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Handyman Hank

By: thecarolinadreamer



Authors note: Since my retirement, I have met regularly for breakfast and gossip with a group of men in the real life Jones Corner. One of these, a road construction straw boss, working the Charleston-Monks Corner area, likes to regale us with tales of his exploits with the women he met over the years. Between him and the undeniable town stud, they got me interested in telling their tales in fiction. All names have been changed, and of course, almost every detail related here is pure fiction, but rest assured there may or may not have been a real life situation that parallels this story.

As always your comments are solicited and I assure you I will consider every constructive suggestion or comment. To you anonymous folks who just want to say, "You're a dumb shit that can't write," save your time; I know that already.

Remember—from this point on Handyman Hank, not The Carolina Dreamer is talking. 

*

I'm retired now, with nothing to do but scout around on the internet, so when I ran across this site called Literotica, I knew I hit the jackpot. They had thousands of stories about sex, and the loving wives category became my favorite. I'd spend hours in front of the monitor, mostly reading about wives humiliating their husbands with men with giant sized cocks.

Now I can't write for shucks, and what I don't know about, what they call grammar would fill several books, but I just couldn't stand to read this crap and not try to set the record straight, so I decided to write a story that tells it the way things really were, up until I slowed down a few years back.

You might wonder what makes me such an expert on the subject. My answer would be that I served for four years on Marine bases where the showers consisted of one big room with nozzles all around. They accommodated an entire platoon, over sixty men, at one time. Therefore, I have seen a lot of cocks, and know that most are average sized. (That's why they call it average.) Yes, there are some that resemble a stick of salami, but they are few and far between.

Add to that the fact I've fucked more women than most men have whacked off thinking about, and I'm going to claim to be an expert. My account of my experiences won't include any of this shit about men licking other men's cum out of their wives cunts, or anyone trying to humiliate husbands, cause that just don't happen in this neck of the woods. In my world, that stuff would get you a quick trip to hell.

So anyway, I'm going to give you a little background, then tell you about the first married woman I got after I got out of service and opened my shop. If you like my story, I got lots of others I can tell you about. I kind of hope you like em, cause I ain't got nothing else to do—might as well write.

Momma named me Henry Harvey Hawkins. I've always wondered what she had against her little boy. Somehow, I lucked out early in life when my first grade teacher took one look at me and called me her handsome little boy. Then she checked my registration card and shook her head.

"Tell you what, son." She said, "In my room, you'll be my little Handsome Hank." Somehow, over the years, the name stuck. Of course, after I got up a few years, and beat the crap out of several boys who called me that, it got shortened to Hank. After the tenth grade, I never again heard a boy call me Handsome Hank, but every once in a while, when they thought I couldn't hear them, a girl would say something about how handsome I was. For some reason, that didn't bother me.

I was in the tenth grade when I discovered girls were different from boys—a lot different—thank God. With the help of Daddy's old Fifty Five Chevy, with that big wide bench seat up front, and drive-in movies, I really explored those differences—I mean REALLY EXPLORED them.

Besides women thinking I was attractive, I had one more asset; I could fix just about anything. Anything from a leaky faucet to a kitchen appliance to a washing machine or a TV, you name it, I could fix it. When I opened up a shop after returning from the Marines and called it Handyman Hank's, nobody was surprised. I added cold beer and roasted peanuts, and my shop became the local hangout for all the old retired men—men who loved to eat peanuts, drink beer and cokes and gossip. The salted peanuts were free, but the drinks to quench the thirst they caused, were not. They put a good chunk of change in my register, and the gossip gave me a lot of leads about needy pussy around town. They got to be so regular that folks around town called them Hank's Crew, or just The Crew for short.

I remember it just like it was yesterday, which is strange, since I can't remember what the heck I had for supper last night.

*****

"Handyman Hank's, how can I help you?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded young and sexy. She was noticeably upset, almost in tears. She said she had water all over her washroom floor. I assured her I'd be there in a jiffy, if she'd give me her name and address.

"Uh huh," I said jotting down the information. "Becky T-y-l-o-r, or is it T-a-y-l-o-r?" She assured me it was Tylor and gave me her address and I hung up to get ready.

"Hey Hank! Did'ja just say Becky Tylor needed help?" Old Joe was probably the oldest of the crew. Almost any day from ten till two, the almost toothless, gray haired old man dressed in an old washed out pair of overalls, usually with the side buttons undone, could be found holding down the end of a bench just inside my shop. That bench, along with two others on each side of my long narrow shop, formed a U where the crew could easily swap lies and drink beer or cokes, both of which were within easy reach.

"Yeah, that's who she said she was. Why?"

"You betta watch out fer that little gal." Joe's speech reflected his years spent as a farmhand in the Carolina Low-Country. About the only thing he had to show for his hard work, were six daughters and over a dozen grandkids; every one of them lived within a half mile of Joe's place and all spoiled him something awful. Sometimes I thought he came to Hank's just to get away from the chattering women. Because of them, Joe was a goldmine of information about what went on in town.

"What are you talking about, Joe?"

"My Bessie claims little Miss Becky done got a poison pen letter about her husband, you know he's in the army, don't cha? Well he's fuck'n round with some German gal. Bessie says that little gal fit ta be tied. Said she was in her beauty shop rais'n hell bout how she's gonna get even."

"No man, you can't be right," Andy Atkins, at sixty two, the youngest of the old guys spoke up. "Man, they were only married three weeks before he shipped out. Why that little gal hasn't been broken in yet."

"Don't know bout dat. All I knows is what my Bessie says, and frum the was she talking, Hank better take some rubbers if he go'in dere."

I had to laugh at the discussion that followed. Would she or wouldn't she? Three old farts, who would never have a chance to find out, were about to come to blows over sweet little Becky's morals. I didn't know the lady myself, but I must admit, they had me interested in meeting her. By the way, I stopped by the drug store on my way to Miss Becky's place.

The neat little white cottage was, surrounded by pecan trees, on a lot bordered on all sides by shrubs over six feet high. A circular drive entered and exited through the shrubs, so a car parked directly in front of the house was protected from the curious eyes of any neighbors.

The pretty little brunette, who answered the door, literally pulled me to the washroom.

"See," she was almost crying, as she pointed to the water covering the floor. "How am I going to clean that up—will it ruin the floor? I hope it won't be expensive to fix."

I assured her we'd get everything under control, and sent her to get a bucket and a mop, while I turned the water off and the washer on its side, so I could get to the offending water hose. It was just a clamp that had worked loose; by the time she returned with the bucket and mop, I could assure her she wouldn't have to mortgage the place to pay for it.

I had to give that girl credit, for a young woman who couldn't have weighed over one-twenty soaking wet, she wasn't afraid to work. She hopped right to swinging that swab, as we called them in the Marines, and trying to pick up the water. The problem was, her hands were too little to properly wring out the water. I always come prepared for anything and my step van just happened to have a mop so I retrieved it to lend a hand. 

"Here, let me," She was bent over trying to wring the mop. I leaned over her, reached around her petite body, and using my, bigger than average, hands I did a proper job of getting her mop ready for another go at picking up water. Now before you say anything—yes I know that isn't a very effective way of wringing a mop—it is, however a very good way of pressing a soft feminine body against my manly physique, without getting slapped.

"Thanks, but I can manage." I noticed, for the first time, she had a slight speech defect and her face was full of freckles, which showed up more because she was blushing. I guess she did feel my hard shaft after all, since I noticed after she moved away she looked down to check it out. It took both of us almost an hour before we got all the water up and had a floor fan trying to finish the drying job. By that time we were both sweaty.

"Can I offer you something cold?" Her voice was low and the speech problem seemed to make it sexier. I noticed, for the first time, how attractive my customer really was. Dressed in a tank top with Clemson logo and wearing a pair of thin purple shorts to match, she somehow reminded me of Tinker Bell, of Peter Pan fame. Even if I hadn't been on a long dry spell, this woman/girl would have turned me on. As it was, I just had to make a play.

"Got any beer?"

"Afraid not, the only alcohol I have is wine. Would you like that?"

"Only if you'll join me." I'm not normally a wine drinker, but if I could get her to have a few, I thought it would help my cause. That's how we come to be sitting around her patio table, enjoying the sweet smell of wisteria blossoms and listening to the Blue Jays scolding a squirrel high in a pecan tree, while we chatted and sipped wine.

I noticed she kept twisting and working her back and shoulders. "Uh-huh," I thought, "Not used to doing a lot of mopping. Bet she has a woman come in every so often for the dirty work." I still say that was a game little woman—one I very much wanted to play games with.

After our second glass I wasn't affected much, but I noticed she was giggling a lot more; when I'd tell a little off color joke, instead of just a polite smile, like when we first started, she laughed like she really enjoyed it. After the third glass, her face was a little flushed and she was still squirming like her shoulder muscles were hurting. That's when I got a brilliant idea.

"Let's see if I can help those sore muscles." Without waiting for an answer, I moved behind her chair and started gently kneading her shoulders.

"That's okay." She sat forward in her chair; I could see she was nervous about me touching her, but I also knew how my big hands could cover a woman's entire back and relax sore muscles. I ignored her protest and she gave up and gave in to the pleasure of the rubdown. Of course, if I had her face down on that lounge chair—the one over to our right, she'd be enjoying it a lot more. I considered trying to get her there before deciding I better keep things super slow.As I massaged her back it seemed I could see her come unglued at the joints.

"That feels sooo gooood," she moaned, sliding forward in her chair, allowing me to include her entire back. "Don't," she protested weakly, when my hands roamed from her waist back to her shoulder, my fingertips brushing the side of her soft breast in the process.

I stayed away from her breast for a few minutes, while I concentrated on working the bare skin, by slipping my hands under her tank top. Her expression of pleasure became more vocal, and she didn't protest when I said, "Here, let's get this thing unhooked so I can get under it properly." I deftly un-hooked her bra and started rubbing out the impressions it left on her back.

While I was rubbing the kinks out, she had finished the rest of the bottle, and was clearly throwing away her inhibitions. Instead of jumping up and slapping my face, when I finally cupped her breast, she sort of shivered, reminding me of a bird I once picked up, when it tried to fly too soon and landed on the ground in cat territory. The little bird had just crouched in my hand, shaking and scared to death, until I placed it back in the nest.

Becky was about the same way; she just sat real still, her breathing getting a little faster, her body shuddering each time I gently rolled her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. I bent to nibble her earlobe and she stood, pulling me around to her front. Standing face to face, I caught around her and pulled her hard against my body.

Now I'm not going to bother lying to you about what a big cock I had. It was normal, just a shade over six inches,(hell yes, I had measured it in a moment of curiosity), but it was hard enough to poke a hole in a mattress, and right then it was poking that little girl's stomach, almost to her belly button; we were that much different in height.

Now that we were belly to belly, I took her face between both hands. Then I looked deeply into those bright, baby blue eyes and smiled, hoping to relieve her doubts. She looked scared to death and like a woman in heat, all at the same time; kind of yes I will, no I won't, if you know what I mean. Hell, you do know what I mean—just think about the time you looked at that new outboard motor, wanting it so bad you could taste it—knowing all the while that if you bought it, your wife would be pissed enough cut you off for a week, or until she got really horny again. Well,little Becky looked just like she was in that predicament.

I knew I still had to move slow as slow if I didn't want to lose her. Good thing I'm a man who thinks getting there is as much fun as being there. I pulled her face close to mine, then starting at the tip of her nose; I planted little nippy kisses over her face, her ear lobes and down her neck. I found the ear lobes seemed to get the greatest reaction, so I returned to them, kissing and nibbling until I could feel her body change; it became more pliable, more receptive, and when I shifted my kisses back to her lips, she didn't just let me kiss her, she kissed me. I mean those sweet lips parted beneath my tongue's insistent probing, and when her tongue slipped into my mouth to rub against my own, I got so hard, I think you could hit my cock with a hammer and break the hammer.

We still hadn't uttered a word. At times like this, a woman and a man have a language of their own, a language made up of sighs, grunts, and moans. I managed to get one hand on her perky little tits, shifting from one to the other. Both nipples were like little marbles, and as I played with them I could feel the aureoles swelling and getting goose bumps.

"Kiss them," she moaned, pulling her mouth away from mine. I would have loved to, but the difference in our heights made it impossible to kiss her tits and still hold my cock against her; the way she was writhing against it, made me think she really didn't want my cock to stop probing stomach and I was sure I didn't either.

My being a strong man and her being such a little woman solved the problem. I grasp her butt with both hands and lifted, while she wrapped her legs around my waist. That made us a perfect fit; now my cock was pressing into her crotch, with nothing between us but her shorts and panties, and I could bend my head just enough to reach her nipple with my mouth.

"Yessss—Oooooooh, yesssss, Hank, That's soooo good. She kept up a constant flow of groans and moans of sweet nothings that were music to my ears. Maybe it's just me, but I love to hear my woman letting me know when I'm doing it right. Sweet Becky had no problems in that department. 

Things were getting too hot; something had to be done.

"Hold on tight," I said and she wrapped her arms tightly around my neck, while I carried her back through the open patio doors, and deposited her on a nearby sofa. I looked down at her, just lying there, studying my body as I slowly removed my clothes one agonizing piece at a time. I knew I was teasing her, but the look of pure wanton lust on her face as she watched my shorts fall to the floor, was worth the self-restraint it took not to rip the rest of her clothes off and bury my cock in her pussy. That and the anticipation of the many future episodes that might be available, if I didn't scare her away, stayed my hand.

Who knew how much longer her husband would be deployed, and she would only get hornier and hornier. Somebody was going to enjoy this pussy and it might as well be me. When she gingerly reached out and ran her fingers along the length of my shaft, while her tongue flicked over her lips, I knew my chances were good. I waited while she explored my length until she seemed satisfied and lay back fully reclined.

I caught her shorts at the waistband and started to tug them off. She immediately lifted her hips to help. Instead of jerking them down quickly, like some men would do, I slipped them down slowly, one tantalizing inch at the time while she remained arched upward, seemingly enjoying my obvious pleasure at unveiling her hot body. First the soft skin just above hair covered vee, then the thick curly bush, and on past to present the puffy labia for my inspection. At that point, she relaxed her torso and lifted her legs for me to finish the job.

Someplace along the way, her top had disappeared, so now she lay before me in all her splendor. As I took in her beauty I remember thinking about what a fool her husband was to fuck around on her. Still I mentally thanked him for his foolishness; without it, she would never have allowed me to be here now, I thought.

I expected her to kiss my cock, but she didn't, I later learned she was so naive, she thought her girlfriends were joking when they talked of such things. She released me and spread her legs wide, the look on her face told me she was still unsure she should cheat on her husband like this, but it also reflected the desires of a very lonely sexy woman.

"What are you doing?" she asked, when I lifted one leg to the back of the sofa and then placed the other foot on the floor. "Oh my," she moaned after I got my face between them and started kissing the inside of her thigh, worked my way up to her lower stomach and back down the other thigh. "That's good—so good," she said, when I started up the other thigh again.

"Oh my god, what are you doing? Ooooh—Oooooh! That's good!" I had reached my target. Parting the hair with my thumbs I kissed the outside of her labia, then pulling the lips apart slightly, I saw she was very wet, the inside walls glistened from her juices and her musky, womanly smell was too much for me to resist any longer.

She jumped like she was shocked when I ran my tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top and then explored the inside of her cunt. Finding the little hooded clit, I teased it until it reached the size of a pencil eraser and she had her hands wrapped in my hair, pulling me so tight to her pussy, I had to fight to breathe and continue pleasuring her. All this time she was muttering all kinds of gibberish, but every time I pulled back for a breath, she yelled out, "No, don't stop now!" She had nothing to worry about; you couldn't have pulled me from between her legs with a John Deere tractor.

I was afraid to make her cum with my tongue, afraid she might have second thoughts after her first passion was satisfied, so I grabbed up my shirt to wipe her juices from my face started to shift position.


Handyman Hank Ch. 02



Author's Note: This story includes a cheating wife, but no husband humiliation. It is mostly a work of fiction. The readers will enjoy this story more if they read my HANDYMAN HANK story first. I set up some background there that is not repeated here. I hope you enjoy it and as always, your comments are welcomed. 

Chapter 02 (Miss Peggy) 

"What'cha working on, Hank?" For some reason Old Joe was the first of The Crew to arrive today. The first thing he did was grab a handful of salted, roasted peanuts and a twelve ounce coke, throw some money in the bucket left for that purpose, and make his way back to my workbench. 

"Miss Peggy's old RCA." I had to nudge him back before he stuck his hand on something he shouldn't have. Last week, Steve, another of The Crew, had asked, "What's this?" and before I could stop him, he grabbed the anode lead to a twenty five inch color set. He had grabbed it fast, but he turned it loose a lot faster. It doesn't usually take a fellow long to inspect a twenty seven thousand volt lead, especially one with cracked insulation on a damp morning. The damn thing was crackling and arcing, but I guess Steve didn't know what that meant. Obviously, neither he nor Old Joe knew what a sign saying, "No customers beyond this point," meant either.

"Hell, boy, I ain't no customer." Joe said when I pointed the sign out.

"Well, at least stand back so you don't get hurt." He complied with that, but he didn't shut up, and since I was doing some very tedious troubleshooting in the color section, I finally gave up. "Come on Joe." I nudged him back toward the front. "I need a break anyway; we might as well talk until some of the other guys get here." I grabbed a handful of peanuts, a coke, and joined him on his favorite bench, the one under the picture window up front.

"Joe, just how the hell do you eat peanuts with no more teeth than you have?"

"I gots teeths, Hank. Two on top and "tree" on the bottoms. I chaws em up pretty good." Damn if he didn't open his mouth, chewed up nuts and all, to show me his teeth. I guess when you only got five; you get pretty proud of them.

"Yeah, Joe, your teeth look fine." I turned away, checking the street, hoping to see another member of the Crew. Nope, I was stuck with Joe for awhile longer. Oh well, I liked the old guy; besides, Miss Peggy's set was kicking my ass anyway. Maybe when Hal, my helper, gets here, he'll see something I'm missing.

"Hey, Hank—you get somma dat Peggy gal yet?" He poked me in the ribs. "Dat ole gal don't look too bad fer her age. She a wild one in de sack too."

"Now just how in the devil would you know that, Joe?"

"Got drunk wid her husban las Satty nite. He was a'crying in his beer bout how she been a'givin him hell bout not being able to git it up." Joe paused for another mouthful of peanuts. "Boy, you ortta get dat TV fixed up n take it back this week. He on a fishin trip all week. Peggy up dere all lone, jus a'hoping fer a good man to show up."

"If you know all that, Joe, why don't you help out your old drinking buddy?"

"Don't be daft, boy. Iffn I cud get it up, you don't think I'd be a'settn here tellen you about her, does ya?"

For the first time, I seriously considered Miss Peggy as a sex object. Was there something wrong with me? Here I was, a twenty four year old fellow, and I'm actually considering making a play for a married woman over twice my age. While Joe chattered on about something, I tried not to hear a word; I was busy picturing Miss Peggy in my mind.

In spite of her age, only a few wrinkles showed on her face, and that body—that body was the envy of a lot of thirty year old women; full breasted, carrying just a little too much weight to be called stacked, but she still had all the curves, and her booty just begged a fellow to grab a handful. Picture that Blanche character on the Golden Girls show, the one they always show after the Eleven O'clock News, add a buffed up hairstyle and double the make-up, and you'd have a good idea of what Miss Peggy looked like. If she begged, I'd probably give her a try.

Who am I kidding? I had thought I would get lucky last night, with my twenty four year old date, but all I got was the chance to go home with a raging hard-on and balls that felt like footballs. I knew my date had the reputation of "Ice Queen" but that was too kind. She was okay when I ran the back of my fingers up alongside her neck and twiddled her earlobes. I'm telling you, I touched every erogenous spot I ever heard of and a few I even made up.

I had that little girl humming, like Richard Petty's Plymouth, leading the pack at Daytona. She held on tight when I rubbed the soft molded flesh beneath her bra. Her tongue tried to brush my teeth when I freed her titties and worked on the erect nipples with my fingers. She was moaning something fierce, when I got my mouth on one nipple while my free hand worked its way up her stocking covered leg, my fingers pretending to be a feather, while teasing the bare skin between her nylon stocking and her silky feeling panties.

Rubbing across her triangle of thick, coarse hair, I explored the slit between her labia's lips. She worked her hips in a twisting, back and forth motion, like she just couldn't wait. I could feel her wetness, soaking her panties, even before I hooked a finger beneath the leg band and slid it into her moist cunt. She jumped like she was shocked when my finger rubbed across her clit; then she pushed against my hand, like she wanted the entire arm in her, as I worked my finger as far into her as I could. 

She lifted her ass to help me slip her panties off and willingly spread her legs wide for me to perform my best cunnilingus to date, if I do say so myself. She screamed when I took her over the top, her entire body shook, like she was having a fit, then she went completely limp.

"MY turn," I said, working my stiff cock out of my jeans. I positioned myself between her legs and all hell broke loose. She started yelling about how she wouldn't let me rape her, and a lot of other wild shit. "Okay," I said, moving so that we were sitting beside each other. "Here," I took her hand, moving it to my cock. "Just play with it like this." Trapping her hand in mine I tried to wrap her fingers around my shaft, which now stood with the purplish veins standing out and the head looking like a big purple plum.

She was having none of that. Pushing away, she scrambled around in the floorboard, trying to find her panties. I finally retrieved them from the back seat, and handed the still damp material to her. She wiggled into them, and then in a tone that booked no argument, said, "Take me home."

I took her home and kept my date with Miss Five Fingers, but she was totally unsatisfactory. And that's why I'm seriously considering Old Joe's suggestion. If he's correct and Miss Peggy's old man is having problems, she might be a sure thing, and to tell the truth, I was ready for a sure thing.

They always say, "Speak of the Devil and here he comes," and sure enough, when the rest of the Crew showed up, so I could get Old Joe off my neck, Miss Peggy was right behind them.

"Hank," her voice was really pleasing, the southern accent mixed with others, picked up following her husband from base to base before he retired, made me think of the long walks along the beaches of Recife Brazil, a dusky Brazilian girl dressed in the skimpiest bikini I'd ever seen, hanging on my arm, while the sea gulls squawked overhead, and she sang 'Twilight Time," one of my favorite songs, in her native Portuguese. We strolled past the native fisherman, just in from a long day's work. As I watched them beach their boats, store their nets and ready their catch for sale, I thought they must have looked a lot like the fishermen of Jesus' time just before He approached them. The girl pulled me over to one of them, and in her mixture of English and Portuguese, she arranged for me to buy dinner, which she cleaned and cooked back at her house. I had to be back on the ship by midnight, but those hours until then will live in my memory forever.

I swear Miss Peggy's voice sounded almost exactly like my little beach girl and even though I was looking at the middle aged woman in front of me, my mind was seeing the dusky beauty I'd left behind. 

"Hank! Are you listening to me?" Miss Peggy's hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality. "I need my TV; I want to watch the Miss America Pageant tonight. Can you have it ready?"

I led her back to the bench where her set's guts were spread out for troubleshooting. I went into detail to explain, in layman's terms, what I had been doing, and as I talked, I took the opportunity to touch her in different places. She didn't object to my rubbing her, and I knew the Crew couldn't see us, so I got bolder. 

I found the feather-like touch of the back of my hand on the nape of her neck brought a shiver, and her voice got just a bit higher. My hand rubbing her back still brought no objection, so as we stood there, side by side, I cupped her butt in my big hand. She shot me a glance of surprise, but when she leaned into me rather than pulling away, I knew I just might get lucky.

"Tell you what, Miss Peggy, I like watching the pageant myself. How about me bringing my portable over to your place tonight, and we watch it together?"

"Really! You'd do that?" She turned to face me in her excitement, and gave me a quick hug. It was brief, but I definitely felt her hard nipples pressing against my chest. "I'll have supper ready by the time you get there and we can have a party like we did in the old days, remember?" She gave me a playful shove. "No—of course a young kid like you doesn't remember; you think everybody always had TV, but back in the fifties, when there were only a few TVs in the community, the neighbors gathered to watch wrestling every Saturday night."

With a wave, she turned to leave. "You just bring that portable so I can see the pageant and I'll make you a supper you won't forget."

*****

And that's how I came to be sitting in Miss Peggy's living room watching the Miss America Pageant. After supper, we retired to the living room, and I elected to sit on the love seat, hoping Miss Peggy would chose to sit beside me. Instead, she plopped down on the sofa, just about as far away from me as she could get. This, I knew, was not helpful to my cause, which was to get Miss Five Fingers a little help in finishing last night's work.

All those glasses of Miss Peggy's sweet tea solved my problem. I answered nature's call and when I returned, I sat next to Miss Peggy; in fact, I sat so close to Miss Peggy, our outer thighs were touching. She didn't scoot farther from me so I draped my arm over the sofa's back, letting my fingers stroke her neck before settling on her ear lobes. This made her nervous; obviously she'd had time to reconsider her flirting from this afternoon.

Once again, luck was with me. Just as she started to protest, the South Carolina contestant presented her talent, a love song like no love song you ever heard. After all these years, I don't remember the title, but lord—the way that girl sang it, I'm sure the angels in Heaven were dancing and hugging. The auditorium exploded with applause, Miss Peggy turned to me with a big smile, I'm sure to make a nice remark about our candidate, and I kissed her right on the mouth.

Maybe it was the surprise, maybe it was all that time going without, if Old Joe knew what he was talking about, or maybe this time I was just looking for love in all the right places. Whatever the cause, her arms encircled my neck, she pulled me tightly to her and I'm sure our lips must have bruised each other's. Finally tiring of that game, I probed her mouth with my tongue. Immediately, her lips parted, she welcomed my ever questing tongue, and responded in a like manner.

I finally slipped my hand under her blouse, unhooking her bra and pushing it up out of the way. That freed those thirty-six Double Ds to fall to fall into my hands.

"Oh god, baby," she whispered as I took one nipple between my lips, and rolled the other around between my thumb and forefinger. "I haven't felt anything like this in ages." Her face was blushed, her breathing was more rapid than normal and here voice sounded funny. She was getting turned on, but she wasn't beyond the point of no return—not yet; I could still blow this thing if I wasn't careful. Careful was my middle name, I continued to tease her nipples, never letting my hands drop below her waist. I rained kisses on her neck, inside her elbows, sucked her fingers—the whole works, but mostly I concentrated on her breast.

"Don't suck them hard enough to leave a mark," she warned, when I covered them with little nipping kisses. I made sure I didn't; the last thing I needed was a pissed off husband on my hands, but I still used my dry lips to pull and tug on each nipple in turn, while my thumb and forefinger did like service on the left out twin. She was showing all the signs of a thoroughly turned on woman by the time I turned my attention from her breast.

"Oooooh," she moaned, when I worked my hand down the waist of her shorts, and lightly, as lightly as I could under the circumstances, rubbed the smooth skin of her lower stomach. "Yeah, like that," she wiggled her hips, like she was trying to get my hand lower. I continued to tease, just barely touching her thick, curly hair with my fingertips, but never reaching her labia, which I knew she wanted.

She was pulling at my shirt, wrapping her hands in my hair, while pulling my mouth tighter to her breast, and moaning sweet nothings, I tried every trick I knew to bring her to the white hot fever pitch, that only a fully experienced mature woman can achieve. When I felt her hand wrap around my cock, I knew I was getting close. My hand, that had been teasing her belly, now dipped down, fingers dragging through the course feeling hair until my middle finger found the top of her labia, slipped between the surprisingly slick lips and continued to the bottom.

My hand completely cupped her pussy and I started a slow circular massage, dipping the middle finger inside only as deep as the first joint. Miss Peggy was really secreting that slick musky smelling lubricant a woman's body produces when preparing for an intruder. I loved that smell then and I still love it now, even if I don't get to smell it very often anymore. I felt her hand tentatively wrap around my cock and then begin to feel around, like she was trying to gauge the size.

"It's not all that big," I whispered, releasing her nipple and taking a quick glance at her face. She had a wild look in her eyes—the look of a woman in heat and who would let nothing stand between her and her sexual satisfaction. I knew she was ready; knew she wouldn't be having second thoughts about cheating on her husband now.

Attacking her lips with mine one more time, I managed to get her to stretch out on the sofa, but not before I pulled her mostly already undone top and bra off and tossed them to the middle of the floor. When I hooked my fingers under her waistband, getting both the shorts and panties at the same time, she lifted her hips to help me rid her of the unwanted encumbrances. After her bottoms joined her top, on the living room floor, she sat up. Sitting there, just as naked as she came into the world, she made a half hearted attempt to cover herself with her hand.

"Huh uh," she said, when I tried to lift her hand for a good view. "You show me yours, and I'll show you mine."

That was as easily done as said. In a moment, my clothes joined hers and my cock sprang out, standing at attention like a Marine during inspection. I moved closer to her and she took it in her hands, letting her finger guide along its length, exploring the two bulging veins extending along each side and disappearing beneath the folds of the foreskin now rolled back to expose a purplish crown almost as big as a ripe plum.

"Let me," she said, shifting enough to get her mouth close enough for her tongue to go to work. First she circled the head, with what I call butterfly flicks, then with one fist almost closed around the base, she covered her teeth with her lips, made an 'O' with her mouth, and slipped the head of my dick inside. It felt almost like I was entering a tight pussy and her tongue flickering back and forth across the 'one eyed monster's' one eye, while her hand, steadily pumped up and down the shaft, was more than I could stand.

"Ooooh goddd," I groaned, "I'm sorry—I just can't stand it." This last was said while I was pumping spurt after spurt in her mouth. She continued her actions until I finished; she pulled my now half-hard cock from her mouth, grabbed a handful of tissue from the side table, and cleaned my cum from her face.

"Like it?" 

"I like!" I knew I must have been grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I didn't mean to cum that quick, but you were just too much." I kissed her again, then laying her back on the sofa, I put one leg over the sofa's back and with her other foot flat on the floor, I got between her legs. "Your turn now."

I kissed the inside of her legs, starting at the knee and working my way up while switching from one leg to the other. The heady, musky smell emanating from her pussy was almost overpowering. Of all the women I've had, before or after her, I don't think I ever found a pussy that smelled so much like raw sex. I know that sounds crazy, but damn it, I just don't have other words to describe it. 

Miss Peggy's bush was full and thick, not trimmed to just a landing strip like so many younger women were wont to do. I have never been a fan of the shaved pussy look, so her bushy triangle really turned me on. Upon reaching my goal, that beautiful little triangle of hair, I didn't immediately attack her labia lips with my tongue as I so often did. 

Instead, I combed her curly hair with my fingers, then pulling the lips apart I blew my warm breath over the moist, pink area, concentrating on the little nub. By now, it was peeking from under its fleshly hood. She was writhing and moaning loving gibberish, and when I flicked my tongue over the little fella, she grabbed my head and pulled my face right down into her pussy. 

Her clit really extended after I gave it more attention; I think it was the largest I've ever seen. As I licked and teased it with my tongue, it puffed out almost like a miniature dick, so this time I formed my lips into circular shape and pretended she was fucking my mouth with her clit. Man! Did she go wild! Finally I slipped two fingers into her cunt searching for her g-spot. Once I hit the peanut feeling place, I concentrated a little come hither motion on it and was rewarded with a flood of her juices.

Her body relaxed after that, but I continued to make love to her and soon had her responding. She still had a leg resting on the sofa's back, so I caught the other up in my arm; then with my right leg on the sofa and my left foot on the floor, I could use the power of my leg to drive my cock into her. She was a willing partner in crime, meeting my every thrust as best she could, until we both exploded in a mind boggling orgasm.

We lay motionless, side by side, until our breathing returned to normal and my heart stopped feeling like it was going to jump out of my chest. Then she started running her hand tenderly through my hair and the expression on her face was like a ray of sunshine.

"Thanks, I needed that," she whispered, planting a kiss on my forehead. Then she sat up and started to dress, so I did the same.

"I'd like to do it again." She just smiled. Since she didn't say no, I took the smile to, at the very least, mean maybe.

"Well, you do have to pick up your TV—we'll see."

She followed me to the door, where we kissed passionately, before finally breaking apart. 




Handyman Hank Ch. 02



"Who won the pageant?" She called as I walked to my truck.

"Beats me, but I got the prize."

The final words I heard as I closed my truck's door were, "I'll have lunch ready about noon."

As I told you in the last chapter, I always try to tell the rest of the story. Miss Peggy continued to call, about every four weeks or so, for the next ten years. She was one fine lady and a great piece of ass.

Did her husband ever catch on? Not sure on that one, but Old Joe did tell me about a fishing trip he'd had with hubby. He said the old guy got to drinking and talking about how much better things had been around his house for the last couple of years—said the wife was always in a good mood, especially after he went fishing, and whatever was causing it, he hoped it wouldn't stop.

Old Joe grabbed an R C Cola out the cooler without throwing money in the bucket, when he told me this. Taking a long draught, he saluted me with the bottle and said, with a toothless grin, "You owe me dis one."

THE END 

I hope you enjoyed this story. As always, your comments are welcome, even the ones who keep me humble by reminding me what a piece of crap I am, as a writer. I ask just two things of you: first, if you don't like it, please specify what you don't like, if you can; the second thing, every reader can and should do every time they finish a story—click on a STAR to rate how you liked the story. Think of it as a tip—one star if the food was raw and the service was awful, five if everything was great, or select a number for something between the two extremes. (I know these rating instructions seem silly, but since less than one per-cent of readers vote, instructions can't hurt. I refuse to believe that many people would stiff their server, if they knew how simple it was.) 



Handyman Hank Ch. 03



Authors notes:

#1 Except for the dog Bruno, this story is a work of fiction. Bruno lived a life that would have dovetailed perfectly with this story. I have attempted to create a different LW's tale by adding a story I hope would be interesting without the sex. Just don't opt out too soon; if sex is what you are looking for, sex is what you'll find about halfway into the story.

#2 All comments are welcome, those who love it, and those who hate it, especially if you can point out the problem. Unlike some writers, I never remove a comment. Just as the story is an example of my talent, the comment is an example of the commenter's abilities. They deserve for the world to see them at their best.

#3 Handyman Hank fans should keep an eye on the TABOO and MATURE categories. I seem to remember a young woman from his first story that might have to go in Taboo and I know many widows and divorcees who wouldn't quite qualify as a wife anymore.

#4 Rev. 1 is a correction of several errors pointed out by readers. Thanks. 

HANDYMAN HANK Ch03

(Hank protects Bessie from murderous Hubby)

I woke up late that day. The digital clock on my nightstand glared "9:10" in large red numerals. It seemed to say, "Hey! Stupid, you forgot to set the alarm." I rolled out, grabbed up my pants and slipped my legs in them before I even sat up. "Damn!" I muttered under my breath, while I finished dressing. It was the first of April—April fool's Day and I was due to start a workshop on color TV service this afternoon in Charlotte. I'd have to shake my ass if I was going to finish everything I needed to do and make the three hour drive before 2 O'clock. 

Fifteen minutes later I had completed the three s's, wolfed down a Little Debbie treat for breakfast, and was on my way to the shop. As I headed down Main Street, I wondered what the heck had happened; the town was crawling with cops of every stripe. Barney Fife, as our town cop was affectionately known, seemed lost among all the "County Mounties" and the SC Highway Patrol, who seemed to have a blue light flashing just about any place they could park a car.

I had to park around back and enter my shop by the back door. Thank God that Hal, my assistant, had a pot of hot coffee waiting. He started to say something, but I shushed him with a wave of the hand. Time enough for talk after I had my first cup of coffee. He never did get to tell me what was on his mind. I was still stirring in the sugar and cream, when Old Joe stumbled into my work area and grabbed my arm.

"Hank, I'se gots to see ya." I had never seen the old fella this upset. "Out here," he was pulling me toward the back door. "In ya truck," he said, "Dis is serious." He kept looking all around, like he expected the devil to jump out at him any minute.

"Ya remember dat fella my Bessie is married ta, doan ya?" 

"Bubba Halftree? Damn right I remember him. That's one bad mutha." Bubba was the definitive badass from Jones Corner. Back before I enlisted in the Marines, he'd tried to kill his wife, Joe's second daughter, Bessie, and had succeeded in killing their young daughter. He'd managed to elude capture by disappearing into the Francis Marion Forest for three month, despite a full scale effort by South Carolina's finest. They finally decided he'd left the area and stopped looking.

That's where I got involved. A bunch of us guys, who hunted deer in the Forest, started picking up sign of someone camping in an area where we knew no one was supposed to camping. Just like a bunch of stupid ass seventeen year old boys, when someone said, "Lets us catch that fucker," we were all for it. We just knew we could show the dump cops how it's done, and so we planned our campaign. Damn if we didn't pick up his tracks and me and my buddy Larry were unlucky enough to spot him slipping through the woods late one afternoon.

We got within shotgun range before we yelled. "Hands up!" You should have seen the look on his face. With a curse, he turned tail and took off. Larry raised his gun to shoot him.

"No! He ain't armed." Stupid ass me always believed in giving a guy an even break, just like in the cowboy movies. I'm telling you, I've learned a lot since then, mostly in the jungles of Viet Nam. Anyway I took off after him and was right on his ass within about two hundred yards. He must have heard my footsteps, because he turned to face me and I barreled right into him, knocking him "ass over appetite."

He tried to put up a fight, but living in the woods, without proper nourishment, had taken a lot of his strength, and by the time Larry got there with our guns, I'd beat all the fight out of him. We enjoyed our fifteen minutes of fame, when we dumped him at the town's police station.

The trial was quick, once it finally started. He was found guilty as charged; the sentence—death in the electric chair. In today's world, that means he'd die of old age long before the bleeding hearts ran out of appeals. Still, I don't think I'll ever forget his words.

"I'll get out! They can't keep me in a pen, and when I do, I'm coming after every one of you sum bitches. I'll get you," he shouted, when they led him out after sentencing

He was talking to everybody, but he seemed to be looking directly at me. Shortly thereafter I joined the Marines. After a bunch of training, I found myself in Nam, part of the elite "Recon forces." For those who don't know, back then Recon was the Marine's answer to the Army's Green Beret, but I'm pretty sure we had it first. Anyway, they taught us how to kill a man just about any way you could think of, but my special skills seemed to be with a pistol and a knife. 

When I came back, I hoped to never have to use one again, but given the state of our country, one never knows, so at least once a month, a bunch of us gather at an abandoned dirt pit outside of town and try to out lie and out shoot each other. I'm the only one that can throw a knife, so the guys keep begging me to show them how to do it.

"Well," Old Joe continued, "That son a bitch done broke out and he done kill de jury Fo'man, an now he headed dis way. Hank, ya gotta keep my Bessie outa 'is way til dey catch 'im. He done kill ma gran-youngin and now he coming fo ma Bessie." Old Joe was pitiful, the way he was begging, while tears flowed down his cheeks.

"Joe, the law will protect Bessie. They can do a lot better job than I can."

"Dat's shit an ya knows it, Hank. Ain't I done seen ya hit coke bottle stoppers at tirty yard with dat 45 of yourn and ain't I seen you whip dat pig sticker frum behine ya back an bury it in a watter melon frum near bout that fur." He was pulling at my arm as if that would make me decide. "Hell,man, I barley saw yah han move an dere dat knife wuz, just a quivering in dat melon. Hank, der ain't a man on dat force dat won't shit their britches if dat Buddy bas'tad looks at 'im crossways. Doan let 'im get ma little gal."

Joe was crying so hard he was shaking. There was no way I could have said no to him. Especially since I knew Bubba would be heading for me; I was the one who actually out run and out fought him. I was under no illusion. I knew Buddy had been spending his time in prison training for a rematch, and while I wasn't scared, I was damn careful.

"Okay, Joe. Okay, I'll take care of it, but you have to do exactly as I say." Joe would have agreed to anything. He could hardly stop thanking me when I sent him off to collect Bessie. I instructed him to have her bring what she'd need to stay two weeks, along with any non-perishable food he could pack. He was to meet me behind the old civil war era church about six miles out of town. I warned him to tell nobody, including the other girls, where Bessie was going; he was to have her lie down in the front seat, so anyone meeting them would think he was alone.

This couldn't have happened at a better time. I always wanted my own private fishing cabin, a place I could get away for the weekend, and I had just finished remodeling one over in the next county. It was perfect, it sat right on the riverbank where an alligator infested slough emptied into the Edisto River. My realtor had arranged for the improvements to be made to my specifications, the contractor had no idea who owned the place, only the county land office knew that, so we could stay there in relative comfort and to anyone else it should look like we'd stepped of the world.

I pulled all the magnetic signs off my truck and rubbed dirt where they had been, removing any indication they ever existed. Then I stopped at a place on the outskirts of town. I'd never shopped there before and I hoped my dark glasses and baseball cap would keep me anonymous. I had to take the chance because we would need a lot of food and goodies, if they didn't catch that scumbag very quickly.

When I had completed my "to do" list, "Handyman Hank" was on his way to a RCA seminar in Charlotte NC, while I sat behind the old church waiting for Joe and Bessie. While I waited, I tried to remember what Bessie looked like. All Joe's girls were lookers, like their mom, but as I remember, none would have won any beauty contest. Try as I might, I just couldn't bring a picture of Bessie to my mind.

Finally Joe's old truck pulled beside mine, the passenger door opened, and I looked out my window at a very fine set of legs. They were attached to a body that I thought could have used about twenty extra pounds, but I'm sure she would disagree. Her longish angular face was framed by jet black, shoulder length hair, while her large smiling mouth was perfect except for the gap between her middle front teeth. When she opened her mouth to greet me, all I could think of was how my cock would fit perfectly between her lips.

I jumped out to help transfer her things so we could get on our way. Everything was fine until I tried to embrace Bessie in greeting. That's when all hell broke loose; the biggest Rottweiler/ Black Lab mix I'd ever seen acted like he was going to eat me. Apparently, he'd gotten out of the truck on Joes side.

"Doan eber tetch Bessie, less she tell Bruno it be okay."

"Thanks, Joe. Good time to tell me." Joe just grinned. He enjoyed seeing me get the shit scared out of me. I didn't consider the time we lost getting Bruno to accept me—you know the drill—smelling back of hand, rubbing head, finally scratching belly, a waste of time, but an absolute necessity, since Bruno would be riding the between me and Bessie. 

My truck was just a bit high, since I'd modified it for hunting the back woods, and I expected to have to help both dog and girl into the cab. I was wrong on one count; the dog leaped on the seat from a standing start just as easily as he would have jumped the small branch that had fallen out of the oak we were parked under. He turned to Bessie and barked as if to say, "Well, what are you waiting on?"

Bessie had a bit more trouble, thank Heavens. I had to give her a boost, and since Old Joe was already pulling on the road, and couldn't see us, I managed to slip my hand between her legs and lift. Of course, my hand slipped all the way to her crouch, and I got my first feel of her camel's toe, enough to tell me she wasn't one of those women who shaved it. Her shorts weren't all that thick when new and they had seen many washings, so I got a good feel of her thatch, enough to know she was really bushy, just like I liked it.

I really expected more of a reaction than the shy little smile she bestowed on me when I helped her settle in her seat and shut her door. I guess I should have been ashamed; I had the little lady at a hell of a disadvantage, what with a crazy husband looking to kill us both. She knew he would kill her; she knew nothing about my problems. I used the long ride to my fishing cabin to enlighten her.

"Wha—what will we do if he finds us?" She could hardly get her words out, she was so terrified. 

I tried to reassure her. I explained that it was very unlikely he'd ever find out where we were hiding, since the only people who knew I owned this place, were those in the Orangeburg County Court House.

"But suppose he does find us. He's killed our daughter and tried to kill me. Hank, I'm scared."

"I know, Bessie. I'm here—I won't let him hurt you, I promise." 

"Bu..bu..but he'll come armed. What can you do against a man with a gun?"

She was terrified. I tried to console her by patting her on the leg; a low growl stopped that idea. Apparently Bruno considered Bessie's legs his personal property. I decided to break a taboo held sacred since I walked out of Camp Lejune's main gate for the last time; I talked about what we had done in Asia. I had to do something to set her at ease, or I'd be in for a long nervous stay until they caught Bubba.

"Bessie," I began, keeping my eyes glued to the road, but my mind's eye was focused on that night when I surprised two Cong operatives inside our compound. I never did find out what they had in mind but when you're on your way to the head to take a leak and suddenly two gooks are coming at you with knives, you don't think, you act.

"I've actually killed two enemy soldiers who attacked me while I was unarmed. I won't say they didn't put a scratch on me, but they were dead and I was out of the hospital in ten days. "Besides, I wouldn't exactly say we are unarmed just now." Her eyes bugged when I slipped my Smith & Wesson 45 automatic from its nesting place in my special made seat covers. I'd had them made with a neat little pocket just beneath my leg and in easy reach of my right hand.

"Eight rounds, and if that won't do the job, maybe this will." I pulled my knife from its sheath hanging between my shoulders, with a motion very similar to reaching to scratch the back of my neck.

Bessie seemed to loosen up a bit once she saw we weren't helpless. She even started to crack a joke or two. That was right up my alley and I matched her joke for joke, but mine kept getting more risqué. That's when I found out Bessie liked to gossip, even more than her Dad. Before we pulled up to my cabin, she had brought me up to date on who was doing who in Jones Corner.

"How about you, Bessie? Buddy has been away a long time, who keeps your edge knocked off?" I figured she'd brought the subject up, so I'd see just how far she'd take it.

"Huh! You won't believe this, but Mother Theresa has had more sex than I have, since Bubba was locked up."

"You must be joking! A pretty woman like you, and you don't have men hanging around like dogs around a bitch in heat? Why?"

"Bubba. Somehow the word got around that he swore he'd kill any man he heard about messing with me."

"Wow! I'd never heard a word about that." I took another look at Bessie. Was she putting me on? It was hard to believe the men of Jones Corner would let a locked up husband scare them away from pussy like that. I must have made my thoughts obvious; Bessie quickly turned her head and looked steadfastly out her window. 

We rode the rest of the way in silence. Once at the cabin, we unpacked the truck and with our supplies properly stored, our beds made and everything shipshape, we still had a hour or two before sunset.

"Ready for the grand tour?" I reached for Bessie's hand; she seemed just a little hesitant at first, then smiled and stepped closer to me.

"Why not? We can pretend we're Adam and Eve, since it looks to me like we're the only people for miles around."

"You got that right. It's a good mile out to the main road and from there it's at least six miles to the nearest house." 

With Bruno leading the way, we began our walk in the woods. It was almost like a woodland paradise and one could easily imagine Adam and Eve enjoying this very same scene at the close of their day. Sparrows fluttered about, while deeper in the woods a songbird, I didn't recognize which one, added its voice to the woodland choir, and high above our heads, a Blue Jay scolded a squirrel, which apparently had gotten to close to its nest. 

The beauty of our surroundings was affecting me and certainly wasn't lost on Bessie. She pressed closer and with her arm around my waist and mine pulling her ever closer, we continued our tour. Bruno must have decided I was okay, for he ignored me and chased after the birds as they hopped from bush to bush. 

Bessie didn't pull away when I let my hand slip down on her butt, instead she turned to face me. "Are you sure?" her voice was low, almost hesitant.

"I'm sure." I lowered my mouth to hers and her arms slipped around my neck, clinging like she was afraid I would get away. My tongue flicked across her lips and they parted, welcoming me inside. I continued to probe her mouth while she willingly responded. My cock felt like it was about to burst, pressing against her belly and I could feel her hard little nipples against my chest. 

I knew, or at least thought I knew, I could have taken her then and there, right on the leaf strewn ground; but I had bigger game in mind. Every woman wants to be wooed, to be treated like a lady, like their first time with a man is their first time. A man, much wiser than me, had given me this advice and I had found it to be true so far, so I backed off, and we continued our woodland walk, only now she was pressing much closer against me. 

I had been guiding us in a big circle, so we ended up back at the cabin as the setting sun was just dropping below the tree tops. It was a picture postcard scene. My cabin was built on a high bluff, bordered on the west by the Edisto River, on the North by an alligator infested slough and otherwise surrounded by woods. Now at the end of our first day of trying to keep away from her husband, until the cops could corral him, we shared a bench on the cabin's porch, We looked out upon a golden sunset, quietly absorbed in God's beautiful gift. Even Bruno seemed to be affected, as he lay, head on paws, staring to the west.

"Grooonk!" The god awful call of a bull alligator jerked us out of our reverie, and scared the crap out of Bessie. Her reaction brought Bruno instantly to his feet, and he crouched, growling, ready to spring at he didn't know what, but he would die before whatever that was would get to Bessie. I had to suppress a laugh, while I explained it was just our reptile neighbors from the slough, reminding us they were still around.

After a meal of frozen pizza, Bessie noticed my chess set and challenged me to a game. While she cleared the table, I found some country music on the radio and readied the board. I know you'll think I'm crazy, but my first evening alone with this sexy woman was spent getting my ass kicked in three games of chess. I just thought I was good—this girl was something else. If she could fuck like she played chess, I was in for a treat once I finally got in her pants. Until then, I was content to let her set the pace.

After her third victory, she kissed me goodnight, a sisterly kind of kiss—I wonder what happened to the passion from earlier—and retreated to her bedroom. I made sure everything was locked and with the assurance Bruno would sleep with one eye and both ears open, I crawled into my bed, dressed in my birthday suit as usual. Of course my pistol and knife was within easy reach, just in case Bruno heard something he didn't like.

I don't know which woke me up, the howling thunder storm, or Bessie slipping in bed beside me.

"I'm scared of thunder and lightning. Can I stay with you till it's over?" Here was a grown woman, trembling like a child at the sound of a nearby peal of thunder. I guess it just proved the old saying about fear not having to be rational. Some people were scared of mice, others scared of cockroaches; Bessie was scared of thunder and it was working out great for me. I lifted the cover and moved over to give her room. A flash of lightning illuminated her scantily clad body, wearing two piece shorty pajamas, crawling into my bed.




Handyman Hank Ch. 03



"It's okay, I'm right here." I planted tender kisses on her face and forehead while holding her soft, trembling body close, and caressing her hair. I was amazed at how much like a child this thirty some year old woman seemed in my arms that night. She began to relax and as the storm receded in the distance, she kissed me with some of the passion she'd shown earlier.

My hands roamed her body freely, from cupping her taut breast with their nipples the size of marbles, down to her butt cheeks, which I pressed tightly against my rock hard cock. She moaned when I lifted her top, exposing her nipples to my waiting mouth. I nipped and suckled them, and she started pressing her pussy against my cock. Had not her bottoms blocked the way, she would have taken it in with neither of us guiding it to its target.

I turned her onto her back and ran my hands gently over her inner thighs before cupping her pussy and rubbing with a gentle circular motion. She humped up against my hand and tried to stick her tongue down my throat.

"Take them off." She was lifting her hips and squirming while I hooked my thumb in the waistband and tried to slide her bottoms off. As soon as I threw them on the floor, she threw one leg over mine, and then holding my cock with one hand she guided me into her waiting cunt. I believe that was the first time I'd been the passive partner. This wasn't Bessie's first rodeo, even if it was her first in a very long time.

She wiped the head of my cock through her labia's slick lips about twice before she placed it at her entrance and pressed forward. I felt my crown being engulfed by delicious warmth as it entered, just maybe an inch at first, but a little more when I pressed back. This position didn't lend itself to deep penetration, not if you had a normal cock like mine, but it sure felt great. We just lay there, side by side, kissing, while first one and then the other would try to press deeper. I thought I knew something about fucking, but Bessie was showing me a whole new angle. Finally, I could stand it no longer and apparently neither could she.

"Let me get on top," she whispered and with one motion she was astride me and my cock was completely nestled in her warm, juicy cunt; our pubic hair was intermeshed and her hips were doing a slow rotation, Our pelvises never lost contact until she slowly withdrew and I was almost completely out.

"Uuuhhh!" I could only groan when she slammed her cunt back down, setting every nerve in my cock on fire.

"Ohhh yes, yes, yes," she muttered over and over as she continued to slide herself up and down my bloated cock. It felt like my cock would burst any second, the tingle in my balls started and I fought for control. Bessie must have been feeling about the same; she picked up the pace until she was slamming herself against my pelvis, keeping up a litany of sweet nothings, until I could stand it no longer. 

Deep down in my balls the lava started to boil over and I pumped rope after rope into her wildly gyrating pussy. They say nice guys finish last, but this was one time I wasn't a nice guy. I did manage keep it stiff, long enough for her to finish. 

"Oh god—this is so good!" she jammed herself down on me just as hard as she could and held it there until her quivering ceased and she collapsed to the side. Exhausted, we lay in other's arms, finally falling asleep. The light was showing through the blinds when I felt a warm mouth engulf my crown and a tongue teased the foreskin.

"Good morning, Sunshine!" I said.

"Just shut up and enjoy. I owe you one for showing me how it feels to be a woman again." With that said, she proceeded to give me what was undoubtedly the best blow job of my life.

We ate a breakfast of cheese toast and coffee while we were still naked, then Bessie suggested we make the beds. I had something else in mind, but I followed her into the bedroom. One side of her bed was tight against the wall but she didn't pull it away; instead, she kneeled on the bed and reached over to pull the covers straight.

I was hoping she might do that. I caught her thighs with both hands and pulled her back against my throbbing cock. The angle was perfect and I slipped in with one smooth thrust.

"Oooooeee," she squealed. "You got exactly forty five minutes to stop that." She dropped her head to the mattress to help her hands brace herself while I drove into her cunt as fast as I could. As I drove in and out, she wiggled her ass, adding greatly to our pleasure. 

Finally, tiring of that position, she fell forward, face down on the bed, while I straddled her legs and she lifted her hips. Now my angle of penetration allowed the head of my cock to rub her g-spot with each stroke. She went wild, begging me not to stop, and yelling "fuck me" over and over. We finished together.

"I've never climaxed like that before." She said as my limp cock slipped out of her.

"Have you ever squirted before?" 

"What are you talking about—squirted?"

"You know—a g-spot orgasm." I showed her the soaked bedclothes. "You don't think all this is my cum, do you?"

"I never knew such a thing existed." She kissed me again, "But I tell you right now, I want more of it."

We sat around most of the morning, tuning from one radio station to another, hoping to hear that Bubba had been captured. All they said was he'd been spotted in the Orangeburg area and that all citizens should keep their doors locked and notify police if they saw anything suspicious. Oh yes, they also said he was armed and dangerous—now that was good news—not.

"You know," Bessie said, as she rubbed the bulge my cock made in my pants. "I almost hate for them to catch him too soon." She gave it a little pat, "I sort of like hiding from that bastard with you."

"Now what kind of way is that for you to talk about your loving husband?"

"Loving husband—shit. That bastard tried to kill me, and then he killed our daughter. I hope he rots in Hell."

We tried playing chess again, but Bessie's heart just wasn't in it. She couldn't concentrate, and after I beat her twice, she stood abruptly, and stared toward the slough where she had heard the alligator bellow.

"Can I see the gator?"

"Sure, just let me get a piece of that raw chicken you planned to cook for tonight."

"Can we go for another walk in the woods too? I really enjoyed it yesterday."

"Just let me get things together." I went inside the cabin for the chicken, but before I came back out, my 45 was tucked under my belt, in the small of my back. I had also run my trusty knife over a steel to bring the edge to razor sharpness. It rested in its sheath, snugly between my shoulder blades, in handy reach if needed.

"Be sure to keep tight control of Bruno," I warned as we approached the edge of the stale water. Its surface was almost completely covered with green slime and dotted with lily pads. About ten feet from the shore lay, what looked like about a thirteen foot long log except those raised spots, near one end, were eyes instead of knots.

"He looks so peaceful, just lying there like that. Do you think I could pet him?"

"Hell no! Watch this." I tossed the bloody raw meat within about five feet of his mouth. He swam over much faster than you would expect of an animal that size and swallowed the chicken in one gulp. "If Bruno was to go in that water, he'd get him, just like that."

"Ugh! Let go for that walk. I don't want Bruno anywhere near that thing." 

Once again we were treated to a woodland symphony as we strolled along. The trees were old enough to have kept the undergrowth down, and even I must admit, I really enjoyed the scenery. A highlight was the doe and her two fawns that just stood and looked back at us while Bessie held Bruno tightly, not letting him bark until the deer tired of watching and all trotted off. One of the fawns seemed fascinated by us and hung back a few seconds before it joined the others.

"Did you ever see the movie, "Lady Chatterley's Lover?" Bessie asked when we rested under a giant oak tree. She continued when I shook my head. "In it, a couple made love under an oak like this. The man sat with his back to the tree and she kneeled facing him."

"Wan'ta try?" I unzipped and sat with my back against the tree. Stroking my hard cock, I said, "Your call."

She didn't hesitate. Shedding her shorts and top, she dropped to her knees facing me, like I suspect the woman did in the movie. I reached for her breast, cupping them and kissing them all over. All over that is, except for the brown aureoles and the pert little nipples, which were sticking out, begging to be kissed. 

When I finally took them between my thumb and forefinger, Bessie was moaning and squirming, trying to impale herself on my erect cock, which was rubbing through her triangle of hair. 

"Come on! Don't be so damn slow." She took my face between her hands and we kissed, deep and passionate. We broke for air and taking my cock in one hand, I guided it between her labia's moist lips. Once again her warm body engulfed me and slowly I slipped inside until our pelvises rubbed together in the world's oldest dance. I loved the way her face assumed a ruddy look, the way she closed her eyes, and the way she stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth at her approaching climax.

"Oh Honey, I can't take it any longer," I moaned as I emptied by balls into her cunt. I was afraid I might have left her hanging, but the worry was needless. Before my cock began to soften, she locked herself as hard against me as she could, then she rotated her hips a time or two, and fell forward against me. I held her, planting kisses on her forehead and in her hair, while telling her how good it was.

We sat under the tree long after our breathing returned to normal. I realized this was stolen time and I guess that's what made it all the more precious.

Bessie must have been thinking the same, for she said, "I wish it could always be like this," then with a sigh, she arose and started dressing. "We'd better head back. I have a special treat planned for dinner, but it takes a couple hours to prepare."

Hand in hand we strolled back toward the cabin with Bruno trailing behind, trying to chase every squirrel we saw. As we enter the clearing the cabin sat in, I pulled her to me for another kiss. "Want to try out that bed again?" I asked after we came up for air.

"Easy stud, plenty time for that after I get dinner in the oven." 

Resigned to having to nurse a hard-on awhile longer, I at least kept my hand on her ass as we walked to the cabin. Just as we came around the side of the cabin, I was startled to see Bubba coming around the other side, with a pistol in his hand. He looked just as surprised to see us as we were to see him, but that didn't slow his reaction much.

Now I wish I could tell you how I tackled, hogtied, and dragged him to the cops, but I'd be lying. Instead, time seemed to slow almost to a stop. I took in everything—his hand swinging the pistol toward me—a flash of black, as a growling Bruno dashed toward him—Bessie's scream—all seemed like I was watching a film in slow motion.

I knew I didn't have time to get my gun in action, so I went for my knife and was in the act of throwing it when I felt something smash into my chest and the world got dark. The next thing I remember was waking up in a hospital bed, with tubes coming out all over my body, it seemed. Bessie and Old Joe were sitting on either side of my bed.

"Bout time ya woke up, boy. I thunk ya wus gonna sleep til Christmas." Old Joe pretended to be a tough cookie, but underneath he was a softie. The best I could manage at the time was a little smile when Bessie took my hand in both of hers.

"Thank you," she said, then kissed my hand. "You saved my life."

Now that was news to me, because like I told you, I couldn't remember shit, but after another seven days the doctors announced I'd be as good as new, and let me start sitting in a chair beside the bed. That's when Bessie, who'd spent several hours every day at my bedside, brought me up to date on what happened after I got shot.

What I'm about to tell you now, is what Bessie told me. As I said, I don't remember a thing after thinking the world was getting dark.

She said I threw my knife just as Bubba shot. My throw didn't hit him in the chest like I was trying for; instead it got him right in the crotch, just about the time seventy pounds of black hell clamped down on Bubba's gun arm. Bruno's leap sent them both "ass over teakettle" and Bubba's gun went flying, enabling Bessie to grab it up. 

She didn't need it. She said when Bubba got to his feet, his right hand was dangling at a crazy angle, and the knife was still sticking from his crotch. He jerked it out; the front of his pants was one big bloody mess and getting messier. Bruno was barking and jumping at Bubba, just like he was going to attack again. Bubba turned to run; which is the last thing you do around a dog. Running makes them that much bolder. 

Anyway, Bubba ran straight toward the slough with Bruno nipping at his heels and Bessie right behind, yelling for Bruno to come back before he got caught by the gator. She saw Bubba jump into the water just as Bruno gave up the chase. She held onto his collar, standing on the bank watching Bubba splash around in the water. She said she had the impression Bubba was getting weak, probably from the loss of blood, and never saw the gator approach. The last time she saw Bubba, he was being pulled under, into a churning maelstrom of bloody water.

"How the hell did Bubba know we were there?" I asked. My answer was that the police didn't think he did know. His car was filled with supplies, and since they learned his brother worked for the Orangeburg construction firm that remodeled my cabin, they think Bubba had learned about it from his brother and was just planning to hide out there. That would account for the surprised look on his face when he first saw us.

"Well, that's about it," Bessie said when she finished telling me about everything. "All's well that ends well." She came over to give me a kiss.

"We won't know all's well till ole Charlie stands up and he hasn't poked his head up since we were in the woods."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" She pushed the door shut and took Charlie well in hand. She slipped the foreskin back and her tongue did laps around the crown. Charlie proved he was still in fighting shape and Bessie covered her teeth with her lips and was working on him, when the door opened.

"Oh my god, Mista Hank! You are a devil, aren't you?" The brown skinned, petite nurse I'd been flirting with every chance I got, took one look at us, pushed the door closed, and propped a chair under the handle. "Is it okay if I help make sure everything comes out all right?" 

Bessie nodded and shifted to my balls, leaving my straining cock for our guest. The two of them had me discharged in record time and even set up an appointment for them to make a follow up house call. They said something about getting an injection.

The End

Please vote, whether you like this story or not. It's the best way for me to judge my success. If you can think of any way I could have improved the story, please leave a comment. Thanks! The Carolina Dreamer



Handyman Hank Ch. 04



 Author's Notes:

#1 All characters, taking part in sex, is over 18. The only part of this story that is not fiction is the scene where Hank heard the girls discussing the boy's cocks and how well they could use them. I actually heard such a discussion one night, while watching my grandson play baseball. The characters, Erin and Amy, are composites of those girls.

#2 This is a standalone story, but some of the character development took place in early chapters of Handyman Hank, which are posted on Loving Wives. Reading will probably be enhanced by reading them, especially Ch01, first.

#3 Once again, I ask for your votes and comments, both good and bad. Anyone who says what they like or don't like will be taken seriously. The comments of others will remain posted for readers to judge the abilities of their authors. I never remove a comment.

*****

The Piney Woods Hunting club's Fourth of July picnic, held on the banks of the Edisto River, was in full swing. Hank appraised the crowd's size; it seemed larger than normal. This is the real America, he thought. The jet setters may call us fly-over country, but this is the spirit that made us what we are.

"Want a slice of watermelon, Hank?" The blonde pixie, in the polka dot bathing suit, flashed him a big smile while extending a generous slice of melon in Hank's direction.

"Becky Tylor's little girl! What's the name—Amy isn't it?" He took his first bite of melon, spitting the seeds into the nearby trash can in true Redneck fashion. He realized he was brazenly staring; the girl reminded him of her mother so much he couldn't help but wonder how she'd react if she knew he'd once been her mother's lover.

"Alive and in person." She took his hand and held on a few beats longer than necessary. "I used to hang around at your shop with Erin, remember?"

"Yeah—I remember now. Boy Have you changed! You used to be a skinny little squirt, you and Erin both. You were always underfoot but I really didn't mind. What happened? All of a sudden, you stopped showing up with Erin."

Hank noticed she looked away, like she could no longer look him in the eyes.

"Life got in the way, I reckon." The last thing she wanted to do was tell him the truth—that she had such a crush on him she couldn't bear to be around him.  I know it was puppy love, but it was real to me,  she thought.

He finally managed to tear his eyes away from her pouty little breast. They looked about like navel oranges with nipples, and rivaled for attention with her camel's toe, that was clearly defined beneath the two-piece suit. It took maximum effort to start walking away.

"Come back real soon, you hear."  Is this little nymph really flirting with me?  "I've got a lot of sweet stuff here." She indicated the melon slices, but the way she moved and Hank's dirty mind combined to make him put a hand in his pocket to cover his erection.

"So here you are, Unk." Erin, Hank's older brother's daughter ran up to him. Catching his free hand, the one that wasn't hiding his woody, she pulled him toward the game area. "Grand-daddy is challenging us to a game of horseshoes; you and him against me and Momma."

Grand-daddy in this case was Old Joe. Hank's older brother, Harry, was married to Angel, Joe's third daughter. Unfortunately, Harry worked in far flung places, and about the only thing he provided, in way of fatherly duties, was money to support Angel and the pack of kids he had somehow found time to father during his short stays back in town. Harry claimed every time he threw his pants on the bedpost Angel got pregnant. The man figure in Erin's life had always been supplied by her Grand-daddy Joe and Uncle Hank, or "Unk" as she usually called him.

"I was about to ask if you were up to it, but I can see you are up without asking." Erin was just as sexy as Amy and wore a much more revealing bathing suit; it didn't do a thing to relieve the tent pole in his shorts. She giggled and bumped hips with him, when she couldn't pull his hand out of his pocket. Erin was a very outspoken young lady at best, at worst she could use words others might describe as colorful, if they were in a charitable mood. She often brought Old Joe to the shop and picked him up later, now that he was getting so old.

Back when she was younger and Old Joe was still driving, it was the other way around; Joe would bring her with him, if she wasn't in school. On days when Unk wasn't too busy, she loved to perch up on one of the shop's waist-high work stools and spin around as she chatted with Hank. If no one else could hear, she always got around to asking questions about sex. She had all the curiosity of a young girl her age, and knew she could count on Hank for an honest answer, if he answered at all. Now, there was nothing she didn't feel comfortable discussing with Hank.

"Amy sure is pretty, isn't she? Bet you'd love to do her, huh?"

"Erin! I'm going to wash your mouth out with soap. Besides—I didn't notice. She's just a kid, and I'm old enough to be her daddy."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire! If you didn't notice, why don't you move your hand? Heck, she's as old as me." Erin stopped walking, hesitated, then looking him straight in the eyes said, without even a hint of a smile, "Unk, I'd love for you to wash my mouth out, but not with soap. In fact, I'd help; I'll do all the work, all you'd have to do is lay back and enjoy."

"What the hell am I going to do with you, girl? You're too young to talk like that."

"I'm old enough."

"No shit—and you're what—eighteen and never been kissed?"

"Huh! A lot you know! I've been getting kissed for some time now." She hesitated before adding, "I've been doing some kissing too—on a place the boy's just love. If you weren't so uptight, I'd love to show you, stud."

"What's this stud shit?" Hank didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but a picture of his niece, her hand wrapped around and stroking the part of his cock that wasn't in her mouth, flashed into his mind. That really turned him on. Maybe I better check her out, after all, we wouldn't want her to learn wrong, maybe develop bad techniques that she'd have to unlearn, would we? 

"Now don't you start bull shitting me 'Unk.' You got a reputation as t-h-e number one stud around here. According to local gossip, your little black book is almost as big as the telephone directory."

"Don't believe everything you hear, little girl." He knew she hated it when he called her a 'little girl.' They had to stop ribbing each other because they'd joined Old Joe and Angel.

"Com'on, Hank," Joe fished two Bud Lite beers and two Diet Cokes out of the cooler. "Time fo you n me to show dese splitails how to chunk hoss-shoes," he said, passing out the icy cans. They popped the tops, then touching the cans together, Joe said, "To da fourth. Dis one and many mo ta come."

"To the Fourth!" Three voices spoke as one. As Hank listened to his companions chat, he took a moment to enjoy the beauty of the day God had created for them. The odor of hamburger patties on the grill competed with that of boiling peanuts, sizzling franks, and corn on the cob. Nearby a volley ball game was in full swing and nearer the river, where a cement pad served as a dance floor, three couples were dancing to Kitty Well's 'Honky-Tonk Angel.'

"Come on Unk. We'll take the other end. No sense in making the old folks walk all the way down there. They'll be tired out before the game starts." She made sure to walk ahead of Hank and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the tight little ass swinging to and fro as she walked.

What the crap am I going to do with her? he thought. The sap is flowing and some lucky son-of-a-bitch is going to break that in, if they haven't already. Deep down, he wished he could be the one, but that would be incest.

The game was close; both Erin and Angle were good. If he and Old Joe weren't lucky, they were going to get their clocks cleaned by these girls.  We'll never hear the last of it, if that happens.

****

"Damn!" Erin missed with her first shoe The score was still nineteen all. She carefully took her second toss. Hank couldn't stand to watch. He closed his eyes until he heard the clang of metal on metal. "Yes! That's the way it's done Unk." She pumped her fist into the air three times while the shoe was spinning around the stake. Her second toss hadn't missed.

"Drat it, Boy!" Old Joe and Angel were carefully examining the resting place of Erin's last toss, after it finally stopped ringing around the stake. "Tis a ringer, but'cha might be able ta knock it off."

The game rode on Hank's next two shoes. He had to either top her ringer or knock her shoe from around the stake. He carefully lined himself up, swung the shoe once, twice, and was in the process of letting go on the third swing...

"Amy ain't never been fucked, but she sure wants to be." Erin said, just as his arm swung forward. He missed the stake by at least a foot.

"Damn it, Erin. You made me miss."

"Just thought you want to know."

"Why the hell do you think I'd want to know?" He went into his routine for his final toss. He needed to at least knock Erin's shoe from around the stake, so they could get another chance. "Now keep quiet." He carefully aligned himself again; he sighted through the curve of the horseshoe, his arm swung back and forward once, twice, and now for the release...

"Cause it's you she wants to fuck her." He was in the motion of tossing when he heard Erin's words. His fingers held onto the shoe too long; it flews high into the air and landed halfway to the stake. Erin and Angel went wild.

"What de hell wrong wid you, boy?" Old Joe was furious; he just hated to lose any game, especially a game against women. "I'se gonna find me a'nutter part'ner. Get yo ass outa here."

Hank moved toward the smell of the cooking hamburgers. They must be ready by now, He thought. 

"Yeah, Unk, you can buy me a hamburger." She fell in step, slipping her arm around his waist and as they walked she constantly bumped her hip against his. She was obvious enough that old Miss Gladys stopped to stare.

"My niece, Miss Gladys," Hank tried to divert her disapproval, since she was the biggest gossip in town.

"Hurmph!" was her only reply. Erin threw gasoline on the fire by letting her hand slip down on Hanks butt. "Hurmph! These young girls just beg for it, these days. Stuff like that didn't happen in my day. We were ladies." Miss Gladys continued on her way making sure she grumbled loud enough for anyone within thirty feet to hear.

"What's wrong with you girl? Don't you know that woman will have a story about us spread all over town by this time tomorrow?"

"Who gives a shit, Unk? If we're gonna have the name, we just as well have the game. Why don't you and me pick Amy up and go over to your place, watch some of those good movies you keep in the old trunk at the foot of your bed and let nature take its course?"

"How do you know what's in that trunk, Missy?" Hank couldn't believe he was actually considering her crazy proposal. They were both over eighteen and Lord knows they were ripe for the plucking. In fact, if they were grapes, they'd be falling of the vine. Why shouldn't he taste their juice? Maybe he'd be the first.  Virgins are awfully hard for a man my age to come by these days.

"Duh! You do pay me to clean your house once week, or did you forget?"

They were standing in the burger line when Amy joined them. She hung onto Hank's right arm while Erin held the left. A group of boys about their age approached the girls and Hank.

"Hey Amy! Why don't you ditch your Grandpa and let us show you and your friend a good time?" One of the boys broke away from the pack and walked over. "You can come too Erin." 

"Fuck you Bobby Barrs. I need a real man, one with a long water hose, to put my fire out." Erin tried to kiss Hank's lips, but he resisted turning his face to her. She settled for a peck on the cheek.

"Yeah Bobby," Amy chimed in, "besides he ain't my grandpa, he's my Pa, and she too kissed Hank on the cheek.

Hank smiled at the boy's obvious discomfort. "See, boys—some of us got it and some of us don't. I wouldn't worry about it, though; as soon as your equipment grows to man-size, I'm sure the women will get interested in you also."

Both girls giggled and the guys walked away mumbling curses. Hank and the girls retired to a distant picnic table to eat their food, and nobody came near.

Hank didn't miss the way each girl sat close on either side, their bare skin felt good rubbing his bare legs. He was busily chewing his food, but his mind wasn't of burger; he was wondering if it was possible Erin knew what she was talking about. Would they really go for a roll in the hay with him? How should he even approach the subject with girls this young?

He needn't have worried; good old impetuous Erin took care of that. Before they had finished half of their burger, she'd filled Amy in on her proposal. At first, Amy turned ten shades of red, but Erin's enthusiasm was catching and Amy started coming around.

"How could we possibly get away with it?" she asked.

"Simple, dummy—you tell your Mom you're staying with me and I tell mine I'm staying with you. We can have the whole night at Hank's house with none the wiser."

By this time Hank was thinking with the head of his dick, and it all sounded great to him, especially when Erin's hand wrapped around his cock and stroked it gently.

"Get in the game, dummy, feel his balls or something." Amy's cheeks turned bright red, but she responded to Amy's remark by reaching gingerly for Hank's cock. Erin abandoned his shaft to Amy, while she slipped her little hand under his short's leg band and fondled his balls.

"Whoa, girls! As good as this feels, we can't continue here in plain sight. You wouldn't want me run out of town, would you?"

"Heck no, Unk, but if they did, we'd go with you, wouldn't we Amy?" Erin seemed adamant on that situation, while Amy only nodded her head. They both stopped however.

Amy whispered something to Erin, then jumped up saying, "Wait here Unk, we'll be right back." They walked out of hearing range where a short conference ensued.

Hank couldn't really believe what seemed about to happen. He'd turned on the picnic bench so that he could watch their sexy, youthful bodies,so beautifully displayed in their skimpy bathing suits, and his cock got even harder.  I wonder what daddy would say if they knew what their little angels were up to. 

"Okay Unk, we decided—you get the honor of fucking us both tonight," Erin announced when they returned.

 Do today's girls really talk like this? Hank wondered. Then he remembered sitting in the stands at this spring's High School baseball game and hearing a group of Junior Girls discussing the size of various boy's cocks and comparing how good they were in the sack. He decided not to question it, just enjoy the ride.

"When?"

"We'll be at your place right after the fireworks display. Amy and I don't want to miss that; besides, we need to let our parents know not to expect us home. That okay?"

Hank watched the fireworks, but for the first time in memory his heart wasn't in it. All he could think about was the tight young asses swinging from side to side as they'd walked away. That beat the fireworks show hands down. Before the last barrage of rockets died out of the night sky, Hank's truck was pulling out of the parking lot.

He arrived home in plenty of time to prepare for the girls. When they got there he had a bottle of champagne with three glasses at the ready and just as he heard them at the door, he hit the start button on the DVD player and "If My Mother Only Knew" filled the screen.

"Oh my god!" Amy exclaimed when she saw the actress giving the star a BJ. She must have had six inches of cock in her mouth. "Can you really do that?"

"I've had almost that much," Erin assured her, while reaching for the glass of champagne Hank offered. "Maybe we can try it with Unk. I bet he'd love it." 

Amy just looked doubtful as she sipped her wine, while keeping her eyes glued to the screen.

Hank decided he'd better take it really slow; the girls were both over eighteen, but in a small town like this, if they raised a ruckus the people would still turn on him quickly. He had to make sure he did nothing they didn't want him to do.

They had both changed into short skirts with tops that knotted just below the boobs, leaving their midriffs exposed. He sat in the middle of the sofa, and patted the cushion on either side, indicating the girls should join him. They did so immediately, pushing up tight against him until he could feel the heat from their bodies. He slipped an arm across each girls shoulder and his hands found their way to the shapely young mounds of flesh hidden beneath their tops. 

Amy's nipples were unusually sensitive to his touch. She gave out a little muffled sigh when he rolled the stiffening little nubs between his thumb and forefinger. She turned her face toward him and he kissed her, first on the forehead, and then, when she didn't pull back, his lips found hers.

"Hummm," she moaned and her lips parted to receive his probing tongue. Hank massaged her young breast while their tongues darted back and forth between their mouths.

"Hey, Unk! Don't forget about me." His niece placed a hand on either side of his face, and pulled his mouth to hers and they began to tongue wrestle. Hank shifted his attention to Erin and was just getting her worked into a frenzy when Amy began pulling at him demanding her fair share. The girls were obviously willing but un-organized, when it came to threesomes. It was time for the adult to take charge.

"Hold it, girls. We need to organize a bit. Two very hot, beautiful women and one man takes a bit of planning—If the ladies are going to properly enjoy the experience" He untangled himself from the feminine flesh, using the excuse of pouring another round of champagne. "You do want to enjoy this, don't you?"

"Sure Unk. You just tell us what to do and we'll do it." Erin was definitely the spokesperson of the two, while Amy continued to just follow along, but her enthusiasm. was increasing.

"Okay. Probably the best start will be for both of you to take my clothes off." He knew this was ass backwards but he suspected he was dealing with two virgins, and one was his niece. He'd let them get used to seeing him naked before shedding their clothes.

The girls were all for that. Hank stood while Erin unbuttoned his shirt and Amy loosened his belt and fly. He raised his arms for Erin to slip his shirt off and stood before them naked from the waist up.

Amy caught the waistband of his shorts and boxers at the same time and started working them down. Watching her expression of anticipation excited Hank and he felt like his cock was going to burst. It wanted to stand straight out and that made it difficult for Amy to finish getting the boxers down.

"Oh my god!" She jumped when his cock sprang up after being pulled down by removal of the boxers. She had told Erin she'd seen a couple boys' cocks, but she had been lying. She just didn't want to be thought of as a nerd or something. Hank's man sized cock was larger than anything she'd ever imagined; in real life it looked bigger than the ones in the dirty books she and Erin had sneaked from Jody's room.

It turned out Erin wasn't all that experienced either. While Hank stood, his hands on his hips, both girls touched his cock like they thought it would break.

"Don't worry, girls. It's won't bite." They looked doubtful. Finally Erin wrapped her hand around it for a second before she stepped back.

"It feels different than when I felt it earlier through your clothes." She caught Amy's hand and pulled it toward her Uncle's shaft. "Look at that thing Amy. Have you ever seen anything like it? Why the head looks like a big purple plum."




Handyman Hank Ch. 04



Amy outlined the head with her forefinger, and then she too wrapped her hand around it and stroked like she'd seen in the movies. It was too much for Hank. His cock started leaking pre-cum and that seemed to fascinate both girls.

"You promised you'd show me how to give a good BJ," Amy reminded Erin. "Now's a good time, isn't it Hank?

"You bet." Hank lay back on the sofa with his cock rising from the thick patch of pubic hair. "Come on Erin, you can do it." He realized Erin was a lot of talk also, probably with just a little more actual experience than Amy. 

Erin had sucked a few cocks; all of them belonged to classmates and comparatively speaking it was like trying to fit a tootsie-pop in your mouth when you'd never sucked on anything larger than a penny sized candy cane. She was game, however and she had watched the girls in the movies. Her fingers tried to circle the shaft, while her tongue licked around the head like she was eating a cone of ice cream.

"I thought you said you'd show me how to get all of it in your mouth."

Damn me and my big mouth, she thought. I'll bet Amy never forgets anything. Oh well, here goes. She opened a wide as she could and slipped the entire head inside. She worked up and down, barely managing not to gag when it touched the back of her throat. Hank guided her head as she slipped her lips as far down his shaft as she could then start the slow torturous withdrawal. It was almost more than he could endure. 

"You still don't have it all in your mouth," Amy reminded her.

"Well, damn it, I lied." Erin released Hank's cock and moved away, gesturing for Amy to take her place. "You see how it feels with that thing banging against your tonsils."

Amy took over without trying for depth; instead she concentrated strictly on the glans, her tongue constantly flicking over every inch. It was too much for Hank.

"I can't take much more of this." He worked his shaft in and out her mouth, being careful not to go too deep. With a final groan his cock started to pulse and pump rope after rope into Amy's mouth. She didn't react like he thought she would; instead of pulling back in disgust she started sliding her mouth up and down on his cock until she could feel it touch her tonsils. When it finally softened and he relaxed, she accepted the tissue Erin offered and tried to clean up a bit.

"Wow! I can't believe you let him cum in your mouth. Here—let me..." Erin wiped away any cum Amy had missed from around her mouth. "And I thought I knew how to give head! Girl, you're a natural."

"What's next Unk?"

"Now I get to unwrap my presents." He led them to his bedroom, with its mirrors on two walls and on the ceiling above the king sized bed. With a flick of a switch, soft music filled the air and the lights dimmed. Both girls just stood beside the bed, seemingly unsure what to do. Hank could tell Amy was very nervous. "You sure you want to do this, Amy?"

"Uh—yeah—that is—can it be just the two of us?" She turned to Erin, "sorry, but I'd rather my first time to be just me and him. Do you mind?"

"Not at all, I was thinking the same thing. If it's okay with you, Unk, I'll just watch a movie while you and Amy have fun? She added a little extra swing to her bare booty as she left the bedroom. "If you still got it in you, we can play after that," she said over her shoulder.

"Don't you worry about that, you little minx. I like one on one better too, and I'll be sure to save enough for you."

UH—can you turn the lights a little dimmer?" Amy asked when they were alone.

"Say when." Hank adjusted the dimmer control until Amy was comfortable, then he picked her up, kissing her forehead while carrying her to the bed.

"Oh Daddy," her voice tremored, "I've dreamed about you doing this for months now."

 Daddy? Hank thought, Daddy—what's this daddy business? Then he remembered the article he'd read about girls fantasizing about making love to their fathers.  Sure—that's what she's doing, he decided, as he placed her on the side of the bed.  I'll just go along with it. 

"Here, let Daddy make his little girl comfortable." He undid her top and tossed it in the corner. Her bra soon joined it.

"Hummm," she moaned, holding Hank tightly, while he kissed her pert little breast. He took the nipple between his lips and began to tug and tease it. "Ooooo, that feels good," she gasped, running her fingers through his hair.

While still kissing her breast, he eased his hand beneath the waistband of both her skirt and panties. With light circular motions he worked his fingers down her soft lower abdomen until they touched the top of her puffy mons.

"Oooohhh Daddy." Amy's moans grew louder and she locked her arms around his neck and seemed to be trying to devour his face. When his fingers outlined her labia, her hips began to respond. He cupped her labia with his hand and his middle finger traced her now moist slit. "OOOooo Daddiee," she squealed, pushing hard against his hand. His finger slipped deeper and she squealed again.

"Let's get these things off," he whispered, tugging at her clothes while she lifted her butt to help. Her skirt and panties joined her other clothes on the floor. Hank couldn't help but stare at her naked body. The light wasn't very good, but as far as he could tell her body was perfect. He just had one question, why the heck would anyone want to mess up such a gorgeous body with a stupid tattoo? 

He didn't waste a lot of time wondering about it; he'd much rather enjoy what she was offering. Supporting his upper body on one elbow, he positioned himself so that he could work on her breast with his mouth while his fingers played in her cunt. First one nipple, then another fell prey to his tugging lips as he tried to see how far he could get them to extend. All the while his finger searched for her g-spot and her hips humped his probing digit.

He added another finger, but even as juicy as she was, it was still a tight fit. As he worked at trying to loosen her up, she became like a wild woman. She moaned; she scratched his back; she even tried to bite him.

 She's ready and I better cool her down before she eats me, , Hank thought. He got her to spread her legs while he slipped on a condom and then knelt between them. He could smell the sweet, musky odor of a passionate woman emanating from her cunt as he used one hand to guide his cock through the edge of her slit.

"Oh Daddy, stop teasing," she hissed, when his latex covered glans rubbed her clit.

"Patience, honey—Daddy's little girl has got to have patience," he said, going along with the roleplaying. After two more swipes across her clit he lined it up with her hole and pressed forward. He was surprised by the amount of resistance he met and the look on Amy's face changed from one of lust to one of concern.

He readjusted their position to get her knees as high as she could. "Now try to pull your lips apart with your hands," he instructed. That helped and he could feel his glans pop inside to be surrounded by the warmth of her body. He remained still, giving her time to adjust, and when he started gentle probing she moved in rhythm, grunting each time he pressed forward. Hank could feel more and more of his cock surrounded by warmth as he worked. Finally he felt the obstruction, but not before Amy had completely lost all signs of apprehension and was a full participant in the lovemaking.

"Okay Sugar, Daddy's going to hurt you now, but it won't last long—I promise. Ready?"

She gave him a weak smile and nodded. "I love you, Daddy," she said.

 She's really into this Daddy thing.

Tightening his grip on her, Hank gave one quick jab and felt the obstruction give away and his cock slip all the way in. Amy screamed, trying to get away, but Hank had anticipated that and held her firmly. He knew the worst thing he could do now was pull out. He lay still, kissing her forehead while telling her how wonderful she was and how she would soon feel better. Anything to soothe her until the hurt grew dull.

Lying there quietly while Amy adjusted to her first time of having her cunt filled with cock, he heard his bedroom door squeak.  That can only be Erin, he thought.

****

Erin had been trying to watch John Holmes feed his meat to a stunning red-haired woman, when she heard Amy's groan.  I know Amy wanted to be alone with Unk, she thought,  still I better make sure she's okay, In reality, watching pictures on a TV didn't have nearly as much appeal as watching the real thing happening just beyond the door. 

Unable to resist longer, Erin cracked open the door to "make sure she was okay." Seeing just how okay Amy was, she quietly stood there, holding on to the door knob, knowing she should leave, yet seemingly unable to make her feet move. This was a show too good to miss.

Erin had a good view when Hank stopped what he was doing long enough to slip on a condom. She saw him kneel between Amy's legs, she saw Amy pull her knees up as high as she could get them. When Hank tried to guide his rigid cock to her slit, Erin realized she was almost panting and between her legs felt all tingly. While the room may have been dimly lit, her mind had no problem using the sounds made by the couple to fill in what she wanted to see going on.

Erin pulled the hem of her skirt up and rubbed the center of her desire through her panties. The spicier things got on the bed, the warmer the room seemed to Erin and the less satisfying rubbing herself through her panties became. She slid her hand inside her panties, but when she did that, she had forgotten she was still holding the door and it moved.

" Shit!  She released the door knob and it slowly swung back again emitting another squeak before coming to rest in an almost closed position. Hoping neither Amy nor Unk heard her; she leaned against the wall and continued to tease her clit.

****

Hank could hear Erin's breathing, as she continued to stroke her fires.  I don't think Amy notices it—might as well let her see the show. I owe this whole thing to her anyway. Without my niece, I'd probably be trying to get into some married pussy right now, keeping one eye open for a husband coming home early. Thanks to Erin I get to spend the night fucking two prime pieces of pussy. I mean Government Inspected Grade A meat. What more could I ask for?

"It doesn't hurt much now." Amy wiggled her hips. Hank kissed her again then withdrew just an inch and pushed back in. When she responded with a solid thrust, he began the mating dance. He could feel her labia cling to him every time he withdrew until only the glans remained in her warm sheath. She grunted when he shoved back in firmly.

When his pubic hair met her shaved mons, he tried to rub a little circle while he held their bodies together tightly. That seemed to drive her wild. She locked her legs around his back and trying to pull him deeper she acted more like an experienced woman than the just deflowered virgin, that he knew her to be.

They quickened the pace, Amy was moaning constantly, humping his cock furiously, while he fought to keep control and still match her movements. The last thing he wanted was to leave her unfulfilled on her very first time. Finally, when he was sure he couldn't hold out for one more stroke, Amy gave out one final whimper of delight and collapsed like she was dead.

Hank sank his cock all the way in and just held it there while his balls pumped charge after charge into Amy's 'no longer virgin' cunt. Knowing his weight would quickly become too much for Amy, he rolled to the side, while keeping them joined together. Lying face to face, he kissed her while telling her just how much he enjoyed it.

"I love you Daddy." She kept repeating. 

"We'd better get cleaned up," Hank said, when his cock became so flaccid it fell out. "Oh Shit!" The condom had ripped and was rolled around the base of his cock. One glance at Amy's pussy told the story; cum laced with blood was draining down her cheeks toward the sheets. Luckily he kept a supply of the morning after pills on hand for just such an emergency.

"Damn, that was hot!" Erin jumped on the bed with them. "My turn now, Unk."

"Who do I look like—Superman? Give an old guy a few minutes rest, will you?" He turned up the lights and started to the bathroom for the pill and clean towels. "Besides, does Old John here look like he's ready for action—the way his head is hanging down?" 

"Don't you worry about that part, Unk. We get Amy cleaned up and you catch your breath—I'll have that thing standing up like a twenty-penny nail."

Hank, however, preferred to take more time to enjoy the girls company. He got three more glasses of wine and they all lay on the bed, propped on pillows, naked and sipping the wine, while talking. All sense of embarrassment on Amy's part had disappeared, and any such sense Erin may have had, disappeared long ago.

"I'm curious, Amy," Erin asked, "Why did you keep calling Unk, Daddy?"

Hank saw Amy was reluctant to answer, so he spoke up. "That's easy, Erin; we were roleplaying. Lots of people do, some like to pretend the woman is a Candy Stripper, sometimes it's a Girl Scout and with older women, maybe a teacher or a business woman. Isn't that right, Amy?"

"Maybe-but I have a different reason."

"Well what is it? Don't make us drag it out of you like pulling teeth." Erin never was very diplomatic.

"I have a question for you, Miss Impetuous. Why in the world would you put such an ugly butterfly tattoo, or any tattoo for that matter, so high up on your inner thigh?" Hank tried to save Amy embarrassment.

"Ain't no tattoo, Unk. It's a birth mark—look, Amy has one too."

 Holy Shit! Spelled with a capital S. I heard about that thing, but I never gave it much thought. The damn story must be true and if it is, that means Amy is either Harry's daughter or mine and I don't remember ever hearing anything about Harry and Becky, so Amy must be mi...

Hank remembered the old legend for the first time in years. It seems that the females of his family all had a sort of butterfly like birthmark on their inner thigh. This mark was passed through the male line; every daughter of the family's sons had the mark, while those of the family's daughters didn't. Since Hank wasn't used to looking at almost naked family members, he had never actually seen the mark. Now he was looking at two, and one of them carried an alarming message."

"Well, are you going to keep us waiting forever?" Erin was not one to be put off long. "Why did you call Unk Daddy, if you weren't roleplaying?"

Like a frightened rabbit, Amy gazed into Hank's eyes. His heart went out to her as she barely managed to mumble the words, "Cause he's my Daddy."

For once Erin didn't have a comeback. She just sat, dumbfounded, while Amy explained. "Mom and Dad got into a big argument last week. He accused Mom of seeing other men and Mom shouted back that she hadn't been with another man since Hank knocked her up with me."

"If you knew that, why did you let me fuck you?"

"Hank, do you remember back when Erin and I were little—how we used to play on our skateboards in front of your shop? 

"Yeah, how can I forget? What I really remember is how scared you were that time you fell and cut your knee—you were scared to death of blood and kept asking me if you were going to die."

"Ever since then, you've been my knight in shining armor. You always treated us like a grown-up when you let us hang out in the shop. You have no idea how that makes a twelve year old girl feel. I used to think about you when I played with myself. I had a crush on you like wouldn't quit. You didn't know it, but you could have had anytime you wanted, since I was sixteen."

"Wow! I had no idea."

"I know you didn't, but I wasn't about to let a slight technicality keep me from finally fulfilling my dream." She gave Hank a deep, passionate kiss. "You can have me anytime you want me, Daddy. You're Daddy—Jody's my Dad; I'm a Daddy's Girl."

"Hey!" Erin finally found her voice. "He ain't getting you again before I get my turn." She took Hank's cock in hand and after a few strokes, slipped her wet mouth over his glans. With a few flicks of her tongue, it was beginning to stand. "That's called the butterfly flick, if anyone is interested."

"Let me show you a real butterfly flick." Hank pulled her to the side of the bed and kneeled on the floor with her legs over each shoulder. His tongue traced up one inner thigh until he reached her smoothly shaved mons. She shivered when he blew his warm breath into her pink slit. His tongue lapped up the dewdrops forming on her walls before it searched for and found her little nub's hiding place. He teased her clit with his tongue while he inserted his forefinger in her slick channel. With a come hither motion, he found her g-spot and immediately the gyrating of her hips increased and she began to make soft mewling sounds.

****

"Look and learn, Cuz. Look and learn. It'll be your turn next." Erin gave Amy, who had moved to the foot of the bed, a big smile as she adjusted the pillows allow her a good view of Hank head working its magic. 

 I always liked Amy, she thought.  But I really think it's cool now that we're cousins. Then she turned her attention to Unk and what he was doing.  What is he doing anyway? I've been kissed down there before, but not like this.  She couldn't hold still, her body took over from her mind and she just had to move her hips."Oh god! That feels sooo good." She didn't realize it but she'd said that aloud.

Erin suddenly felt the tingle in her loins become a raging torrent. That finger was hitting just the right spot and she realized she was humping and writhing around as a second finger joined that first magic digit in its quest to drive her wild. At first, all she could see was Unk's head between her legs, but as her movement became wilder he forgot about her clit and concentrated on her g-spot.

She realized she was babbling something that she had little control over, while those fingers rubbed something that had never been rubbed before—not by her school sweethearts, not by herself—not by anyone before Unk.  My god, she thought,  No wonder they say he's the best stud in town. The man's a sex god. 

The sensations were building to levels she'd never before experienced. She didn't see how she could stand more, yet she hoped it would go on forever. She was climbing some kind of peak; her breath was coming in gasps, and she could feel her heart pounding, then with a rush something happened inside.  My god, I'm going to pee myself.'  Fascinated, she watched as Unk withdrew his hand and she saw two little spurts of liquid squirt from her vagina. She thought she was peeing herself but it felt too good to care.

She extended her arms to Hank as he slid up beside her to lie face to face. Her arms wrapped around his neck and their lips met. Softly, tenderly they kissed while Erin's heart rate and breathing returned to normal.

"Thank you," she whispered, "I've never felt anything like that before."

"What! You mean those studs, you've been bragging about having all that experience with, never gave you a g-spot orgasm." Hank couldn't help teasing just a bit. "Well, don't feel like the Lone Ranger," he added, "Best I can tell, darn few women have." His hand slid down her back to cup her butt and pull her into his still raging hard-on.

****

Hank glanced at Amy as he rolled Erin over on her back and prepared to mount her. Amy's looked like she couldn't believe what she'd just seen. "You okay, Baby?" he asked. She just nodded her head. "You want to try that?" 

"Maybe later,"

Hank helped Erin position her legs, knees up and one pillow under her butt, giving him just the right angle. With a fresh condom fitted, he guided his cock into his waiting niece. She was very slick from their last bout and when he slipped his shaft up and down her slit a time or two before he penetrated, she was already trying to help him enter paradise. With one shove he felt his cock slid inside to be surrounded by a silky glove and once again the two lovers began the universal dance of love.




Handyman Hank Ch. 04



 Mature women are good, but there's something about inexperienced energetic young women, he thought as he drove deeply into his niece while she labored against his every thrust. They both grunted each time his cock hit bottom.

"Yes, yes, yes. That's so good. Yes!" Erin sounded like she was approaching her climax and he was just hoping he'd be able to get her off before he let go. With a final burst of energy, she started humping wildly and Hank could stand it no longer. Ready or not, he was going to cum. He shoved his cock in to the hilt and let Erin do the work. Her gyrating hips were driving him crazy and just as he reached the point he could hold out no longer, she locked her hips against him and with a groan she relaxed while Hank's cock throbbed and emptied his balls into the condom.

A little later, as Hank lay with Amy on his left shoulder and Erin on his right, silently reviewing what had just happened—he had just fucked his niece and a daughter that, he didn't know he had, before today. He was hoping the girls wouldn't have second thoughts or regret what they had done, when Amy broke the silence.

"That was great, Daddy! When can we do it again?"



Handyman Hank



"Noooo," she reached out, trying to pull me back to her.

"I'm not leaving you, baby." Kneeling between her wide spread legs, I supported myself with both arms while I French kissed her. I never thought I'd see this reserved little woman actually excited enough to bite, but the pain in my bottom lip proved me wrong. I quickly pulled my face away, and using only one hand for support, I guided my cock to her steaming pussy. I lined it up and with one shove, entered her to the hilt.

"Ahhhh," she moaned, her eyes clenched tightly, and the expression on her face was almost angelic. With long, slow strokes, we began the age old dance of mankind. Each time I pulled back she tried to lift her hips, as if she was unwilling to lose even an inch of my cock for a second. The odor of pure sex filled my nostrils and as the intense feeling began to build, our breathing was becoming more rapid, my strokes shorter and faster, and her litany of, "Oh god—oh god—that's good"—and such gibberish became constant. Then she clamped her legs around my waist, and held tight, like she was scared I would get away.

Her face was becoming a bright red and when I knew I couldn't stand it much longer and grabbed her to pull her tighter, I could feel the goose bumps forming on her butt. I was trying my best to hold out until she climaxed, but was just about to lose the battle, when I felt her body shudder; she clamped her legs even tighter and gave my neck a bear hug that I swear I think would have broken the neck of a lesser man.

I was on the peak of Mt. Cumming, feeling myself start to slip down that wonderful slope. I was desperately trying to hold on just a little longer, when I felt her body relax and she groaned, "God that was good." That was the magic sign for me. I drove as hard as I could into that wonderfully tight pussy, and dropped all restraint. It felt like I was going to cum forever, but of course, in a case like this, forever is only a few moments.

I collapsed toward the back of the sofa, so I wouldn't crush her beneath my weight, and holding tightly around her waist to prevent her falling to the floor, we enjoyed a time of afterglow in absolute silence.

"Was it good?" I asked when she twisted around to face me. I knew it was a silly question, but every man likes his ego stroked at a time like that.

"Never felt anything like it." She kissed my cheek and continued, "You're only the only man, besides my husband, I've been with." She hesitated, like she wanted to say more, yet didn't want to say it.

"Were you a virgin when you got married?" She nodded.

"I didn't know much about sex, and now that I've met you, I know he didn't either. We only had three weeks before he had to begin his tour. We did it a lot and I liked it, but I never felt like this." She was quiet a long time, clearly in deep thought, then she continued, "I bet he was a virgin too, in spite of all his claims that he wasn't, and now, I'm really not." She kissed me again, this time on the lips and I returned the kiss, but didn't push the issue. I could see she was troubled about what we had done. We lay there, it only seemed like it was for hours, while I stroked her back from her shoulder to her tight little butt, and she battled her inner demons. I saw it in her eyes the moment she won her battle.

"Clearly we both have a lot to learn," she whispered, kissing me again. "I hope his little German girl teaches him well, cause I don't want to go back to what we called fucking." Then she kissed my lips again, but this time her tongue probed my mouth first, so I knew she was ready and returned her kisses with passion.

"Do you have anything else you can teach me?" her mischievous smiles made me feel like super stud.

"Oh yeah, baby!" I stretched her out on the couch and knelt beside her. "Your next lesson begins now." 

*****

Well, that's pretty much the story about my first of many encounters with married women. If you're like me, I know you're wondering how things worked out, so I'll give you the thumbnail-sketch view: We got together about once a week until her husband finished his tour. Little Becky turned out to be one of the better sex partners I ever had.

After Jody, her husband returned, I think she remained faithful to him. When he joined out deer hunting club, I had to be around him during the clubhouse parties we always held after the hunt. I must admit, I felt a little funny at first, knowing what Becky and I had done, but one night all that went away.

That night Jody had a lot too much to drink and started telling about his time in Germany. "Yes sir, boys. Those little German gals can really put a fucking on a fellow." He kept on going into all the details about what he and his German girlfriend had done, until finally Old Joe spoke up.

"Looka here boy. You you going on like that while dat little woman o yourn is left cha by erself. What'ca think she'd say bout all them carry'ngs on?"

Jody's answer relieved all my anxiety. "Hell, man! What she don't know won't hurt her." When I heard those words, I felt the same way about him, and never let our actions worry me again.

Later we became good friends. In fact, they invited me to the graduation party, when their oldest daughter finished Jones Corner High School, last month. I tell you, that little girl was the spitting image of Becky, back when I first met her, and I couldn't help wondering if she needed any instructions.

"Remind you of anything?" Becky appeared at my side, while I just stood staring, and slipped her arm around my waist.

"She looks just like you did at that age."

"Yeah, but you were thinking about something besides her looks, weren't you?"

"You caught me. I was wondering if she needed to be shown the ropes."

We stood there, our arms around the other's waist. "Don't you dare," she said tightening her arm ever so slightly. 

We stood like that, looking at the latest version of Becky, while our minds drifted back to another time and another place, and we remembered when the world was young.

THE END

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