Honey do... 7 Marcy's 1st.Referral
14-minute read
When Marcy called me, I expected to meet her again, but she dampened the conversation by saying she was referring me to a friend's Honey do... list of repairs.
We visited like lovers do, and as soon as she realized we were having phone sex, she agreed to come to my office apartment.
It was the first time we'd talked since she'd returned from the beaches of the Caribbean, where her honeymoon languished over seven beaches at seven adult resorts through three weeks of sex, alcohol, drugs, and anger. Her new husband found a hooker and told Marcy he wanted to watch her and his hooker have sex.
The honeymoon was scheduled for five weeks, but she was home in thirteen days. She didn't get the full three weeks of beach hopping because she came home alone, I might add.
At the apartment, we destroyed each other sexually, going through our usual denial of affection, then physically proving that we crave each other, not the opposite. We were at the apartment for over an hour when she reminded me of her friend's Honey do... list.
I, ever one to be on time or a bit early, had Marcy call the friend and explain that we'd overestimated and underperformed. Marcy confirmed that Carole was happy for the call. It was still okay for me to come over for the repair estimate.
I was about to ring the doorbell again when the door latch clicked, and the door swung open about four inches. I stepped into the entry and closed the door, which I heard lock.
The entry light was bright and showed Carole's talent as an acrylic painter. There was framed art on every wall of the gallery off the entry. Some paintings were miniatures, and some were four feet by eight feet. All of the paintings were of female bodies. The collection was erotic, if not pornographic. There were price tags on every painting, and the prices were high, to say the least.
I was perusing the paintings and detected that the further into the gallery I looked, the more graphic the art became, and the higher the pricing climbed.
Suddenly, as I looked back toward the front entry, this spectacular redhead stepped into the gallery and, in a sexy tone of voice, said, "You are, I presume, Mr. Honey do...?"
"Yes. Carole, I believe?"
"Yes, although my friends call me Pussy. They have named me for the painting I have on display at MOMA. The framed piece is eleven feet tall and two feet wide. A rendering of my cunt for the world to see. Have you seen it?"
I answered, "No, but now, with a legitimate reason to go--to see your pussy in a painting, I might be convinced to go see it and enjoy the alleged wonders of New York City. A guide would definitely be required, as I would be lost the entire time for sure."
"What are you up to this weekend, Mr. Honey do...? I have a charter airplane reserved for Friday night at eight o'clock. Can I do the unusual litany; as the spider said to the fly, "Come closer, I won't bite. But, Mr. Honey do... I will bite. Do you like to be bitten? Not meanly, but erotically?"
"Of course I do. I have always been up for kinkiness. You could check with Marcy, who knows the best of my repair talents."
"As for Friday night and the weekend, I had scheduled three small jobs, so let me attempt to reschedule them, and if I can, I will be all over that charter's luxury travel."
"Marcy and I have had this trip planned for three weeks as my wedding present to shop for a wardrobe. If you can join us, it will be a trip of lust, debauchery, and fucking.
Even though she's back early, she agreed to the trip as a way to forget the mistake she'd made marrying that asshole. Can you imagine asking your wife to fuck someone else? Well, I mean, while on your honeymoon? After all? Isn't the honeymoon to confirm that you and someone else want to fuck each other as often as you can? Why else would you get married?"
She hadn't slowed down a bit, and then the doorbell chimed. She reached into a pocket, and the door clicked again and swung open as it had for me.
Marcy came in, the door automatically closed, and I heard the lock tumble again.
Carole said, "What are you doing here, Marcy? Don't you trust me with Mr. Honey do...? Or is it that he is such a hound dog that you don't trust him?"
"Carole, we agreed that you would behave yourself with him. Did you change your mind?"
"Fuck you, Marcy. You know I have to try him out. Look at that bulge in his pants, woman. I know you can eat pussy, can he?"
"Of course he can, but let him see your list of Honey do... repairs, then he can tell you what he is capable of fixing."
"Are you ready, Mr. Honey do...?