Pops Shop

Pop's Shop by StrappySandals

Author's note: This story began as a Lesbian story, basically with the lead character a tribute to Nicole Coenen of YouTube fame. But as things sometimes happen, the story went in another direction, as she lost her spot as the lead character to her mother, who became just too compelling to ignore. I will still recommend readers check out Nicole's videos, as I am a big fan of her earthy 'Search for Self', and request that she get all the likes and followers she deserves. As for the rest of this story, I hope you like it. It is a story that is difficult to categorize, does not feature as much overt sex as some of my stories, and was quite difficult to finish. But I think I like it and hope you do too. Any comments and/or feedback would be tremendously appreciated.

Also, everyone engaging in sexual activity is over the age of 18, and a willing participant in the activity. Enjoy!!

I was puttering around the workshop, late on a Wednesday afternoon, when she came into the shop. A little worn around the edges, but a very pretty kid carrying a big-ol' fan. "Hey, what's goin' on kiddo?" I asked. "How can I help you?"

"Um, I don't know," was her rather nonresponsive response.

"Well, what are your doin' with the fan?" I asked, not wanting to play games with her.

"Oh, the fan," she exclaimed, seemingly surprised that I noticed her carrying the thing.

"Yeah, the fan," I said with emphasis. "Is it 'broke' or something?"

"Yeah, it is," she admitted. "I mean, I don't have any money or anything, but I was wondering if you could take a look at it, and see if you could fix it," she asked in the shyest way imaginable. "I live two doors over, in the attic of old Mrs. Howser's house," she offered in explanation, "and I see you here all the time fixing stuff, so I thought maybe you wouldn't mind helping," she added in that same incredibly reticent way.

"I am more of a carpenter than electrician," I hedged, "but there are only a few things that can go wrong with an old fan like this," I said, then adding, "let's put it up on the table and take a look."

So, we did that. I unscrewed the back grate, wiped away the years of greasy dust, took the fan blades off, and lo and behold, the answer became clear. "It looks like the bearings are shot," I said. "See here on the shaft where there are burn marks and a groove is worn into the steel shaft," I showed her. "That happens when the shaft tries to spin, but the bearings no longer turn, thus heating everything up until the system has a functional seizure. Sorry to report, but this old fan is dead, and not worth fixing," I concluded.

As I explained the situation to her, I watched her body almost cringe, as the death of her fan seemed to affect her in an almost visceral way. "DAMN-IT!" she screamed to herself under her breath as her body tensed up.

"Hey, it's an old fan, and you can get a brand new one at Wal-Mart for 20 bucks or so. Just go get a new one," I suggested, with a rather 'no big deal' tone.

"I don't have 20 bucks," she admitted rather angrily. "And do you know how hot it gets in Mrs. Howser's attic during the summer?" she continued with her angry tone. "It must be a hundred and fifty F'n degrees during the daytime, and not much cooler at night," she added, making me feel like a total piece of crap for my flippant attitude. "DAMN-IT!" she moaned once again, a little louder this time.

I felt like smacking myself in the head as I realized this kids probably got near nothing for resources and is desperate for some relief. It was a long time ago, but I still remember that look and feel of desperation. And that look and feel was now standing right next to me, and I felt terrible for not recognizing it sooner.

"What's your name girl?" I asked to soften the mood.

"Nicole," she offered, almost begrudgingly.

"Well Nicole, are you open to negotiating a deal with an old man?" I asked.

"What kind of deal?" she asked, with appropriate distrust.

"I have two fans sitting in the corner over there, that I rarely use. I will let you borrow them for the summer, or until you can get suitable replacements. And during the daytime, if the heat is still unbearable, you can come over here and chill out in the shop, or my office to cool off. There's a good air conditioner in there. A TV, and pull-out couch too. It also has a lock on the door so no one will bother you," I offered.

"And what do I have to do to get that?" she asked, again with her tail feathers clearly in fight or flight mode.

"You don't

have

to do anything," I started. "But I could use some help around here on occasion," I added. "Clean up, answer the phone, putting my tools away. Hell, maybe I could even teach you something about carpentry if you're interested, that is. The first day you can pay off the loan, and then if we find we can work together, maybe we can work out a small hourly salary for your services. What do ya' think?" I asked, hoping she'd be receptive to the offer.

"Why would you do that?" she asked incredulously. "You don't even know me," she commented.

"Well, I'll get to know you!" I responded sternly. "Mostly though, I'm offering to help you, because when I was your age, someone stepped up to help me, and I promised back then to return the favor when I could afford to help. So, I'm offering to help you, with no real strings attached, other than your promise to do the same when you are able. Deal?"

"Can I bring my little brother and sister over on the bad days too?" she asked.

"Absolutely," I replied.

"Then we have a deal," she concluded, suddenly with a big smile on her face.

I got the two fans, put them up on the worktable, then together we cleaned them up a bit before she took them away. Before leaving, I gave her some guidance to set one in the window blowing out and the other near a source of cooler air blowing in. That way she'd get a constant stream of fresh air in, and bad air out. We agreed she'd start working Saturday morning in the shop. I also told her that she was welcome to come over sooner if the heat became too dire in Mrs. Howser's attic.

"Let me know if you have any problems with the fans," I said as she walked out of the shop.

"I will, and thank you again," she replied. Suddenly stopping in her tracks to ask one other thing. "What's your name?"

"Francis James Stanislaw Glowacki," I answered with a smirk, then adding, "but you can call me Pops, like everyone else does."

Smiling once again, she said, "thanks Pops, I'll see you Saturday," then turned and walked back to Mrs. Howser's sweltering attic.

As she strolled away, my eyeballs focused on her sweet ass as it flexed and relaxed with her happy stride. Damn, that kid is cute, I thought to myself!

A day later I was returning from an errand when I saw Mrs. Howser out front of her house doing some weeding. "Hey there Mrs. Howser, got a minute?" I asked.

"For you Francis Glowacki, certainly," she responded with a neighborly smile.

Doris Howser was a lovely, seventy-five, year-old widow. She'd been living in the same house in Atstow NJ for every one of those seventy-five years. Her family home was a beautiful old Victorian; three beds, two baths, kitchen, attic, and basement. A nice place that had become a little ragged lately, after the passing of her husband a few years ago. She'd been my neighbor for almost 15- years now. We were not especially close, or social, but we were good neighbors, and trusting of each other.

"I met one of your tenants the other day, and thought I might get a little more information, if you wouldn't mind sharing?" I asked.

"Who did you meet?" she responded.

"Nicole. Blonde hair, skinny kid, seems nice as hell," I added. "What's their deal? That is, if you wouldn't mind sharing the information," I hedged.

"I won't tell any tales out of school, but I don't mind sharing the story that I know," she said. "Francis, how about we go inside and get a glass of tea, instead of standing here in the sun," she offered, trying to get us both out of the hot summer heat.

"Excellent idea," I concurred.

After filling two glasses of iced tea, and then sitting down at her kitchen table, Mrs. Howser went on to spin the tale of the Korn family as she knew it. She had been introduced to them by her Church, who had a mission project to find temporary shelter for homeless families, which the Korn family qualified. They were an ex-military family, Air Force, she thought, and dad was killed in Afghanistan. Mom, and three teen age children. Originally from Cheyenne Wyoming, they had been stationed at Joint Base MDL, (McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst) for most of the kid's lives, until the accident. After separating from the Military, they bought a small house in Pemberville NJ. Money was always tight, but they struggled through it, and made-do. Mrs. Korn found work managing the catering business for a small restaurant in town. And, for a while, life was good. Then she was gang-raped by the owner and his cronies. Police, hospitals, legal bills, and unemployment followed. Ultimately the family crash-landed on Covid. Sick, unemployed, and now homeless with three children, Mrs. Korn pleaded for help from the Methodist Church, which took them all in. Mrs. Howser then offered her attic as temporary shelter to the church project director, and thus, the Korn family moved in.

"They are a really nice family," she added after the story. "Mom is currently working as a Barista at Starbucks, and is very grateful for the shelter, but she is tremendously wary of everything," then adding, "so step carefully Francis. The kids are truly wonderful though. They help everywhere they can without much asking and seem to truly appreciate having a safe place to lie down at night. And they do really love and support each other. None of the typical fighting or squabbling you see in most families."

"Another glass of tea Francis," she offered.

"No, no thank you," I declined. "What is the deal with the attic?" I asked. "Nicole tells me it's hot as hell up there."

"Oh, I'd imagine it is," she agreed. As bad as I feel, there's not much I can do about that," she said.

"Agreed," I stated, to get her out of the loop. "I gave Nicole a couple of fans to move the air a little bit, so we'll see if that helps. Your electricity bill could jump a bit though," then adding "if you need any help with that, let me know. It was my decision, not hers," I said, to make sure Nicole did not get in any trouble for the fans. "Also, let me know if you, or they, need any other help. I am truly proud of you Mrs. Howser, for stepping-up to help and want to offer my assistance in any way possible," I added. "Also, I offered my shop and office to Nicole and her siblings if conditions in the attic become too unbearable, so if you see them over there, you'll know they were invited," I said.

"Well, that is so nice, Francis," she replied. "You know, it does truly take a village to make it all work out," she added. "I don't want to be rude Francis, but I must run. I have a meeting at the church to provide an update on the Korn family, and their prospects for the future," she added.

"OK, and thanks for the info., I said. "And remember, if I can do anything at all to help, please don't hesitate to ask," I added as I walked out the door.

Saturday turned out to be a hot, humid day, but Nicole showed up as scheduled at 9am sharp. "Hey, good morning," I said, as she sauntered into the work area. "Nicole, meet Mongo," I offered, introducing her to my stepson Michael.

"Mongo?" was her questioning reply.

"Ha, Ha," Michael laughed. "My given name is Michael, Oscar, Nikolas, Gregore, Orsinski, but everyone calls me Mongo. Those old Polish-Catholic names are a little too confusing. Besides, everyone says I look more like a Mongo anyway."

"Well, Mongo, I think you look nice, and it is a pleasure to meet you," she added, unexpectedly flattering the young man. "I'm ready to work, where can I start today?" she then asked.

Mongo and I were building a bookcase and were in the process of cutting the various parts and pieces. So, I thought I'd allow Nicole to play with the tools a bit and start her education with sanding. "Sanding is a boring job, but it is critical to the success of any build. "To start," I said, offering initial guidance, "always wear a dust mask; breathing saw dust is not healthy, and nobody looks good picking their nose. Secondly, try to sand with the grain, not across the grain. Running the sander across the grain will leave bad scratches. And finally, be very careful on the edges. The sander will quickly round off any sharp edge, so keep the sander off the edges unless you want them rounded. Got it?" I asked after the brief tutorial.

"Sounds easy," Nicole responded. "I can handle that," she added confidently. So, given her confidence, I let her go without inspection for about an hour, whereupon she had sanded everything we had cut for her.

"These are excellent," I said to her after the initial examination of her work. "Have you done this before?" I questioned.

"I've used sandpaper before, but never really on new wood," she admitted. "I never used the sanding tool, although it's pretty intuitive, and if you go easy, it seems pretty hard to go wrong," she added, while smiling confidently.

"Well, so far you're doing great, Nicole," I complimented her. "Why don't you take a little break. The bathroom is in the back," I said, pointing to that area, "and then there's water, coffee, tea, and soda available in the office. Make yourself whatever you want," I offered, "then meet back here in fifteen minutes."

"What's Mongo doing?" she asked.

Mongo had finished up cutting the bookcase pieces and was now out in the yard splitting the wood bounty we had harvested from a recently fallen tree. "He's splitting wood and laying it out to dry before winter," I told her. "He won't be doing it long though," I forecasted, "it's too hot today for splitting wood by hand."

"Mind If I go help?" she asked.

"You want to split wood?" I asked incredulously.

"Hell yeah," she replied, with a smile as big as the sky. "That looks like fun," she added.

"Go split all the wood you can then," I allowed. "Just be careful of the swinging axe," I cautioned, fully expecting her to mostly pickup the pieces that Mongo had split.

I was puttering on odds and ends for a while, drilling the shelf holes in the bookcase, trimming some of the ends, and routing over some of the edges, when Mongo walked into the shop, sweat gushing from every pore on his body.

"How goes the wood chopping?" I asked somewhat sarcastically.

"Pops, you gotta' see this," he said, in the most astonished way. "This chick is insane," he added, again, totally astonished.

Now at this point I should clarify. Mongo is a great kid! He's a really tough kid too! He was a talented football and basketball player in high school, and now a hard-nosed rugby player in college. His early years were also spent as a punching bag for his biological father. He never bitched, he didn't whine, and he never complained about his past, his difficulties, or about hard work. Yet he was now astonished by whatever Nicole was doing. This, I had to see.

So, we went out to the back yard, and we both watched as Nicole split logs like a machine. One after another on the stump. "Whack", pick up the pieces, put another on the stump, then "Whack" again. One after another, after another.

"Pops, that shit's oak. Sometimes I need two or three cracks at It before it splits. She's a damn machine, Pops!"

"Nicole," I hollered. Then louder again, "NICOLE, take a breather."

Finally stopping, Nicole bent over at the waist, hands on her knees to take a few deep breaths and catch up on her oxygen. "Damn, that was exhilarating," she remarked. "I never did that before, but I loved it," she noted between deep breaths. "Thanks for letting me help, Mongo. I'll do that with you any time," she said, while still panting to catch her breath.

Mongo mumbled a humbled, "your welcome." But I am absolutely certain, that at that very moment, he was thinking more about Nicole's looks than pleasantries. Nicole was glistening in sweat, tank top soaked clear through, and very clearly a beautiful, young, woman!

Nicole had straight, blonde hair, down to the middle of her back or so, although today, it was fixed into a ponytail. Dressed in jean shorts, a white tank top and work boots, that did not look particularly sexy upon her arrival this morning, but now looked "smoking-hot" when soaking wet and partially see-through. Once again standing erect, she was approximately 5'-9" tall, and I'd guesstimate 110 lbs. She was long, sinewy, and taunt. And, she had 'fucking-guns' for biceps! Glistening with sweat, her body was long, lean, and ripped. Holy Wood-Choppers, this girl was gorgeous!

"Let's get a drink," I suggested. We can come back and stack the wood later, after the sun goes down. It's too damn hot right now," I added, while taking both of my prodigies into a head-lock-hug and walking them back to the garage.

After cooling off, then finishing clean-up, I let Nicole go home a little after noon, with the promise to return at 9am tomorrow morning to finish stacking the wood. After she departed, Mongo said to me, "I really like her Pops. Do you think it would be OK to ask her out on a date?"

"Mongo," I counseled, "you do what you think is best for you," I started. "But be careful. She's lived through some difficult circumstances recently, and neither of us knows exactly what that involved, or how it may have affected her. If you go slow, step cautiously, and don't push through any stop signs, I think things will work out fine," I said completing the counseling session.

"Thanks Pops," Mongo replied.

The next morning was Sunday, and I decided to relax a bit before the wood stacking chore was to commence. For me, relaxation meant a little coffee, my Kindle, the Washington Post, and then either a few erotic stories on Literotica, or direct to the porn videos. This morning, I went to the Porn videos a little quicker than usual, with the intent to perform a little self-service before starting my day. As I scrolled through the many genres that I routinely enjoyed, including teen, MILF, mature, small tits, big tits, anal, piss, CFNM, etc., I was halted by the vision of Porn Star, Haley Reed.

For those of you who are not porn fans, I will tell you that Haley Reed is a beautiful, thin blonde. I'd guess she's in her early 20's, maybe 5'-9" tall, 110 lbs., or so, small, perky tits, straight, blonde hair down to the middle of her back, with a charming, and happy demeanor. Very nice, and as you may have noticed, strikingly similar in looks to my new neighbor, Nicole. As I wanked my dick this morning, no doubt the two became interchangeable. Both were beautiful, young women, and together, they took me to a very pleasant orgasm. I almost felt guilty about including Nicole in my fantasies, but what goes on in my head, stays in my head, if you know what I mean.

I was enjoying my post-orgasmic repose when my phone suddenly rang. Looking at the screen, I saw it was Mongo on the line. "Hello," I answered somewhat abruptly.

"Pops, we had visitors in the shop last night. You should come out here," Mongo suggested.

"What do you mean, visitors?" I asked, somewhat perturbed by his cryptic message.

"Nothing bad. Just Nicole and her family having a sleep-over," he said, while giggling. "I'm not sure what to do about it," he added.

"Don't do anything," I near screamed. "I told her that it would be OK, so just relax till I get there."

"What the frick is going on here?" I jokingly screamed, while smiling at everyone as I entered the shop.

"Oh, hey Pops," Nicole offered. "I really hope you meant it when you offered the cool comfort of your office area the other day," she said, reminding me of the fact that I did make that offer. "I told the kids they'd have to help with the wood pile after, so they are ready to do that too," she added.