You remember I told you how I came up with the idea for my retirement business and that I called it “Sam, Sam, The Handy Man”? And you remember how I said I thought it was a little odd that it picked up right after I fixed Tiffany's sink? I figured it out a few weeks later. Tiffany had been telling her friends about how I fixed her sink drain, and they told their friends, and they…well, you get the idea. Thankfully, Tiffany didn’t say anything to anyone except my wife, Jenny, about her other problem I fixed.
Well, my business has been doing very well. I'm not getting rich, but it gives me a little extra spending money for tools and fishing equipment, and Jenny has time to do something other than having sex three times a day. She really enjoys all the sex, but I suppose it is just as important to have clean clothes and food in the pantry.
Most of the calls are for pretty simple stuff. Toilets always leak after a while, and washing machine hoses get hard and crack, especially the hot water hoses. That light bulb over the garage door is impossible to change without a ladder, and water pipes tend to always leak under the house. I've fixed all these things and more. Occasionally, though, I get a call that turns out to be...well, let me tell you about some of them and you'll see what I'm talking about.
I remember Jill's problem like it was yesterday.
“I need some help. We bought this swing, and neither Harry or I can figure out how to set it up. Harry wants to use it this afternoon. Can you come and put it up for us?”
I drove my truck up the drive to the large white clap-board house. I figured the swing would either be for the long front porch or for the large back yard I could see from the drive. I picked up my toolbox, walked up the steps and knocked on the door. There was the rattle of a safety chain and then the door opened as far as the chain would let it.
“Are you Sam?”
The door closed and I heard the jangle of the chain again. Then it opened.
“Hi, I'm Jill. Come on in. The swing's back here.”
She led me though the living room, down a short hall, and into a bedroom. As she walked, her tight little ass cheeks made that little up and down motion I really love. The fact that her shorts were pulled up her crack enough that those tight little cheeks were half exposed was pretty fine too.
“Well, here it is. The directions are over there on the bed. We couldn't figure out what they mean by a ceiling grid, much less find one.”
The box said “Fantasy Friends Pleasure Swing”, and it looked like the guy and girl on the box were having a very, very good time. On the back were pictures of the same couple demonstrating some of the possible positions the swing would help achieve.
I could see why the directions were bit difficult to understand. Somehow, the Chinese words for 'use a screwdriver to screw the mounting plate into at least two ceiling joists' got translated into ‘two mounting brackets more screws upon ceiling grid with screwing handle’.
Fortunately, the pictures in the instruction book were pretty clear. I went back to my truck for my stepladder and met another woman coming through the door.
She was a little taller than Jill and everything I could see was firm and tight, including the breasts that pushed out the front of her open shirt. Her jeans were snug in all the right places, and her red cowboy boots gave her a sort of look like...well I figured fucking her would be a matter of laying there and hanging on for dear life while she rode me. I was just hoping she didn’t wear spurs. That nice fantasy ended as soon as she saw me.
“Who – the – fuck – are - you?”
“Uh...I'm Sam? You know...Sam, Sam, The Handy Man?”
The frown changed almost into a smile.
“Oh, OK. Jill said she'd called you.”
She stuck out her hand, and the handshake was firm enough I almost winced.
“I'm Harry, Harriett actually, but I go by Harry.”
I found two ceiling joists about where Harry and Jill said they wanted the swing, used some lag bolts to hold up the mounting plate instead of the cheap screws in the box, and then hung the swing for them. Harry came in the bedroom just as I was climbing down off the ladder. She’d change from boots and jeans to sweatpants, a tight tank top, and a pair of flip-flops. As she flapped across the floor, her breasts swung back and forth invitingly. I saw Jill lick her upper lip.
“Is it done yet?'
I said it was. Harry turned to Jill.
“OK, Jill get your hot little ass in there so we can get the height right.”
Jill sat down on the strap like the pictures in the directions showed, then lifted each leg and put her foot though the loops that hung down in the front of the swing. She eased back into the sling and scooted her sweet little butt down until the strap rested just above her hips.
“Oh, fuck, that looks good”, said Harry.
Harry went over to a dresser, pulled a pink rubber cock on a harness out of one of the drawers, and walked between Jill's outstretched legs. She stepped into the harness, and then began to push the rubber cock at the crotch of Jill's shorts.
“It's a little high, I think. Can you let it down a some?”
I climbed back up the ladder, loosened the nuts on the turnbuckle, and let the swing down an inch.
“Yeah, that's pretty good, I think. Let me just try one more thing.”
Harry got down on her knees and pushed her face into Jill's crotch.
“Yep, that'll work.”
I tightened everything up and came back down the ladder. Harry was still kneeling between Jill's open legs, and running her fingers lightly over Jill's inner thighs.
I cleared my throat.
“Well, I guess I'm about done here.”
Harry looked up at me, said, “How much do I owe you?”
When I told her, she reached into the pocket of her sweats, took out a wallet, and counted out the bills. As I showed myself out, I heard Jill’s giggling voice.
“Harry, it’s not going to go in with my shorts and panties on.”
“Take ‘em off then. I want to see this cock in your little pussy.”
Just as I closed the door, I heard Jill’s moan, and then her voice.
“Oh…It’s too big. It won't fit.”
“It’s gonna fit in both places, and you’re gonna take it all, Baby. Now suck it and get it wet.”
I smiled at the picture I was imagining. I'd have to tell Jenny about this. Maybe she'd want a swing too.
Holly is another customer I won’t forget for a while. Holly called me one day in the fall because her screen door screen had gotten ripped. I stopped by the hardware store for a roll of screen wire and went over to her house.
Holly was a tiny little woman, and she was really…Well, there are proportions and then there are proportions. Holly’s were just about perfect.
Holly seemed like a pretty intelligent girl; at least she held up her end of the conversation well. We had quite a conversation the day I fixed her screen, because Holly has absolutely no sense of guilt, shame or modesty. Something will pop into her pretty dark brunette head and immediately comes out her mouth.
By the time I had the old screen taken out of the frame, I knew a lot about Holly.
Holly is twenty-two. I know that because she told me. Bert is forty-eight. Holly told me that too. She laughed and said it was one of those May-December things, though to me, it was more like February-December.
She’s four feet, eleven and a half inches tall, weighs eighty-five pounds unless it’s that time of the month when she retains water. Then she gets up to a whopping eighty-seven. She has trouble finding bras that fit, because her bra size is 30C.
She’s married to Bert, and Bert is a construction manager. They’re doing well, financially, so Holly doesn’t have to work. She stays home and works in the pottery studio Bert built for her. Bert thinks her pottery is great. Bert also thinks showering with Holly after she’s been working in her studio is great. Holly thinks those showers are great too, and always tries to get some clay in all the places Bert likes to wash for her..
Bert likes her to wear bras that let her nipples show and she has a really hard time finding those. Bert also likes her to wear thong panties. Holly doesn’t have any trouble finding them. She just has trouble getting Bert to leave them on her.
Like I said, Holly likes to talk.
I think that’s due in large part to Bert being away so much. He’s out of town on some construction site about three weeks out of every month. I think it’s also a little because of who I am. Holly told me she likes older men, and I suppose she doesn’t get to see many of them.
I fixed Holly’s screen that day, and thought I’d probably seen the last of her. But the next April, she called me again. This time, it was the lawn sprinklers. Bert liked having a nice green lawn, or so she told me over the phone, and would just die if it turned the least little bit brown.
Holly answered the door wearing a T-shirt that must have been one of Bert’s because her tiny little body was lost in a sea of white cotton. She’d tied the shirttail in a knot at her waist, and there was a bare strip of skin between that knot and the waistband of her little white shorts. A sparkly belly button ring flashed when she stepped out into the sunlight.
“Hi Sam. Thanks for coming out. The sprinklers are supposed to run every night, but last night some of the little spray thingies didn’t come up and squirt. Come on out in back and I’ll show you.”
I followed her tiny, well-rounded and wonderfully working ass out through the gate and into the back yard. She stopped at a sprinkler cap beside one of the flower gardens.
“None of them in this part of the yard came up. All the rest worked just fine.”
Holly showed me where the control system was, and fortunately for me, the installer had left a map showing which valve controlled which heads. When I popped the top off the valve box for the zone that hadn’t worked, I could see the problem. The wires for the valve were pretty corroded because the installer hadn’t used the right connectors.
“You’ve just got a bad connection here. See how the wires are kinda green?”
I backed away so Holly could see into the box and about fell over. She’d bent over with her hands on her knees, and the neck of that over-sized T-shirt was gaping open. Holly wasn’t wearing a bra, and through the gap, her breasts were as visible as if she’d been naked. They hung down like a C-cup should hang, were perfectly delicious looking, and were tipped with nipples that seemed huge on such small breasts.
“Those red and black things coming out of the top?”
“Yes. They go back to your control box. When the control turns on the valve, the water pressure makes the sprinkler heads pop up. I’ll replace the connector and you should be fine.”
I got everything cleaned up, stripped the wires back past the corroded part and put on new connectors.
“All we have to do now is test it. I’ll go turn on this valve manually, and you yell if the sprinklers work.”
Inside the garage, I put the control in manual and turned on that zone. A few seconds later, I heard Holly yell, “They work.”
I put the control back in auto and walked back out to the yard.
Well, the sprinklers had worked really well. Holly was drenched from head to toe. That T-shirt was plastered to her firm breasts like a second skin, and the dark pink of her nipple beds and stiffening nipples were making my cock start to stir. It really stiffened up when I looked at her shorts. The outline of a red thong panty was clearly visible through dripping material.
Holly just pulled the T-shirt away from her boobs, looked inside, let it fall again and then laughed.
“I guess I should have stood over there. They work really good now. I’ll go dry off a little and then I’ll pay you.”
When she came back outside, she had on another big T-shirt and different shorts. Her nipples were still stiff enough to make twin bumps in her shirt that looked absolutely delicious. I was a mile down the road before my cock settled down again.
I didn’t see Holly again until that October. She'd called me to fix her dishwasher. She said it kept leaving stuff all over the glasses and plates.
When she answered the door, I could see that Holly had been busy. Judging from the size of her belly, she was pretty pregnant. When I asked her about it, she grinned and said “Five and a half months”. She was, as I’ve heard Jenny say, carrying her baby low. I’m sure she wasn’t any bigger than Jenny had been at that stage when we had our kids, but Holly was so tiny, her belly looked huge. I found myself wondering what she’d look like in another three months.
The short, sweat shorts she had on covered her wide hips in back, but then dived under her swollen tummy almost to her crotch. Holly waved me inside, and when she turned, I could see the elastic of white cotton panties and a little fringe of dark brown hair peeking out from between those sweats and her tummy. Judging from the very large breasts that rolled gently beneath the halter top she wore, that baby was going to be very well fed too.
“See. There's all these spots on the glasses and little pieces of food still on the plates.”
“It probably just needs to be cleaned out. Let's take everything out and I'll have a look.”
When I took out the screen that leads to the pump, I found a pair of black thong panties clogging the pump inlet. When I untangled them, I could see the panty part was only about as big as a large bandaid, and the rest was all thin strings. I held them up.
“Here's your problem, Holly.”
“I wondered where those went. I'm going through panties like crazy now, and it seemed like a waste to run the big washer since I don’t have any of Bert’s things to make a full load. I tried the dishwasher. Just stretched them out over the wire things that hold up the plates and glasses. It worked too, except I lost these. They're Bert's favorite ones. They're what I was wearing the night I think he knocked me up. I put ‘em on last week trying to feel sexy.”
“It’s kinda hard to feel sexy when you feel big as a cow.”
I didn't know what to say to that, so I put everything back together, then stood up and said if she washed everything again, her glasses and plates would come clean now.
“Well, I'm glad it wasn't worse. Bert’s not home again for another week, and I can't reach the sink to wash anything very well anymore.” She giggled, then lifted her big breasts and jiggled them inside the halter top. “I can't reach much of anything anymore. If it isn't my tummy, it's these big fat boobs getting in the way. Was it that way with your wife?
“Did her boobs get really big?”
“Yes, they got pretty big.”
Holly scratched her right breast, then rubbed it.
“Did they get really sensitive too? Mine sure are. All Bert has to do is touch 'em and I’m ready to fuck him silly.”
“I think hers were pretty sensitive, most of the time.”
She squeezed that very plump, very round breast with out thinking.
“Sure wish he was here. I'm as horny as a toad? Your wife get that way too?”
I remembered that wonderful time very well. Jenny's libido went into overdrive after the third month, and I had to start taking vitamins to keep up with her.
“As I remember, we had some pretty fantastic times then.”
“More than once a day, I bet. When Bert’s home, he fucks me in the morning, and an hour later, I’m ready again. We’re trying to keep it to three times a day, so Bert doesn’t get too tired, if you know what I mean.”
Holly rubbed her hand down over her bare belly. “God, even saying ‘fuck’ makes me almost drip. Was your wife wet all the time, like I am?”
“My doctor said it was normal, but I have to change my panties twice a day ‘cause they get so soaked. Oh…” Holly grinned. “I just got kicked.” She stopped talking for a second, then grinned again. “She’s being feisty this morning. Wanna feel? Put your hand right here.”
I didn’t feel anything except Holly’s tight belly. I chuckled.
“I don’t think she likes me.”
“Nah, she’s just moved down lower. Here, let me put your hand where she’s kicking.”
Holly slid my hand down under the swell of her tummy. I felt a strong push against my hand, and then it was gone. Holly giggled.
“I think she’s running a race in there. Uh-oh…there she is again.”
Holly pushed my hand down far enough that I was feeling those dark-brown curls with my fingertips.
“Feel her now?”
“Hmmm. I don’t either, so maybe she’s decided to go back to sleep for a while then. No…wait…”
Holly pushed my hand under the waistband of her panties.
She pushed my hand deeper into her shorts. If that baby was kicking there, Holly needed to be headed for the hospital.
Holly put her finger to her lips. She looked like she was about to cry.
“Shhh. Don’t say anything, Sam. I’m about to go crazy being so worked up and here all by myself. If you could just…just…please, just this once... Just with your fingers. I can’t reach there very well, and I need to get off so bad.”
Holly was right about being wet, except she was understating things quite a bit. When I pulled her panties down around her ankles there was a little puddle shining in the crotch. Holly kicked them out of the way and then heaved herself up on her kitchen table. The sight of her laying on her back, her round belly high off her body and her thick, dark-brown bush glistening with wetness brought back some very fond memories. So did the feeling on my fingertip when I slipped it between her lips.
Holly was slippery and sticky at the same time. Little strings of clear liquid bridged the gap between her lips when my fingers separated them. It was a feeling and sight I thought I’d never experience again. I slipped one finger, then two into that warm, clinging wetness. Holly sighed.
“Oh God, yes…Finally.”
There’s not much more to tell, except that after a few minutes, Holly pulled up her top and pinched her thick, dark nipples, then pulled my hand to the left one.
“If you pinch it hard, you’ll make me cum.”
I did… and she did, arching off the table and shaking like a leaf in the wind. I stroked my fingers in and out for another minute while she settled back down, and was going to stop then, but Holly grabbed my hand and held my fingers inside her.
“Oh, God, I’m gonna go again. Don’t stop.”
The second one was longer and a lot stronger. Holly’s pussy clamped down on my fingers as the waves swept her body over and over. When I pinched her right nipple again, I though she was going to jump off that table. A flood of her wetness coated my fingers and dripped on the tabletop as she moaned through each spasm.
Holly finally let me slip out my fingers. She looked up and me and giggled.
“Sorry about that second one, but I just couldn’t stop. You don’t mind all that much, do you?”
Holly paid me for fixing her sprinklers and gave me a kiss on the cheek for fixing her other problem.
About two weeks later, Jenny told me a woman named Holly had called while I was out.
“She says her dishwasher isn’t working again.”
“She also told me she’s pregnant and that you’re, as she put it, ‘a very understanding man’.”
I gulped. I’d told Jenny about Holly’s problem, but not how I fixed it.
Jenny smiled and then kissed me on the lips.
“Just do me one thing, Sam. I remember how I felt then, so it’s OK with me if you fuck her, but you have to come home and tell me all about it. Now go help the poor girl out.”
It’s fortunate for me that Jenny is a very understanding woman. That understanding was pretty convenient when Julie called. It was a Sunday afternoon and I was out in my workshop, so Jenny wrote everything down, or at least I though she’d written it all down.
“A Julie Davidson from out on 47 called. Her pump has stopped working and she needs it pretty bad. Have you got time to take a look? Here’s the address.”
It was an old farmhouse, and the city hadn’t run water out that far yet, so all of these old places still had a well with a pump to supply water pressure. The seals in those pumps lasted quite a while, but when they died, so did the running water.
Julie was probably in her mid forties, and while her face was pretty plain, she had all the curves only maturity can mold, and eyes that said, “Once you get to know me, you’re gonna like me a lot.” Her breasts were a wonder, round, full, and held high on her chest by the bra I saw peeking from the open third button on her blouse. I was sure I’d like her a lot.
I asked her where the pump was.
“I’ll go get it. Can you work on the kitchen table OK?”
I was still trying to figure that out when Julie brought in a box with an electric cord, a couple of knobs, and two long, clear plastic hoses plugged into fittings on the top. At the end of those hoses were two clear cups with small containers attached.
“It was working fine last night. Then, this morning, it just stopped. I really need to have it working. Can you fix it?”
“Well, probably, but it might take me a while. I’ve never been inside one of these before.”
Julie looked at me with a look was pleading.
“I really…really…need to have it fixed. Can you understand? I really… really…really need it.”
“You’re… uh…you - you have milk?”
“Oh boy, do I ever, and it’s starting to hurt.”
“But I don’t see any baby stuff…”
“I don’t have one, never have. I’m single, see?”
She held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers.
“I was having a problem, something to do with my hormones, and my doctor prescribed some medicine for it. I started feeling a lot better after a couple of days. Then one morning, I woke up and I’d soaked my sleep bra. I called my doctor and she said that sometimes happens with drugs in that family and she’d change my prescription to something else.
“Well, I’d read about women who give their milk to other women who can’t nurse their babies. I figured, if I can make it, some little baby is going to grow up healthier, so I started pumping. Once I stopped the medicine, I got all checked out so I could donate to the milk bank. I’m pumping about forty ounces a day now.”
I did a quick calculation. Forty ounces would be about…
“That’s over a quart a day.”
“Yes, and some of that quart has me swelled up so tight it’s painful. I should have pumped myself a couple of hours ago. Can you hurry?”
I opened up the pump, checked a few things and found the problem.
“It’s just the switch. I think I have one that’ll work back in my workshop. I’ll drive back an get it, and have you fixed in a jiffy.”
“How long is a jiffy? I can’t wait much longer.”
“Can’t you just squeeze it out. My wife used to do that sometimes.”
Julie shook her head.
“I’ve tried that. A little comes out, but not enough to relieve the pressure. I’d be black and blue before I got them squeezed out enough. The only thing that works is that pump…unless…”
Julie looked at me with those pleading eyes again.
“I wouldn’t ask this if it didn’t hurt so bad, but could you…I mean, your wife said you used to do her sometimes.”
Now I knew why Jenny’d been smiling so innocently when she gave me the address.
After a couple of false starts, we figured out the best way was for Julie to sit at one end of her couch and let me lay down on my back with my head in her lap. She lowered her very thick, very engorged right nipple to my mouth.
“Just go easy until you get some of it out, OK. I’m really, really sensitive right now.”
I was as gentle as I knew how to be gentle. As my first little suck, I felt creamy, sweet milk spray into my mouth. I sucked again, and it just kept coming. I swallowed, then sucked again, but I wasn’t having to suck hard at all. Once the flow started, it only took a little suction to keep it going.
“Oh God, that feels good”, chuckled Julie.
I settled on a routine of three easy sucks, then a swallow, then three more sucks. After a couple of minutes I could feel Julie’s breast softening a little against my face. The flow had also decreased so I sucked a little harder. Julie’s little moan surprised me. I let her nipple slip from my mouth.
“I’m sorry, Julie. Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine, and this one feels a lot better. Can you do the other one for a while? It still hurts.”
After a few more minutes, Julies other breast was softer and I was having to suck harder on it too. Julie seemed to be squeezing her thighs together, and she moaned again.
“Oh wow, this can’t be happening, but it is.”
My words were a little slurred because her swollen nipple was still in my mouth.
“Wha’s gomma happem.”
“I’m…oh God…it’s happening now.”
Julie almost threw me off her lap when the orgasm hit her. Her hips shook rapidly up and down and she bent down, forcing her breast to flatten out on my face. . I suppose it was some sort of instinct that caused me to suck on her nipple again, I don’t know. I do know right after I did, Julie bucked hard and started to pant.
“Ummh…Ummh…Ummh” she moaned as her body rocked up and down, pulling her nipple against the suction of my mouth every time she did. After a few more moans and one long, deep sigh, Julie chuckled.
“I think I need a new pump…one that does this too.”
It took me an hour to get back home, find the switch, and drive back. Julie was sitting there, squeezing her breasts. A few dribbles of milk dropped into the bowl on the table.
“We didn’t get ‘em down enough. Would you mind terribly …”
Well, that took another half an hour. Julie came again, about like the first time, then again just as I was sucking hard and not getting much from either nipple.
I replaced her switch, plugged in the pump and turned it on. It seemed to work OK so I asked Julie to try it out. She didn’t have much milk left, but the pump still did a nice job of applying long pulses of suction to her nipples, stretching them out until they sprayed a few drops into the containers under the cups. Julie thanked me and paid me for the switch. I figured I’d just donate my other services.
When I got home, Jenny was talking on the phone. I heard her say, “No, that’s not anything for you to worry about, Honey. If it happens again, you just call.”
She hung up the phone and asked, “Well, did you get Julie’s pump fixed”
“You little minx, you knew what kind of pump that was, didn’t you?
“Yep. Julie told me what it was and why she needed you out there so bad. So…did you get it fixed?”
“After a couple of hours, I did.”
“From what she just told me on the phone, that’s not all you fixed.”
“Well, I uh…well she was in pain and she said it was the only way…”
“I know. She told me that when she called the first time. I told her you’d probably figure out something and whatever you did was OK with me.”
Jenny grinned and licked her upper lip.
“Speaking of me, I need some fixing too. Let’s go upstairs, get naked, and you can show me what you did to fix Julie’s problem.”
I knew it was going to be a very, very enjoyable afternoon.