Fucking The Handyman, Part Two (Day Two)

I returned home after dropping Mac off at his town house. I started a pot of coffee and went upstairs to gather the bed sheets that needed to be washed. I buried my face in them to smell Mac’s scent. I looked over at my husband’s and my bed at the headboard where I held on for dear life while Mac pounded me from behind. I started to get wet again so I undressed before going downstairs to the laundry. Fuck it—I wasn’t going to wear any clothes at all today. I would get all of my housework done in the nude. After all, I do some of my best work in the nude. And I’d just relax and think about tonight.

I started my load of laundry and walked into the kitchen completely naked (except for my wedding ring). The coffee was ready so I poured myself a cup. I gazed out the window over the sink; it was a beautiful sunny day. I walked over to the sliding glass doors that open up to the elevated deck off our kitchen where Mac and I had talked and drank whiskey. I pulled back the vertical blinds and without a second thought walked brazenly out onto the deck in the nude to enjoy my cup of coffee. The foliage surrounding our backyard makes it difficult (but not impossible) for our neighbors to see us when we’re out on our deck; still, it turned me on to think that one of them might be watching me right now.

Maybe Tim is watching me; Tim and his dipshit wife Lori live in the white saltbox house that’s kitty-corner behind us. Lori’s at work right now, but Tim works out of a home office and he definitely has a thing for me. Flirts with me all the fucking time whenever I’m out in the yard working in my little cut-offs. And I’ve never told my husband about this—probably because I like the attention. Tim is about the same age as my husband (late 50s) but in better shape. He’s good looking with a very nice build; dipshit Lori is a lucky gal. And now I can’t stop thinking about Tim watching me through binoculars from his upstairs bedroom window, stroking himself, wanting me. I start diddling myself and the fantasy becomes more vivid, with Tim walking across his backyard towards ours in the nude and walking onto our deck with a raging boner that I’m going to have to service. I don’t want to stain the nice cushion on my deck chair with crotch juice so I get up and sit down on the deck with my back against the house, with glorious sunlight bathing my naked body. Tim gets closer and closer to me and I can’t take my eyes off his gorgeous cock and then suddenly it isn’t Tim who’s walking towards me it’s Mac and I erupt in orgasm. I don’t squirt as much as I did when Mac ate me, but my knuckles and my wedding ring are thick with my girl sauce. I lick my hands clean to see what I taste like and, hey, I taste pretty good!

When the time came to pick up Mac at 6:00, I got dressed but not really. All I had on was a t-shirt, a pair of VERY skimpy and VERY sheer white panties, and some sandals. I called Mac to tell him I was on my way over and that he should be waiting for me in the driveway because I didn’t want to get out of my car. When he opened the passenger door and saw what I was wearing he just smiled.

“Aren’t you something?” he said. I told him that this was the first outfit I’d worn all day and I also told him all about how I’d masturbated out on the deck in the nude thinking about him (I didn’t tell him about Tim, however).

“Outdoors on the deck, eh?” he said with a quizzical look on his adorable face. “That’s right…right out on our deck where ANYBODY could see me and YOU weren’t there to protect me or take care of me,” I replied with a pout. “I’m kind of jealous,” he said. “Maybe we should do it out there tonight,” he suggested. I told him that I liked that idea. I liked that idea A LOT.

We decided to skip dinner and get into the alchohol right away. We sat out on my deck again and opened up TWO bottles of whiskey…this time an Irish AND a Scotch. It was going to be a very good night. At first it was just idle chit-chat, but the more we drank the less inhibited we both got until finally I came right and asked him: “So what’s your wildest fantasy?”

Mac looked at me and smiled as he took another sip of the Scotch. “You really want to know?,” he asked. “Yes, I really want to know. Because I want to be the first woman to do anything you’ve ever wanted a woman to do but have been afraid to ask. I want you to be more sexually fulfilled with me than you’ve ever been with anybody else in your whole entire life.”

“OK,” Mac sighed, “and don’t say I didn’t warn you but here goes.” He looked up at the sky and took a deep breath, then he exhaled and looked straight at me. “OK, it’s like this. I’d like to have a threesome with you and a married friend of mine, Mark. Mark and I have been fucking each other since we were seniors in high school and NOBODY besides Mark knows that I’m bisexual. Well, now you know.”

Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. I deliberately waited what probably seemed like forever to respond to this while maintaining my very best poker face (and I’m a mean poker player). Finally Mark couldn’t stand the silence anymore and begged me to say SOMETHING.

“What do you want me to say?” I teased. I can be such a bitch at times.

“Say anything you want to say but don’t just sit there,” he replied. OK, I couldn’t torture him any longer.

“Sure why not,” I said matter-of-factly. “Go ahead and set it up. See if he’s available this Friday or Saturday night. He can tell his wife that he’s going out drinking with his old buddy and I’ll pick the both of you up at your place. And tell him not to worry, that we’ll make sure he gets home before curfew. We wouldn’t want him to get grounded!”

By the time it got totally dark outside, we were both half in the bag. Too drunk to stumble back inside, we stripped naked right there on the deck and sat down on our little couch swing to make out. We’d been swapping spit and groping each other for maybe half an hour when I told Mac to get up and walk over to the deck railing. I ordered him to lean over the railing and spread his legs as wide as he could while looking out at my backyard. I told him he under no circumstances was he to look back at me. He was to keep his eyes FORWARD.

“What are you going to do to me?,” he croaked.

I wasn’t going to answer THAT stupid question. Instead, I knelt directly behind Mac with my muscular thighs bulging as I sat back on my naked heels. I reached between Mac’s thighs and grabbed hold of his stiffness, yanking it back towards me so that it pointed straight down at the deck. His shaved scrotum, crotch and asshole looked fantastic in the light of the full moon; I began rubbing my face up and down the length of his shaft, up and over his ball sack, and back and forth against his filthy asshole.

“Does Mark ever do this to you, fagboy?” I purred.

“Sometimes,” Mac whispered.

“Does it feel good, fagboy?” I asked.

“Yes” he whimpered.

“And how does this feel, fagboy?” I asked as I wrapped my wet tongue around his cockhead and around his shaft, suckling one of his testicles back into my mouth, then the other, dragging my long tongue along the base of his scrotum until it finally reached what I told him was his “boy pussy.” I burrowed my snout deep into his bung and then “took a whiff of JIF.” He smelled dirty. He was dirty. But instead of licking him clean this time I decided to finger-fuck him instead, now that I knew he LIKES things up his ass. I got my wedding ring finger all the way in easily enough, along with my middle finger, but getting THREE fingers all the way in was much more challenging. So I excused myself and walked into the kitchen to grab a tub of Crisco Shortening from the pantry along with a dinner plate. I positioned the dinner plate down on the deck between Mac’s legs directly beneath his now twitching cock. Then, with my left hand, I proceeded to grease Mac’s obviously used asshole with the Crisco until all of his muscles back there finally relaxed, allowing me to slide my entire FIST deep into his bowels all the way up past my wrist. While this was going on, I was stroking his cock with my right hand. When he let out a groan that was just a little too loud for my liking, I smacked his ass hard and reached back to where I’d dropped my panties. I got up and SHOVED them into his mouth, whispering in his ear that he’d “BETTER SHUT THE FUCK UP” or else the neighbors would hear us. It didn’t take long for Mac to erupt after this. He shot an extremely heavy stream of hot quim all over my dinner plate; it almost looked like he was taking a piss. I’d never seen anything like it before in my life! The poor boy.

I picked up the plate and placed it on the deck railing just inches from Mac’s right elbow. He was breathing heavily through my makeshift gag and sweating profusely. I just smiled at him and stroked his hair, telling him that he was “a good fagboy” and that everything was going to be all right. His eyes widened as he watched me lick the plate clean. Such yummy cum!

We dragged our drunk asses back into the house and somehow managed to lock the sliding glass doors behind us. We were way to fucking drunk to figure out the vertical blinds, and we ended up passing out on the family room floor. I woke up hung over around 5:00 a.m. and decided to sit on Mac’s face while he was lying there on his back, snoring to beat the band.

“Good morning, beautiful” I chirped. “Time to rise and shine!”

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