dream come true. A woman who believed, as I do, that sex is beautiful and should be experienced in all of its sounds, scents, feelings, tastes and splendor.

Sitting back up next to her, I spent a good while just looking at her. She was so worth looking at. Smooth skin. Medium sized breasts with fairly dark areolas. Nipples that were already hard and I knew I would enjoy teasing with my mouth. Smooth shaven underarms that would be a momentary alternate place to lick and nuzzle as I consumed her. Her tummy was soft and pliant looking but I knew that if I could get her to come while I was licking and sucking on her pussy, my view up along her body would see a stomach with muscles taught, ridged in strain, pushing out her needed release against my hungry mouth. It was time to get started again.

"Hold your right breast for me and put your right arm up over your head, Pam." When she complied I bent down for my first contact with her breasts. Rubbing my face over her breasts while I inhaled her scent was very pleasurable, for both of us I think. Then I licked along the underside of each breast. Pam had to move her hand slightly to accommodate me, but began playing with her own nipple while I was busy. That sight was very exciting to watch. For a couple of minutes I just continued nuzzling her while I watched her fingers playing with her nipple. When I moved my head up toward that nipple, she moved her fingers away and repositioned her hand to feed me her breast. As my lips closed around her nipple she moaned and lifted her chest up to me. Almost instantly, her nipple got very firm and I rubbed the tip with my tongue as if trying to memorize each wrinkle of skin.

"Do the other one," Pam said.

"The other one, what?" I replied, still pressing for 'dirty' talk from her.

"Suck my other nipple. My other tit," and with that she moved her hand to her other breast.

"This one here?" I said as I closed my obviously exposed teeth gently on her left nipple.

Pam immediately thrust upward again and moaned, "Oh, yes. Oh that feels so-o-o good."

Before I went further on that nipple I moved up a bit more and buried my face in her right arm pit. It was soft, slightly stubbly, and very sensitive to the touch of my tongue. What also felt good to me was the fact that now her right breast was in the crook of my neck and shoulder, and I could feel her erect nipple as she twisted her upper body around to watch my tongue, and made little sounds in her throat. Back at her nipple again I said, between nips and sucklings, "This is one of life's most gentle pleasures, Pam. Nursing on a beautiful woman and relaxing from all of the built up tensions of the day."

"I like it, too." she said, and continued with, "Maybe there are other places you could find gentle pleasure in."

Of course she was exactly correct, and I began to kiss my way down her body. It took me a while because I had to rub my face everywhere as well as kiss and lick various delectable looking spots. Since I didn't seem to be moving along quite as purposefully as Pam wanted, she moved herself under me until my face was just over her pubic hair. OK. I needed some time to look at her pussy anyway, so I shifted myself to be in the best position as she opened her legs to provide room for me to lay between them.

Her pussy was slightly open; enough for me to see the nub of her clit and some of her inner lips. The hair was clipped fairly short and was the same color as the hair on her head. The hair went down both sides of her pussy, getting more sparse as I looked down toward the base. At the bottom seam, there was no hair at all, but there was a little glistening of moisture. Oh how I wanted to taste that wetness again. But not yet. Then, as if impatient, Pam reached down with both hands and opened her pussy, slowly. Of course my own excitement recharged to see her touching herself. But also there was the slow-motion parting of her lips and the revealing of that heavenly flesh of which my dreams had been made for weeks. Her clit became more exposed from its hood as Pam opened herself, although it was still shy. I knew that later it would retreat as her excitation increased toward orgasm and I wanted to watch that process from just this vantage point. Her outer lips pulled away from her inner lips with just the same kind of resistance that would happen later when I would withdraw my cock from her and part of her pussy would try to hold me back. But the parting continued until her inner lips also began to spread. The coral color or her tissue was deepening as I watched which must mean that her blood was rushing to this glorious spot to make it very warm and very soft.

Looking up at Pam's intense face I said, "What a marvel a woman's pussy is." Then I looked back down again.

Moving her hips up toward me some, Pam asked, "How long are you just going to look at it?"

"You don't understand, my love." I said. "You only get to see this in a mirror, from a distance. I can see individual little drops of your lubrication, your pussy juice, as they form. And little tiny wrinkles that help your cunt stretch around my cock when I enter you. And the color changes. And the fragrance of you. Tell me what you want, love. Tell me what will make you happy."

"Love me with your mouth." she said, kind of softly.

"Tell me in clearer terms, Pam."

"Lick me and kiss me down there." a little louder this time.

"Down where?" I asked, all innocence.

Opening herself with her fingers even more than she was, and splaying her legs wide apart, Pam finally said, "Lick my pussy, damn it. Lick my pussy - please."

The second my tongue licked very lightly under her clit, up-down, up-down, quickly like that, she fell back down on the bed. Her hips began an up and down motion that she may not have even realized she was making. And she moaned, "Oh, god, that feels so good. Ohhhh, it's good."

Now I started my grand tour of this lovely nest of warmth and sweetness. With some extra saliva on the tip of my tongue, my exploration began at the very bottom of Pam's pussy, where all of the little, fine hairs make it seem drier than the rest of a woman's pussy. Little flutterings and pokings of my tongue. Then pushing in just enough to feel the puckered entrance to her cunt with its sweet liquid slickness. Pam moved her whole body more toward my face as if trying to impale herself on my tongue, but I instantly pulled back just enough to keep the touch light and enticing. After just a few more moments of this my tongue traveled up the left side of her lips, between the outer and inner, at the very base of the fold where they are very sensitive. Her moanings became stronger and more steady, in time with her labored breathing. Once at the top, I licked up and down the length of her clitoral shaft a few times. Up came her hips to increase the pressure of my tongue. On her third arch my movements shifted again to about an inch below her clit and slowly up to the tip of this most lively and sensitive organ. Just as she was saying, "Oh yes. Keep doing that. Keep going." I moved back down to the bottom of her pussy again and repeated the exact same process coming up between her right lips; digging down between the folds and causing more moans and pleadings. This time when I was again licking slowly up to the base of Pam's clit, and she was moaning for me not to stop, her voice was more desperate. "I've got to come! Don't stop this time, John! Keep licking right there. Please, don't stop." There is no way I would have stopped at that point. She was almost yelling at me in sexual frustration at being held back from her orgasm. I kept licking up, from an inch below her clit to the tip of it. But slower and slower. Her back was arched as she looked down at me with blind and misted eyes. Her stomach muscles were completely tensed and her breathing was now more like gasping. She was repeatedly clenching her abdominal muscles, making little wet popping sounds at the entrance to her cunt. By pushing down a little with my chin I could feel this wondrous, automatic reaction that will milk a man dry.

"I'm going to come," she gasped. "Oh, sweet fuck I'm going to come." Keeping the pace very slow despite the thrashing of Pam's wanton hips, my tongue pressed harder against her inflamed tissue. Suddenly her hands, which hadn't touched my head in all of this time, were firmly around the back of my head holding me tightly against her spasming flesh. Her face contorted with what looked like agony, but was really the release of a tremendous build up of long stored tension. There was no need for me to move at all. Pam was doing all of the work for her release now. Holding my head firmly in place, almost smotheringly tight against her, she fucked her hips up and down, up and down against my lips, chin, and nose. I loved it!

Pam's final release was so intense, so slow in triggering, and causing such violent shudders in her gorgeous body that it may actually have been painful for her. But that is supposed to be the pain of abject delight. And I had helped her get there. After about 30 or 40 seconds of really hard spasming this sweet woman fell back on the bed as if she had been cold-conked with a baseball bat. With my head released from her desperate grip I began again, firmly but slowly, to lick up the come from her lovely, sweet pussy. Even though I tried not to touch her clit directly, knowing it would now be very tender and uncomfortable to touch, each time I came too near it was as if an electric jolt had coursed through her body, eliciting a sharp gasp and protective movement of her hands to push me away. But I continued to lick her slowly to bring her down from number one orgasm as sweetly as I could.

Finally, Pam whispered hoarsely, "That was fantastic. I've never in my whole life come so hard. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

While still licking up Pam's glorious pussy I said, "You did most of the work, especially there at the end when you about humped my face off."

Raising her head and looking down at me with obvious concern she asked if she had hurt me. When I asked her how she thought such a sweet, succulent pussy could possibly have hurt me she smiled with a Cheshire cat, sensuous look and lay back again. All this time I had been laying with my arms under her thighs, up along her torso, with my hands on her scrumptious breasts. Her legs had moved some during her build up and orgasm, but not like they did now. She splayed her knees and brought them all the way up to her chest. This raised her ass off of the bed and opened the entrance to her cunt so that I was able to push my tongue deeper into her than I had been able to before. Pam's come was viscous, sweet, with a slight metallic taste, and my penetration elicited little hip swishes from my lovely Pam.

"You taste so-o-o go-o-o-d," I told her as I moved my hands from her breasts to the backs of her knees. Pushing down on her legs, tighter against her chest, caused her ass to raise ever farther off of the bed. There, fully open and exposed within easy reach of my tongue and lips and nose, was the glorious womanhood I had fantasized about for weeks.

Pt III

On the following Saturday morning I woke up fantasizing about Pam. Would she be there again? Should I arrive at nine so as not to "catch" her again? Should I arrive at eight to be predictably consistent? How could I convince her to change into nylons and a garter belt, a skirt and blouse, with no panties or bra, and get up on the top of a ladder while I held it for her from below? Could I get her to spill something in her lap and then offer to lick it clean for her? Would she think it was too obvious if I brought in my Polaroid camera to take the "after" pictures before I was even finished with my work? Those kind of thoughts continued all through the drive to her mother's house. How I kept from being killed on the Riverside Freeway that morning is a wonder. All I could see in front of me was what I imagined her body would look like; as the towel fell slowly to the floor; as we lay reverse to each other, her over me, sucking each others nipples as we moved toward the real treats; as she crawled lithely across the bed on all fours, back arched, ass high, pussy lips slightly open and inviting. Finally I pulled into the driveway, put on my tool pouch, grabbed some other tools I might need, and let myself in the back door.

The shower was running. It was 8:00 exactly. This had to be an invitation, didn't it? Quietly I walked through the living room, into the hall, and found the bathroom door slightly open. A definite invitation, right? Having painted that bathroom five weeks before I knew that you could only get an oblique view of the bath tub from the door. But the new shower doors I had installed were three-section sliders; one is a mirror, one is patterned, and one is clear glass. She was primarily behind the worst two and the clear one was spotted and kind of steamy. But eventually she moved back to the clear one so that the water would hit the lower part of her body as she rinsed off. I was quaking with sexual energy. What I could see was gorgeous. She sort of pushed her hips forward as she obviously rinsed her pussy. Then she turned her back to the shower (and me), thrust her ass out and wiped soap out of the crevice of her ass. In the few brief seconds of viewing her I could have been whipped by any kitten I was so shaky and weak kneed. I ducked back toward the living room before she turned off the shower, banging my damn hammer on a parsons table in the hall.

Now my primary problem was to be in a not-too-obvious location if she repeated the towel on the body routine so that I could look at her longer before we "discovered" each other and went on to the "yelp!" bit. Since I had to remove the base molding by the step into the kitchen, I crouched down there and watched the archway from the hallway. Sure enough, here she came. Towel and all (or towel and nothing else). She didn't see me right away and walked over toward the window. When she lifted the bottom of the blinds to look out in the driveway she bent down, the towel crept up in the back, I began to salivate. Knowing I had to do something I pried out on the molding (now with my back to her), it groaned after 65 years of not moving, she yelped, I jumped up and stared. BUT I DIDN'T RUN OUT OF THE HOUSE. I also didn't move. Just stared. Pam had to walk somewhat toward me to get back to the hallway and she did, slowly. She stopped about eight feet from me and asked me why I was staring at her. Because you're beautiful was my horse reply. She said she thought I would have sense enough to arrive later after having this same thing happen the previous week. My thought was to be consistent was my response. Well, replied she, if you're waiting for the towel to come loose you have a long wait. I didn't say anything. I was too busy willing the towel to do just that. Well say something, John, she finally blurted. I barely got out some statement about the longer we stood there the longer I got to look at her and dream. Off she went. DAMN. How come tons of men would have done or said something worthwhile, and I get her to leave the room. My sergeant used to call me Dip Shit. He probably knew how I would turn out.

Slowly I went back to work. About twenty minutes later she came back into the room and walked up behind me. Before I could turn around she said, "I owe you an apology, John. My game didn't turn out the way I thought it would. I shouldn't have tried it. I'm old enough to know better."

Now I turned around and looked up at her from my position on the floor. She was in a pale blue buffed cotton robe that reached down to her ankles. "I'm not good at boy/girl games, Pam," I explained, "but you are truly beautiful."

"Well, I was going to prove to myself that you were not like your words, but just like any other man who will jump at the chance for a quick piece and then be gone. This was all a set-up. I even left the bathroom door ajar for you."

"I know. I looked at you as you were rinsing off. My shakes still haven't gone away from watching you."

"I knew you wouldn't hurt me," she said, "but why didn't you run over to me and rip the towel off like I expected you to?"

"Because I am like my words, Pam. I couldn't do that. I mean not today. When we knew each other better, and if I knew you liked me to do that to you. But not yet." After a long silence I continued, "But I wanted to. I still do. You don't know how desirable you are. For weeks I've been fantasizing about you."

"Tell me," she demanded in a very quiet voice.

"I can't. I could tell ten or a hundred people, easily. But I can't tell just you - now."

"Why not? John, I want to hear them. I need to hear them. I need to know I'm still desirable." She looked so very sad. I guess her divorce had been a bad one. We had never talked about it. Just that she had been alone for about seven months.

Standing stone still, I said, "Let me show you. Let me make love to you. I'll be clumsy at first because I don't know what you like; what excites you. Let me taste you and show you how desirable you are to me." Although I could hardly believe those words came from me, I had finally said something positive. Me! The runner.

She looked at me for the longest time without saying a word, but I could plainly see she was arguing with herself. Probably wondering why she should risk being hurt again, or some such thing. Then she turned, walked around the chair between us and the hallway, saying, "Come into the spare room in five minutes." Then she stopped walking, turned back to me, and added, "And love me." Then she left the room.

Even with all that had just happened (the shower, the window, the towel-clad body, the robe and the talk) I was stunned. I was glad for the five minutes. It would take me that long to get my body to move from the spot to which I was firmly riveted. Shy old John was going to get to make love to this luscious woman. She would be in heaven if there was any possibility of it at all. She deserved confirmation of her sexuality and release from that age old itch and I was the guy who was going to do everything I could to make it happen. From a slightly dictatorial role, which I felt she needed for her self-esteem, I was going to love this lady into oblivion.

Pt IV

Pam was on the bed, in her robe, on her back, head on a pillow, and looking at me when I came to the doorway. She giggled nervously and asked me if I thought I really needed twenty pounds of tools with me. That is the first time I realized I still had my tool pouch on my waist. I laughed, equally nervously, and took it off, along with my moccasins. Walking up to the side of the bed, I kissed her lightly on the lips and told her to turn over with her hands at her sides. Starting at her neck and shoulders, I did my best imitation of a masseur. Down her back to her waist and then back up to her shoulders and neck. As badly as I wanted to see and feel her skin, the robe stayed in place. Even as an amateur I could tell that her neck was more relaxed the second time there. Next I went down her arms, palms, and fingers. Someone once told me that pushing into the palm by the base of the thumb with your thumb, and rubbing in that little hollow there, was very pleasant and relaxing. I tried that for a couple of minutes on each palm. Then back up Pam's arms and down her back to her waist. By now I was on the bed, straddling her hips, because that was most comfortable for me. But I had to move down quite a ways in order to massage her legs. I left her ass alone (but I didn't want to) and did not force the robe between her thighs, but only massaged what could comfortably be reached.




The Handyman



By the time I reached her feet Pam was laying with her face turned sideways. Every now and again I heard a very faint moan. When I massaged her feet, especially with my thumb in the soft part of the sole of each foot, she actually commented on how good that felt. Telling her to just lay there as she was, I got off of the bed on the side away from her face and undressed. When I was again straddling her feet, I worked my way back up her legs. The difference this time was that I was moving her robe up her body as I went. Instead of just massaging, I kissed the backs of her calves, licked the backs of her knees when I got to them, and kissed her thighs as they became exposed. I know she liked all of this attention because of the way she moved her sweet ass around in little movement all during the process. When I had to move further up her body, my cock dangled between her legs and she felt it. She lifted her head and looked back at it and then up at my face, smiling.

By the time I got to the tops of her thighs and moved her robe up to her waist I'm sure she thought the sex would begin. But as difficult as it was, and it was, I never touched her ass. Instead I reached under her, untied the robe, pulled it out from under her body and down off of her arms. Finally, she was naked. When I moved up further to work my way up her back again, my now fairly erect cock rubbed along that delectable stretch of womanhood at the tops of her thighs and the base of her ass cheeks. But, I was only massaging my way to her neck again. While I was gently rubbing into her hairline Pam moved her left hand so that she was holding my very excited cock. She didn't fondle or rub, but just held it still.

Instead of having her turn over, I decided to start from where she was. With kisses, I started back down toward her waist. Women, who I believe are so much more in touch with their bodies than are men, have so many places which are erogenous (or at least satisfying) that you could spend hours kissing and nibbling your way around until they ravished you. It's wonderful. This time when I got to her waist I didn't skip down to her thighs. I kissed all around her waist and hips, rubbed my face and hair all over her soft cheeks, and she was again demonstrably pleased. Finally, I couldn't wait any longer. Telling Pam to raise her hips up some, I started at the top of her pussy, wet-kissed all around her mound and on the super-soft skin of her thighs. About the time I had kissed down both sides and the logical next step was to lick her lips, she pushed her pussy back against my mouth and moaned, "Oh! Yes! Do it, please."

Now came some more of the soft dictatorial stuff. "Do what, Pam?"

"Kiss me in the center."

"Kiss you where?" I wanted her to tell me exactly. I had already found out during our conversations the week before that she didn't seem to use sex words, so if I could force her to use them during sex, she would become either more excited or she would get angry. The odds were for getting more excited.

"Keep kissing me down the center. You know what I mean."

I kissed her again, Just at the top of her seam, but just a peck. "You have to tell me exactly where. Tell me, Pam!"

She lifted her ass even higher (isn't it amazing how exciting it is to see a woman lift her ass to you.) "Kiss my lips, John. Please. Kiss them nice like you were just doing." To hear is to obey, right? And she moaned so nicely when my tongue flicked out and probed between pussy lips that were looking for an excuse to open. So nice, in fact, that I let my tongue linger there for a couple of minutes while she moved her hips, pleasuring herself. Then came time to move even lower. Although difficult, and kind of hard on the neck, reaching a tongue down to a waiting clit, from behind, has always resulted in the highest ass lift a woman can manage. I think it's because they find it incredibly sexy and satisfying. So do I. With my face almost completely buried in her, my first feel of Pam's soft inner flesh and the taste of her pussy was all it took to get me as hard as I ever get. I spent considerable time poking and prodding gently in her luscious folds with my tongue and lips. I pulled sections of her lips in between mine so that I could run the tip of my tongue back and forth across them. Now that I had her pussy scent all over my wet face, it came time for my planned next step.

"Turn over, Pam." My voice was almost horse again with my own pent up lust.

She turned over slowly. Now, for the first time I could see her pussy and her nice, nice breasts. Moving up the right side of her body, I put my wet face to hers and kissed her deeply. I could hear and feel her inhaling her aroma. She began licking around my lips and chin. This was my dream come true. A woman who believed, as I do, that sex is beautiful and should be experienced in all of its sounds, scents, feelings, tastes and splendor.

Sitting back up next to her, I spent a good while just looking at her. She was so worth looking at. Smooth skin. Medium sized breasts with fairly dark areolas. Nipples that were already hard and I knew I would enjoy teasing with my mouth. Smooth shaven underarms that would be a momentary alternate place to lick and nuzzle as I consumed her. Her tummy was soft and pliant looking but I knew that if I could get her to come while I was licking and sucking on her pussy, my view up along her body would see a stomach with muscles taught, ridged in strain, pushing out her needed release against my hungry mouth. It was time to get started again.

"Hold your right breast for me and put your right arm up over your head, Pam." When she complied I bent down for my first contact with her breasts. Rubbing my face over her breasts while I inhaled her scent was very pleasurable, for both of us I think. Then I licked along the underside of each breast. Pam had to move her hand slightly to accommodate me, but began playing with her own nipple while I was busy. That sight was very exciting to watch. For a couple of minutes I just continued nuzzling her while I watched her fingers playing with her nipple. When I moved my head up toward that nipple, she moved her fingers away and repositioned her hand to feed me her breast. As my lips closed around her nipple she moaned and lifted her chest up to me. Almost instantly, her nipple got very firm and I rubbed the tip with my tongue as if trying to memorize each wrinkle of skin.

"Do the other one," Pam said.

"The other one, what?" I replied, still pressing for 'dirty' talk from her.

"Suck my other nipple. My other tit," and with that she moved her hand to her other breast.

"This one here?" I said as I closed my obviously exposed teeth gently on her left nipple.

Pam immediately thrust upward again and moaned, "Oh, yes. Oh that feels so-o-o good."

Before I went further on that nipple I moved up a bit more and buried my face in her right arm pit. It was soft, slightly stubbly, and very sensitive to the touch of my tongue. What also felt good to me was the fact that now her right breast was in the crook of my neck and shoulder, and I could feel her erect nipple as she twisted her upper body around to watch my tongue, and made little sounds in her throat. Back at her nipple again I said, between nips and sucklings, "This is one of life's most gentle pleasures, Pam. Nursing on a beautiful woman and relaxing from all of the built up tensions of the day."

"I like it, too." she said, and continued with, "Maybe there are other places you could find gentle pleasure in."

Of course she was exactly correct, and I began to kiss my way down her body. It took me a while because I had to rub my face everywhere as well as kiss and lick various delectable looking spots. Since I didn't seem to be moving along quite as purposefully as Pam wanted, she moved herself under me until my face was just over her pubic hair. OK. I needed some time to look at her pussy anyway, so I shifted myself to be in the best position as she opened her legs to provide room for me to lay between them.

Her pussy was slightly open; enough for me to see the nub of her clit and some of her inner lips. The hair was clipped fairly short and was the same color as the hair on her head. The hair went down both sides of her pussy, getting more sparse as I looked down toward the base. At the bottom seam, there was no hair at all, but there was a little glistening of moisture. Oh how I wanted to taste that wetness again. But not yet. Then, as if impatient, Pam reached down with both hands and opened her pussy, slowly. Of course my own excitement recharged to see her touching herself. But also there was the slow-motion parting of her lips and the revealing of that heavenly flesh of which my dreams had been made for weeks. Her clit became more exposed from its hood as Pam opened herself, although it was still shy. I knew that later it would retreat as her excitation increased toward orgasm and I wanted to watch that process from just this vantage point. Her outer lips pulled away from her inner lips with just the same kind of resistance that would happen later when I would withdraw my cock from her and part of her pussy would try to hold me back. But the parting continued until her inner lips also began to spread. The coral color or her tissue was deepening as I watched which must mean that her blood was rushing to this glorious spot to make it very warm and very soft.

Looking up at Pam's intense face I said, "What a marvel a woman's pussy is." Then I looked back down again.

Moving her hips up toward me some, Pam asked, "How long are you just going to look at it?"

"You don't understand, my love." I said. "You only get to see this in a mirror, from a distance. I can see individual little drops of your lubrication, your pussy juice, as they form. And little tiny wrinkles that help your cunt stretch around my cock when I enter you. And the color changes. And the fragrance of you. Tell me what you want, love. Tell me what will make you happy."

"Love me with your mouth." she said, kind of softly.

"Tell me in clearer terms, Pam."

"Lick me and kiss me down there." a little louder this time.

"Down where?" I asked, all innocence.

Opening herself with her fingers even more than she was, and splaying her legs wide apart, Pam finally said, "Lick my pussy, damn it. Lick my pussy - please."

The second my tongue licked very lightly under her clit, up-down, up-down, quickly like that, she fell back down on the bed. Her hips began an up and down motion that she may not have even realized she was making. And she moaned, "Oh, god, that feels so good. Ohhhh, it's good."

Now I started my grand tour of this lovely nest of warmth and sweetness. With some extra saliva on the tip of my tongue, my exploration began at the very bottom of Pam's pussy, where all of the little, fine hairs make it seem drier than the rest of a woman's pussy. Little flutterings and pokings of my tongue. Then pushing in just enough to feel the puckered entrance to her cunt with its sweet liquid slickness. Pam moved her whole body more toward my face as if trying to impale herself on my tongue, but I instantly pulled back just enough to keep the touch light and enticing. After just a few more moments of this my tongue traveled up the left side of her lips, between the outer and inner, at the very base of the fold where they are very sensitive. Her moanings became stronger and more steady, in time with her labored breathing. Once at the top, I licked up and down the length of her clitoral shaft a few times. Up came her hips to increase the pressure of my tongue. On her third arch my movements shifted again to about an inch below her clit and slowly up to the tip of this most lively and sensitive organ. Just as she was saying, "Oh yes. Keep doing that. Keep going." I moved back down to the bottom of her pussy again and repeated the exact same process coming up between her right lips; digging down between the folds and causing more moans and pleadings. This time when I was again licking slowly up to the base of Pam's clit, and she was moaning for me not to stop, her voice was more desperate. "I've got to come! Don't stop this time, John! Keep licking right there. Please, don't stop." There is no way I would have stopped at that point. She was almost yelling at me in sexual frustration at being held back from her orgasm. I kept licking up, from an inch below her clit to the tip of it. But slower and slower. Her back was arched as she looked down at me with blind and misted eyes. Her stomach muscles were completely tensed and her breathing was now more like gasping. She was repeatedly clenching her abdominal muscles, making little wet popping sounds at the entrance to her cunt. By pushing down a little with my chin I could feel this wondrous, automatic reaction that will milk a man dry.

"I'm going to come," she gasped. "Oh, sweet fuck I'm going to come." Keeping the pace very slow despite the thrashing of Pam's wanton hips, my tongue pressed harder against her inflamed tissue. Suddenly her hands, which hadn't touched my head in all of this time, were firmly around the back of my head holding me tightly against her spasming flesh. Her face contorted with what looked like agony, but was really the release of a tremendous build up of long stored tension. There was no need for me to move at all. Pam was doing all of the work for her release now. Holding my head firmly in place, almost smotheringly tight against her, she fucked her hips up and down, up and down against my lips, chin, and nose. I loved it!

Pam's final release was so intense, so slow in triggering, and causing such violent shudders in her gorgeous body that it may actually have been painful for her. But that is supposed to be the pain of abject delight. And I had helped her get there. After about 30 or 40 seconds of really hard spasming this sweet woman fell back on the bed as if she had been cold-conked with a baseball bat. With my head released from her desperate grip I began again, firmly but slowly, to lick up the come from her lovely, sweet pussy. Even though I tried not to touch her clit directly, knowing it would now be very tender and uncomfortable to touch, each time I came too near it was as if an electric jolt had coursed through her body, eliciting a sharp gasp and protective movement of her hands to push me away. But I continued to lick her slowly to bring her down from number one orgasm as sweetly as I could.

Finally, Pam whispered hoarsely, "That was fantastic. I've never in my whole life come so hard. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

While still licking up Pam's glorious pussy I said, "You did most of the work, especially there at the end when you about humped my face off."

Raising her head and looking down at me with obvious concern she asked if she had hurt me. When I asked her how she thought such a sweet, succulent pussy could possibly have hurt me she smiled with a Cheshire cat, sensuous look and lay back again. All this time I had been laying with my arms under her thighs, up along her torso, with my hands on her scrumptious breasts. Her legs had moved some during her build up and orgasm, but not like they did now. She splayed her knees and brought them all the way up to her chest. This raised her ass off of the bed and opened the entrance to her cunt so that I was able to push my tongue deeper into her than I had been able to before. Pam's come was viscous, sweet, with a slight metallic taste, and my penetration elicited little hip swishes from my lovely Pam.

"You taste so-o-o go-o-o-d," I told her as I moved my hands from her breasts to the backs of her knees. Pushing down on her legs, tighter against her chest, caused her ass to raise ever farther off of the bed. There, fully open and exposed within easy reach of my tongue and lips and nose, was the glorious womanhood I had fantasized about for weeks

Pt III

On the following Saturday morning I woke up fantasizing about Pam. Would she be there again? Should I arrive at nine so as not to "catch" her again? Should I arrive at eight to be predictably consistent? How could I convince her to change into nylons and a garter belt, a skirt and blouse, with no panties or bra, and get up on the top of a ladder while I held it for her from below? Could I get her to spill something in her lap and then offer to lick it clean for her? Would she think it was too obvious if I brought in my Polaroid camera to take the "after" pictures before I was even finished with my work? Those kind of thoughts continued all through the drive to her mother's house. How I kept from being killed on the Riverside Freeway that morning is a wonder. All I could see in front of me was what I imagined her body would look like; as the towel fell slowly to the floor; as we lay reverse to each other, her over me, sucking each others nipples as we moved toward the real treats; as she crawled lithely across the bed on all fours, back arched, ass high, pussy lips slightly open and inviting. Finally I pulled into the driveway, put on my tool pouch, grabbed some other tools I might need, and let myself in the back door.

The shower was running. It was 8:00 exactly. This had to be an invitation, didn't it? Quietly I walked through the living room, into the hall, and found the bathroom door slightly open. A definite invitation, right? Having painted that bathroom five weeks before I knew that you could only get an oblique view of the bath tub from the door. But the new shower doors I had installed were three-section sliders; one is a mirror, one is patterned, and one is clear glass. She was primarily behind the worst two and the clear one was spotted and kind of steamy. But eventually she moved back to the clear one so that the water would hit the lower part of her body as she rinsed off. I was quaking with sexual energy. What I could see was gorgeous. She sort of pushed her hips forward as she obviously rinsed her pussy. Then she turned her back to the shower (and me), thrust her ass out and wiped soap out of the crevice of her ass. In the few brief seconds of viewing her I could have been whipped by any kitten I was so shaky and weak kneed. I ducked back toward the living room before she turned off the shower, banging my damn hammer on a parsons table in the hall.

Now my primary problem was to be in a not-too-obvious location if she repeated the towel on the body routine so that I could look at her longer before we "discovered" each other and went on to the "yelp!" bit. Since I had to remove the base molding by the step into the kitchen, I crouched down there and watched the archway from the hallway. Sure enough, here she came. Towel and all (or towel and nothing else). She didn't see me right away and walked over toward the window. When she lifted the bottom of the blinds to look out in the driveway she bent down, the towel crept up in the back, I began to salivate. Knowing I had to do something I pried out on the molding (now with my back to her), it groaned after 65 years of not moving, she yelped, I jumped up and stared. BUT I DIDN'T RUN OUT OF THE HOUSE. I also didn't move. Just stared. Pam had to walk somewhat toward me to get back to the hallway and she did, slowly. She stopped about eight feet from me and asked me why I was staring at her. Because you're beautiful was my horse reply. She said she thought I would have sense enough to arrive later after having this same thing happen the previous week. My thought was to be consistent was my response. Well, replied she, if you're waiting for the towel to come loose you have a long wait. I didn't say anything. I was too busy willing the towel to do just that. Well say something, John, she finally blurted. I barely got out some statement about the longer we stood there the longer I got to look at her and dream. Off she went. DAMN. How come tons of men would have done or said something worthwhile, and I get her to leave the room. My sergeant used to call me Dip Shit. He probably knew how I would turn out.




The Handyman



The doorbell rings and Sam goes to answer the door. When she opens the door, there he stands the sun glistening around him making him angelic. He smiles at her and enters the house. As he passes her she takes a deep breath savoring the scent of him. She catches herself watching him walk, scanning the muscular curves of his arms and the way his jeans enhance the tight ass that is beneath them. 

He has been here before, for he is the handyman of the building. She has tried to resist calling on several occasions but inevitably something always happens causing her to call. ‘Damsel in distress’ situation pisses her off, but what else do you do when you live alone. Many things she has accomplished on her own and others she just makes worse. Besides getting the opportunity to look at that fine ass is a good thing.

He turns to her and asks where the bathroom is for the hot water tap in the shower is stripped. She leads him to the bathroom. He watches her walk in front of him. Her hair flows down her back. Her legs firm, but not muscular; curve gently into a beautifully rounded ass. 

When they reach the bathroom, she turns to him not realizing he was so close. He quickly repositions his stare knowing she has caught him looking her over. He smiled shyly and mumbled a thank you. 

Stepping into the bathroom they became face to face for they were standing together in the doorway. He could feel her breasts against his tight chest and for this he wished not to move. The light fragrance of vanilla tickled his nose. She could feel his body tense as they stood there for what seemed to be a lifetime. She could feel his breath on her lips as if he was about to kiss her. Her mind was racing full of fantasies that she had secretly for such a long time. He moved slowly by her as she whispered excuse me. His hand brushed the crotch of her jeans sending electric waves through her. She met his gaze; his eyes sparkled with mystery. He smiled and said certainly. 

She left the room heading back to do whatever it was she was doing before the bell rang. At this point she had no idea what it was but was hoping by the time she returned to the living room she would remember. When she returned her girlfriend Janice, was standing there looking at her and passed her wondering what had brought such a smile to her face. She just looked at her and said she was finally getting her shower fixed. Suddenly they heard a blast of water and a holler from the bathroom. They both ran to see what had happened. 

Standing in front of them was the handyman-dripping wet. His shirt clung to well-defined biceps and noticeable but not hardened six-pack. His jeans being this wet showed every curve of his legs, ass and crotch which instantly turned them both on. His hair, normally straight now had a slight curl to it and the water dripped to his nose. He smiled at them and said it’s fixed. They all burst into a fit of laughter. 

Janice grabbed a towel and started wiping up the water as she went to help him clean up the tools as the mist from the shower filled the room. 

Sam handed him a towel and said you might want to dry off. He removed his shirt and asked her to dry his back. Both girls froze as they watched him sliver out of his shirt. She took the towel and gently dried off his back realizing she was caressing more than drying. Noticing this, he turned to her facing her. Once again breathing on her lips and whispered, my front needs to be dried as well. She began drying his chest not taking her eyes off of him. Her friend went to his backside with another towel and began to dry his back. They remained motionless for a few moments savoring the feel of each other’s bodies. 

He put his hands around Sam's waist, slipping his fingers under her shirt and gently pulled her into him. Her heart raced as his lips caressed her neck. Her friend who was drying his back began rubbing and massaging his muscles feeling her way to his firm ass. She slipped her hands around to his front feeling his abs like a rippling wave. She looked at her friend whose eyes were huge as if to say what are we doing? Then he licked her neck, down to her chest and she fell into a sea of passion. 

Janice had now worked her way through the buttons of his jeans and had the first feel of his manhood that they could see in front of them dripping wet. She looked at Sam’s wide eyes and grinned. He had unbuttoned Sam’s blouse and was gently running his lips over the curves of her breast that were not hidden from her bra, as his hands roamed her back and down her ass. 

Sam was completely taken by the feeling of his warm breath on her skin, wanting so much more. She rubbed his chest down his abs and trickled her fingers down his treasure line till she reached Janice’s hands. Both working together they stroked and caressed his hard cock. Sam kissed his shoulders slowly up his neck to his chin. Reaching his lips, he pulls away and turns her around. Slowly slipping his hands down her jeans for the warmth of her pussy was calling to him. 

Janice moved in front of Sam, stripping her clothes so he could see her. Letting her clothes fall gently to the ground, moving her hands over her body so her could see every curve. Janice stepped closer to Sam causing the two of them to be closer than they ever have. 

She reached up removing Sam’s blouse and bra baring her chest. Her nipples were hard and her breasts firm. Janice cupped them in her hands, squeezing gently. Janice not taking her eyes off of him, watching him become excited by what she was doing was more of a turn on then him touching her himself. 

She leaned into Sam, placing her breasts against her and kissed him deeply. Sam was amazed at how good this felt. His fingers had made their way to her wet pussy. Slowly he caressed her clit gently penetrating with his fingers and removing them moistening her clit. Janice slipped her arms passed Sam working his jeans off, which pressed his hard cock against Sam. She began to squirm, wanting, feeling lusting for more. Janice knowing this removed Sam’s jeans freeing the three bodies to the humid air of the room. 

Sam turned to him, kissing his body, moving like a wave of an ocean across his chest and down. Her hard nipples gently touching him as she moved creating waves of sensation all over him. Looking up at him she rested her lips against his hard cock, teasing him with the tip of her tongue. He moaned with anticipation of what was to come. 

Janice had made her way to the counter, sitting with her legs spread inviting him. She caressed her breasts stopping at the nipples. Tugging gently never taking her eyes off of them. Moving her fingers down to her clit and teasing around the lips. Watching Sam lick his cock almost feeling his hardness in her own mouth. Sam opened her mouth and engulfed his penis; Janice thrust her fingers inside of herself at the same time. Choruses of moans came simultaneously. 

He reached over and began kissing and licking Janice’s nipples, cupping her breasts and squeezing them with each thrust from Sam. The moans from Sam sent vibrations through his hard cock, which made him, pulse even more. He moved down Janice’s torso to her wetness, for the smell of pussy through the humid air he could not take anymore-he had to taste. 

Janice spread her lips with her fingers inviting him. He gently caressed her clit with his tongue and fingers finding his way to the ultimate treasure. He slid his fingers inside her warm moistness feeling her juices flow around them. Sucking gently on her clit, he could feel her vibrate. Sam enjoying what she was watching, could notice how wet she too was getting. He was getting so hard in her mouth he began thrusting gently. She withdrew from him and sat and watched them as he ate her and watched her friend squirm in pleasure. 

Little beads of water trickled down Janice’s chest resting near her nipples. Inviting her, Janice looked to Sam and held her breasts in her hands and smiled. Sam joined the two in pleasing Janice. Licking her friends breasts was strange, but surprisingly very much of a turn on. Her muffled moans of pleasure made her want to satisfy her even more. 

He had worked his way from Janice and now was fixated on Sam’s dripping wet pussy for he longed for her the most. Positioning himself on the floor, enabling him to watch the two, he buried himself in the aroma and taste of her thrusting his tongue deep into her, savoring the taste. Sam’s legs became weak and she wanting more, pushed down on him. He responded by penetrating her with his fingers, licking the juices that dripped from her. He watched Sam kissing Janice’s breasts moving slowly and hesitating at her hips. 

The wanting of more made Janice squirm and spread her legs inviting Sam to continue. Sam slowly licked the curve of her thigh resting on her clit. The taste of her juices entering her mouth made her heart pound in her chest. Sam liked the feelings that she was having and licked the moistness of her friend as she moaned as he explored her and found her g-spot. She tightened around his fingers thrusting not wanting to let go. He pulled away long enough to position himself for what he could no longer hold back from. 

He bent Sam over so he could watch her please her friend and gently moved inside her. Sam moaned again moving with him causing waves of emotion through both of them. Gently thrusting himself into her, he could feel explosions beginning to erupt. Sam had now moved and wanted her friend to be pleased as she was. Sam moved her fingers in and out of Janice, watching her and feeling her tense with each movement. Janice moaned in pleasure. Gently and faster they moved in sequence, thrusting and rubbing to the point where he could not hold back anymore. 

Janice had moved Sam closer to her touching their breasts as she squirmed on her fingers. He moved in a rapid motion, causing both of them to scream with pleasure. Janice leaned into Sam wanting to taste her juices, reaching with her tongue, never taking her eyes off of him. Sam returned and they kissed passionately. He rubbed Sam’s tits pulling on her nipples sending electric shocks through her body. She couldn’t take it anymore; she pushed against him tightening her muscles around him. He began to thrust harder holding her against him, Sam exploring her friend with the same intensity.

The moans became louder and they all slipped into spasmatic waves of organism. Releasing Janice, Sam turned to him and kissed him, exploring his mouth with her tongue, sharing the taste of her friend. He held her close to him, emotions running wild enjoying the passion they shared between each other. 

Janice then turned to them, hugged her friend telling her that they should make sure the shower works. Kissed him gently, announcing as she left that her washer has been broke and he should come have a look at it and left the room. 

Sam turned to him and led him to the hot steaming shower that awaited them promising he would be squeaky-clean before they were done.



The Handyman



She was puttering around their bedroom in a silk robe that covered her silk top and panties she had on. She was getting cleaned up while her husband was out on some errands. They had been gone on a short vacation and both of them had some chores to do.

Sensing someone behind here she turned around and gasped when she saw Dale their ex-handyman standing in their bedroom. "What are you doing here?" she whispered angrily. "You know why I'm here, anyway, if I remember right you were the one that called me," Dale said with a smirk. She looked at him and briefly admired the bulge in his pants. He was right; she had called him. 

A month or so ago, after she and her husband had sex, she told her husband that Dale had made a pass at her. "Really?" was all he said; only slightly surprised. "What would you have done if I told you I fucked him?" she asked trying to get a rise out of him. "Only if I get to watch," he answered with wry smile, not sure where the conversation was going. She decided to take it a step further, "I'll bet you'd love to watch another man fuck me, wouldn't you?" He looked at her and said, "I wouldn't mind watching another man eat your pussy maybe, but..." he paused, "I don't know...watching you get fucked by someone else?" After time they agreed when and if she decided to try it, it would be up to her how they would proceed and how far she would go. This discussion led to her calling Dale and explaining their desires and he eagerly agreed to help her out.

"But we agreed not to do it with him watching the first time," she started, "he could walk in at any time." Dale started towards her and reached to untie her robe, "Then we better not waste any time," he said as he reached up, pulling the robe off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

"Lift your arms up," Dale said softly as he grasped her top so he could pull it off over her head. She looked at him knowing it was now or never. She paused before raising her arms; she looked at him, at the bulge in his pants, and then closed her eyes as she raised her arms. There was no going back now. She was excited too, excited by the unknown and by this new man in her bedroom. 

Dale smiled as he admired her, as she stood there naked except for her black panties. He put his hands on her shoulders and guided her so she was sitting on the side of the bed. "Please," she started as she looked up at him, "just...just lick my pussy this time, I don't know if I'm ready yet."

"Lay back," he commanded, "Sorry,...I'm not eating your pussy. Besides, if you weren't ready, I wouldn't be here, now would I?" She eased back, keeping her eyes fixated on his. Dale reached down and pulled her legs up, keeping them together as he raised them high in the air. "Mmm..." he hummed as he ran his hands up her legs from her hips to her ankles and then back down again. He hooked his fingers in her panties and pulled them up her legs, but left them around her knees.

"Now that I look at it," Dale said as he held her ankles in his hand and looked down at her neatly trimmed pussy, "I may have to taste that." With that he kneeled down and put his hands on her thighs so her legs would stay up in the air. He took his tongue and lightly licked her pussy a few time from bottom to clit, making sure that his tongue delved into her hole ever so briefly as it traveled up to tease her clit.

He heard her let out a frustrated sigh when he stood up. "Your husband can finish you off later," Dale said as he pushed her legs back putting her knees in her chest. She obediently hooked her arms behind her knees so her legs would stay. Their eyes met again as Dale unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down just enough to free his cock.

She looked down and her eyes widened as he pulled it from his pants. Her husband has an "average" sized dick, or so she thought, but Dale's was huge! "I'm glad you approve," Dale said noticing her gawking at his cock. "I think you're going to like it inside just even more," he said as he put his 8" plus cock at the opening of her now very wet pussy. He rubbed the head of his huge cock around her pussy to tease her as well as get it wet with her juices before he put it in. As Dale rubbed it around she started to move her hips up toward him, trying to get him to put it inside her. She was hot now and needed him to do to fuck her; his tongue had only started the fire.

Dale slid his cock around her wet pussy, "What do you want," he asked. She looked up at him but didn't answer right away. "Well...?" he asked. "I want you to fuck me," she replied with the emphasis on fuck like it was a slap in the face. "Beg for it," Dale commanded. "Please,...please fuck me!" she begged. "I need your big cock in my pussy. I need you to fuck me good and hard."

Dale slid his cock in slowly, making sure not to hurt her. He could tell by how tight her pussy was that she was used to her husbands 5" wick, so he needed to loosen her up first. As his cock slid deeper into her pussy he heard her let out a moan. "Unnghh,...mmmmm, hssst," she winced, " Mmmm, god," she whispered out loud. She loved the feeling of Dale's cock as he slid it in; it made her feel so full. 

She briefly thought how they must look, especially if her husband were to walk in. There she was, lying on "their" bed, her legs pulled up to her chest with her panties halfway between her knees and ankles. Dale didn't even bother to pull his pants down past his ass. She really wasn't ready for her husband to watch yet, and prayed he wouldn't walk in, especially not now. She wanted Dale all to herself right now.

Her thoughts went back to her pussy when she felt Dale's pubic hair touch her pussy lips. God, it felt bigger inside than it looked. He was rotating his hips now, loosening her up and letting her get used to it. She felt him started to pull out a little, but he was just starting his thrusts.

Dale started to fuck her now, thrusting slowly at first, letting her enjoy the feeling of his cock as it slid in and out. He slowly picked up the pace though. "Do you want me to stop?" he teased. No," she cried quickly, "don't stop....please,...fuck me ...fuck me harder." He held her ankles and started a steady rhythm, making sure his balls slapped against her ass every time he drove his cock deep into her pussy. "Mmm,...you have a nice pussy," Dale grunted. "I like fucking married pussy. I bet your husband doesn't fuck you this good does he?" "No," she whimpered in reply as she bit her lip. She was loving Dale's enormous cock pounding in and out of her. She didn't realize how good a big cock could feel. "Keep fucking me" she ordered..."fuck my married pussy ....mmm yes" she gasped. "You like it hard," Dale said. "Yes," she breathed as Dale pounded harder into her pussy.

Dale felt himself getting close and started slamming his cock harder, soon he was ramming her pussy hard as he could. She was letting out small groans and winces with each thrust as if he was driving the air out of her lungs. He felt his balls lift and slammed into her one last time and held his cock deep in her pussy, he started to cum as she let out another groan, "ungh,...god!" 

She felt each contraction of Dale's orgasm as his cock pumped her pussy full. He seemed to cum for over a minute, holding his cock deep inside her the whole time. She felt Dale's muscles relax and let go of her ankles. He looked down at her and smiled and said, "If your husband eats your pussy tonight he's going to get a little more than he bargained for." With that he pulled out of her and zipped his pants up. "Be sure you tell him I thought you tasted really good," Dale said as he turned and walked out the bedroom door.

She lay there with her knees still at her chest as he left, savoring the moment. She sighed, and pulled her panties back up as she rolled on to the bed and relaxed. She was thinking of how she would tell her husband just as he walked in the room. He saw he there on the bed wearing just her panties and smiled, "Well, looks like we're on the same page. I had more things to get done, but I decided to would come home to see what you were doing, and I'm glad I did." 

She just looked at him, smiled, raised her hand and made the "come here" motion with her finger. "Why don't you get undressed," she said as he started toward the be, "I have a surprise for you." He quickly got undressed and into bed; as he reached to take off her panties when she said, "Hold on. Just lay back." 

"What's my surprise?" he asked. She eased her husband onto his back and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Well," she started as she got up on her knees and straddled his stomach; "Remember a few months ago when we talked about you watching me with another man? You said 'maybe watching as he ate my pussy?'"

"Yes," he replied cautiously. 

"Well, Dale was here today, but he didn't eat my pussy...he fucked it," she said as she looked down at the shocked look on his face. She could tell by his rock hard cock though that he liked what was happening. "Want to hear about it?" she asked. Her husband nodded yes. "Good," she said as she leaned side to side and pulled her panties off and felt Dale's cum start to ooze out. "First though I need you to eat my pussy," she said, "his cock was huge and my pussy's sore. I really liked it, but he didn't finish me off. " With that she straddled her husbands head and lowered her cum filled pussy on her husbands face. 

Her husband looked up as she was lowering herself down and could see Dale's cum leaking out of her. He must have fucked her pretty hard he thought to himself, her lips were swollen and she was opened up pretty wide as his tongue started to do its work. She grabbed his hair and ground his face into her crotch while his tongue alternated between fucking her and licking her clit. "Mmmm," she moaned, "he did lick my pussy, but only a little." She rode her husbands face, grinding her hips as she let him lick her pussy clean. "That's it, lick my pussy," she kept saying, "Lick his cum out of me...mmm that's it...fuck me with your tongue!" She had one hand on their headboard and the other was full of her husband's hair. "You like cleaning my pussy out don't you?" Her husband didn't reply, he had his tongue as deep into her pussy as he could; he was fucking her with his tongue while she ground into his face. "I think you like eating my pussy after I've fucked another man, huh?" she taunted. "yeah, that's it,...lick me clean. Mmm...ohhh,..yes,...you like this don't you,...cleaning my freshly fucked pussy? That's it,...fuck me with your tongue! Oooo, that's it, rub my pussy with your lips. It's so sore and I need you to kiss it and make it better.""

"Mmmm, don't stop, honey. Lick all that cum out. God I wish you could get your tongue all the way in there where his dick was...nothing's ever been in me that far. It felt oh so good. I've never been stretched like that before."

After about 15 minutes of grinding her pussy into her husband face, she rolled off him onto her back. "Mmm," she purred. "You did good, but I want you to finish me off now." Her husband climbed down between her legs and attacked her clit. He was on a mission to give her a great orgasm. At least he would have something on Dale tonight. "Your tongue is better than his that's for sure," she started, "But he likes pussy too, so maybe he can learn something from you. He just licked up and down and barely touched my clit," she said. She put her hands above her head and let her husband service her. Her husband held her hips while his tongue assaulted her clit. She came with in a matter of minutes, reaching down and pulling on his hair as she arched her back. 

Her husband crawled up to her and positioned himself to enter her with "his" cock. "Fortunately sweetie," she started, "for me anyway, he has a big cock Unfortunately for you though, between both your tongues and his cock, I may be a little loose for you. So just do the best you can," she quipped. "But from the looks of things though, it probably won t take you long will it?" she said with a cynical grin as she eyed his rock hard dick. "No, I m afraid I probably won't last very long," he replied as he entered her. 

"That's okay," she assured him. "Because he fucked me pretty hard before you got here," she said, trying to get a reaction from him. "Tell me...which did you like best," he asked as he gazed into her eyes, "having another man eat your pussy, or getting fucked on our bed by a guy you hardly know?" 

"When he fucked me,... definitely" she answered taking her husbands queue to talk dirty, "Sorry, but I really loved his cock...it was huge. No offense Hon, but I just loved having a big cock in my pussy. I was excited by watching another man lick my pussy, but he wasn't as good as you, and he didn't spend much time down there." She ran her nails down her husbands back, purposely trying to make marks, "I'll bet you'd have loved to watch him eat me, wouldn't you? You would have liked hearing me tell him how I like my pussy licked, hear me begging him to lick my clit?" she continued. "You probably can't wait to hear me beg for his dick, can you? You want to watch him put his big cock in me, don't you?" she said, trying to get her husband as excited as possible..."see him hold my hips while he pounds it into my pussy. Maybe when I let you watch I'll fuck him doggy style so you can see my face. Would you like that?" she said as her husbands kept his pace fucking her as hard as he could while she talked dirty in his ear. "You'll be able to see how much I love getting fucked by his cock...you'll hear how loud he makes me moan,...how I cry out, begging for him to 'fuck me hard with his big cock,'" she teased. "You can watch him grab my hair and fuck me hard from behind as he slaps my ass and makes me beg him to 'fuck me harder,'" she said just as her husband plunged deep into her and finally came, moaning as he pumped his wife full for the second time that night. She held her husband until his orgasm subsided. She pushed him up after a couple minutes so he would pull out of her sore and now very swollen pussy.

"God that was good. This wasn't planned, honest...but I really enjoyed it," she said and then paused,..."how about you?"

"It was strange at first, but I liked it, especially seeing how much it turned you on," he answered. 

"If it's okay with you, I'd like to do this one more time before you watch," she said softly. "I think it will help when the time comes, because I certainly don't want to disappoint you. My only question is," she said slowly in a low sexy voice, "since I love it when you clean me up afterwards...do you want him to cum in my pussy or my ass next time?" 

Her husband reached over and put his lips to her ear and whispered, "Surprise me!"



The Handyman



Through the fog of sleep, Kate could hear the faint sound of water splashing. As she became more awake she remembered hearing a similar sound after coming home late last night. She'd checked around but had found nothing. Of course she was more than a little tipsy at the time, having been partying with her best friend Angie all weekend. Angie had been there for her after she'd kicked Chuck out of the house. They'd rented a cottage on Squam Lake and spent the entire time talking and laughing and generally behaving like a pair of college coeds on spring break. 

She'd met Angie while a graduate student at U Dub who had then transferred to Evergreen State and was now on staff. They'd become close friends, both strong recreational swimmers with similar academic interests. Angie had invited both of them for a visit but Chuck refused to go. He felt intimidated by intelligent women but covered for it by being belligerent towards them. In fact he firmly believed that any single woman with a college degree was to some extent a lesbian and Angie with her doctorate was high on the suspect list. 

Chuck, the no-good bastard had been having an affair. With his secretary no less! She was a divorcee with two kids and at least fifteen years older. Probably fishing for a boy toy and using her big tits as bait. While Kate had been very angry when she found out, she wasn't really surprised. She'd frequently caught Chuck sizing up any woman passing by that had a bigger than average chest.

Why had she always fallen for the jocks? She'd been dating John, a really nice guy, during her senior year in high school. Their relationship was mostly platonic and it was understood they might drift apart the next year when going off to different colleges. However, they were very happy together and it was assumed they would be a couple for the senior prom. Then out of nowhere Tom, one of the stars of the football team, started flirting with her. No one had ever really come on to her before and she was quite flattered. He invited her out for a milkshake and that weekend asked her to go to a drive-in with him. She knew her parents would object, but told them she was going to be studying with John, who'd been to the house many times.

Tom was gallant and attentive and Kate felt more feminine than she had ever felt in her life. Their date was like stories she'd read in magazines. He held the car door open for her. He asked her about herself, her likes and dislikes and what her plans for the future were. She'd had similar conversations with John, but this seemed different. Half way through the movie, she was cuddled up to Tom and intoxicated by his warm masculine presence. It seemed quite natural when one of his hands drifted off her shoulder and brushed her chest. She didn't pull away and presently the hand was back, gently cupping her small breast. She remembered feeling her nipples starting to harden and feeling embarrassed that he might notice. They stayed in that position for the rest of the movie, with Kate leaning more into Tom's body trying to become one with him. After the movie, Tom drove her home, letting her out a short way down the street lest her parents hear the car. The next week, Tom asked her to the Senior Prom and she accepted. She made excuses to avoid John and when he asked her almost a week later she lied to him, telling me she'd assumed he wasn't interested.

Being at the prom with Tom meant that she was mingling with kids she had never really been friendly with. Members of the school sports teams tended to hang out separate from the academic crowd Kate was closer too. Her sport was swimming, hosted by the local Boy's and Girl's Club so it wasn't considered a school sport. While the prom was closely supervised, the after-prom parties were not. Tom took her to a gathering at the home of a football team member whose parents were away for the weekend. Kate was offered a glass of wine, which she intended to sip slowly. It was only the second time she'd drunk alcohol and she felt both frightened and sophisticated at the same time.

Having consumed half the glass and not feeling any effects, she didn't refuse when Tom topped her glass up. In fact she lost track of how often the glass was actually topped up she was so caught up in the dancing and general merriment. Tom was very attentive and she was impressed with how he treated her. Quite unlike the sister-brother relationship she'd had with John. They'd regarded each other as equals while Tom seemed to have her on a pedestal. He ushered her from one group of friends to another in various rooms of the house, making her feel part of the crowd. In so doing, she barely noticed that he had led her to an empty room with some beanbag chairs and an air mattress. She hadn't notice that he'd locked the door.

They'd slumped into one of the chairs and she let him kiss her gently on the lips. He started to caress her arms and back and it seemed quite natural that they take off their shoes and snuggle lower into the chair. It seemed to be getting rather warm in the room so when Tom unbuttoned his shirt she helped him, marveling at the course hair on his chest. She didn't mind his hand on her breast, now softly squeezing it although it was well buried in the heavy fabric of her evening gown. When she felt him unzipping her dress she should have been alarmed but he was so gentle and it all seemed rather misty. They continued to embrace but kept getting tangled up in her dress and his half-off shirt. When Tom expressed concern that her dress was getting all wrinkled, it seemed perfectly ok to take it off. After all, she'd worn a bikini at the beach and it covered less than her bra and panties.

After standing up and pulling the dress over her head, she saw Tom standing there in his boxers. He looked funny because he still had his formal black socks on and she'd giggled until he sat down and took them off. She sat down with him and they stretched out, locked in a firm embrace. He started kissing her ears and neck and worked down until he was kissing the tops of her breasts, running his tongue over the flesh and under the fabric of her bra. 

She couldn't remember if he'd unhooked the bra himself or whether she'd help him but it felt so wonderful when he gently licked each nipple, causing them to harden and become bright red. They'd now slid off the beanbag chair and onto the air mattress and his hand felt powerful as it massaged her inner thigh. As his hand started to press on her mound, she could feel his thick finger through the thin fabric starting to part the lips. The room seemed to spin and she could feel her heart pounding. It all felt like a dream. Then the dream became a nightmare as she began to panic. She started shaking and felt tears coming to her eyes. Tom put his arms around her and gently rubbed her back until she became calm again. 

"It's ok" he'd said, "We don't have to go any further. I love you and wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

"I love you too," Kate had said, "I just got a little frightened. I guess I've had too much to drink. I love you holding and kissing me. Just go slow. I've never been close to a man before. It's all so new and wonderful."

"I've had too much to drink too," Tom had replied. "I never planned to go this far. Let's just lie together."

They'd stretched out on the mattress, Tom on his back and Kate on her side looking lovingly over at him. He was so handsome. He had a broad hairy chest and heavy shoulders. He looked so powerful and yet so gentle.

"Are you ok," Kate remembered saying. "I'm sorry for being so frightened. What can I do for you?"

"That's all right, sweetie," he'd replied. "I was taking things too fast. You're not like the other girls in this crowd and I love you for that. Would you mind holding me? It's ok to say no."

It had seemed like such an innocent request. She'd read a few steamy romance novels where the heroine had held her hero and they'd continued a loving relationship, so why not." She leaned closer, her breast being rubbed by the coarse hair of his chest as she slowly worked her hands over his firm belly and towards the button that held his briefs together. It seemed so long ago when she'd finally gotten the button undone and flipped his briefs open. She'd seen nude sculptures but this was so different from the marble whiteness of the statues. His penis was rather dark and slightly wrinkled, exposed in the opening of his briefs. She remembered being intrigued by its size. She only had a partial view, as it seemed to bulge out of the opening. He'd raised his hips slightly suggesting that he wanted her to remove the garment, which she did.

She was now kneeling beside him gazing down on his nakedness. His penis had grown stiffer as the wrinkles disappeared. It seemed to glow, especially the head that was now almost the same color as her hardened nipples. He'd reached over, took her hand and placed it on his member. She remembered the power she felt radiating from the hot shaft and the rough texture of his scrotum. Had she leaned over to kiss him or had he pulled her down on him? She couldn't remember. It was so long ago and yet still so vivid in her memory. When had she taken off her panties? She remembered lying directly on top of him, sliding her moist labia over that large hard shaft, feeling the head pushing on her clit as she slid down. Then sliding forward again, afraid of the feeling of plunging into an abyss.

They'd continued this gentle rubbing for some time and then he'd placed his hands on her buttocks and started directing her movements. When exactly he'd come inside her she couldn't remember. She'd felt her lips closing around the head of his penis and the suspension of time as she'd savored the sensation of fullness it gave her. Had she started moving or had he directed her as the fullness increased when he slowly thrust deeper into her? She did remember the sharp pain as he'd broken her maidenhead and the panic she'd felt. All movement had stopped until the feeling of panic subsided and she again had savored the sensation of fullness that seemed to fill her entire body.

Tom had gently rolled her onto her back, locked his arms around her and then started thrusting almost uncontrollably. Kate couldn't remember how long this violent coupling lasted but it finally stopped after several frantic lunges by Tom who then collapsed beside her. While she still wanted to cling in his arms, she felt he was no longer with her. He'd pulled out of her and was lying on his back, his penis rapidly becoming a dark withered mass, glistening with a moist sticky film. She'd found some tissues in her handbag, cleaned herself off as best she could and gotten dressed. Tom had followed suit, barely exchanging any words with her and they'd rejoined the party. Kate had felt all eyes on her and she remembered Tom's rather smug look and the knowing exchanges he'd had with his football buddies. 

This was not the first time the memory of that night had come over her and she wasn't sure why it had happened now. Probably the lack of sleep from her weekend with Angie. 

"Where the hell was that splashing coming from?" Kate wondered as her mind returned to the present.

She was now fully awake and started walking around the house trying to locate the source of the sound. She tried all the sinks and showers in the two bathrooms and then the kitchen. The sound seemed loudest in the hall leading to the back door and when she went that way, she realized the sound was coming from below her. It was in the basement. Opening the basement door and turning on the light, she could see water completely covering the landing on the stairs. It was actually almost one step above the landing. Her basement was flooded!

"Oh shit," Kate thought. "This is all I need right now. A disaster on my hands and all alone to deal with it."

Not that Chuck would be of any use in such a situation. He may have been the big man on campus, but except in the bedroom he was useless around the house. His way of dealing with things that needed fixing was to curse and kick, usually causing even more damage. Kate remembered last summer, just after they'd moved in, when the lawnmower caught some wire lying on the ground. Chuck had yelled and kicked the mower, breaking the fitting that attached the bag to the body. It was Dan next door who had come over and untangled the wire and fixed the bag. Far from being grateful, Chuck had come into the house and disparaged Dan, referring to him as a nerd and probably a fag. 

Dan was certainly the nerdy type thought Kate. He worked out of his house as a software engineer or something like that. He was a sharp dresser, lean but not really skinny and always had a smile on his face. She'd talked with him over the fence a few days later and she caught him stealing several glances at her chest prominently displayed by the skimpy halter-top she was wearing. He was single and it wasn't clear if there was anyone in his life now or in the past.

"What was his last name?" wondered Kate. 

She hadn't dared write his name in her telephone directory or in her cell phone. Chuck was constantly monitoring them and questioned every new listing. Interesting how cheating spouses constantly assume their partner is doing the same. While he thought nothing of ogling other women when she was around, he was extremely jealous when she even glanced at another man. It usually ended in her apologizing followed by intense sex. When they were first together, she really enjoyed their, "makeup sex," but it soon became so intense that it seemed closer to rape. Chuck had an overpowering need to be in control and it was clearer and clearer to Kate that he'd married her because of her petite size. All the better to overpower her physically as compensation for the fact that mentally she was in a class above him.

"Here it is," said Kate. "Dan Brown, 555-1234."

She picked up her cell phone and quickly dialed.

"Hello," was the answer she received on the third ring. "This is Dan Brown, may I help you."

"This is Kate Mellon from next door. I've got a flood in my basement. Can you help me?"

"I'll be right over," replied Dan and the phone went silent.

Kate realized she was still in her baby doll nightie and hurried to the bedroom and put on an old T-shirt and pair of jogging briefs. She saw Dan coming through the woods that separated their houses and opened the back door for him. He was wearing a fashionable sports shirt, trim slacks and suede loafers.

"Lucky you caught me," he said. I was just about to go run some errands. What's the problem?"

"I've been away all weekend and when I woke up this morning I heard water dripping," replied Kate. She didn't tell him she was a bit drunk when she arrived home late last night.

After looking through the basement door, Dan asked if there were any electrical outlets in the cellar. Kate thought there probably were some as her father had built a workbench and some shelves soon after they'd moved in.

"OK," said Dan. "We're going to have to shut off the power before doing anything else. Don't want to get electrocuted."

He looked outside to see where the power wires came to the house from the street and found the breaker box in the front hall closet.

"I'm going to pull the main breaker," he said. "Nothing's labeled and we don't have time to trace every circuit, the water's getting deeper."

He was about to descend the cellar steps when Kate said, "You'll ruin your clothes. Why don't you take your shoes and slacks off? I won't look."

Dan quickly removed his shoes, socks, shirt and slacks and headed down the stairs. Kate caught a glimpse of his slim figure, clad only in boxer shorts as he entered the water.

"It's dark down here," Dan called out. "Can you pass me a flashlight?"

Kate couldn't find a flashlight, but instead came down the stairs with a camp lantern that lit up the room.

"Follow this heavy pipe," Dan said. "That's the main line and should lead to the shut-off valve. Probably somewhere on the front wall."

Kate was numbed by the cold water that was almost up to the top of her shorts. She followed Dan towards the front wall, following the copper pipe. About 5 feet from the wall she could see a steady stream of water spraying from a joint in the large pipe where a small pipe headed off at right angles.

"There's the problem," said Dan. "Anyone's guess why it decided to give way now. At least it's out in the open so should be easy to fix."

They had to walk through the spray and finally reached the front wall. They could see where the pipe descended below the water level. Dan reached down and found the shut-off valve but was unable to turn it.

"The valve's frozen," said Dan. I don't suppose you have a wrench do you?"

"The only tools we have are on the wall over there," said Kate. "My dad bought some for us when we moved in."

Dan took the lantern and looked at the tools, all neatly arranged on some pegboard with outlines so every tool had its place.

"Nothing big enough here," said Dan, "And I don't own a pipe wrench. We'll have to improvise."

He found a short heavy board floating near the bench and used a hammer to pound two large nails through it.

"The nails will fit around the valve handle and we should be able to free it," said Dan. "Let's give it a try. You'll need to hold the board against the valve while I pull."

Dan had placed the lantern on a ledge and positioned the board where he wanted it. Kate came closer to Dan, nearly touching him as she held the board in the position he had indicated. In the bright beam of the lantern she realized that her now soaked T-shirt was clinging to her, clearly displaying her firm conical breasts. She also saw that Dan's boxers clung to him in the same way, revealing his butt crack just above the water line. Dan pulled on the board and the valve moved almost half a turn before the board was under the water. Dan then tried turning the valve by hand and shut the water off. The spray that had been showering them trickled to a halt.

"We need to get rid of this water," said Dan. "Your basement door is at ground level so if we open it the water will just run out. We need to be careful not to open it too wide. All this water could wash away your lawn if it comes out too fast."

They made their way to the basement door and Dan directed Kate to slide the board they'd used on the valve into the opening when he pulled on the door. He tried pulling, but the force of the water was too much. Kate then got in front of him and they both pulled. She had her hands on his around the door handle and his arms were around her. While it was freezing cold, Kate was amazed at how good it felt. Not only his warm body surrounding her but the feeling that they were working together. So unlike anything she'd ever experienced with Chuck. They were able to crack the door far enough to get the board in the opening. The water was gushing out and Dan positioned the board so it only let out water over the top. This reduced the force of the water and it slowly ran away towards the back woods.

"It's going to take longer this way," said Dan. "But it won't do any damage."

As the water level lowered, more and more of Dan's backside was visible through the thin fabric of his boxers. He was busy inspecting the basement, looking for items that could be damaged by the water and seemed oblivious to the display being put on, especially when bending over to look under the workbench.

On walking towards the door, Kate realized that he was putting on just as intriguing a display in front. The water level was now several inches lower and she could see a clear outline of Dan's shrunken genitals. Such a contrast to the other men she'd been intimate with, especially Chuck. She recalled the times she'd visited a clothing-optional beach near Evergreen State College in Washington with Angie. They'd amused themselves checking out the men, finding out who had the biggest and the smallest on any given day. Angie had insisted that smaller men could be good in bed. Kate countered that she needed the fullness of a thick penis, although she acknowledged that she'd only experienced larger than average partners.




The Handyman



With the basement almost empty of water, Dan, still clad only in his boxers, found that the electrical plugs in the basement had never been under water and turned the power back on. While Kate used a broom to sweep the remaining water out of the basement, Dan found a propane torch and solder to repair the pipe.

"You don't need to call a plumber for a simple job like this." He said. "The guy who did this work sure wasn't very good. This is a clear example of a cold solder joint."

Kate didn't tell him that it had been her father, tapping into the main water pipe to run a line over to her new dishwasher upstairs.

Dan got a short stepladder and proceeded to take the pipes apart. He then asked Kate for a piece of bread. He made balls out of the bread and stuffed a ball into each pipe where they came to the coupling that was supposed to join them.

"What's that for?" asked Kate, fascinated by what he was doing. 

"It's an old trick my father taught me," replied Dan. "When you're working on water pipes that have had water in them, it's impossible to get it all out. Therefore, the joints never get hot enough to totally melt the solder. They may seem solid, but any vibration could cause them to leak. The bread keeps the water from flowing to the area being worked on. When you turn the water back on, it just pushes the bread out."

This so reminded Kate of her old friend John. It was the sort of thing he was always coming up with. She'd often wondered what would have happened between them if Tom hadn't come around. While Dan worked on the pipes, Kate helped by handing him the items he needed. She also amused herself by trying to get glimpses of his penis through the opening in his boxers. Much more average looking now that he'd warmed up. Dan was so preoccupied with the project of fixing the pipes that he'd totally forgotten that he was still dressed only in his underpants.

Having finished the plumbing, Dan asked Kate to turn the water back on and go upstairs and turn on a few taps to get the bread and air out of the pipes and then turn the taps off again. On her return, Dan was still on the ladder checking to make sure the new solder job was free of leaks. 

Kate came up to him, her eyes at the level of his crotch and said, "Congratulations on a job well done. You deserve a big kiss."

With that, she grabbed him firmly by the thighs and planted her mouth directly into the opening of his shorts. Dan would have fallen off the ladder if she hadn't been holding him so tightly. Before he had time to react, she yanked down his shorts, revealing a rapidly growing penis, now pointing straight out and starting to rise. Kate was surprised at how turned on she was. She'd never been particularly excited by naked men unless they were well endowed but here was an ordinary specimen and she was as excited as she'd been when first seeing Tom's impressive organ so many years before.

"Come upstairs, Dan," she said. "Let's get a shower together. I'm sure there's still lots of hot water in the tank."

They took turns lathering each other, Dan alternately cupping her breasts and soaping her pussy while she enjoyed fondling his rather small scrotum. After over twenty minutes in the shower, they dried each other off and Kate lead him to the bedroom. Dan was not the confident skilled lover she was accustomed to and Kate enjoyed being the leader in their sexual explorations. She told him what she needed him to do and she reassured him when he apologized for his clumsiness and for his concerns that he wasn't the kind of partner she was used to.

Their first coupling was over with Dan ejaculating soon after entering her. Rather than rolling off as Chuck always did, Kate held him on top of her in a firm embrace. When he relaxed, they rolled together with him still inside her although she could barely feel his presence. About an hour later, with Dan now on his back, Kate began to fondle him again. She was looking at his flaccid penis and marveling at the difference in size between flaccid and erect. Definitely a grower, not the shower Chuck was. 

"I hope you're not too disappointed," he stammered. "Chuck's a big man and I know I could never compete with him."

"Chuck's a useless shit!" Kate exclaimed. "You're worth twice as many as him and all the other losers I've wasted my time on. I admit I've been a size queen but that just shows how stupid I've been about men."

They spent most of the day exploring each other, trying different positions and being totally uninhibited. Kate took advantage of Dan's slender build to hold him tighter inside her, increasing the pleasure for both of them. Dan was the first man she'd been with who was willing to make more than a token attempt at cunnilingus. In fact she was able to orgasm through his efforts, to the great joy of both of them.

Best of all, Kate for the first time in her life felt that she was an equal participant in the bedroom. Having a thick penis inside her meant she could lay back and be pleasured, while she had to work at getting pleasure from Dan. The last few times she and Chuck had sex, she had the feeling she wasn't even there as far a he was concerned. She was just a receptacle for his tool.

One of Kate's greatest joys was her ability to control Dan and observe his reaction to various things she did. She was especially fond of studying him while flaccid. His erect penis was similar in length to some of her other partners, although somewhat thinner. However, when flaccid he was quite small and had unusually small testicles. He told Kate that in high school he had been teased and called acorn nuts.

"Does it embarrass you for me to explore your body?" Kate asked. "I'll stop if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It's actually something of a turn-on for me, you're seeing me all shrunken up," Dan replied. "I know lots of men are bigger flaccid then I am fully erect."

"That's what makes you so different from other men," said Kate. "You're willing to be vulnerable while they always have to be superior. I hope you'll be my friend as well as my lover. I've just started the divorce process so I expect my life is going to be a bit rocky for the next few months. Everything we have is in Chuck's name although I pay most of the bills. I've just started having my pay deposited into a new bank account but Chuck emptied the old one the day after I kicked him out."

"You're more than welcome to move in with me," said Dan. "Let him deal with the bills. If you don't need the house to live in, he'll have less leverage over you."

Over the next several months, Kate and Dan came to know each other better. She got Dan to exercise more and he helped her organize her financial affairs. It was amazing to Dan that an intelligent woman like Kate could have placed herself in a position to be totally dependent upon a man. She convinced Dan that he didn't need to be a total workaholic and he gave her the confidence to accept the promation to a management position that had been offered to her six months ago. Kate's father came for a visit and he and Dan got along well although Kate was somewhat perturbed because he frequently absent-mindedly called him John.



The Handyman



I had known Henry for quite some time before I realised I wanted him to fuck me. He had always been hired by my parents whenever they needed any bespoke carpentry work so over the years I was used to seeing him around the house, fitting new wardrobes or cupboards or just carrying out minor maintenance.

He was an attractive looking guy, in his late 50's, tall and slim with greying hair and bright blue eyes set in a deeply tanned, rugged face. I'd always said a polite hello to him and then breezed on by thinking no more about him. Until the day he came to make a few alterations to our kitchen.

I had just completed my first year at university and was spending the summer at my parents' house. They were due back from holiday and Henry was supposed to have the job done by the time they got back. They'd asked me to go and check on the progress he'd made.

I had been sunbathing in the garden when I remembered their instruction so when I heard his truck pull up, I hopped off the sun lounger and went to speak to him. I sauntered into the kitchen and almost collided with him as he was coming out of it. The first thing I noticed was how good he smelt. An intriguing mix of tobacco and citrus.

The second thing I noticed was the feel of his hands as they rested on my bare shoulders to steady me. He held me firmly and his hands felt slightly rough against my bare skin. I felt a flash of heat between my thighs and was strangely disappointed when he let go of me.

We both apologised for walking into each other but I wanted to feel those hands on me again. I watched him as he got to work in the kitchen and wondered how the hell I'd never noticed how attractive he was. I knew how old he was but suddenly all I could think about was him pushing a couple of those long fingers inside me and I was getting wetter just thinking about it.

He knelt down and began sorting through his toolbox and glanced up at me as I stood there in my white bikini "You won't catch much sun in here" he said, smiling. 

I seized my chance and said casually "Well, I need some sun lotion on my back, do you think you could do it for me?" I know, it's the corniest excuse in the book but I was just desperate to feel him up close to me again.

Before he could reply, I ran and fetched the sun lotion from the garden. I walked slowly across the kitchen floor hoping that he liked what he was seeing. By now my nipples were poking through my bikini top and I saw his eyes go to them. I handed him the sun lotion and looked at him expectantly. His blue eyes narrowed and I could feel my nipples tightening under his gaze.

"Turn around" he instructed in a gruff voice.

I turned my back to him and lifted my long hair and held it up off my neck. He squirted some of the lotion on my back and began to rub it into my skin in long strokes. He was massaging my shoulders and suddenly I heard him say "I don't think we need this" as he untied the strings of my bikini top and it fluttered to the floor.

My pussy was now incredibly wet and I inched closer to him. I could feel his cock as it twitched behind me and as I pushed my round ass a little closer I could feel him growing harder. His hands were now massaging the lotion into my upper chest and I was silently begging him to go further when he cupped my breasts and started brushing his thumbs over my erect nipples causing them to become even more rigid.

I could feel the bulge of his cock pushing up against me and I rotated my hips against him. He slipped one of his calloused hands down my bikini bottom and let out a low growl when he felt how slick and hot I was. Soon the bottom was on the floor and I stood completely naked before him.

I turned round to face him and he moved me backwards until I felt the kitchen table behind me.

"You're one horny little bitch" he laughed, lifting me up easily onto the table surface. He grasped a handful of my hair and roughly pulled my head back further forcing a surprised gasp from me. His mouth covered mine; I wasn't expecting his kisses to be so arousing but his tongue was insistent and I imagined what it could do to my aching pussy. Then his lips moved to my tits and he began to lick my nipples, circling them with his tongue and sucking on them gently and then with increasing pressure.

When he pulled away from me he started unzipping his jeans. "I want to see that little pussy, so sit back and open your legs for me" he said.

My eyes were on his hands as he pulled his cock out but I did as he said and opened my legs as wide as I could. When I saw his huge dick emerge fully, I simply bent my legs at the knees and let my thighs fall open. I could feel my juices dripping down onto the table and I squirmed with anticipation as I watched him move his hand up and down his shaft.

His cock looked incredible;long and thick with a beautifully bulbous head. The tip was glistening with pre cum and I licked my lips and said "Let me suck you off." He moved closer and gently flicked my clit. Then with the lightest pressure, he gently drew his thumb down the length of my pussy lips.

I moaned and he said "I want to fuck your pretty little teenage cunt until you're screaming for mercy, but I need you to do some things for me first."

He pushed me back against the wall and said

"Stroke your pussy for me. I want to watch you fingering yourself until you're just about to come."

More easily said than done! I lowered my hand and began stroking myself, avoiding my clit which was now quivering with the need for his cock. I inserted two fingers into my pussy and writhed around trying not to give in to the urge to stroke my clit and come all over my own hand. The fact that he maintained eye contact with me as I finger fucked my pussy for him made me feel dirty and debased but even more desperate to feel him smash his cock into me.

It seemed unreal to be in this situation at all with a guy old enough to be my father, (or granddad!) but I suppose I just wanted to experience an older guy. On one level it felt wrong, but Jesus, he was making me feel so wet and horny I was beyond caring. The thought of being his little fuck-toy was making me dizzy with lust.

He watched me for a little longer, all the time stroking his dick until finally he told me to get down off the table and bend over it. He grabbed my hips, running his hands over me and squeezing my ass cheeks while pulling them apart. Then I felt his cock head sliding against my juicy slit before pushing into me. I sighed with relief as he slowly stretched my tight pussy to take all of his length and thickness in, right up to the hilt. I was sopping wet and thrust myself back onto him as he reached round and found my clit. He began ramming himself into me relentlessly until he made me come to a screaming climax.

He then flipped me over and lifted me back onto the table. I could tell he hadn't come yet and while I admired his self control I knew I wouldn't be satisfied until he did. He began to lick my cunt juices from my inner thighs and worked his way up to my pussy lips. 

His hands gripped my hips tightly and he tongued my slit thoroughly until I was wetter than I'd ever been. His lips closed around my clit and he began sucking gently before inserting his tongue into my cunt and licking me out until I was bucking my hips, my thighs were around his neck, and his face was covered in my cum.

He then sat on a kitchen chair and told me to kneel in front of him. 

"Suck me,baby."

I took a firm grip of his cock with both hands and was thrilled to feel how hard he was.

I used my warm, wet tongue to lick his shaft while using my hands to quickly pump him up and down at the same time. I could taste my own pussy on him as I fastened my lips over his head and swirled my tongue along his ridge, licking and searching for that extra sensitive spot. I then began to suck him off taking as much as I could of him deep into my mouth. I cupped and caressed his balls and he was breathing pretty hard when he suddenly said

"Stop!" 

I looked up at him, surprised, and he took his cock and placed it in the space between my tits. Then he told me to push my tits together because he wanted me to titty fuck him. I'm quite large-breasted so this wasn't a difficult manoeuvre and I loved feeling the hardness of his cock pulsing against my chest. I slid a hand between my legs and used some of my pussy juice to help lubricate his shaft, so that he slipped easily between my boobs.

I pushed my tits together firmly, enveloping his cock, and rapidly moved up and down until he finally gave a hoarse gasp and spurted his creamy cum all over my face and breasts. Now I was happy!

He lifted me up and sat me on his lap as I massaged his cum into my tits. I asked him if he'd enjoyed having some teenage pussy and he laughed and said "it sure beats fixing kitchen cupboards."



The Handyman Again Ch. 1



It's been a while since last I wrote. Now I'm retired from my regular labors in the world of business and depend full time on my Handyman business. Although there have been very few opportunities like the one that occurred with Pam (the occasion of my first writing) I've had some chances to be alone with some really foxy ladies while I earth quake proofed their water heaters, resecured their kitchen cabinets to the ceiling, put new outdoor carpeting down on their porches, put up security lights in their yards, etc. But there was always some condition where I would not have been interested in them even if they had shown interest in me, or they were so engrossed in whatever activity they were about that my presence in their space barely registered on them.

Sad to say, but there were other women that it seemed might welcome some form of advance from me but they could not possibly have interested me. Some because they were too much older than I (58 and trying to hold, there) or because of their tendencies toward booze, sloppiness, or personal hygiene. All of this may sound very dark and judgmental on my part, but when you have been in as many houses, apartments, and trailers as I have over the years, you get a quick sense of the people who live there by how clean they keep lower cabinets, the base of toilets, under and behind refrigerators and stoves, and closets. So I have really looked forward to working for some folks (pronounced 'women') only to find that making it with them would probably mean dusty, rumpled, or crude sex. That hard up I'm not. But surprises can sneak up on you so fast sometimes, that you wonder how the hell it happened. Take a recent day at Home Depot, where I spend a lot of time buying stuff for my customers.

Not for the first time, a voice behind me asked if I could help with doorknobs and dead bolts. I guess the mistake is easy to make even though I don't wear the stores orange apron. It's a combination of my clipboard, the perpetual tape measure on my belt, my apparent age, and the fact that I move purposefully since I know the store aisles well. Any way, I turned to see if she was talking to me, and she was. Nice looking forty-something, well dressed, nice shape, pleasant smile. Walking back a few steps to her I explained that I was an independent Handyman, not a store employee, but that I might be able to help her if she wished. The look of relief was evident and she accepted, gladly, my offer of help. She smelled good now that I was next to her, and I realized that she was quite a tight and well-presented package of femininity. I decided I wanted to help this lady; as much as possible.

She explained that her dilemma was two fold. First, she wanted dead bolts on her front and back doors since she didn't feel safe now that she was living alone. (Light goes on in Handyman's head.) Second, she wanted to replace all of the plain doorknobs in her house with fancier new ones. And there might be some other things that needed fixing. (Three-way light in Handyman's head switches to brightest setting.) I explained that changing the interior doorknob sets was fairly simple, but that installing the dead bolts required special tools. The look in her eyes as she looked up at me made me feel like a Shining Knight. We discussed various available doorknob sets and finally I gave her my business card, saying that if she wished I could help her with her installations. No mater how long I live I will probably never learn to tell the difference between the practiced look of a woman who has found a Neanderthal to do her bidding and a woman who has truly been rescued from a dilemma and is grateful. Maybe there is no way to tell except to grab your bear skin clothes and step into their cave. I sure hoped to have a chance to find out, in this case, if the lady was sincere or a manipulator (notice how the first three letters of "sincere" is "sin" and of "manipulator" is "man".)

About two days later I got home from a fairly easy job wall papering a bedroom to find a message on my answer machine. "Hello, John. This is Tamara Benning. We met by the dead bolts and you indicated you would be able to help me out. Please give me a call at 555-1212. Thanks, John." Oh, boy! This I now looked forward to. Lilting voice. Two days delay so as to not appear anxious (if she had any designs on me, too, that is) or deliberative to give the impression of being business like or very busy, or fifty other connotations. But I was enthusiastic to return her call. So I dialed...

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Damn! I was probably going to get her answering machine. "Hello".

Oh boy, oh boy. Be business-like, John. "Tamara, please. This is John, the Handyman."

"This is Tamara, John. I'm glad you had the time to return my call. I definitely need help with all of these doors and a cabinet drawer in my kitchen and some other stuff" she breathed. I, of course, began melting. If she was simply a manipulator I was willing to be manipulated by the woman's voice I was hearing and the woman's body that I remembered very clearly. Light brown hair, medium long, 115 pounds, 34-28-36, light skin, not too much make-up, smelled totally edible, looked scrumptious, and now sounded ready to be tasted and eaten.

"Unless you have something I'm not really qualified to do other than the items we've talked about, I'd be glad to help any way I can." Cool, John. Business like. Probably she couldn't hear the tremor of sexual excitement in your business-like voice. Right.

"John. I don't know what your schedule is, although I'm sure you're very busy, but I can be home all day the day after tomorrow", she said right into my very ear, and then added, "Is that too soon for you?"

As calmly as was possible considering my age and state of mind I croaked, "That's fine." But I was at least cognizant enough to realize that she probably didn't want me arriving at 00:01 in the morning so as to have a full 23 hours and 59 minutes with her. Based on that astute male thinking, I continued with, "Is nine in the morning too early or too late for you?"

"I should be bathed and dressed by eight, so can we say eight-thirty, John?"

"Eight-thirty is fine. Can I have your address........" Yes-s-s-s-s! I could help her bathe. Slowly.

She hadn't even asked me about labor rate, although I should be ready with some answer. Not that I don't know my labor rate. But it depends. No, no, not on that! On how difficult various tasks are. The skill and tools required to duplicate out-of-date chair rail or crown molding could not possibly be applied to changing the insides of a toilet assembly. And there is no way I would work for sexual favors. No, way! I work hard at being the best Handyman I possibly can and I work even harder at being the best lover I can. Limited variety-of-women experience does not mean that my little head leads my big head around. Anyway, now all I had to do was make it until 8:30 in the morning, the day after tomorrow. This is something I could do. Now I needed to plan. Make a list of tools I would need. Don't forget the hole saws and spade bits for the dead bolts. Tool pouches are impressive to some folks so I wanted to be sure to take mine. I'd need it anyway. STOP! I'm dithering. Slow down, John. She may just be a nice friendly lady who needs some work done. She may not even realize the impact she has on men generally, and me in particular. I wonder if she has a two-story so I could follow her up the steps and look up under her skirt, at least. A fantasy is better than nothing, after all. Now how long 'till I go there? And my extendible mirror. Not for her skirt, but for seeing around corners and behind things. I don't mean her behind. Well, maybe stream of consciousness got me there, but I may need the mirror anyway. Maybe while I'm laying on my back looking up under the kitchen sink for a drip I can get her to step over me to turn the faucets on and off. That would be way better than nothing. Probably she's recently widowed and has no thought for casual sex with some ding-a-ling Handyman. Now how much longer is it until my appointment?



The Handyman Again Ch. 2



There it is. 2815. A two-story with ample property on both sides in a really up-scale neighborhood. It's only 8:20 and she said 8:30. I'll just sit here in her driveway until then. I'm really glad I finally had this poor old car of mine painted. Most folks can't tell if its an '83 or a '93 because they don't change that much over the years. But since this is my car and my truck, this poor 13 year old beastie has really given it's all. And still looks good. Now it's 8:23. How come time slows down like that? I really need a new headliner. All of the smoking I did in the past has this one permanently discolored and there are two small tears where I got careless with some lumber. It would probably have to be custom-made at this late date. 8:27. I'll go up to the door with my tool pouch casually slung over my shoulder. Later I can come back out to get the big drill and other stuff I might need. Here goes. I hope she's not a slacks person.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm too early." My shock must have been self-evident. Somewhere between 'I've probably lost this job now' and 'can I please see under there?' Tamara had opened the door wearing a short terry-cloth white robe that she was holding closed with one hand and a towel wrapped around her head and twisted down her back. I thought she looked half way amused at my reaction and possibly upset that I was on time.

Anyway, she stepped back, opening the door more, and said, "Come on in. I can be dressed in no time." Then she seemed to think about that and further said, "Well, I can show you some of what needs to be done so you can get started and then I'll get dressed. I got a late start this morning and I'm sorry I'm not ready." Yeah. Me too.

"Please don't worry about it. I probably should have either called first or been a little late", I said around a thickening tongue. She looked up at me for a moment before turning to cross the living room. I was, at that instant, trying to figure out how to get her to raise both of her hands so that her robe would open. Her legs were really nice and I wanted to see the tops of them. And her breasts . . . They weren't really well hidden, the way she was holding the robe, and I certainly wanted to see more. I don't know if I hoped she knew what I was thinking or hoped she didn't, but she turned to walk across the room just then and I got a much better idea of how short the robe really was. Mid-thigh would be my guess as I started to follow her, watching the actions of her undoubtedly precious buns under the robe as she walked. She was saying something and I was drooling. Concentrate, John, you idiot.

"... and so this back door really has me more worried than the front door." She had stopped at the kitchen door to the back yard and turned to me.

I asked if she minded if I opened the door so I could see the jamb. She motioned for me to go ahead by gesturing toward the door with her left hand. That particular left hand was holding the robe closed. The robe started to open, ever so slowly, too slowly. She realized her mistake and quickly reclosed the robe, holding it with her left hand again. I didn't get to see anything, but if I wore glasses my eyes probably would have pushed them off of my face. I know she saw my intent, mesmerized look that time, even though I tried to be nonchalant and open the door. Because of the over-sized strike plate, the dead bolt would have to be mounted about 4 1/2 inches above the doorknob set, but that wouldn't be a problem. I said so to Tamara.

After I relocked the back door, she took off into the dining room with me following (heh, heh). Boy, she was a really nice looking woman. No make-up and didn't really need any. She would probably think she did, of course, but she must actually know she is a doll. Again, I wondered if she knew the effect she was having on me. Wow! She stopped at the doorway between the dining room and the living room. Using her right hand (damn) she pulled the latch of a pocket door to close the door on that side of the opening. It screeched some but moved fairly smoothly.

"Can you lubricate that, John? And the other side, too?" I would swear by the way she opened her eyes more than normal that she was daring me to look anywhere but in her eyes. A tough test when the only lubricant I could think of was hers, and my tendency was to look toward its source.

"That shouldn't be a problem, Tamara." All of this usage of names seemed like a game of some sort, but my copy of the rules hadn't been delivered to me.

"Okay. Lets go upstairs", she said. She said that we were going up the stairs. Her first. Me second, below her above me. Up the stairs. It pays to fantasize. Then she went on, with, "Oh, that can wait a minute. I forgot to show you something in the kitchen."

No! Going up the stairs is important. Critical! We need to go up the stairs. It can't wait a minute! "Okay", I said calmly (I hope).

In the kitchen she opened one of the drawers just under the counter top and asked me to remove it. Then she bent down and looked and pointed toward the back of the cabinet saying, "That thingy back there is loose and the drawer sometimes comes off of the track."

I bent down and looked too. At least one of the screws was loose and probably none of the three screws was into a stud; just the drywall. I turned my head toward her so that I could reach to the back of the cabinet and wiggle the bracket when 'what to my wondering eyes should appear?' but a view of Tamara's left breast. No! Gorgeous left breast. Somehow, it seemed, when she bent over to show me the bracket problem, her left hand had slid up some from her waist creating slack in that side of her robe which gaped open when she bent over. (Trust me when I say that I didn't think of all of that physics stuff at the time. I just looked at her breast and slightly erect nipple and began salivating again.) Tamara seemed to realize her degree of dishevelment and stood back up straight. I told her I could tighten up that bracket or I could fix it permanently, with wall anchors. Which one I did was up to her. Now that I was standing upright again and looking at her she didn't seem at all embarrassed. But she must have known I was looking at her naked, dark brown, erect nipple on the whitest of firm breasts. Actually, judging by the extra bumps in her robe, both of her nipples were very erect. Hmmmm.

Saying, "I'd rather it was fixed the right way", she turned to leave the kitchen again. Me follow woman.

The stairs. Nice wide staircase. Carpeted up the center with about a foot of oak showing on each side of each tread. She started up and I delayed just a bit so that I'd be about four steps below her. But I no more than began mounting the first few steps when she stopped, commented something about, "How did that get there?", bent down to pick up a pen at the edge of the carpeted step, and then continued on up the stairs.

Let me say right off of the bat that I watched to see what she picked up. I'm willing to be 100% honest about that level of stupidity. On the plus side, however, I did recover my male senses just barely in time to see: the bottom half of each hemisphere of her ass cheeks, her tightly puckered anus, the slightly bulging mound of her pussy with the fold of her lips quickly disappearing into a verdant bush of light brown hair, the tops of her firm and nicely-opened-at-the-top-for-viewing-pussy-from-the-rear thighs. Then her robe lowered down to once again hide her lower charms. To whomever dropped the pen there, my eternal thanks. To the manufacturer of that fine robe, my eternal thanks. Amen.

At the top of the steps she turned down the hallway, through the master bedroom and into the master bath. Nice. Big clear glass shower. Double sinks. Two huge medicine cabinets. Jacuzzi tub in a raised platform. And plenty of floor space. Closing the bathroom door behind me she said, "This knob is one I just hate. I can't lock it when I'm in here and want privacy." After a short pause to see if I was paying attention (I was, while wondering what must go on in here when she wanted to be uninterrupted) she continued with, "So this one needs a lockable handle."

Since I didn't know if she had already bought doorknob sets based upon our conversation at the store or if I was supposed to go get them, I asked, "Did you already buy the doorknob sets you want or am I supposed to get them for you?"

"I already have them. You were a lot of help with your good advice. I know you'll be able to help me more", she breathed up at me from mere inches away.

As I reread what I've written so far I don't know that I would believe it so I don't mind much if you don't either. It will, however, get harder to believe, especially if you have read and remember my first writing about Pam in The Handyman.



The Handyman Again Ch. 3



I'm Mr. Shy. I'm the fellow who is non-confrontational. I'm the guy who at fifty-eight years of age can only boast two wives and four other "conquests". Not Casper Milquetoast, you understand. Once I get to know a woman in the Biblical sense, I'm not shy or standoffish at all. But I guess even I had my limits. Here was a woman who was eminently desirable, apparently available (at least displayably available since I'd seen about every charm she possessed in the last half hour or so, and badly wanted to see more), and still virtually undressed. I had the clear feeling (which probably gets men into a lot of their trouble) that she was enticing me on purpose. I think she wanted more than her door knobs serviced. I think she had a plumbing problem she needed male help with and I was the male of her choice at the moment. But I also worried that if I acted on that premise, poorly practiced at this gentle art as I am, I might find out that she was willing to pay me for my work, and willing to knowingly tease me half to death with her body, but that to openly challenge her intentions might get me thrown out quickly. Even if I couldn't "get" her I wanted as much opportunity to "see" her as possible. After having shown me the walk-in closet door in her room which was to get a new knob, and the room and closet doors of the other two rooms upstairs which were to get new knobs, we were standing at the top of the stairs once again. I had just said that there were then six new doorknob sets to be replaced upstairs. She turned slightly away from me looking back down the hall, using her left hand began pointing at doorways and counting. The robe opened but she was facing away from me. She continued turning slowly the other way down the hallway, toward her bedroom, and continued counting. Suddenly she turned toward me and burst out with, "Oh! I know. The guest bathroom door. I forgot to show it to you. That makes seven up here." She beamed. I gawked. Her robe was fully open down the center of her lovely body. Only the beginning mound of each breast were visible but her pubic hair, neatly trimmed into a "V", and obviously quite lush, was clearly visible under her little tummy. With another exclamation of, "Oh!" she closed her robe and started down the steps. But again, she didn't seem to be genuinely embarrassed about her obvious display of her pussy and my equally obvious staring at her pussy. In fact, halfway down she reached up to her head, unraveled the towel around her hair and repositioned it. This action must have totally opened her robe in the front and lifted it well up her ass in the back. Unfortunately I was above and behind her so I couldn't see a thing except the nonchalance of the action. I made up my mind.

On the fourth step down from the top I laid my ballpoint pen in the middle of the step, then continued down. When we got to the bottom of the steps and were again standing side by side I took my risk. "Tamara," I said in as calm a voice as I could muster, "I want to do the work for you that we have discussed. And I want to be around you as much as possible while doing that work because I really enjoy looking at you." By now my voice was quivering with what we call sexual excitation but I believe is pure old adrenalin. I continued. "But I think that you are trying to drive me nuts; and doing an excellent job of it." I stopped to see if she wanted to say anything. She just stood there smelling wonderful, looking up at me, holding her robe closed quite chastely. So I took the plunge. "If I'm right about all of that, then you really enjoy teasing me with your gorgeous body and glittering smile and eyes. And if that is also correct, my questions become are you going to continue to tease me while I work, if so can I touch you periodically, whether or not I get to touch you will I get to make love to you eventually, and if not, what do you want me to start working on first?"

"I don't think I've ever come across a man quite like you before, John. In work related stuff you are forceful, communicative, assured. But when it comes to sex, you shake and stutter and look quite perplexed. I presumed that you would have ravished me by now. I'm glad you haven't, but I decided I wanted you to by the time I showed you the kitchen drawer." She seemed so at ease and, now that we were talking about sex instead of door knobs, I was even calming down some. She moved a little bit away from me and said, "Yes, I like teasing you. I like seeing how you lust for me. I like that kind of reassurance. And yes, you can touch me periodically. But I want you to try to continue to work and I will try to continue to tease you. And, finally, yes, I want us to make love. When we're both too hot to stand it any longer. When/if I don't have you in me I'll faint away. When you are so excited that if I touched you you would come instantly. That's when we'll have each other."

Wow and-a-half. Who ever even dreams this good? Christ almighty this could be the day I die and the mortician can't get the smile off of my face. Nor her pussy cream. Not wanting to be pushy, I still asked, "Do you happen to have nylons and a garter belt you could wear with that robe?"

"I sure do." she said and started up the stairs. About three steps up she stopped and turned back to me looking up at her and asked, "Do you want to watch me put them on?"

With a very heartfelt, "Yes. I sure do." I made it to the bottom step in two steps. Here I was looking up at the tops of her thighs under the short robe and her undulating ass cheeks moving under the robe. She paused just a split second when she saw the pen on the steps. My pen that I had placed there with such hopeful forethought. But she went up the next step after seeing it and then the next. Now it was just one step above her feet.

"Now how did THAT get there?" she asked as she slowly (and I mean slowly) leaned down to pick it up. Up climbed her robe in the back, right at my eye level, and no more then a foot away from my face. The curve leading to her groin began to be revealed in a "V", then the swell of her pussy mound, and her ass hole, and her delectable cheeks. I reached forward with both hands and placed them on her buttocks. I leaned forward and exhaled my hot breath on her pussy lips. She did some movement of her hips and her pussy was pushed a bit more back toward me and began to open slightly. She was obviously wet inside. If she was one-tenth as excited as I was she would have dripped her cream down to her knees by now. Leaning just a tiny bit closer I moved my very wet tongue from the area of her clit, up to the back of her pussy, rewet my tongue and continued from there on up to her puckered anus. I heard her issue little moans and she moved her right foot so as to open her legs a bit more. I immediately took that as my queue to push my tongue in through her lips, find her clit, and give her little strokes just below her clit in that little, tiny depression women have under their clits. She obviously moaned and pushed her cunt against my face. I leaned into her to help support her balance and licked up to her love hole, around it a few times and then back down to her clit. Now my hands had moved off of her cheeks, around her hips and up her abdomen to her breasts. She must have had both hands on the stairs for support because her robe was hanging open and her tits were hanging down waiting to be addressed. Tamara was repeating, "Ohhhhhh," over and over again quietly and I sensed that control, for the moment at least, had shifted from her to me. This lady wanted to come in the worst way and I was going to help her accomplish just that.

"Turn over and sit on the top step for me." I ordered.

"Okay, but just for a minute," she said as she complied.

Once she was sitting on the landing I put my hands around her on her ass and said, "How can I see your precious pussy when you're sitting on it?" and pulled her to the edge of the stair. She helped me, of course, by lifting her weight but what I was watching was her eyes. They were smoky already. And she wanted to hear how beautiful and desirable she was. And she certainly was

"Is that okay?" she asked me. I stepped up a bit and mouthed around her right nipple that it was just perfect. Then back down to her pussy. I opened the top of her pussy lips with my fingers and slowly moved my pursed lips toward her clit. She was looking down at me between her legs with a desperation that surprised me. As my lips surrounded her clit, she tried to continue to watch me but at the tiniest touch on my tongue to her trapped clit, her head went back and she began a constant moaning that was only interrupted by an occasional gasping breath. I wasn't even moving my lips on her and my tongue tip was just barely, and very slowly, rubbing the side of her clit.

I returned to licking the little depression under her clit and she once again braced herself on her arms and watched me nurse at her womanhood, moaning. I reached up to play with her nipples and found that she was playing with them already. I held her breasts while she tweaked her nipples with wetted finger tips. In my opinion her eyes were not seeing anything, even though they were glued to the sight of me licking and sucking her cunt. Almost like she wasn't used to the sight. I couldn't believe that of such a beautiful and desirable woman. Moving my lips back up to surround her clit, I began poking the tip of my tongue at a little gap I had discovered on the lower right side of the hood of her clit. Figuring that that part of her clit probably wasn't used to being touched, I concentrated a light, methodical assault on that spot. She reacted with renewed moans at once. Then her hands were on my head, then back to her nipples, then back to my head, and finally she used her fingers to spread and lift her pussy lips, easing my efforts. Her stomach muscles were very tight, now, and I was sure she was going to orgasm soon. Her hands went back to my head and she said, "Stop!" I kept teasing her clit methodically. Again she said, "Stop." Again I continued. "John. I don't want to come yet. This is too soon for it to be over." As I continued this time, the "r" at the end of "over" was drawn out into a long, convulsed sound of a woman having one hell of an orgasm.

I kept my mouth dead still on her pussy until she started to calm down. Then I moved up and kissed her, saying, "It's not over by a long shot. It's just beginning. That was just your first orgasm today. Wait till you see what happens to you after you've teased my ass off during the day. Who knows how many orgasms you'll have?"

"I don't believe that multiple orgasm bull shit. That may work in books and movies but not in reality."

"Listen, Tamara. I'll easily prove that you're wrong. After all, I'm the Handyman, not you. And the only tools I will need is this body of yours that I want to posses so badly, this pussy of yours that creams so readily and tastefully, this tongue (pointing to my tongue) that loves to probe around inside of you so much, these lips that want to surround your pussy and devour it, and your mind that wants to believe that I'm right. And I am right." I liked the change I saw on her face. From distraught to expectant. Probably partially due to her hearing words about her that she wanted to hear. Actually, she had said earlier that she "wanted" to be reassured that she was desirable. Well, I could show her that.

I moved my right hand to her left breast and nipple, bent my head to suck on her right nipple, and said after a moment, "Watch closely as I move my face back down between your legs." I was sort of kissing my way down and talking to her because I already knew she wanted to hear me talk about her. "Now that my nose is in your lush bush I can smell how aroused you are. Your pussy lips are still puffy with hot blood. They're still going to be sensitive to my lips." I looked up at her and she seemed hypnotized, watching me. I was back down at a level where my face was directly in front of her cunt. Every one of my words must have sent a puff of hot breath on her lips. No part of me was touching her now. "Spread your knees farther apart and lift them higher for me." She did that. She had the kind of sort-of-concerned look in her eyes that cats sometimes get. I pushed my tongue out and gave her a little lick inside her pussy where the lips were open. She started. Then looked at my eyes again. I moved my head lower down, slowly. She was having trouble staying braced up on her elbow and looking down at what I was doing. Good.

Wetting my tongue tip quite a bit with saliva, I pushed it out and touched her ass hole. She jumped like she'd been shocked. I touched her again, moved a bit and touched her again. And again. She was moaning again. Little moans that she might not even have known she was making. And staring at me desperately. I moved up again to her pussy, wet my tongue again and obviously and slowly pushed it as far out of my mouth as I could get it. Then I very slowly moved my whole head so that my tongue was lined up to spear her cunt opening. Her mouth was open, her tongue was slightly out and she was totally concentrating on my movements. When my tongue finally touched her she let out such a gasp that I looked up at her and stopped moving. Her hands came to the sides of my head and she began using me to fuck herself. After only a few seconds of in and out, she was moving my lips and tongue up and down the length of her pussy while she move her hips the opposite direction. The look on her face was ecstasy. Her eyes were closed, her stomach was like an iron washboard and she started coming, and coming. When she collapsed back in the rug, I gently licked her clean, moved up beside her on the steps, supported her legs with my arm, and kissed her.



The Handyman Again Ch. 4



"Nylons, woman." I could tell you that she jumped right up and rushed to do my bidding, but she didn't. She commented once about being wasted, nay, destroyed.

Then she rolled over on her side, away from me, and said, "Start on the back door, John."

Whoops. I was out of charge again. But I wanted to see her put on her nylons. But, what the hell. "Okay, Tamara." Down stairs I went.

When drilling through a door for a doorknob set or dead bolt, you always drill from both sides. Actually you're sawing a circle, but with a drill bit to guide the round saw as it spins in the electric drill. The guiding drill bit protrudes further than the round saw, so it pushes through the other side of the door before the saw cuts through. This is good because it allows you to move the electric drill around to the other side of the door and drill/saw the opposite direction, preventing the door from splintering when the saw pushes through. I tell you all of that because I drilled from the inside of the back door first, then went outside to drill in the other way. The door was closed so I could push against it with the hole saw in the electric drill, and soon the whole disk of wood that the hole saw was cutting began to spin, meaning I had connected through. I pulled the tool back exposing the new hole in Tamara's door for the new dead bolt. Looking through to examine the cleanness of the cut, I see a nipple. A pretty nipple. One I would like to suck on. But when I opened the door, the robe was back in place and Tamara was no longer near the door. That is to say, Tamara in black high heels, dark colored stockings, a short teal-blue satin robe and radiant, wavy hair, was no longer near the door.

"Wow", I said, intelligently. But I guess she understood it was meant to be a tribute.

"Just because that worked once doesn't mean that it will work again, you know." Well she lost me with that one. I had no idea what she was talking about.

"I'm sorry, but you have me totally lost, but completely en rapt again with your presence."

"I mean, John, that just because you got me to have two orgasms doesn't mean that I can have another."

"But you're not sure. If you didn't hope I was right you wouldn't have taken the time to get that fantastically desirable. Would you?" Had her with that one.

"Well, since I've never had two before, why should I have believed that I could have two today? And why should I believe that I could have more today. Besides, they are very debilitating."

"Tamara. Anyone who wouldn't be willing to push that body of yours to its ultimate limits every time out should be shot. More than that, tell you about it. Make you watch while it's happening. Help you learn to enjoy being a slut, wanton hussy, whore, and whatever else it takes to satiate you. And if that means one orgasm, fine. If it means six, so what. You'll get to where you know your limit. Just be willing to be wrong once in a while."

"So how about you? How many times can you have an orgasm, Mr. Ensexlopedia?" Ain't she cute?

"Once per session. Sometimes three times a day. But that's not at all common. But since there is no comparison between us, I don't think it makes any difference. Sometimes I don't come, even after more than an hour of lovemaking. So what? When I do finally come, your ovaries will bang up against your clavicle. But that's only part of my pleasure. Just as big a part is wanting to use your body for my own purposes just like you saw me do on the staircase."

"Oh, John! You mean you would want to use me like that repeatedly? Just for your own satisfaction?" she asked with a proper note of aghast in her voice.

"Yup!"

"Why, that's tantamount to... to... yummy." With that she turned sideways to me, opened her robe to expose her nylon-clad leg, the bare skin on her upper thigh, the straps of her garter belt and one side of her yum-yum ass. Nylons and garter belts are special. Panty hose should all be burned at the stake. Any man who likes women and likes pantyhose must never have seen nylons and a garter belt. Makes me drool just to think about it.

Returning from my reverie I asked, "What does the other side look like?" Tamara turned her other side to me and opened her robe the same way to show me that leg and side. Nice. "And what are you wearing on top, Little Blue Riding Robe?"

Turning back to me she lowered the shoulder of one side of her robe. Her succulent medium-sized breast was tucked in a soft lace blue strapless bra. Even before I could ask she stated, "And the other side looks the same."

"Okay." I said, "But what's in the front?" and I pointed right between her legs.

"You'll have to wait to find that out." Said with finality. Then she added, "If you do plumbing, there is a small leak in the cabinet under the kitchen sink." She could never have guessed at why I must have looked so shocked, yet elated. Or could she? Oh, well. Dead bolt first.



The Handyman Again Ch. 5



Actually, it turned out that I did that dead bolt, the front door dead bolt and all of the inside doors except the two bathrooms before I got to see what was under the bottom portion of her robe. I finally decided that it was up to me to create a situation where she could display herself to me "innocently". Toward that end, so to speak, I laid my pouch on the floor about six feet into the bedroom from the bathroom door. I was squatting by the door taking out the existing doorknob set. Tamara was sort of kneeling near by, as she had been doing, and we were talking generalities. I asked her to get the orange handled screwdriver out of my pouch. She rolled up onto her hands and knees and crawled the few feet to my pouch. Right away the robe climbed up her ass cheeks, her hips spread out, the garter belt straps sort of eased to the sides of her thighs, and her ass slowly undulated with each move. Her pussy was uncovered, peeking back at me in such an inviting way. It took her a moment to find the screwdriver and then she returned with it. She looked per-r-r-rfectly innocent, as well she should, right?

"I'm sorry, Tamara, but I also need the silver long nose pliers." I can be innocent, too, you know.

Back to the tool pouch she started, but this time I was right behind her. The way I had been squatting when she joined me by the bathroom door, she could not have seen that my belt, button and zipper were already open. My cock was sticking out through my shorts and I was ready to become an active participant in our game. First she felt my hands on her hips and ass. Next she felt my cock slide along her pussy lips and my hips push up against her thighs.

"What kind of a tool would this be?" she asked as she reached her hand back between her legs to touch and stroke me. I'd give her at least an hour to stop that. Maybe more.

"That is sometimes the most important tool a Handyman has," I replied while wetting my thumb and placing it on her rectum. It puckered right away, but seemed to relax as I continued to rub in circles.

"My god, you're big, John. Let me see this champion tool." she said and started to turn.

I immediately pulled back, zipped up my jeans and closed my belt, saying, "Maybe later. But right now I have work to do, don't you know."

She stood up over me and pulled open the top of her robe, pushing a nipple at me and saying, "You can suck my nipples if you let me see him." I started sucking the offered nipple but shook my head in a clear "no". Besides I prefer uncovered nipples and the lace bra was an obstruction. She pulled her nipple away from me, straightened up, put her hands behind my head and brought her pussy and my face together, saying, "You can lick my vagina again if you let me see him." I got in a couple of licks and again shook my head, "no". "You're mean. I've never felt a penis that size and you won't let me see it."

"'A', it's not all that big, but it is somewhat bigger than average, and 'B', how do I know that you'll know what to do with it and 'C',it's not a 'penis'. It's a cock, or a prick, or a dong, or a dick. And just so you don't make any further grammatical mistakes, young lady, it's for stroking and sucking and fucking and ... sometimes making babies." By god, that was telling her. "And," pointing at her crotch, still in front of my face, "That's not your vagina or your vulva or even your pudenda. That's your pussy, cunt, quim, box, crack, piece-of-ass, twat, slit. It, also, is for sucking and licking and fucking ... and once in a great while, a baby."

"That's not fair. You had more names for me than for yourself," was her lament, delivered quite dramatically I thought, for an up and cummer.

"You just remember to use appropriate names and descriptions or I won't push my face into your crotch again and suck your clit into my mouth so that I can whip it with my tongue ever again. Understand?" The foregoing delivered with sufficient vehemence to impress her with some of my sincerity.

She resorted to her now infamous, "You're mean!"

"And. I'm the Handyman and I have work to perform, Madam." With that I turned back to the door.

I finished the last of the doors but I was concentrating on sliding my cock into her cunt and keeping it there a long, slow time. I hope she was thinking about that, too. Finally it was time for the kitchen sink. I'd put anchors in the wall to support the drawer bracket, so that was done. Opening the cabinet doors and moving some of the cleaning stuff out of the way made it easy to determine that there was no leak under there. So two were playing the game. All right. I laid down on my back and slid a little way into the cabinet; just so that my head and neck were supported on a towel on the shelf. And I dutifully looked up under the sink. Tamara was a couple of feet away, to my left. And looking goooood. But she would soon look better.

"Can you step over here and turn on the cold water, Tamara?", I asked in all innocence. She, all unwittingly, did as I asked and stepped over me with her left foot, so that she was straddling me, and turned on the cold water, and started to step back. "Wait!", I entreated, "I need you to turn it off and on a number of times so stay there."

"Oh. Okay." she replied, and stayed there while I looked up under her robe with my little extendable mirror. I banged around and made little noises of labor, for effect.

"Nice legs and pussy you have there. Lots of nice bushy hair", became my opening gambit. Testing the waters.

"Why thank you, sir."

"What do you use them for, if I may ask."

"Well, I like to have my legs admired and stroked, and I recently find that I just love to have my pussy licked and sucked by a man, and eventually I would want him to fuck it for me with his cock. Does that answer your question?" Oh, this woman was learning very fast.

"Yes, it does. Now turn the hot water on and off, please." She did and I continued. "But what if a guy wants to not only suck on your sweet pussy and slowly fuck his cock up into your cunt, but he also decides he wants to lick your ass and run his hands all over you before all of the other activities?"

"Well, I guess it would be all right. If it pleased him, of course."

Her hand appeared down between her legs and she moved it up inside her robe by her pussy. Then she started a rhythmic movement with her hand that I could only infer was masturbation. Jesus, that was exciting. I tried to continue with my questioning, knowing we were getting close to the point of no return.

"And, Tamara, what if a guy wanted you to get on your hands and knees, with your ass high in the air, and your legs spread, so that he could suck and fuck you like an animal from behind?"

"It might be okay, if that's what he wanted." The fingers were moving faster on, and now, in, her pussy. She had bent her knees, some, and I could clearly see her finger-fucking herself just above me in the reflection of the mirror. I started opening my pants and getting my cock out.

"What if he wanted to lay on his back on the floor, have you straddle his face with your feet, and slowly lower your cunt down onto his mouth so that he could tongue-fuck you and suck your clit. Then he might want you to sit on his cock so that he could watch you fuck yourself on his prick. How about that, Tamara?"

"Oh, Jesus! How could I stop him if that's the kind of depraved things he wanted to do with me? I'd be helpless." Her index and middle finger were now deep in her cunt and the meat of her thumb was rubbing her clit. That's it. I couldn't stand any more. The final ride had to start now. After all, she was two orgasms ahead of me so far. I slid myself mostly out from under the sink so that now I didn't need the mirror to see up her robe at her flashing fingers.



The Handyman Again Ch. 6



"Hold the edge of the sink and lower your ass down here to me, Tamara. Yes. Slow and easy so I can see your pussy opening up for my tongue to enter." I was holding her ass cheeks and sort of guiding her but her cunt found my mouth pretty much on it's own. As soon as my lips reached in for her clit she started to come. With my elbows on the floor and my hands under her ass I supported most of her weight as she spasmed in orgasm. Her moans and "Oh, God's" were almost endless. My tender licking surely helped her down to earth again. Finally she collapsed on her back, which was on my front, and discovered a very hard cock waiting there. She turned her head and kissed the head of my dick. Then, while holding its length up against her cheek, she asked if I was comfortable.

"Not any more. This floor is hard, but I didn't seem to notice it until just a moment ago."

"John. That's three. And I know there is at least one more. Fuck me now. Let's go up to my bed and you fuck my pussy with this sweet cock. After I suck on it a while, that is." She didn't have to ask me twice.

She got up off of me. I got up off of the floor (with some strange popping and cracking sounds), and I followed her upstairs. Once in her bedroom I told her what I wanted.

"Remember, Tamara, I'm only doing all of this for me. My pleasure. I'm just using and abusing you. Ravishment is my goal, and eventually I'll get there." I was already undressing as I talked. She was watching me from the side of her bed.

"Oh, you beast!" she said. A new one. And I was just getting used to 'You're mean!.

"I want you to get on the bed on all fours, with your ass pointing at me, and slowly crawl around the bed once. Then lay down in the middle if it, spread your legs and jack off your pussy so I can watch you." With out a word she began to comply. God, what a sweet ass the woman has. Movement to make the spheres rotate in their orbits. How had I gotten so lucky?

Finishing her circumnavigation of the king sized bed, she lay down demurely and slowly bent her knees and opened her legs. At first, all you can see is bush from top to bottom. But then her cunt lips begin to open as her legs spread to their maximum. She wets the entire middle finger of her left hand and the tip of her right index finger. While staring at my cock, which is now in my hand as I stroke it, she pushes her middle finger into her cunt and starts to stroke under her clit with her index finger. I watch.

"Can you see all right, John?" she asks me. I walk closer to the bed and lean my knees against it.

"I can see just fine for right now. Your hot cunt has my total attention. But soon I want to feel your mouth surrounding my stiff dick. Someday I'd like to come in your mouth but not today. Today I come seven and-a-half inches up inside your cunt. Gobs of come that will drip out of you until day after tomorrow. So that when you rub your clit to orgasm tomorrow, I'll be part of your cream." I looked up to her face, tearing my eyes away from the sight of her masturbating with both hands now, and found that she was concentrating on my every word and sort of nodding as I spoke. Damn, what a woman!

I kneeled on the bed between her legs and looked closely at where her index finger was rubbing. Then I leaned down further and put my tongue at that same spot.

"Ohhh, that's nice.", she said. "Soooo, nice." I lay down to be more comfortable and renewed my attack, both of her hands on my face and head. "Yesssss. Yes, right there. Now suck my clit. Ohhhhhh." I paused for a second to wet my thumb in my mouth and then went right back to her clit. When she felt my thumb start to enter her cunt, she raised her head and looked down at me. Then she said, "Do it. Do it! Do it to meeeeee!" My thumb was now fully up in her and she was fucking herself on it.

Putting my lips around her clit I pushed my tongue against that same spot where the hood of her clit gapes a tiny bit. The volume of her cries went up and her hips thrashed with my thumb firmly embedded in her hole. This time she came for so long that I was surprised at the intensity, considering this was number four in about as many hours. As soon as she calmed down a bit she moved around, turned me over and began to devour my cock. She stroked it with both of her little hands and sucked as much of it as she could into her mouth and made little humming sounds to herself. She was driven. She kissed and licked my balls, went back to my cock, and then just held on to it as she moved around so that her right nipple was hanging just at my mouth, and her mouth latched on to my right nipple. She sucked me and I sucked her. In her position now, I could run both hands all over her entire body from toes to head. I like that and I told her so. After a while she went back to sucking me off, but this time it was obvious she was just getting me real wet.

Moving so that she was straddled my waist, she grabbed my cock in her right hand, pointed it straight up at her pussy, and lowered herself onto me. We watched each others faces as she slowly sank down until she was totally impaled on my cock. What a feeling! I was desperate for her and I felt sure she was going to do whatever it took to satisfy the guy who had been turning her mind and body every way but loose for hours. She raised herself and lowered herself. She twisted her hips as much as she could during each movement. She lay back with her hands on my shins and lifted her snatch until only the head of my cock was still in her, and then her cunt sucked me back into her as she slowly sat back up again. She lay down on my chest with her legs still up beside me and moved only her ass, up and down and back and forth. Jesus! With my hands on her ass I got the double thrill of what she was doing to my cock inside her and how neat it felt when her ass wiggled and jiggled while she was torturing me. Then, just when I was fast approaching a gargantuan orgasm she raised herself up off of me and got on her hands and knees beside me, ass high, shoulders low and said, "It's time for you to come in my cunt, big dick! Do it. Now!"

I got behind her on the bed, licked her one more time from ass hole to clit, and straightened up to stick my dick in her. She was laying with her head turned to her right, watching me, and her left hand went back between her legs to stroke my balls as I moved into her. Going very slowly I pulled almost all of the way out of Tamara, then moved slowly all of the way back in. Over and over. I knew that if I moved too fast I'd come in an instant. But I loved super-slow anyway. You can feel every wrinkle and cranny in a woman's cunt when you slow down. And they like it, too. It's excruciatingly good. But so is fast, sometimes. The way she was concentrating on watching me I knew she was only doing this for me with no intention of being able to come again. But I wanted to try to make her come a fifth time, just because. But whenever I couldn't hold back any longer, whether she was ready again or not, it would be my turn.

I wet my left thumb and started rimming her ass hole lightly, between my strokes. Yes. She liked that. Then I lay down over her ass and back so that I could reach her clit. It was not real comfortable for me, and probably I was heavy on her, but she began moaning more and watching me less. After straightening up again I rimmed her some more, using little touches, fluttery. She was definitely climbing toward orgasm again.

With increased moaning on her part she began rocking her hips by moving her tummy up and down and I couldn't stand any more. With both of my hands on her hips, yanking her onto me hard I told her, "Now is when I ravish your fucking ass!" I picked up the speed of my pumping and gasped, "Your cunt is mine!" I could feel her shaking and hear her saying over and over 'yes' as my come boiled up through my cock. "And Now I'm Going TO FILL YOUR CUNT!!" I yelled as I gushed in her. The pleasure this woman gave me was almost painful. And I was so super-sensitive when I finished coming that I had to hold still in her. She seemed to sense this and also held very still, watching my face. After a short while she pulled herself off of me and spun around. Starting at the base of my balls, she licked and cleaned up all of her girl juice and my come. When she finished she pulled both of us down onto the bed and we hugged each other. wow. I was too tired for a WOW! Or a Wow! All I had left in me was a lowly wow.

By the time I got home I knew I'd been royally trounced by one hell of a woman. I had told her as I was leaving that if I didn't see her again it would be my supreme loss. I think I knew for most of the day that I was sort of a Coming Out Test now that she was putting her life back in order. I hope she does well and that's the truth. And, I'm glad it was me. That's the truth, too. Of course I billed her and she promptly paid by check. Oh, well . . .

Please watch for other stories from me, "The Handyman", "My Precious Neighbor", "Eva", "At Risk With Lena" (3 installments so far) and in August 99, "Lois Wins". I invite your comments & I will respect your e-mail privacy.



The Handyman - and Bethany



"Hey there, I'm James Taylor, your handyman!" The tall man at the door didn't quite look like the James Taylor Bethany remembered. 

"Wait a minute," she thought, "James Taylor died a couple of years ago." 

Seeing the puzzled look on her face, Dan the Handyman said, "Sorry. Bad joke. I'm actually Dan the Handyman. You called me to have a look at some things you might need to have done around the house."

"Right," she replied, remembering she had called for someone to check some things out. "Come on in, I'll show what I need to have done, and you can tell me if you are qualified to do them and of course, how much it will set me back."

"Lead the way, please, and I'll take some notes as we go."

Bethany took him to the basement first. "We had some water damage in here a few months ago, and it's all dried out now, but the baseboards need to be replaced and painted." They moved around the corner into the laundry room. "The dryer seems to not work as well as it used to, and I wonder if the vent is really working."

"Mmmhmm," Dan the Handyman mumbled. He was writing some things down on his notepad, but she couldn't really see it. 

They headed back up the stairs, and Bethany stopped halfway up and turned around. Dan the Handyman's eyes had clearly been on her ass as they ascended the stairs, and slowly rose to meet hers. He started to blush, then consciously pushed the reaction aside. Her heart beat extra hard a couple of times and settled down. "This, uh, handrail, umm, seems to need tightening," she managed to eek out. "Oh my god," she thought, as she turned again and walked up the stairs.

They were standing in the kitchen and Bethany pointed to the light, a double fluorescent job. "I really dislike this harsh fluorescent light, and I'd like a softer, somewhat more ... timeless light fixture installed in its place, one that fits the character of the house."

"Okay," he said, "will there be anything else you'd like to have done?"

"I really want to paint the whole place, at least the inside. I'm pretty good at painting all the flat surfaces, but I'm pretty bad at the corners and cutting in the edges and tight spots. I can't freehand at all, and taping doesn't seem to work for me. It always seeps under the tape."

"Freehand work is my specialty," he said with a sly smile. "Tight spots and hard things don't bother me at all, and I can negotiate the curves and edges pretty easily." 

Bethany wasn't sure at all why she was feeling tingly inside, but every time he spoke it seemed to get worse. She was even having trouble forming thoughts, so distracted was she by something. She shook her head and brought herself back to the present.

"Would you like to get the paint, or shall I do that for you as well? My neighbor manages a paint store, so I know I can get a pretty good deal if you'd like. I even have one of his paint wheels in my truck -- let me just go get that for you."

When the door closed behind Dan the Handyman, Bethany caught her breath. "What the hell?" she wondered, "What is he doing to mesmerize me like that? I had better be careful."

He knocked on the door and pushed it open. "Here is that paint wheel. If you find what you like, I would be happy to get it for you at my cost."

"Great. Thanks. That would help a lot, I guess."

"Oh yea, I get it for about half of retail, so it's a pretty good deal. I should warn you, though. I like to paint topless." He smiled and laughed a bit, and Bethany joined.

"Well, you are welcome to," she replied "but I won't."

They measured the rooms, and figured out how much paint they would need for each room. It seemed pretty straightforward, and Bethany was pleased. "What about me painting the easy parts, you know, the flat stuff, and you just doing the, uh, hard parts?"

"Hmm," he began. "I don't know how I would feel about guaranteeing my work since it would be so entangled with yours. Then again, working side by side with you would certainly have its rewards, so, sure, let's do it. That'd be fine."

"Hmm," she responded. "You know what fine means, right?"

"Fine. Good. Acceptable. Just short of perfect?"

"Nice try, but not even close. Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional."

"Well, then, I guess it would be just short of perfect to work side by side with you painting your place here. I would be working with you, not your husband. Right?"

"He's not too handy -- in any way, so yea, you would be working with me."

"Really? Not handy at all? You're far too beautiful and sensual not to be handled all the time," Dan the Handyman replied. "There's a reason I'm in this business, you know."

"Oh yeah?" was Bethany's rejoinder, "would you care to elaborate?"

"Not really. At least not just yet. But know that I am handy. I am versatile. I am a Jack of all trades."

"Ok then," Bethany sighed, "let's keep going. There are a couple of more things that I need to have done. My bathroom desperately needs an exhaust fan. My dad always called it a 'fart fan,'" she giggled.

Dan broke into a big grin, "Now that's what I'm talking about: a girl who can tell it like it is!"

"And last of all, my rain gutters have never been cleaned out. Do you do that sort of thing?"

"I can," he responded, "but I might have to charge a premium for it. You know that can get pretty grimy and gross -- years and years of buildup and stuff growing and everything like that."

Bethany didn't really know why, but something inside her made her think she would pay him a premium for anything that he did. Instead of saying what she was thinking, she said "I guess we can cross that bridge when we come to it. How soon can you get me an estimate and how soon can you start working?"

"You really do get to the point, so I will too. I'll give you a fixed charge for most of the stuff, and for the rest of it, it'll cost you $30 an hour, and if it takes me longer than I commit to, that's on me. If I finish more quickly, then you'll only pay for actual hours. I'll need to purchase some supplies, which for you I will do on my time. You'd be welcome to come with me if you would like. I can start anytime after I have the supplies, and if you will give me a few minutes, I'll have the numbers for you."

"Sweet," she replied. "Why don't you just have a seat at my table and do your figuring, and then we can talk?"

"That would be perfect," Dan the Handyman replied. "It won't take me long."

He took a seat, laid out a pad of paper, a felt-tip pen and a tape measure. He began doing his calculations, referring occasionally to some pages at the back of the pad. Meanwhile, Bethany went to her cupboard and took out a couple of glasses, then turned to her refrigerator, where she filled them with ice and lemonade. "I hope you like lemonade," she said, placing the glass in front of Dan the Handyman. "I labored over this for hours this morning." She took a seat across the table, sipping her lemonade and looking at him.

"Fabulous. I love lemonade, especially when I know what kind of effort it took to make it," he replied.

Bethany watched him writing, thinking, calculating -- it was so sexy that he did it all in his head, never using a calculator -- checking things out, working through it all step by step. She admired his tanned arms, noticed that his fingernails were clean in spite of his work, inspected the graying at this temples, absorbed the energy she could feel from him, smiled back when he looked up and smiled at her looking at him, and enjoyed being near him and watching him.

"Here you go," he said at last. "I think you will find it complete and sufficiently detailed." He handed a sheet of graph paper filled with her itemized Honey-do list, complete with time estimates and dollar figures.

Bethany scanned it very quickly, then noticed the little line at the bottom, near Dan the Handyman's signature and date that said, "You are a beautiful, sensual woman." She sucked in her breath and said, "Ok, let's go shopping. Your truck or my car?"

"Oh, my truck, of course. We'll need the space, and it's actually clean enough for a lady to ride in!"

The next two hours passed in an instant, purchasing supplies, making choices, laughing, teasing and flirting as if they had known each other forever. By the time they were finished, Bethany was totally taken in by this friendly, gentle, strong handyman. Somewhere between the paint counter and the lumber department, she had decided that when Dan the Handyman painted, she would be painting too.

They had climbed back into his truck with the needed supplies, and Bethany was feeling just a little bit adventurous, a little courageous, maybe intoxicated. "So do you ever accept nature's credit card for your services?" she bravely asked.

"Nature's credit card?" he asked too innocently.

"Yea. You know what I'm talking about."

"Uh, I don't think I do," he insisted. "Maybe you could explain it to this dullard of a handyman, if you would. Please."

They stopped for a red light, and Bethany scooted over a little closer to Dan the Handyman. She put her hand on his crotch and said, "It's when I do some fun, adult things to you instead of giving you money for your services."

He smiled so wide it hurt his face. "Oh, I see," said and began laughing. Bethany realized he had been pulling her leg and slugged his arm. "You bastard!" They both laughed hard, and Dan the Handyman started driving again when he heard the car behind him honk.

He took her hand in his and said, "I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"We're at the bridge, pal. Yes or no?"

"Hell yes!"

* * * * *

Dan the Handyman had just finished cutting in the top edge of the living room with the new paint when Bethany walked into the room. He had started sweating and had taken off his shirt just as he had threatened. He turned to look at Bethany and saw that she was wearing a pair of bib overall shorts with no shirt. She was still partially covered, but she even so was showing a lot!

"Nice outfit," he called out. "It looks good on you."

She just smiled and poured some paint into the roller tray. "You had better hustle or I'll catch up with you."

By the time she was ready to roll some paint, he had finished the side and was working along the top of the baseboard. He was moving quickly, and told her to go ahead and start. As he completed the baseboard, she was about halfway across the wall. "Perfect timing he thought. We'll finish just about together."

Just then Dan the Handyman looked at Bethany, and she looked back at him, then reached up and undid the straps holding the bib of her overalls up. He sucked in his breath sharply as her breasts sprang into view. "Oh my god, they are beautiful!" he said without thinking.

"Thank you, I know," she replied smiling. Dan the Handyman's hard-on was obvious, and she watched him adjust. "I hope that doesn't impede your ability to paint." 

"I'm ok," he said breathlessly, "I'm good." He started on the vertical edge of the wall, and looked at Bethany after almost every brushstroke. He had slowed considerably. Bethany continued to work and was shoulder to shoulder with him as they both worked to finish in the same corner of the wall. She brushed against his bare arm and back with her bare breasts, and the sexual tension grew even stronger.

"Pardon me," she said, leaning her chest against his. "This must be one of the hazards of painting topless."

Dan the Handyman gently turned her back to the wall, and holding the roller with her, finished the last part of the wall. They dropped the roller and his brush onto the drop cloth and embraced. He kissed her lips, and she could feel his cock grind into her tummy. Her pussy was so wet it had begun running from her panty-less crotch and down her leg. "Oh god, feel how wet I am," she said. He put his hand between her legs, and could feel her wetness. Bethany's pussy made squishy noises as he pushed his fingers into then pulled them out of her pussy. 

Dan the Handyman gently laid her down on the drop cloth and slid her bib overall shorts the rest of the way off. She lay there naked, perfect tits and shaved pussy totally exposed as Dan the Handyman picked up the still-wet paint roller. He pressed it against her manicured toenails and slowly rolled it upward -- up her foot and ankle, then up her leg to the knee. He paused and enjoyed the shocked look on her face, and continued upward. He rolled the paint up her thigh to her waist, then down the outside of her thigh back to the knee, then up the inside of her thigh, across her pussy and down the inside of her other leg.

He covered her pussy and tummy and tits well, and rolled her neck and arms, all in total silence. Neither spoke nor made any kind of noise. When he finished, Dan the Handyman tossed the roller aside and then took off his clothes and tossed them aside as well. He extended his hands to Bethany. She took them, and he pulled her to himself. 

"Looks like Bethany is a dirty little girl. A nice match for this dirty old man! Now let's get you into the shower and all cleaned up." He led her into the bathroom and she turned on the water for a shower. 

When the water was just right, they both stepped in and began hugging and groping each other. Dan the Handyman held Bethany close and kissed her deeply. Their tongues engaged and danced together. His cock was hard and pressed into her soft tummy. She put her hands on his ass and pulled him closer. Finally she broke the kiss and breathed deeply, almost gasping. 

Without speaking, Dan the Handyman took a washcloth and lathered it up, and began cleaning Bethany. Again, he started at her feet, carefully cleaning every inch, between her toes and all over her foot. He did the same with her other foot, and rinsed both feet clean. He lifted her foot and took her toes into his mouth. He sucked on her big toe, and then on each one successively. He nibbled and sucked, and massaged her foot as he did. Bethany bit her lip not to scream in pleasure. Dan the Handyman kissed her foot, licked and sucked on her instep and across the top of it. He explored it all, kissed it all, worshipped it all, fondled it all, both feet. 

He kissed her mouth again, deeply yet softly, and lathered up the washcloth again. He started at her ankles, carefully washing the paint off. He massaged her lovely calves as he washed, then shaved her lower legs before rinsing off the soap. He kissed then too, with his lips and his tongue, savoring the smoothness and firmness. 

Once again, he kissed her, tasted her tongue and her mouth, explored her with his tongue, then turned to washing her clean. He washed one thigh and then the other, and shaved them both. He washed her ass, and massaged it as he did. Then he took the razor and shaved her pussy. She trembled as he did, as no man had ever attempted that before and she didn't dare trust him. Yet she allowed it, wordless while she wanted to scream in pleasure.

Dan the Handyman took the soap once again, and began cleaning and massaging Bethany's asshole. He pressed his finger against it, and felt her stiffen, then begin to relax. She spread her butt cheeks, and he pressed just a little more, and his finger slipped inside her asshole. He worked it around, and slid it in and out, washing her perfect little bunghole. He finger fucked it for a few minutes, then turned his attention to her pussy.

It was already shaved, and now it was freshly smoothed out. He kissed her pussy lips, the French kissed her pussy. His tongue opened her pussy, and he tasted her juices. He licked her cunt, licked up to her clit and back. She was hard and aroused. He was hard and aroused. His face was buried in her pussy, and he could feel her hands on the back of his head, pressing his face into her. He finally broke away, stood once again, and kissed her. She tasted her own sex on his lips and tongue, faintly sweet, musky and salty. Nice. They kissed, and when he broke the kiss, she knew what was coming.

With a freshly lathered up washcloth, Dan the Handyman washed Bethany's tummy, and then moved to her breasts. In almost worshipful fashion, Dan the Handyman rubbed up, over, around, on, under, and every other direction, her tits. Her nipples hardened again, and gently he cleaned the paint off of them. He washed her neck and arms, and she was completely clean. 

Smiling at Bethany, he lowered his lips to her left nipple and began to suck. He kissed and he nibbled and he sucked. He tasted and he bit and he pulled. He drank her in. He worshipped at the Temple to the Breast. He touched and took her tits in every possible way. And just when Bethany thought she couldn't take any more, he pulled away and turned her around. Dan the Handyman bent her over, and without any warning, buried his cock in her pussy. She braced herself against the shower wall and he fucked her.

Dan the Handyman was a powerful man, and she felt all of his power as he stroked her pussy, pounding her again and again, pulling out and then going balls deep. He fucked her till it took her breath away, then kept on fucking her. He reached around her and rubbed her clit as they fucked, and in seconds she began cumming. It was the first orgasm of her life, and it hit her like a sledge hammer. 

Bethany's pussy clenched and squeezed. Her body tensed up and relaxed and tensed and relaxed as waves of pleasure rolled through her body. As the last bit of orgasm coursed through her, Dan the Handyman came, and his hot jet of cum spurted deep into her cunt. Four times he thrust hard and shot more cum, then he thrust with slower, shorter strokes as his climax faded. 

Dan the Handyman sat down in the tub, and Bethany sat on his lap, taking his cock into her once again. She caressed his balls, and gently played with them. She took the soap and washcloth and washed them ever so gently. 

They rested a bit, enjoying the water running over them. At last Bethany stood, and began washing Dan the Handyman all over. She paid special attention to his asshole, and with a gleam in her eye, she said, "Oh, trust me. You're going to love what I'm going to do to you." 



The Handyman and the Ceiling Fan



Installing a ceiling fan is something I suppose that I could have done myself, but after I passed 60 I've discovered that getting up on ladders doesn't have the appeal that it once did, so with that in mind I decided to let a professional do it this time. 

When the man arrived last Tuesday morning, I was positive that I had made the right decision, because the guy the outfit sent was a gorgeous specimen of manhood. Not only did he have a ruggedly handsome face with long dirty blond hair and an engaging smile, but he had a body that looked chiseled under a blue work shirt with cutoff sleeves that exposed all of his massive biceps.

I figure he was probably in his mid 20's, and for a brief second I thought to myself that maybe thirty years ago I looked a lot like him, and then quickly dismissed it because while I did have dirty blonde hair and briefly fooled around with weights, that was where the similarities ended.

My handyman, whose name was Jesse, was about 6' tall and maybe 200 pounds, and it didn't look like any of it was fat. The man's arms were huge, with biceps the size of my thighs these days, and while he played around up on the stepladder I volunteered my services so he didn't have to keep getting up and down the ladder.

"My pleasure," I told Jesse after he thanked me for my offer of assistance, and it truly was pleasure for me getting to stand close to the hunk while he played around with the wiring above his head.

This gave me a perfect view of the muscles in his arms bulging as he reached and contorted. Even his armpits had muscles, I noted while watching the tendons ripple under the delightful spray of golden hair that sprouted from the deep pockets of his armpits, and even though he caught me staring at him a few times it was worth the risk.

I could always pull the old Uncle Leo routine from Seinfeld, insisting, "But I'm an old man," as a reason for my behavior, but he didn't say a word as I observed, and while I'm sure it was my imagination in thinking that he was taking his time up there on the step ladder, that was fine by me because I wasn't paying by the hour.

So I engaged in idle chatter with Jesse while looking him over as we stood so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body and could inhale his manly aroma. Not a sweaty scent, although he was working up a little moisture, because odor would have done nothing for me. but a rich fragrance of some subtle body spray along with his natural nectar.

It was around the time that I was staring at his legs after handing Jesse some electrical tape - and since he was wearing khaki shorts that made it all the better - the muscularity of his calves, dusted with more of that sparkling golden fur, suggested he spent a lot of time biking.

Anyway, at that point Jesse mentioned that I looked a little familiar to him, and while I had thought the same thing at first when I saw him and had dismissed it, I asked him whether he went to the track at all.

"I do, but that isn't where I remember seeing you," Jesse said, and after a moment's pause he asked, "You ever go to The Bunkhouse?"

After Jesse said that, I nearly dropped the glass globe I had been holding for him, because when he mentioned The Bunkhouse, we both suddenly knew each other very well. You see, while the bar has good chicken wings and a dandy selection of micro-brews, guys don't go there for that. Guys go there for guys, and while at my age I'm not a regular, I've been there on more than a few occasions, even if I was more of a spectator these days.

"I have from time to time," I replied after swallowing hard. "Seems I would have remembered seeing someone like you though."

Even though I would have immediately dismissed a guy like Jesse as being out of my league at The Bunkhouse, that wouldn't have stopped me from looking, but Jesse explained that he had been in a relationship for a while that had recently ended, but had gone there in the somewhat distant past.

What I would give to be 29 instead of in my sixties, I thought to myself while watching Jesse finish up, because while I had been a guy that liked older men when I was Jesse's age and younger, I could tell he likely wasn't that way, so I was left to fantasize while he wrapped up the job.

"Nice work," I told Jesse after he climbed down from the ladder, and after he gathered all his things together and gave me the invoice to sign, I told him that I would like to give him something for his time.

"Sorry, I appreciate it but I'm not allowed to accept gratuities," Jesse said, but then he mentioned that if we ran into each other at The Bunkhouse, I could buy him a drink if I wanted.

"Be glad to," I said, and for some reason I kept talking.

Maybe it's my advancing age, or perhaps I'm just weary of always having been the guy to hold my tongue instead of coming right out at saying what's on my mind, but anyway, I figured there was no harm in trying.

"I know you've got a bunch of other stops to make," I said as I handed him the signed invoice back, and hoped that he didn't noticed my somewhat shaky hand when I continued, "But I'd like to give you something - something you don't have to report to the IRS."

I then proceeded to tell him exactly what I wanted to give him. It was a toss-up as to who was more surprised when the words came out of my mouth, me or Jesse, but thankfully after he recovered from what I said, a little smile formed on his lips.

"I understand completely, if you'd rather..." I started to say, but he shook his head and stopped me.

"No no," Jesse said, the smile growing wide across his face, but instead of being merciful in declining my rather blunt offer, he surprised me by saying, "It's just that - frankly nobody has ever come right out and said that before."

"Guess I'm getting bold in my old age," I said, reaching over and putting my hand on the rock-hard bicep I had been ogling since we met. "I have been pretty much mentally undressing you since you got here, in case you didn't notice."

"I noticed," Jesse said, clenching his hand so the muscle I had been stroking bulged even larger. 

"Glad you didn't mind."

"It's why I spend all that time in the gym," Jesse admitted. "Guess I get off on being looked at."

You must get off a lot, I thought to myself, because the way you look, there's no crime in being a bit narcissistic, but he really hadn't given me an answer.

"I'll be quick," I said, returning to the question, and Jesse's answer was to unhook his cell phone from his belt and lean back against the kitchen counter.

"Not TOO quick," he smiled, those pearly whites breaking my heart like they probably had countless others along the way. "Not expected back at the office until 11."

That gave us less than a half hour to do what I had offered to do a minute ago, which was to suck his cock like it had never been sucked before. Big talk, but I was so charged up I was ready to at least try to give him something to remember me by.

I undid his brown leather belt and undid the button on the top of his shorts but then stopped after they slid to his ankles, because I had been wanting to do something all along, and there was no time like the present.

Jesse didn't flinch when I grabbed his left wrist and raised his hand up behind his head, and when he didn't even blink when I leaned over and sunk my teeth gently into his bulging bicep, I threw caution to the winds and nibbled my way down and hoped that Jesse was an open-minded guy with sensitive underarms.

The intense heat emanating from his exposed armpit greeted my senses just before my mouth reached the deep pocket, and as the luscious aroma of body oil, musk and man filled my nostrils I let my tongue slid all over the moist spray of hair.

I felt Jesse's right hand grab the back of my thinning scalp, freezing me for a second before I realized he was holding my head right where it was, groaning as I nibbled and licked his armpit like the animal I felt I had become while squeezing his bicep.

My hand slid down and found the bulge in his underwear, and was happy that the bulge was not only as sizable as I had expected, it was growing under the oral attack of his armpit, so I slid down to my knees as gracefully as I could manage.

Jesse's thighs were huge and muscular, and the light dusting of golden down on them sparkled in the sunlight as I slid my hands along the rippled muscles before reaching up to grab the elastic of his underwear to free his arching manhood.

It was no surprise to see that Jesse's cock was every bit as sculpted as the rest of him as I dodged away from his manhood as it sprang free from the cotton pouch. Big, but not absurdly so, the cut tool was a perfect thickness, and I grabbed the root of his stiff seven inches with my right hand so I could lick the mushroom-shaped glans while my left hand cupped a weighty pair of balls that would have looked perfect on a bull.

The sound of Jesse groaning as my lips slid down the length of his member was music to my ears, and after a couple of trips down his cock I was able to take almost all of him in. I realized that in my excitement I was really squeezing and twisting his balls hard, but he seemed to be enjoying it so I didn't stop.

Torn between wanting this to last until my jaws locked up and understanding that Jesse had to get back to work soon, I tried to strike a happy balance. Teasing him with my tongue in between deepthroating him until the tip of his dick hit my throat, I think I was making an impression, judging by the way Jesse was running his fingers through my scalp in between grabbing my head hard.

His pre-cum tasted like cream as I flicked at the tender opening, enjoying the sight of the tiny tuft of golden curls above his muscled member, trimmed so I could see the network of veins at the base of his thick shaft, and that tongue play made his sap trickle out even faster.

I lapped at his over-sized ball sac, unable to open my mouth wide enough to take either of them in very well, before deciding that Jesse needed to cum, and I needed to taste his load, so I went to work for real.

My lips slid up and down his cock intensely, while from above I heard Jesse warn me about something that I knew was happening the way his tool throbbed in my mouth, and then he came, my hands grabbing his tight ass as he popped his load.

I gasped but didn't choke as he erupted, sending what felt like an absurd amount of warm seed down my throat, and after weathering the initial blasts I found myself trying to suck him dry while trying to swallow his deflating cock, with my fingers digging into his tight buttocks to keep him close.

Jesse reached down and grabbed my under my arms, lifting me up and embracing me while I returned the hug and caught my breath.

"You okay?" Jesse asked, and I could see a faint reflection of my face in the window, my complexion ruddy and sweaty, but I never felt better.

"I'm great," I assured him.

"I'll say," Jesse said, looking a bit flushed himself as he pulled up his briefs and shorts. "That was - I'm speechless. Thank you, man. That was..."

"My pleasure," I said as his goodies disappeared from view.

"Really gotta go," Jesse said. 

"I know," I said. 

"If I ever see you at The Bunkhouse, we'll have a drink," Jesse said before leaving, and we left it at that.

After getting a drink of water, enjoying the sweet taste of Jesse's cum before washing it away, I went to bed. Not tired, but there was something that I needed to take care of.

In a perfect world, Jesse would have had the interest and the time to reciprocate, but I understood. Looking at my weathered body in the mirror after undressing, I could realize why I would have little appeal for a hunk like Jesse. Even though I'm in decent shape for a guy my age, I'm still a guy my age.

The only part of me that didn't look my age was my cock, which was throbbing as it stuck out in front of me, and while it wasn't as impressive a package at my handyman's was, it was as hard as it had been in years.

I climbed onto the bed on my back and began stroking my cock while replaying the morning in my mind, and as my hand slid up and down my cock, I pretended that it was Jesse. It worked good too, because even though I was trying to delay cumming, I knew I couldn't last

Then the doorbell rang.

"Shit!" I had been so close, and while I was tempted to get myself off and ignore the bell, when it rang again I stopped and put a robe on. Every step of the way to the door I kept telling myself that if it was some kid selling magazines or some religious group handing out crap, I shouldn't do what I wanted to do, which was to kill them.

I peeked out the curtains, and saw it was Jesse. That was different, so I opened the door for him.

"Forget something?" I asked as I let him in, and I was a little embarrassed when I saw Jesse look at me in my bathrobe, knowing what he might be thinking.

"Yeah," Jesse said. "What you - we did. I couldn't just - you know?"

I didn't know, but seeing the Adonis looking awkward and shy was touching.

"I was brought up better than that," he said with a toothy grin. "Can't just cum and go, you know?"

"Hmm," Jesse said, smiling wider as he reached down and parted the bottom of my robe. "Guess I caught you at a bad time."

"Actually," I admitted, feeling a bit of pride at the sight up my cock pointing toward Jesse and him not laughing but just looking. "It was about to be a good time."

"Maybe I can make it even better," Jesse said before he knelt down while mentioning that he didn't get a break yet this morning before, and then his mouth took in my cock.

"OMIGOD!" I groaned, falling back against the wall while he inhaled my erection.

Seeing those golden locks bobbing down in front of me was erotic enough, but feeling Jesse suck my cock hard while twisting my sac like I had done his, made me realize that this would not last nearly long for me.

I was right about that, but it was one of the great minutes of my life, and when I came, I came so hard that I was hanging onto my young friend while grateful for the wall that was holding me up from behind.

After Jesse had drained me and gotten back to his feet, he asked me if I was alright again. This time he asked because I was tearing up a bit, but I nodded as I brushed the lone tear off of my cheek.

"Thank you," I said. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know," Jesse said. "I wanted to."

"That's what made it special," I told him, and then we hugged again while I reveled in the comforting feeling of his strong embrace.

"And I meant that about a drink sometime," Jesse said before leaving, and I told him I believed him.

It didn't mean that we were running to the altar or anything, but if it meant that some night if he was feeling lonely and ended up at the same gin-mill, we could exchange affection like this again, you can be sure that I was all for it.

And if we never run into each other at The Bunkhouse, I've still got a number of things that need doing around the house.

...

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