The Handyman

Tragedy is when your wife laughs at your penis. Comedy is when she laughs at someone else's.

Since no one gets tied up here we're in the Humour & Satire section this time.

+++++

There was a lot of stuff that needed to be fixed around the house. June had complained about leaking taps, a rattling ceiling fan, cracks in the pergola and a skirting board that had come away from a wall in the kitchen. Then she wanted some nails in the walls so she could hang her new prints. One hung in the living room and one in the bedroom. I told her I would look at the other chores, but I had a go straight away at nailing in the new hooks for June's artwork. Which was not a success. The hooks came away leave a couple of large holes in the walls and the prints yet to be hung.

I was thinking about what I could do next, sitting at the kitchen table with the music up loud.

June burst in on me. "What's that noise?" she demanded, "I can't stand it."

"That's The Pixies classic Doolittle," I informed her.

"Yeah," June sneered, "Do little." She went to slam the door on her way out but it stuck before it closed so she had to pull it hard which made the hinges screech. June poked her head back around before she got the door fully closed. "And fix this," she snarked. And she was gone.

I had a look at the internet for videos of how to do the chores and figured that I could at least fix the holes in the walls. I made another trip to Bunnings to buy the materials and tools I would need. I splayed the polyfiller into the holes I had made. I trusted the promise on the pack that it would set overnight, and I could put the hooks in the next morning. But the next morning I found that both plugs had fallen right out. Frustration, I had done everything by the instructions. It was hard as promised, but it just did not stick in the wall. Which after all was the aim. Needless to say, June was not impressed and coolly suggested that further attempts should be handled by a professional. So I found a company called Hire A Handyman, and they promised to send someone out on the Friday.

The predictable white van pulled into our driveway about nine o'clock on Friday morning. I was working on my laptop in the front room, there to keep an eye out for the promised domestic assistance.

A man got out of the van. And what a man. I first noticed his solid black workboots. Then his black leather bib overalls. He wore a white singlet underneath which revealed in the best way a pair of solid biceps that just yelled 'I can pull tractors'. The strong features of his face and his piercing gaze, visible even from my vantage, were offset by a luscious mane of lanky brown hair with blond highlights that actually shone in the sun like he was some sort of man-god.

When he knocked on my front door, the windows in the front room shook.

I was somewhat concerned as I went to open the door for him. The handyman stood a little taller than me. I stared for a moment then noticed that he had reached out with his solid right hand to shake mine. He held a large bag with tools and materials in his left hand. In a deep, warm voice he said "Hello, I'm Fabio. I believe I am required here to help you." As indeed he was.

After an excruciating moment I worked my hand free from his vicelike grip and invited him into my home.

He followed me inside, silent after the initial greeting, so I tried to make small-talk with him. "I was starting to wonder if there were any male tradesmen left," I smiled over at my imposing visitor as I led him into the front room to show him the first of the holes that I had created in the walls trying to get the hooks in.

Fabio nodded agreement. "We're in a minority since the women came into the industry," he agreed. "They have taken over and get the good jobs, probably because they are better at this work than we men are."

I laughed at his solemn pronouncement. "Well, I'm useless," I admitted, "but you're a professional so I hope you know how to get the job done."

"I hope so too," he answered without any shred of irony that I could detect.

I looked up into his vivid blue eyes and smiled. He smiled back for a brief moment, realising it was time for a joke. "Don't worry," he said without relaxing a muscle in his again bold face, "I can fix things."

"That's good," I agreed.

"But I want you with me so you will know how to do the job next time it needs to be done."

"But doesn't that put you out of a job?"

Fabio rolled back his shoulders and his biceps flexed just a little. "I have more work than I can handle. I have succeeded if you don't have to call for me next time something falls out of your wall." We were right near the mess I had made, so it was obvious what he was talking about. Fabio put down his work bag and rummaged through it. He held up a caulking gun and a small trowel. "You need these items," he informed me. "Do you own them?" I shook my head. "I will leave them here for you afterwards so you can use them yourself next time. Now let me explain what needs to be done."

Fabio led me through the process. He insisted I hold the caulking gun and talked me through how to apply the filler so that it bonded with the plaster and the wall. To my surprise, he told me to leave it to dry for at least a day or two before trying to fit the hook. Well, at least that explained that.

"There are other holes like this?" he asked.

"Sure are," I replied, "in the bedroom." And I led him there.

As I opened the bedroom door, I realised that June was in our bed, apparently still asleep.

"What are you doing, June?" I exploded at her without thinking.

She groaned and rolled over to avoid the light coming into our bedroom from behind me. "I told you," she mumbled, "I'm taking the day off."

"No, you didn't," I started.

Fabio marched up next to me and nudged me in the side. "This is not how you deal with this situation," he told me with that handyman assurance he had already shown me in the front room. "Let me demonstrate." And before I could say anything he moved past me and squatting, his face near where June was hiding hers.

"Darling," he cooed, "is there anything you want me to do?"

"You could leave me alone," she murmured, still mostly asleep.

Fabio ignored that and ran his fingers gently through her hair, running them down the back of her neck.

"Mmm," she moaned, "do that again."

So he did.

He ran his huge hand surprisingly lightly through her hair, down the nape of her neck, and finished by holding the hand she drooped out of the blankets. Fabio gently stroked it from the ends of her fingers up to her elbows to the appreciative moans of my wife. Fabio let June's hand fall back and free of her, he stood up and beckoned me over to replace him by her face. 'Do what I just did,' he mouthed at me while miming to me what I had just watched him do. I felt a little put out by that but I settled near my wife's face and whispered "Darling, is there anything you want me to do?"

This time, she mumbled something appreciative to herself, no doubt hoping for a repeat of the nice stuff that Fabio had just done to her. He stood close behind me and nudged me to run my fingers through her hair which I did to June's appreciative gurgles. I did it again and found that this was clearly something that my wife enjoyed. Fabio nudged me again to rub the back of her hand. So I reached across and did as I saw him do. But this time June grunted sharply and yanked her hand away. I was worried that she would wake to find two men standing near her. But no worries, she was still sleeping. I turned and shrugged to Fabio, hoping that we could get back to the easier task of fixing the rest of the house up. But Fabio shook his head with the look of a patient teacher. Admittedly when Fabio shook his head, his outstanding locks followed like the rippling of a gentle lake, highlighted by his highlights. He took my hand in his and guided it down to where June had rested hers. I gave myself up to his strong grasp as Fabio gently placed my fingers back down on June's arm as he stroked them up and down for me. I would swear that the two of us were doing the same thing that June had just rejected from me. But this time June did not move her hand but groaned in evident pleasure at what was being done to her.

Fabio lifted his hand off mine and gestured it was time to leave her. So we retreated to deal with the next repair item on my list.

We quickly oiled the hinges in the kitchen door and I swung it back and forth a few times, happy that it was now loose, easy to close and silent like it should be.

"Let's have a look at that skirting board," Fabio suggested.

So there we were facing the wall, bums in the air as Fabio explained to me what had gone wrong for the wood to disengage from the wall.

"Quite a sight," came an unmistakable female voice from behind us. I turned around in time to witness June wrapped in a light silk robe step forward to caress both our bottoms.

"Please June, we are trying to work here," Fabio tried to explain as he unconsciously flicked his hair back so he could better see how he was going to fix the skirting board back.

"First name terms already and we haven't even been properly introduced," June smirked as Fabio's hair gently fell back into place. "I've been dreaming about you, having your face close to mine, whispering sweet things to me." She smiled as Fabio turned to greet her causing her visage to change to awe. "Perhaps," she faltered, "who knows, the dream was real." She looked quite mischievous now. We were still on our knees but our heads raised up in response to June's attention. She held out a hand to our visitor. "And you would be?"

"Fabio. The handyman," he stated proudly turning around so he could politely shake my wife's hand in his, his burley arms now fully in her view. As his hair slowly swirled behind him.

June pretended to maintain her composure. "Fabio. Of course you are," she sniffed. Her haughty air was somewhat spoiled by her gown falling open at the top to show most of her not inconsiderable breasts as she rigorously shook our helper's hand. But if she noticed she didn't show it. And of course, Fabio acted the perfect gentleman. In fact he stood up letting go of June's hand to loosen her gown so she was completely visible to him, naked of course. And then carefully he wrapped her back in the silk garment meticulously tying her sash so that it looked like it would not accidentally come apart again soon.

"There," he observed, "you are respectable again." He looked from her to me and back to her. "Now, I was explaining to Henry how I would only use glue to fix the skirting back in place."

"Why is that?" June seemed genuinely interested. Maybe it was those muscles or his imposing mane.

"I don't forcing hard things into a soft medium, spoiling the unblemished look," he replied innocently enough. Although a little alarm went off in the back of my mind. Was that innuendo?

"I'll bet you don't," June chortled saucily letting Fabio look genuinely perplexed at what had caused her mirth.

"I prefer to use a nice sticky paste then hold the board firmly in place." Of course when Fabio said 'firmly' his biceps flexed although I could not tell if he had even noticed.

"Bit of a twitch you've got there." Because June had noticed. She caressed his closest bicep.

"Thank you," Fabio responded politely, "but now I have to hold my hard wood against the wall."

I tried to not laugh. At one level this was going on like the crassest of Carry On movies but at another level Fabio was plausibly reciting the facts of his craft to June without any idea that there could be any other meaning at all. I also suspected from the shrug of her shoulders that June was trying to work her way back out of her gown to get some more approval from Fabio. But she was finding that he had trussed her up in it so well that it would take her some time to free herself from it.

At least that's what I thought.

Accepting surrender, June called out "I'll leave you boys to it then," and proceeded out through the door. Except the sash of her gown snagged on the doorframe. June swore and tried to unhook herself. Which only seemed to make matters worse. Somehow the sash came loose taking the gown with it. The gown had doubled up and bunched around where she was caught so that her legs were now pretty bare. June tried to tug herself away but the silk had a mind of its own, wanting to go in the opposite direction to June. She jerked it again and this time we heard a tear. Suddenly most of the gown was flapping from the doorframe with only a thin band left around June's waist. Her bottom was bare and enticing. She struggled out of what remained of the gown and stood in front of us bare naked. With a large smear of hinge grease from above one hip going down her thigh.

"I hope that you're happy," June snapped at no one in particular. Although she did not seem to be in any hurry to cover up or escape our viewing. Well, she had nothing on hand to cover herself with. And the June I knew did not mind putting on a nude show. So there we were. June now with her hands on her hips thrusting her breasts forward, legs slightly parted. Me on my knees still, near the wall. And Fabio standing between us sturdy like some sort of Rodin study of the best of masculinity.

I just stared. It had happened so quickly. Funny how after all the years we had been married, all June needed to do was pose like that, with one knee bent able to mesmerise me with the curve of her hips and the soft flesh of her bottom. I felt like a horny teenager again.

Fabio quickly regained his wits, if he had ever lost them. "Go and hug your wife," he told me. "I think she needs some consolation. That was such a nice silk gown."

He of course was right at least about the hug. I stood up and went over to hold her. June rather than let me totally engulf her in a consoling hug, let me hold her in a way that I realised meant her large firm breasts and her inviting thighs were still visible to Fabio. I knew June. She was not that distraught about the gown. And she was interested in our handyman.

But Fabio seemed not to notice that, looked at us with a sense of purpose. "That will have to be fixed," he pronounced.

Although I was not quite sure exactly what he wanted to fix. But there we were, June was naked, I was clothed but holding her with one arm just below one of her shapely breasts and the other playing on the flesh of her bottom. Then I realised that Fabio was looking at her like she was a domestic situation that had to have a solution.

"We need to shower you," he decided, looking directly at June, at her face. "Quickly, to scrub that grease off you."

"I can do that myself," June insisted. She spurned my vague protection to face our handyman with her hands on her hips.

Fabio went back into his philosopher mode. Squatting on one knee, he placed his chin on an upturned fist in such a nonchalant manner that the pose could have been his invention. "We need to act quickly," he advised. "I caused the problem, so I must fix it."

I could say nothing sensible to that. It was decided.

June smiled, somewhat dangerously. "Well in that case my men, lead me to the bathroom. I expect to be pampered and properly cleansed."

So we were in our bathroom with Fabio busy checking the fittings and the taps to ensure that all was in working order and did not need a handyman. "Sorry," he said when he realised, "once a handyman always trying to fix things." He turned on the shower and checked the temperature with the palm of a hand until he was satisfied that it was right. "Please," he asked my naked wife who was standing next to him unmolested ready to enter the shower. So she did.

June pumped the liquid soap dispenser pressing a milky white stream of soap into her hand, but Fabio stopped her. "We will look after that," he reminded her. June slowly tipped the creamy liquid into Fabio's hand, a weird smile on her face as she ran her moist fingers over his. She stepped under the water.

"Now let me spread the lotion over this terrible blemish," Fabio suggested in the most innocent possible way. But the grease mark did come off. Fabio was not yet finished. He rubbed the soap towards her breasts. June rolled her shoulders back just a little, showing them off more prominently. As I watched on somewhat helplessly, Fabio massaged the creamy liquid into June's soft breasts, causing her to moan and to thrust them further forward at him. Fabio squirted some more of the cream onto his hands so that he could massage her entire upper body.

"Don't stop," June moaned. But that was the cue for Fabio to do exactly that. He took my hands in his soapy fingers sharing the liquid with me.

"You try now," he instructed me. "Do you shower your wife?"

I looked quizzically at him. "No?" I wondered.

He seemed unconcerned. "Just do it as I was doing," he instructed in the same tone he used when we fixed the skirting board. Well, what alternative did I have, especially with my demanding wife staring, wanting more of what Fabio had given her? And now he gave me the opportunity to pleasure her as he had.

I started with the tips of her nipples knowing how sensitive they were, then worked my soapy hands under her breasts to that other area where she was usually over-sensitive. June rocked her head back, closed her eyes and smiled.

"Well done," Fabio observed, "you can see how she is enjoying your touch."

I had not expected this coaching from our visiting handyman, but what he was saying was demonstrably true. June had squeezed her eyes tightly closed as she bit down on the tip of her tongue still emitting little moans of pleasure as I continued my work under his confident tutelage.

June's hands wandered to her pussy, clearly she was intent on the maximum pleasure that she could get out of the situation. I was surprised that Fabio was not helping out there. But apparently he had limits.

In a moment I found that his limits including unbuttoning my pants to lower them and my underwear without getting them wet to free my impossibly hard erection.

June opened her eyes after Fabio had finished undressing me. She gently ran her hands through her outer lips as she observed my penis threatening to take her to the next level now that I was only a centimetre or two away from her. I continued to massage her breasts along with the tender flesh around them. She looked at me with undoubted lust as she continued to work her fingers through her labia. Then she looked to our eagle-eyed handyman who was standing almost next to me.

She turned from me, just enough that my hard penis was no immediate threat to her. She looked over my shoulder at our intruder. "I want to see your cock," she told Fabio.

He smiled professionally at her. "June, you don't want to see my cock. You want to see your husband's. Look how hard it is."

While June made up her mind about this, I looked over to Fabio. What the Hell would we be doing next? At least his smile suggested that he was satisfied with what he had done.

"I really want to see both cocks," June pleaded. She stepped back into the shower to get a better view of both of us. This released her from my attention to her breasts but she had at least two fingers, maybe three, deep in her folds, visibly compensating for her freedom from my caresses.

I thought I should say something sensible. "I don't think he wants to show you his penis," I told my wife. But in a way that was as matter-of-fact as possible without, I hoped, any sense of jealousy or control. Considering, after all, what we had got up to with the plumber and the insulator. Possessiveness was hardly an issue between us.

But June must have read at least part of my mind. "You got your dick into the plumber and the insulator," she reminded me. "Surely it's my turn now."