Handyman Lover

I’m fussing too much. My hands are shaking — actually my entire body is shaking. I can’t stop checking my makeup. My hair. Is this outfit even OK? Will he know the minute he sees me? Will he know my desire to be with him can’t last a moment longer? That I need to taste him, smell him, devour him? 

I’m dripping wet. Will he smell my pussy the second he walks in the door? I don’t want to wipe it off. I want him to know how much I want him. I’m actually a little shaken by how much I desire him. I’m also a little relieved that my pussy is so fucking wet. It still works. The ex didn’t break all of me. 

But what is broken are my windshield wipers. And that’s the best excuse I can come up with to get him to my house. I bought new ones and they’ve been in my trunk for days. I’m playing the clueless girl card here. Please, Shane. I need your help. Can you come and help me?

I know I could figure out how to fucking change my windshield wipers. Let’s be real. But that would take all the fun and adventure out of this. And if it goes as I have fantasized about for days — let’s be honest, years — then it’s worth a little laziness and cluelessness on my part. Let a man fix the wipers. No. Scratch that. Let Shane fix the wipers. I’m about to get what I need and so is my fucking car.

My entire body is trembling as he pulls up to my house and parks outside along the curb. He doesn’t even park in the driveway. I stand a little off to the side of my front door which has a huge window in it so he doesn’t see me waiting for him in anxious anticipation. I don’t want to look too obvious. 

Fuck. He drove my friend’s car. Now it feels like she’s here. I’m pushing that thought out of my mind as he walks toward my house. He has that confident man walk. He’s an alpha male. He takes his damn time. 

Finally, he’s at the door.

I swing it open, pushing the barking dogs aside to greet him. I’m not wearing a bra. My nipples are my favorite and maybe most sensitive part of my body. They are alert and large at all times. Erect. Hello there. Happy to see you. I love how they look beneath my loose-fitting shirt. I love how I get a tingle up my spine as my shirt flutters across them. It’s sexy. It turns me on. I wonder if he notices.

As he greets my dogs, I stop at the dining room table and rest my still-trembling hands on the back of one of the chairs in an attempt to steady myself. I take a deep breath.

“I didn’t call you here to fix my windshield wipers.”

“I know,” he says.

And suddenly my entire body almost gives out on me. I’m shaking and envisioning what I might do to this man and what he might do to me. But I don’t have much time to think about it. He’s closed the space between us and is now so close I can feel his breath on my face. I take advantage of this moment. I reach up, grab the back of his head and we kiss so hard it’s as if a vice is pulling us together. 

This fierce wanting is not surprising. We’ve been texting nude photos to each other for months. I love to love my body and pleasure myself. And one way I do that is to capture how it looks and reacts while in the depths of pleasure. 

I take photos of my naked body in beautiful light. Wet in the shower. Closeups of my fingers on my hard nipples or inside me. I also take videos of myself tugging at my long, glistening labia or as one of my dozens of dildos — attached to my thruster machine — enters my soaked, aroused pussy. 

These photos and videos range from artsy to feral, complete with closeups of my most private parts and videos with intense moaning and dirty talk. I love it when people watch me. I get wet just imagining how someone feels watching me pleasure myself. I not only love it when someone watches me — I love to watch myself. I share the videos and photos, but I, too, enjoy how they make me feel. Womanly. Seductive. Sexy. Desired.

After I shared a few of these intimate  moments with Shane, he reciprocated. And soon we were watching each other orgasm over Facetime while he hid in his bathroom or shower. So he knows what I look like naked and I’ve seen his gorgeous cock closeup as he comes. 

But we’ve never seen each other naked in person or been together. Not like this. And the moment is unfolding in a hot, wet mashup that is born of years of pent-up desire. He knows I want to fuck him and I know he wants to fuck me. And it seems to be happening.

He reaches into my loose-fitting jeans with no effort. I’m not wearing any underwear and I just shaved. Completely. My vulva is soft and velvety smooth. He goes immediately for my pussy — “You’re so fucking wet” — and in that moment, I playfully push him away. As I walk to my kitchen, he follows, my pussy juices on his fingers.

He pushes me up against the counter and pulls my jeans down with one easy tug, no need to unbutton or unzip. I pull one foot out to allow me to spread my legs wide. Within seconds, his delicious mouth is smashed into my pussy, tongue lapping at my clit as he licks the wetness from me. 

He takes my labia into his mouth and sucks them hard into the back of his throat. I am holding the top of his head with my right hand, gripping the counter for stability with my left. This is the most intense oral sex I’ve ever had in my life and it’s only lasted a few seconds so far. My entire body is shaking. I honestly don’t know how long I can hold myself upright.

He stands up and looks at me.

“Do you want me to fix your windshield wipers? Let’s do that first.”

I can barely catch my breath. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want his mouth to wander from my body even for a second. I can feel my heartbeat between my legs as I pull my jeans back on. Somehow, I agree and allow him to walk away. 

I lead him to the garage. He’s only been inside my house once. He doesn’t know what door goes where and I honestly don’t want to let him go. I’m afraid he will change his mind and not come back inside after he finishes. So as he replaces my windshield wipers, I lift my shirt to show him my tits. A little incentive. Within minutes, the windshield wipers are on the car and he’s back inside and we head to the couch.

“Where do you want me?” I ask as I take my jeans completely off this time.

I sit down. Standing above me, he takes off my shirt and gently pushes me back on the couch. I am completely naked and vulnerable. And ready to be taken. I have my left foot on the floor and my right leg up on the back of the couch as he kneels on the floor and goes down on me again, this time with more intensity and eagerness than the first. 

I can tell he’s enjoying my long labia, which for most of my life caused me embarrassment and shame. But not anymore. I love my fat, long pussy lips and have learned that many, many men desire a woman with a pussy just like mine. He tugs at them gently with his teeth. He laps at my clit like a cat drinking milk. He licks me front to back and back again. Over and over and over again. And I am going completely out of my fucking mind.

While tonguing my pussy and ass, he inserts two fingers into me and I arch my back, grabbing at the couch cushions. He fingers my pussy and ass at the same time. I am so wet, I can hear my soaked pussy as he finds places inside me I never knew existed. 

I’m a loud fuck, and this is no different. Shane knows how good it feels because I am letting him know. I’m sure my neighbors can hear how good this is. I’m drowning in ecstasy and begging him for more. He breaks only for a moment to suck on my toes and caress my newly-shaven legs. Then he focuses every bit of his energy on my clit again, tongueing it lightly at first and then flicking it with such intensity that I orgasm hard and fast. I urge him from the floor up onto me.

“Let me taste myself on you,” I say as I pull him in for another kiss. His mouth is perfect. This moment is perfect. I taste myself on his lips and smell myself on his face. 

He reaches up and puts a finger into my mouth. I suck on it as I pull his pants off. His erect cock springs free, there for the taking. I take him in my mouth, licking and sucking while he tugs at my hair. I could do this all day — I love to suck cock. 

But it doesn’t last long enough. Shane wants to fuck me. He lifts my left leg up to the back of the couch and enters me in one quick thrust, reaching up to play with my nipples. I’m looking at him straight in the eyes now and trying to pay attention to every detail of how our bodies feel against one another. 

We change positions effortlessly like figure skaters. Somehow we know each other’s next move and we help each other get there. It’s playful, rough and beautifully choreographed. My hips grind up into him as he thrusts his cock deeper and deeper into my pussy. He fills me up exactly how I’d imagined. My pussy pulls him in, holding on, feeling the intensity and heat of the moment and sucking up this attention. 

“Fuck me harder,” I gasp. We roll with each other for quite some time, bodies glistening with sweat. He flips me over, fingering my ass with his thumb while his hard cock stretches my tight, wet pussy. He’s holding me by my hair like a jockey on horseback. He slaps my ass hard. I beg for more. Harder. Harder. Harder. He pulls his cock out of my pussy and immediately fucks my ass. I can feel his balls slamming against my swollen labia. Harder. Harder. Harder. I’m begging him not to stop. I can barely breathe. 

I push back into him with more intensity. I want him to know he’s not the only one working at this. I’m fucking him too. It doesn’t take much time before I come again, all the while clawing at the arm of the couch for something to steady me from his power. So much moaning. From both of us. My tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusting, he asks where I want him to cum.

“Your choice,” I say.

He flips me over onto my back and fucks my pussy again, rubbing my clit with his thumb and squeezing my nipple with the other hand. With a few more strong thrusts, and now holding me by the hips, he pulls out to cum on all over my tits. We both moan one last deep, almost celebratory moan. And then: exhale. I rub his cum into my skin like hand lotion before getting up to kiss him one more time. I think it’s probably the last.

“She’s out of town until Sunday if you want to see me again,” he says.

“Get dressed and get out of here, Shane,” I say, giggling and walking naked to the bathroom, clothes in hand. “I just wanted to fuck you and then say goodbye. You know. Like guys like to fuck. No strings attached.”

“Well, fine then,” he says, laughing as he pulls his pants on. 

But I see him every day for the next three days. And it’s fucking magical every single time.

And then it’s Sunday.