Gay Erotic Stories

It's been a while since last I wrote. Now I'm retired from my regular labors in the world of business and depend full time on my Handyman business. Although there have been very few opportunities like the one that occurred with Pam (the occasion of my first writing) I've had some chances to be alone with some really foxy ladies while I earth quake proofed their water heaters, resecured their kitchen cabinets to the ceiling, put new outdoor carpeting down on their porches, put up security lights in their yards, etc. But there was always some condition where I would not have been interested in them even if they had shown interest in me, or they were so engrossed in whatever activity they were about that my presence in their space barely registered on them. Sad to say, but there were other women that it seemed might welcome some form of advance from me but they could not possibly have interested me. Some because they were too much older than I (58 and trying to hold, there) or because of their tendencies toward booze, sloppiness, or personal hygiene. All of this may sound very dark and judgmental on my part, but when you have been in as many houses, apartments, and trailers as I have over the years, you get a quick sense of the people who live there by how clean they keep lower cabinets, the base of toilets, under and behind refrigerators and stoves, and closets. So I have really looked forward to working for some folks (pronounced 'women') only to find that making it with them would probably mean dusty, rumpled, or crude sex. That hard up I'm not. But surprises can sneak up on you so fast sometimes, that you wonder how the hell it happened. Take a recent day at Home Depot, where I spend a lot of time buying stuff for my customers. Not for the first time, a voice behind me asked if I could help with doorknobs and dead bolts. I guess the mistake is easy to make even though I don't wear the stores orange apron. It's a combination of my clipboard, the perpetual tape measure on my belt, my apparent age, and the fact that I move purposefully since I know the store aisles well. Any way, I turned to see if she was talking to me, and she was. Nice looking forty-something, well dressed, nice shape, pleasant smile. Walking back a few steps to her I explained that I was an independent Handyman, not a store employee, but that I might be able to help her if she wished. The look of relief was evident and she accepted, gladly, my offer of help. She smelled good now that I was next to her, and I realized that she was quite a tight and well-presented package of femininity. I decided I wanted to help this lady; as much as possible. She explained that her dilemma was two fold. First, she wanted dead bolts on her front and back doors since she didn't feel safe now that she was living alone. (Light goes on in Handyman's head.) Second, she wanted to replace all of the plain doorknobs in her house with fancier new ones. And there might be some other things that needed fixing. (Three-way light in Handyman's head switches to brightest setting.) I explained that changing the interior doorknob sets was fairly simple, but that installing the dead bolts required special tools. The look in her eyes as she looked up at me made me feel like a Shining Knight. We discussed various available doorknob sets and finally I gave her my business card, saying that if she wished I could help her with her installations. No mater how long I live I will probably never learn to tell the difference between the practiced look of a woman who has found a Neanderthal to do her bidding and a woman who has truly been rescued from a dilemma and is grateful. Maybe there is no way to tell except to grab your bear skin clothes and step into their cave. I sure hoped to have a chance to find out, in this case, if the lady was sincere or a manipulator (notice how the first three letters of "sincere" is "sin" and of "manipulator" is "man".) About two days later I got home from a fairly easy job wall papering a bedroom to find a message on my answer machine. "Hello, John. This is Tamara Benning. We met by the dead bolts and you indicated you would be able to help me out. Please give me a call at 555-1212. Thanks, John." Oh, boy! This I now looked forward to. Lilting voice. Two days delay so as to not appear anxious (if she had any designs on me, too, that is) or deliberative to give the impression of being business like or very busy, or fifty other connotations. But I was enthusiastic to return her call. So I dialed... One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Damn! I was probably going to get her answering machine. "Hello". Oh boy, oh boy. Be business-like, John. "Tamara, please. This is John, the Handyman." "This is Tamara, John. I'm glad you had the time to return my call. I definitely need help with all of these doors and a cabinet drawer in my kitchen and some other stuff" she breathed. I, of course, began melting. If she was simply a manipulator I was willing to be manipulated by the woman's voice I was hearing and the woman's body that I remembered very clearly. Light brown hair, medium long, 115 pounds, 34-28-36, light skin, not too much make-up, smelled totally edible, looked scrumptious, and now sounded ready to be tasted and eaten. "Unless you have something I'm not really qualified to do other than the items we've talked about, I'd be glad to help any way I can." Cool, John. Business like. Probably she couldn't hear the tremor of sexual excitement in your business-like voice. Right. "John. I don't know what your schedule is, although I'm sure you're very busy, but I can be home all day the day after tomorrow", she said right into my very ear, and then added, "Is that too soon for you?" As calmly as was possible considering my age and state of mind I croaked, "That's fine." But I was at least cognizant enough to realize that she probably didn't want me arriving at 00:01 in the morning so as to have a full 23 hours and 59 minutes with her. Based on that astute male thinking, I continued with, "Is nine in the morning too early or too late for you?" "I should be bathed and dressed by eight, so can we say eight-thirty, John?" "Eight-thirty is fine. Can I have your address........" Yes-s-s-s-s! I could help her bathe. Slowly. She hadn't even asked me about labor rate, although I should be ready with some answer. Not that I don't know my labor rate. But it depends. No, no, not on that! On how difficult various tasks are. The skill and tools required to duplicate out-of-date chair rail or crown molding could not possibly be applied to changing the insides of a toilet assembly. And there is no way I would work for sexual favors. No, way! I work hard at being the best Handyman I possibly can and I work even harder at being the best lover I can. Limited variety-of-women experience does not mean that my little head leads my big head around. Anyway, now all I had to do was make it until 8:30 in the morning, the day after tomorrow. This is something I could do. Now I needed to plan. Make a list of tools I would need. Don't forget the hole saws and spade bits for the dead bolts. Tool pouches are impressive to some folks so I wanted to be sure to take mine. I'd need it anyway. STOP! I'm dithering. Slow down, John. She may just be a nice friendly lady who needs some work done. She may not even realize the impact she has on men generally, and me in particular. I wonder if she has a two-story so I could follow her up the steps and look up under her skirt, at least. A fantasy is better than nothing, after all. Now how long 'till I go there? And my extendible mirror. Not for her skirt, but for seeing around corners and behind things. I don't mean her behind. Well, maybe stream of consciousness got me there, but I may need the mirror anyway. Maybe while I'm laying on my back looking up under the kitchen sink for a drip I can get her to step over me to turn the faucets on and off. That would be way better than nothing. Probably she's recently widowed and has no thought for casual sex with some ding-a-ling Handyman. Now how much longer is it until my appointment? II There it is. 2815. A two-story with ample property on both sides in a really up-scale neighborhood. It's only 8:20 and she said 8:30. I'll just sit here in her driveway until then. I'm really glad I finally had this poor old car of mine painted. Most folks can't tell if its an '83 or a '93 because they don't change that much over the years. But since this is my car and my truck, this poor 13 year old beastie has really given it's all. And still looks good. Now it's 8:23. How come time slows down like that? I really need a new headliner. All of the smoking I did in the past has this one permanently discolored and there are two small tears where I got careless with some lumber. It would probably have to be custom-made at this late date. 8:27. I'll go up to the door with my tool pouch casually slung over my shoulder. Later I can come back out to get the big drill and other stuff I might need. Here goes. I hope she's not a slacks person. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm too early." My shock must have been self-evident. Somewhere between 'I've probably lost this job now' and 'can I please see under there?' Tamara had opened the door wearing a short terry-cloth white robe that she was holding closed with one hand and a towel wrapped around her head and twisted down her back. I thought she looked half way amused at my reaction and possibly upset that I was on time. Anyway, she stepped back, opening the door more, and said, "Come on in. I can be dressed in no time." Then she seemed to think about that and further said, "Well, I can show you some of what needs to be done so you can get started and then I'll get dressed. I got a late start this morning and I'm sorry I'm not ready." Yeah. Me too. "Please don't worry about it. I probably should have either called first or been a little late", I said around a thickening tongue. She looked up at me for a moment before turning to cross the living room. I was, at that instant, trying to figure out how to get her to raise both of her hands so that her robe would open. Her legs were really nice and I wanted to see the tops of them. And her breasts . . . They weren't really well hidden, the way she was holding the robe, and I certainly wanted to see more. I don't know if I hoped she knew what I was thinking or hoped she didn't, but she turned to walk across the room just then and I got a much better idea of how short the robe really was. Mid-thigh would be my guess as I started to follow her, watching the actions of her undoubtedly precious buns under the robe as she walked. She was saying something and I was drooling. Concentrate, John, you idiot. "... and so this back door really has me more worried than the front door." She had stopped at the kitchen door to the back yard and turned to me. I asked if she minded if I opened the door so I could see the jamb. She motioned for me to go ahead by gesturing toward the door with her left hand. That particular left hand was holding the robe closed. The robe started to open, ever so slowly, too slowly. She realized her mistake and quickly reclosed the robe, holding it with her left hand again. I didn't get to see anything, but if I wore glasses my eyes probably would have pushed them off of my face. I know she saw my intent, mesmerized look that time, even though I tried to be nonchalant and open the door. Because of the over-sized strike plate, the dead bolt would have to be mounted about 4 1/2 inches above the doorknob set, but that wouldn't be a problem. I said so to Tamara. After I relocked the back door, she took off into the dining room with me following (heh, heh). Boy, she was a really nice looking woman. No make-up and didn't really need any. She would probably think she did, of course, but she must actually know she is a doll. Again, I wondered if she knew the effect she was having on me. Wow! She stopped at the doorway between the dining room and the living room. Using her right hand (damn) she pulled the latch of a pocket door to close the door on that side of the opening. It screeched some but moved fairly smoothly. "Can you lubricate that, John? And the other side, too?" I would swear by the way she opened her eyes more than normal that she was daring me to look anywhere but in her eyes. A tough test when the only lubricant I could think of was hers, and my tendency was to look toward its source. "That shouldn't be a problem, Tamara." All of this usage of names seemed like a game of some sort, but my copy of the rules hadn't been delivered to me. "Okay. Lets go upstairs", she said. She said that we were going up the stairs. Her first. Me second, below her above me. Up the stairs. It pays to fantasize. Then she went on, with, "Oh, that can wait a minute. I forgot to show you something in the kitchen." No! Going up the stairs is important. Critical! We need to go up the stairs. It can't wait a minute! "Okay", I said calmly (I hope). In the kitchen she opened one of the drawers just under the counter top and asked me to remove it. Then she bent down and looked and pointed toward the back of the cabinet saying, "That thingy back there is loose and the drawer sometimes comes off of the track." I bent down and looked too. At least one of the screws was loose and probably none of the three screws was into a stud; just the drywall. I turned my head toward her so that I could reach to the back of the cabinet and wiggle the bracket when 'what to my wondering eyes should appear?' but a view of Tamara's left breast. No! Gorgeous left breast. Somehow, it seemed, when she bent over to show me the bracket problem, her left hand had slid up some from her waist creating slack in that side of her robe which gaped open when she bent over. (Trust me when I say that I didn't think of all of that physics stuff at the time. I just looked at her breast and slightly erect nipple and began salivating again.) Tamara seemed to realize her degree of dishevelment and stood back up straight. I told her I could tighten up that bracket or I could fix it permanently, with wall anchors. Which one I did was up to her. Now that I was standing upright again and looking at her she didn't seem at all embarrassed. But she must have known I was looking at her naked, dark brown, erect nipple on the whitest of firm breasts. Actually, judging by the extra bumps in her robe, both of her nipples were very erect. Hmmmm. Saying, "I'd rather it was fixed the right way", she turned to leave the kitchen again. Me follow woman. The stairs. Nice wide staircase. Carpeted up the center with about a foot of oak showing on each side of each tread. She started up and I delayed just a bit so that I'd be about four steps below her. But I no more than began mounting the first few steps when she stopped, commented something about, "How did that get there?", bent down to pick up a pen at the edge of the carpeted step, and then continued on up the stairs. Let me say right off of the bat that I watched to see what she picked up. I'm willing to be 100% honest about that level of stupidity. On the plus side, however, I did recover my male senses just barely in time to see: the bottom half of each hemisphere of her ass cheeks, her tightly puckered anus, the slightly bulging mound of her pussy with the fold of her lips quickly disappearing into a verdant bush of light brown hair, the tops of her firm and nicely-opened-at-the-top-for-viewing-pussy-from-the-rear thighs. Then her robe lowered down to once again hide her lower charms. To whomever dropped the pen there, my eternal thanks. To the manufacturer of that fine robe, my eternal thanks. Amen. At the top of the steps she turned down the hallway, through the master bedroom and into the master bath. Nice. Big clear glass shower. Double sinks. Two huge medicine cabinets. Jacuzzi tub in a raised platform. And plenty of floor space. Closing the bathroom door behind me she said, "This knob is one I just hate. I can't lock it when I'm in here and want privacy." After a short pause to see if I was paying attention (I was, while wondering what must go on in here when she wanted to be uninterrupted) she continued with, "So this one needs a lockable handle." Since I didn't know if she had already bought doorknob sets based upon our conversation at the store or if I was supposed to go get them, I asked, "Did you already buy the doorknob sets you want or am I supposed to get them for you?" "I already have them. You were a lot of help with your good advice. I know you'll be able to help me more", she breathed up at me from mere inches away. As I reread what I've written so far I don't know that I would believe it so I don't mind much if you don't either. It will, however, get harder to believe, especially if you have read and remember my first writing about Pam in The Handyman. III I'm Mr. Shy. I'm the fellow who is non-confrontational. I'm the guy who at fifty-eight years of age can only boast two wives and four other "conquests". Not Casper Milquetoast, you understand. Once I get to know a woman in the Biblical sense, I'm not shy or standoffish at all. But I guess even I had my limits. Here was a woman who was eminently desirable, apparently available (at least displayably available since I'd seen about every charm she possessed in the last half hour or so, and badly wanted to see more), and still virtually undressed. I had the clear feeling (which probably gets men into a lot of their trouble) that she was enticing me on purpose. I think she wanted more than her door knobs serviced. I think she had a plumbing problem she needed male help with and I was the male of her choice at the moment. But I also worried that if I acted on that premise, poorly practiced at this gentle art as I am, I might find out that she was willing to pay me for my work, and willing to knowingly tease me half to death with her body, but that to openly challenge her intentions might get me thrown out quickly. Even if I couldn't "get" her I wanted as much opportunity to "see" her as possible. After having shown me the walk-in closet door in her room which was to get a new knob, and the room and closet doors of the other two rooms upstairs which were to get new knobs, we were standing at the top of the stairs once again. I had just said that there were then six new doorknob sets to be replaced upstairs. She turned slightly away from me looking back down the hall, using her left hand began pointing at doorways and counting. The robe opened but she was facing away from me. She continued turning slowly the other way down the hallway, toward her bedroom, and continued counting. Suddenly she turned toward me and burst out with, "Oh! I know. The guest bathroom door. I forgot to show it to you. That makes seven up here." She beamed. I gawked. Her robe was fully open down the center of her lovely body. Only the beginning mound of each breast were visible but her pubic hair, neatly trimmed into a "V", and obviously quite lush, was clearly visible under her little tummy. With another exclamation of, "Oh!" she closed her robe and started down the steps. But again, she didn't seem to be genuinely embarrassed about her obvious display of her pussy and my equally obvious staring at her pussy. In fact, halfway down she reached up to her head, unraveled the towel around her hair and repositioned it. This action must have totally opened her robe in the front and lifted it well up her ass in the back. Unfortunately I was above and behind her so I couldn't see a thing except the nonchalance of the action. I made up my mind. On the fourth step down from the top I laid my ballpoint pen in the middle of the step, then continued down. When we got to the bottom of the steps and were again standing side by side I took my risk. "Tamara," I said in as calm a voice as I could muster, "I want to do the work for you that we have discussed. And I want to be around you as much as possible while doing that work because I really enjoy looking at you." By now my voice was quivering with what we call sexual excitation but I believe is pure old adrenaline. I continued. "But I think that you are trying to drive me nuts; and doing an excellent job of it." I stopped to see if she wanted to say anything. She just stood there smelling wonderful, looking up at me, holding her robe closed quite chastely. So I took the plunge. "If I'm right about all of that, then you really enjoy teasing me with your gorgeous body and glittering smile and eyes. And if that is also correct, my questions become are you going to continue to tease me while I work, if so can I touch you periodically, whether or not I get to touch you will I get to make love to you eventually, and if not, what do you want me to start working on first?" "I don't think I've ever come across a man quite like you before, John. In work related stuff you are forceful, communicative, assured. But when it comes to sex, you shake and stutter and look quite perplexed. I presumed that you would have ravished me by now. I'm glad you haven't, but I decided I wanted you to by the time I showed you the kitchen drawer." She seemed so at ease and, now that we were talking about sex instead of door knobs, I was even calming down some. She moved a little bit away from me and said, "Yes, I like teasing you. I like seeing how you lust for me. I like that kind of reassurance. And yes, you can touch me periodically. But I want you to try to continue to work and I will try to continue to tease you. And, finally, yes, I want us to make love. When we're both too hot to stand it any longer. When/if I don't have you in me I'll faint away. When you are so excited that if I touched you you would come instantly. That's when we'll have each other." Wow and-a-half. Who ever even dreams this good? Christ almighty this could be the day I die and the mortician can't get the smile off of my face. Nor her pussy cream. Not wanting to be pushy, I still asked, "Do you happen to have nylons and a garter belt you could wear with that robe?" "I sure do." she said and started up the stairs. About three steps up she stopped and turned back to me looking up at her and asked, "Do you want to watch me put them on?" With a very heartfelt, "Yes. I sure do." I made it to the bottom step in two steps. Here I was looking up at the tops of her thighs under the short robe and her undulating ass cheeks moving under the robe. She paused just a split second when she saw the pen on the steps. My pen that I had placed there with such hopeful forethought. But she went up the next step after seeing it and then the next. Now it was just one step above her feet. "Now how did THAT get there?" she asked as she slowly (and I mean slowly) leaned down to pick it up. Up climbed her robe in the back, right at my eye level, and no more then a foot away from my face. The curve leading to her groin began to be revealed in a "V", then the swell of her pussy mound, and her ass hole, and her delectable cheeks. I reached forward with both hands and placed them on her buttocks. I leaned forward and exhaled my hot breath on her pussy lips. She did some movement of her hips and her pussy was pushed a bit more back toward me and began to open slightly. She was obviously wet inside. If she was one-tenth as excited as I was she would have dripped her cream down to her knees by now. Leaning just a tiny bit closer I moved my very wet tongue from the area of her clit, up to the back of her pussy, rewet my tongue and continued from there on up to her puckered anus. I heard her issue little moans and she moved her right foot so as to open her legs a bit more. I immediately took that as my queue to push my tongue in through her lips, find her clit, and give her little strokes just below her clit in that little, tiny depression women have under their clits. She obviously moaned and pushed her cunt against my face. I leaned into her to help support her balance and licked up to her love hole, around it a few times and then back down to her clit. Now my hands had moved off of her cheeks, around her hips and up her abdomen to her breasts. She must have had both hands on the stairs for support because her robe was hanging open and her tits were hanging down waiting to be addressed. Tamara was repeating, "Ohhhhhh," over and over again quietly and I sensed that control, for the moment at least, had shifted from her to me. This lady wanted to come in the worst way and I was going to help her accomplish just that. "Turn over and sit on the top step for me." I ordered. "Okay, but just for a minute," she said as she complied. Once she was sitting on the landing I put my hands around her on her ass and said, "How can I see your precious pussy when you're sitting on it?" and pulled her to the edge of the stair. She helped me, of course, by lifting her weight but what I was watching was her eyes. They were smoky already. And she wanted to hear how beautiful and desirable she was. And she certainly was "Is that okay?" she asked me. I stepped up a bit and mouthed around her right nipple that it was just perfect. Then back down to her pussy. I opened the top of her pussy lips with my fingers and slowly moved my pursed lips toward her clit. She was looking down at me between her legs with a desperation that surprised me. As my lips surrounded her clit, she tried to continue to watch me but at the tiniest touch on my tongue to her trapped clit, her head went back and she began a constant moaning that was only interrupted by an occasional gasping breath. I wasn't even moving my lips on her and my tongue tip was just barely, and very slowly, rubbing the side of her clit. I returned to licking the little depression under her clit and she once again braced herself on her arms and watched me nurse at her womanhood, moaning. I reached up to play with her nipples and found that she was playing with them already. I held her breasts while she tweaked her nipples with wetted fingertips. In my opinion her eyes were not seeing anything, even though they were glued to the sight of me licking and sucking her cunt. Almost like she wasn't used to the sight. I couldn't believe that of such a beautiful and desirable woman. Moving my lips back up to surround her clit, I began poking the tip of my tongue at a little gap I had discovered on the lower right side of the hood of her clit. Figuring that that part of her clit probably wasn't used to being touched, I concentrated a light, methodical assault on that spot. She reacted with renewed moans at once. Then her hands were on my head, then back to her nipples, then back to my head, and finally she used her fingers to spread and lift her pussy lips, easing my efforts. Her stomach muscles were very tight, now, and I was sure she was going to orgasm soon. Her hands went back to my head and she said, "Stop!" I kept teasing her clit methodically. Again she said, "Stop." Again I continued. "John. I don't want to come yet. This is too soon for it to be over." As I continued this time, the "r" at the end of "over" was drawn out into a long, convulsed sound of a woman having one hell of an orgasm. I kept my mouth dead still on her pussy until she started to calm down. Then I moved up and kissed her, saying, "It's not over by a long shot. It's just beginning. That was just your first orgasm today. Wait till you see what happens to you after you've teased my ass off during the day. Who knows how many orgasms you'll have?" "I don't believe that multiple orgasm bull shit. That may work in books and movies but not in reality." "Listen, Tamara. I'll easily prove that you're wrong. After all, I'm the Handyman, not you. And the only tools I will need is this body of yours that I want to posses so badly, this pussy of yours that creams so readily and tastefully, this tongue (pointing to my tongue) that loves to probe around inside of you so much, these lips that want to surround your pussy and devour it, and your mind that wants to believe that I'm right. And I am right." I liked the change I saw on her face. From distraught to expectant. Probably partially due to her hearing words about her that she wanted to hear. Actually, she had said earlier that she "wanted" to be reassured that she was desirable. Well, I could show her that. I moved my right hand to her left breast and nipple, bent my head to suck on her right nipple, and said after a moment, "Watch closely as I move my face back down between your legs." I was sort of kissing my way down and talking to her because I already knew she wanted to hear me talk about her. "Now that my nose is in your lush bush I can smell how aroused you are. Your pussy lips are still puffy with hot blood. They're still going to be sensitive to my lips." I looked up at her and she seemed hypnotized, watching me. I was back down at a level where my face was directly in front of her cunt. Every one of my words must have sent a puff of hot breath on her lips. No part of me was touching her now. "Spread your knees farther apart and lift them higher for me." She did that. She had the kind of sort-of-concerned look in her eyes that cats sometimes get. I pushed my tongue out and gave her a little lick inside her pussy where the lips were open. She started. Then looked at my eyes again. I moved my head lower down, slowly. She was having trouble staying braced up on her elbow and looking down at what I was doing. Good. Wetting my tongue tip quite a bit with saliva, I pushed it out and touched her ass hole. She jumped like she'd been shocked. I touched her again, moved a bit and touched her again. And again. She was moaning again. Little moans that she might not even have known she was making. And staring at me desperately. I moved up again to her pussy, wet my tongue again and obviously and slowly pushed it as far out of my mouth as I could get it. Then I very slowly moved my whole head so that my tongue was lined up to spear her cunt opening. Her mouth was open, her tongue was slightly out and she was totally concentrating on my movements. When my tongue finally touched her she let out such a gasp that I looked up at her and stopped moving. Her hands came to the sides of my head and she began using me to fuck herself. After only a few seconds of in and out, she was moving my lips and tongue up and down the length of her pussy while she move her hips the opposite direction. The look on her face was ecstasy. Her eyes were closed, her stomach was like an iron washboard and she started coming, and coming. When she collapsed back in the rug, I gently licked her clean, moved up beside her on the steps, supported her legs with my arm, and kissed her. IV "Nylons, woman." I could tell you that she jumped right up and rushed to do my bidding, but she didn't. She commented once about being wasted, nay, destroyed. Then she rolled over on her side, away from me, and said, "Start on the back door, John." Whoops. I was out of charge again. But I wanted to see her put on her nylons. But, what the hell. "Okay, Tamara." Down stairs I went. When drilling through a door for a doorknob set or dead bolt, you always drill from both sides. Actually you're sawing a circle, but with a drill bit to guide the round saw as it spins in the electric drill. The guiding drill bit protrudes further than the round saw, so it pushes through the other side of the door before the saw cuts through. This is good because it allows you to move the electric drill around to the other side of the door and drill/saw the opposite direction, preventing the door from splintering when the saw pushes through. I tell you all of that because I drilled from the inside of the back door first, then went outside to drill in the other way. The door was closed so I could push against it with the hole saw in the electric drill, and soon the whole disk of wood that the hole saw was cutting began to spin, meaning I had connected through. I pulled the tool back exposing the new hole in Tamara's door for the new dead bolt. Looking through to examine the cleanness of the cut, I see a nipple. A pretty nipple. One I would like to suck on. But when I opened the door, the robe was back in place and Tamara was no longer near the door. That is to say, Tamara in black high heels, dark colored stockings, a short teal-blue satin robe and radiant, wavy hair, was no longer near the door. "Wow", I said, intelligently. But I guess she understood it was meant to be a tribute. "Just because that worked once doesn't mean that it will work again, you know." Well she lost me with that one. I had no idea what she was talking about. "I'm sorry, but you have me totally lost, but completely en rapt again with your presence." "I mean, John, that just because you got me to have two orgasms doesn't mean that I can have another." "But you're not sure. If you didn't hope I was right you wouldn't have taken the time to get that fantastically desirable. Would you?" Had her with that one. "Well, since I've never had two before, why should I have believed that I could have two today? And why should I believe that I could have more today. Besides, they are very debilitating." "Tamara. Anyone who wouldn't be willing to push that body of yours to its ultimate limits every time out should be shot. More than that, tell you about it. Make you watch while it's happening. Help you learn to enjoy being a slut, wanton hussy, whore, and whatever else it takes to satiate you. And if that means one orgasm, fine. If it means six, so what. You'll get to where you know your limit. Just be willing to be wrong once in a while." "So how about you? How many times can you have an orgasm, Mr. Ensexlopedia?" Ain't she cute? "Once per session. Sometimes three times a day. But that's not at all common. But since there is no comparison between us, I don't think it makes any difference. Sometimes I don't come, even after more than an hour of lovemaking. So what? When I do finally come, your ovaries will bang up against your clavicle. But that's only part of my pleasure. Just as big a part is wanting to use your body for my own purposes just like you saw me do on the staircase." "Oh, John! You mean you would want to use me like that repeatedly? Just for your own satisfaction?" she asked with a proper note of aghast in her voice. "Yup!" "Why, that's tantamount to... to... yummy." With that she turned sideways to me, opened her robe to expose her nylon-clad leg, the bare skin on her upper thigh, the straps of her garter belt and one side of her yum-yum ass. Nylons and garter belts are special. Panty hose should all be burned at the stake. Any man who likes women and likes pantyhose must never have seen nylons and a garter belt. Makes me drool just to think about it. Returning from my reverie I asked, "What does the other side look like?" Tamara turned her other side to me and opened her robe the same way to show me that leg and side. Nice. "And what are you wearing on top, Little Blue Riding Robe?" Turning back to me she lowered the shoulder of one side of her robe. Her succulent medium-sized breast was tucked in a soft lace blue strapless bra. Even before I could ask she stated, "And the other side looks the same." "Okay." I said, "But what's in the front?" and I pointed right between her legs. "You'll have to wait to find that out." Said with finality. Then she added, "If you do plumbing, there is a small leak in the cabinet under the kitchen sink." She could never have guessed at why I must have looked so shocked, yet elated. Or could she? Oh, well. Dead bolt first. V Actually, it turned out that I did that dead bolt, the front door dead bolt and all of the inside doors except the two bathrooms before I got to see what was under the bottom portion of her robe. I finally decided that it was up to me to create a situation where she could display herself to me "innocently". Toward that end, so to speak, I laid my pouch on the floor about six feet into the bedroom from the bathroom door. I was squatting by the door taking out the existing doorknob set. Tamara was sort of kneeling near by, as she had been doing, and we were talking generalities. I asked her to get the orange handled screwdriver out of my pouch. She rolled up onto her hands and knees and crawled the few feet to my pouch. Right away the robe climbed up her ass cheeks, her hips spread out, the garter belt straps sort of eased to the sides of her thighs, and her ass slowly undulated with each move. Her pussy was uncovered, peeking back at me in such an inviting way. It took her a moment to find the screwdriver and then she returned with it. She looked per-r-r-rfectly innocent, as well she should, right? "I'm sorry, Tamara, but I also need the silver long nose pliers." I can be innocent, too, you know. Back to the tool pouch she started, but this time I was right behind her. The way I had been squatting when she joined me by the bathroom door, she could not have seen that my belt, button and zipper were already open. My cock was sticking out through my shorts and I was ready to become an active participant in our game. First she felt my hands on her hips and ass. Next she felt my cock slide along her pussy lips and my hips push up against her thighs. "What kind of a tool would this be?" she asked as she reached her hand back between her legs to touch and stroke me. I'd give her at least an hour to stop that. Maybe more. "That is sometimes the most important tool a Handyman has," I replied while wetting my thumb and placing it on her rectum. It puckered right away, but seemed to relax as I continued to rub in circles. "My god, you're big, John. Let me see this champion tool." she said and started to turn. I immediately pulled back, zipped up my jeans and closed my belt, saying, "Maybe later. But right now I have work to do, don't you know." She stood up over me and pulled open the top of her robe, pushing a nipple at me and saying, "You can suck my nipples if you let me see him." I started sucking the offered nipple but shook my head in a clear "no". Besides I prefer uncovered nipples and the lace bra was an obstruction. She pulled her nipple away from me, straightened up, put her hands behind my head and brought her pussy and my face together, saying, "You can lick my vagina again if you let me see him." I got in a couple of licks and again shook my head, "no". "You're mean. I've never felt a penis that size and you won't let me see it." "'A', it's not all that big, but it is somewhat bigger than average, and 'B', how do I know that you'll know what to do with it and 'C', it's not a 'penis'. It's a cock, or a prick, or a dong, or a dick. And just so you don't make any further grammatical mistakes, young lady, it's for stroking and sucking and fucking and ... sometimes making babies." By god, that was telling her! "And," pointing at her crotch, still in front of my face, "That's not your vagina or your vulva or even your pudenda. That's your pussy, cunt, quim, box, crack, piece-of-ass, twat, slit. It, also, is for sucking and licking and fucking ... and once in a great while, a baby." "That's not fair. You had more names for me than for yourself," was her lament, delivered quite dramatically I thought, for an up and cummer. "You just remember to use appropriate names and descriptions or I won't push my face into your crotch again and suck your clit into my mouth so that I can whip it with my tongue ever again. Understand?" The foregoing delivered with sufficient vehemence to impress her with some of my sincerity. She resorted to her now infamous, "You're mean!" "And. I'm the Handyman and I have work to perform, Madam." With that I turned back to the door. I finished the last of the doors but I was concentrating on sliding my cock into her cunt and keeping it there a long, slow time. I hope she was thinking about that, too. Finally it was time for the kitchen sink. I'd put anchors in the wall to support the drawer bracket, so that was done. Opening the cabinet doors and moving some of the cleaning stuff out of the way made it easy to determine that there was no leak under there. So two were playing the game. All right. I laid down on my back and slid a little way into the cabinet; just so that my head and neck were supported on a towel on the shelf. And I dutifully looked up under the sink. Tamara was a couple of feet away, to my left. And looking goooood. But she would soon look better. "Can you step over here and turn on the cold water, Tamara?", I asked in all innocence. She, all unwittingly, did as I asked and stepped over me with her left foot, so that she was straddling me, and turned on the cold water, and started to step back. "Wait!", I entreated, "I need you to turn it off and on a number of times so stay there." "Oh. Okay." she replied, and stayed there while I looked up under her robe with my little extendable mirror. I banged around and made little noises of labor, for effect. "Nice legs and pussy you have there. Lots of nice bushy hair", became my opening gambit. Testing the waters. "Why thank you, sir." "What do you use them for, if I may ask." "Well, I like to have my legs admired and stroked, and I recently find that I just love to have my pussy licked and sucked by a man, and eventually I would want him to fuck it for me with his cock. Does that answer your question?" Oh, this woman was learning very fast. "Yes, it does. Now turn the hot water on and off, please." She did and I continued. "But what if a guy wants to not only suck on your sweet pussy and slowly fuck his cock up into your cunt, but he also decides he wants to lick your ass and run his hands all over you before all of the other activities?" "Well, I guess it would be all right. If it pleased him, of course." Her hand appeared down between her legs and she moved it up inside her robe by her pussy. Then she started a rhythmic movement with her hand that I could only infer was masturbation. Jesus, that was exciting. I tried to continue with my questioning, knowing we were getting close to the point of no return. "And, Tamara, what if a guy wanted you to get on your hands and knees, with your ass high in the air, and your legs spread, so that he could suck and fuck you like an animal from behind?" "It might be okay, if that's what he wanted." The fingers were moving faster on, and now, in, her pussy. She had bent her knees, some, and I could clearly see her finger-fucking herself just above me in the reflection of the mirror. I started opening my pants and getting my cock out. "What if he wanted to lay on his back on the floor, have you straddle his face with your feet, and slowly lower your cunt down onto his mouth so that he could tongue-fuck you and suck your clit. Then he might want you to sit on his cock so that he could watch you fuck yourself on his prick. How about that, Tamara?" "Oh, Jesus! How could I stop him if that's the kind of depraved things he wanted to do with me? I'd be helpless." Her index and middle finger were now deep in her cunt and the meat of her thumb was rubbing her clit. That's it. I couldn't stand any more. The final ride had to start now. After all, she was two orgasms ahead of me so far. I slid myself mostly out from under the sink so that now I didn't need the mirror to see up her robe at her flashing fingers. VI "Hold the edge of the sink and lower your ass down here to me, Tamara. Yes. Slow and easy so I can see your pussy opening up for my tongue to enter." I was holding her ass cheeks and sort of guiding her but her cunt found my mouth pretty much on it's own. As soon as my lips reached in for her clit she started to come. With my elbows on the floor and my hands under her ass I supported most of her weight as she spasmed in orgasm. Her moans and "Oh, God's" were almost endless. My tender licking surely helped her down to earth again. Finally she collapsed on her back, which was on my front, and discovered a very hard cock waiting there. She turned her head and kissed the head of my dick. Then, while holding its length up against her cheek, she asked if I was comfortable. "Not any more. This floor is hard, but I didn't seem to notice it until just a moment ago." "John. That's three. And I know there is at least one more. Fuck me now. Let's go up to my bed and you fuck my pussy with this sweet cock. After I suck on it a while, that is." She didn't have to ask me twice. She got up off of me. I got up off of the floor (with some strange popping and cracking sounds), and I followed her upstairs. Once in her bedroom I told her what I wanted. "Remember, Tamara, I'm only doing all of this for me. My pleasure. I'm just using and abusing you. Ravishment is my goal, and eventually I'll get there." I was already undressing as I talked. She was watching me from the side of her bed. "Oh, you beast!" she said. A new one. And I was just getting used to 'You're mean!. "I want you to get on the bed on all fours, with your ass pointing at me, and slowly crawl around the bed once. Then lay down in the middle if it, spread your legs and jack off your pussy so I can watch you." With out a word she began to comply. God, what a sweet ass the woman has. Movement to make the spheres rotate in their orbits. How had I gotten so lucky? Finishing her circumnavigation of the king sized bed, she lay down demurely and slowly bent her knees and opened her legs. At first, all you can see is bush from top to bottom. But then her cunt lips begin to open as her legs spread to their maximum. She wets the entire middle finger of her left hand and the tip of her right index finger. While staring at my cock, which is now in my hand as I stroke it, she pushes her middle finger into her cunt and starts to stroke under her clit with her index finger. I watch. "Can you see all right, John?" she asks me. I walk closer to the bed and lean my knees against it. "I can see just fine for right now. Your hot cunt has my total attention. But soon I want to feel your mouth surrounding my stiff dick. Someday I'd like to come in your mouth but not today. Today I come seven and-a-half inches up inside your cunt. Gobs of come that will drip out of you until day after tomorrow. So that when you rub your clit to orgasm tomorrow, I'll be part of your cream." I looked up to her face, tearing my eyes away from the sight of her masturbating with both hands now, and found that she was concentrating on my every word and sort of nodding as I spoke. Damn, what a woman! I kneeled on the bed between her legs and looked closely at where her index finger was rubbing. Then I leaned down further and put my tongue at that same spot. "Ohhh, that's nice.", she said. "Soooo, nice." I lay down to be more comfortable and renewed my attack, both of her hands on my face and head. "Yesssss. Yes, right there. Now suck my clit. Ohhhhhh." I paused for a second to wet my thumb in my mouth and then went right back to her clit. When she felt my thumb start to enter her cunt, she raised her head and looked down at me. Then she said, "Do it. Do it! Do it to meeeeee!" My thumb was now fully up in her and she was fucking herself on it. Putting my lips around her clit I pushed my tongue against that same spot where the hood of her clit gapes a tiny bit. The volume of her cries went up and her hips thrashed with my thumb firmly embedded in her hole. This time she came for so long that I was surprised at the intensity, considering this was number four in about as many hours. As soon as she calmed down a bit she moved around, turned me over and began to devour my cock. She stroked it with both of her little hands and sucked as much of it as she could into her mouth and made little humming sounds to herself. She was driven. She kissed and licked my balls, went back to my cock, and then just held on to it as she moved around so that her right nipple was hanging just at my mouth, and her mouth latched on to my right nipple. She sucked me and I sucked her. In her position now, I could run both hands all over her entire body from toes to head. I like that and I told her so. After a while she went back to sucking me off, but this time it was obvious she was just getting me real wet. Moving so that she was straddled my waist, she grabbed my cock in her right hand, pointed it straight up at her pussy, and lowered herself onto me. We watched each others faces as she slowly sank down until she was totally impaled on my cock. What a feeling! I was desperate for her and I felt sure she was going to do whatever it took to satisfy the guy who had been turning her mind and body every way but loose for hours. She raised herself and lowered herself. She twisted her hips as much as she could during each movement. She lay back with her hands on my shins and lifted her snatch until only the head of my cock was still in her, and then her cunt sucked me back into her as she slowly sat back up again. She lay down on my chest with her legs still up beside me and moved only her ass, up and down and back and forth. Jesus! With my hands on her ass I got the double thrill of what she was doing to my cock inside her and how neat it felt when her ass wiggled and jiggled while she was torturing me. Then, just when I was fast approaching a gargantuan orgasm she raised herself up off of me and got on her hands and knees beside me, ass high, shoulders low and said, "It's time for you to come in my cunt, big dick! Do it. Now!" I got behind her on the bed, licked her one more time from ass hole to clit, and straightened up to stick my dick in her. She was laying with her head turned to her right, watching me, and her left hand went back between her legs to stroke my balls as I moved into her. Going very slowly I pulled almost all of the way out of Tamara, then moved slowly all of the way back in. Over and over. I knew that if I moved too fast I'd come in an instant. But I loved super-slow anyway. You can feel every wrinkle and cranny in a woman's cunt when you slow down. And they like it, too. It's excruciatingly good. But so is fast, sometimes. The way she was concentrating on watching me I knew she was only doing this for me with no intention of being able to come again. But I wanted to try to make her come a fifth time, just because. But whenever I couldn't hold back any longer, whether she was ready again or not, it would be my turn. I wet my left thumb and started rimming her ass hole lightly, between my strokes. Yes. She liked that. Then I lay down over her ass and back so that I could reach her clit. It was not real comfortable for me, and probably I was heavy on her, but she began moaning more and watching me less. After straightening up again I rimmed her some more, using little touches, fluttery. She was definitely climbing toward orgasm again. With increased moaning on her part she began rocking her hips by moving her tummy up and down and I couldn't stand any more. With both of my hands on her hips, yanking her onto me hard I told her, "Now is when I ravish your fucking ass!" I picked up the speed of my pumping and gasped, "Your cunt is mine!" I could feel her shaking and hear her saying over and over 'yes' as my come boiled up through my cock. "And Now I'm Going TO FILL YOUR CUNT!!" I yelled as I gushed in her. The pleasure this woman gave me was almost painful. And I was so super-sensitive when I finished coming that I had to hold still in her. She seemed to sense this and also held very still, watching my face. After a short while she pulled herself off of me and spun around. Starting at the base of my balls, she licked and cleaned up all of her girl juice and my come. When she finished she pulled both of us down onto the bed and we hugged each other. wow. I was too tired for a WOW! Or a Wow! All I had left in me was a lowly wow. By the time I got home I knew I'd been royally trounced by one hell of a woman. I had told her as I was leaving that if I didn't see her again it would be my supreme loss. I think I knew for most of the day that I was sort of a Coming Out Test now that she was putting her life back in order. I hope she does well and that's the truth. And, I'm glad it was me. That's the truth, too. Of course I billed her and she promptly paid by check. Oh, well . . . Please watch for other stories from me, The Handyman and My Precious Neighbor and Eva and At Risk With Lena (3 installments so far). If you have comments about my writing, let me know at JEdwins@hotmail.com. I promise to respect your e-mail privacy. My stories may not be used for any commercial purposes without my express permission.