Ever since I moved into my house, I've become painfully aware of how little skill I have in home repair and maintenance. As a result, I've developed a wonderful fantasy that has taken many twists and turns over the years. It is a frequently recurring fantasy over which that I have spent much time daydreaming, and night dreaming too about each arousing detail.
I moved into my house a few years ago. It's not very big, but it's mine and located in a great neighborhood. I have a nice kitchen, with a little utility area off to the side for my washer and dryer. Prior to living in this house, I always had to go out to the Laundromat to wash and dry my clothes. What a pain. The house also has a nice den and living area with a cozy fireplace. Oh, how I love my fireplace.
In my fantasy, I am off from work, doing my housework, cleaning the house, and washing clothes so that I can go out later in the evening shopping. I put another load in the washer, turn it on, but it does not work. It turns on, but the thing that whirls around in the middle will not turn.
I really need to get my clothes washed or I cannot go out later. So I look in the phone book for a repair man. I find one that looks like it's the one and phone him. I try to explain my problem and he says he's not busy at the moment and he'll be right out.
When I am home during the day, I usually run around the house in a pair of sweat pants and Tee shirt with no bra. It is so comfortable, but it's easy to tell I'm braless the way the thin cotton covers my breasts. That's the way I'm dressed when I call the repairman and I do not think anything about it. But, I decide to fix my hair a bit and put on a little makeup before the repairman arrives. I like to look a little presentable to strange company.
I am just finishing with my makeup when there is a knock at the door. I open the door and there is this gorgeous man standing there with his toolbox and a big smile. He looks like he is about 40, tall, well built, with dark hair and the prettiest blue eyes you have ever seen.
I am standing in the doorway just staring at him.
"Hi, I'm Steve. You called about a problem with your washer." He says by way of introduction. I just keep staring, he's so gorgeous.
"Uh, can I come in?' He finally asks.
"Oh, uh, yeah ... sorry ..."
I show him in and lead him to the utility room where the washer is located. As I am explaining the problem to him, I notice that he keeps cutting his eyes toward me, no doubt admiring my braless breasts. I suppose it doesn't help that my nipples are really hard and showing through the thin cotton of my T shirt.
Steve tells me that he will check the washer and let me know what the problem is as soon as he figures out what's wrong. I go about doing other things around the house.
After about an hour I decide I'll go and check on my handsome repairman. As I turn and walk into the room, I notice that he is standing there examining a pair of my thong panties and adjusting himself in his jeans. He seems to be mesmerized by my panties and does not hear me come in.
"How's it going? Find the problem yet?" I say; clearly, my voice startles him.
He turns toward me looking flustered.
"Uh, yes ... I did find it." He says, slightly stammering like he's a little embarrassed. "It seems a pair of your underwear got jammed under the agitator so tightly that it would not turn." He holds up the panties for me to see.
"When I removed these, it started working just fine."
I notice that he has a nice big bulge in his jeans which he is trying desperately to cover up. His face is flushed red with embarrassed. He hands me the panties trying to be very professional.
I want to have a little fun with him so I look them over.
"These are my favorite thong panties, I'm so glad they are not torn up. Thank you so much for retrieving them and getting the washer working again." I tell him. "Say, would you like a cup of coffee before you go? It'll only take me a second." I add with a naughty gleam in my eye.
"Oh, yeah, sure ... coffee sounds great." He replies.
I lead him in to the den and ask him to have a seat while I get the coffee. After a few moments, I come into the den and hand him a cup, while holding one for myself. I sit right next to him on the sofa.
"You know, you really should put your bras and panties in a lingerie bag when you wash them so you don't have this sort of problem again." He tells me.
"Good idea. My mom always used to use a lingerie bag ... I'll have to pick one up next time I go shopping." I say. As I speak, he picks up a clipboard with the bill attached.
"OK - Let's see, there's a minimum $49 service charge for the house call, and one hour of labor at $75, plus sales tax, so the total is ... let me see, uh, $132.68 ... at least there weren't any parts to replace. That can add up real fast, if you know what I mean." He says.
"Holly shit! Oooops, sorry. That much?! I thought it would be like twenty bucks or something." I say incredulously. "I'm sorry but I just don't have that much ... not until pay day next week, anyway."
I know the guy is going to be furious with me, thinking I'm a deadbeat; which I'm not. But, he surprises me when he speaks.
"Well, Miss, I can tell from that thin little shirt you're wearing that your breasts must be really beautiful; if you'd agree to show them to me, I think we could call it even." He says this with a slightly wicked gleam in his eye.
Knowing that I do not have much choice, I decide it just might be fun, so I pull my shirt over my head, letting my breasts hang freely in front of him. I can tell instantly he really admires them -- mostly because I notice the bulge in his jeans getting bigger.
"Would you like to touch them?" I ask him in my softest sexiest voice.
