A Leay Faucet

A Leaky Faucet: First Time With a Black Girl

(Thursday, February 14th, 2019)

The air was crisp and cold. I could see my breath and also feel a deathly chill from snow seeping into the hole in my boot.

To make matters worse, I had forgotten my scarf and hat, and the wind whipped mercilessly around my neck and ears.

Red.

I cursed under my breath at the changed stoplight. As if it weren't cold enough walking briskly! Now I'd have to stand there for a full minute while the wet, sleety snow put a layer of vanilla frosting on my freshly cut hair.

Green.

It was about time. I stepped off the curb but felt a wave of angry sleet splash against my jeans. Some idiot driver didn't feel like waiting his turn and had soaked me with his impatient tires.

The chilling spray caused me to take a step back and I slipped on the slush and fell on my bum.

I quickly used the 'F' word, and would have shot the driver if I had of had a gun, but I didn't.

Instead I grabbed a wrench from my toolbox which was also on the ground, and thought about throwing it at the car, but then decided against it. The thing cost me $58 bucks plus tax. If it ended up on the road in this ankle deep snow, I'd never get it back.

Yellow.

I sighed in frustration. The light had taken forever to turn green, but was now so quickly changing.

I grabbed my toolbox, struggled to my feet, then moved quickly to the other side.

As I mounted the curb, I glanced at the sign and felt relieved to see the name "Maple Street" written on it. I had finally made it.

I headed off down the street, watching the numbers get higher and higher, until I finally came to the one that needed me.

It was a brown brick townhome, and the driveway wasn't shovelled. When I added that to the fact the lady on the phone needed help with a faucet, then I guessed she was probably single.

The fact that it was Valentine's Day, and she wasn't out on a date, got me thinking she was also probably a little plain looking. But I had been quite wrong about such things before. Still, the fact the lady had sounded drunk on the phone made me wonder. Had she felt lonely and merely toyed with the faucet to make it leak so that...so that...

I banished the thought. Being a handyman, I always thought stupid stuff like that. But sometimes, certain stupid stuff did come true. Like the time that...that...oh never mind.

I mounted the steps and hit the buzzer.

The door opened almost instantly. Had she been waiting right there?

I gawked as she was suddenly in full view.

Long dyed red hair, bouncing like strands of satin off her pretty jet black shoulders.

Sweetly sculpted cheeks, shimmering under the chandelier as if the finest Belgium chocolate.

Dreamy brown eyes, so lovely like pools of sugary molasses.

She wore only a halter top, and a pair of shorts.

She was big breasted, and they seemed to stand up under her top with only a light sag.

My mouth was open like some caught fish gasping for air. Her legs were long, slender and impossibly sexy.

On her feet were open toed suede heels. Her toes were painted a lusty scarlet, same colour as her stunning thick lips.

"You're not quite what I expected," she said with an air of disappointment.

I sighed and shrugged sheepishly. If she had faked a call to get some Brad Pitt lookalike with rippling abs and a muscular chest, she was obviously sadly disappointed. Still, she seemed to still manage a wry smile and eyed me up and down, making me hope I was like red meat, about to be devoured by some desperate lioness.

"Come in," she said, holding the door open wider.

"You got a lot of white frost on your head," she added, almost giggling.

I stepped inside and she closed the door behind me.

"Let me take your coat," she said, holding out hands that showed off shockingly sexy, long red nails. They sent my senses reeling, and I began to sweat.

I watched her hang up my coat until she suddenly spun round and pointed playfully at my pot belly.

"You having twins or something?" she said with a mischievous smile.

She was close enough that I could smell alcohol on her breath.

I too smiled, and was unable to stop the bulge from growing in my pants.

"I started to put on pounds when I turned forty," I managed, my face reddening.

"Does that mean ten years ago or twenty?" she said, giggling loudly.

"Actually, a full twenty," I confessed.

"You're sixty?"

"Uh huh. Just turned the big 60 last week."

"Almost old enough to be my grandpa," she said with a smirk. "I'm exactly half of that, thirty years old."

I began to also smirk and feel warm inside. She was very sexy, very sweet, very playful, very fun loving, and obviously very drunk.

"I guess I do drink too much," she spat out, almost as if she could read my mind. "But it is how I handle things, you know, like stress and disappointment. Occasionally I will drink to get tipsy. But I never do drugs."

"I'm an alcoholic," I said, adding a shrug. "So I never drink anymore. But I don't do drugs either."

I suddenly sneezed and shivered a bit.

She began to look me up and down. "What the hell happened to you? Not only is your hair wet, but all your clothes are soaked as well."

"I don't suppose you'd have a robe or something for me to slip into while I fixed your leaky faucet?"

My implications were obvious, but she wasn't having any of it. She suddenly sobered up and lost her playful edge.

"Sorry if I led you on, but I'm not going to let you take off your clothes. I don't let guys play with my plumbing unless they are much younger, with a mouth-watering six pack and rippling biceps."

I turned red and began to sulk.

"Don't get me wrong," she added, trying to soften the blow. "You seem sweet and sincere, and your face is really cute. But the rest of you merely looks like a cuddly, over stuffed teddy bear."

"And you are looking for a young, irresistible hunk?"

"Something like that," she managed, driving the last nail in my hopeful coffin.

"Still," I said softly, gazing into her dazzling brown eyes. "I find it hard to believe that a gorgeous woman as sexy and as beautiful as you is alone on Valentine's Day."

She suddenly broke out into an amazing, howbeit cautious smile.

"Men," she spat out in mock disgust. "Last year my fiancé cheated on me with my maid of honor just five days before we were supposed to get married. He ended up leaving me at the altar and running off with her. And just this morning my latest boyfriend called to say he wouldn't be able to spend Valentines Day with me tonight because he had to work late. That liar! I called his work place and they said he left with his secretary early. He's probably humping her right now."

"Hard to believe any man would want to break up with an ebony Goddess like you."

She began to twirl some of her sensational dyed red hair around her finger and eyed me suspiciously. My nice guy routine was getting on her nerves, and yet I could tell it was at the same time exciting her that I was really over the moon for her.

She shrugged aimlessly, a sure sign she was uncertain as to where her drunken hormones might end up taking her. I could tell she wasn't willing to trust herself any longer. Lonely women could get desperate sometimes. Really desperate. She suddenly came across as being very horny, not that I'm an expert on beautiful women becoming very horny.

As old and pot-bellied as I was, she decided to quit while she was ahead, and handed me back my coat.

"Thanks for coming by," she said, almost in a deathly whisper, "but I won't be needing your services tonight."

"What about the leaky faucet?" I asked.

"I made that faucet leak myself," she said. "I simply took out the washer and loosened the elbow screw."

"But why?"

She shrugged once more. "The picture on your ad in the phone book showed a really handsome guy in his twenties with muscles on his muscles and a hypnotic, dazzling smile. I was a little drunk and lonely at being jilted on Valentine's Day and so I thought...well you know what I thought, maybe having a few laughs and drinks with some irresistible hunk on what was supposed to be the most romantic evening of the year. I thought, some pillow talk without the pillow, and maybe a few kisses...and even if we had of spent the night, what could it have hurt?"

"That picture was just of a model. He doesn't actually work at our plumbing company."

"I should have known," she whispered. "Men are never who they appear to be."

I took my coat and put it back on. Then I stood facing her for a few moments. She was beyond gorgeous, and so incredibly beautiful. Hard to imagine she wasn't on every mag cover in the world.

"You just love to stare, don't you," she said, almost bitterly. "Men are like that. They eye you up and down and make you think they are interested in all of you, but once they steal your heart, build up your hopes, and then once they get what they want, they take off and leave you on your own."

"Not all men are like that," I protested. "Take me for instance. I would love the chance to cherish and worship and love a black beauty like you. But you would never choose someone like me, no matter how sincere or nice I might be. If you ask me you keep choosing the wrong guys."

"So I'm a slut just because I happen to love sex? Or I'm some hard-nosed bitch just because I prefer a man who is really handsome and sexy?"

"I didn't say that," I replied. "I was only saying that you're obviously a very special girl who would make any man that loved you, very happy."

My words seem to soften her gaze, and she offered up a warmer, almost thoughtful smile.

"You really are a sweet guy," she said. "Maybe if you were a few pound lighter and a few years younger."

I sighed, searching for something catchy to say. She was still drunk and the night was still young.

Then I spoke sternly. "I just happen to be happy with who I am and what I look like. As for me being good and sincere, what you see is also what you get, really sincere, really caring, and really loving."

My last words seemed to warm a little more frost off her icy glare.

"Take care of yourself," she whispered, leaning forward so her lips could reach my stubble covered cheek.

It really was a goodnight kiss, meant as a polite gesture to hasten my exit.

She then quickly reached for the door knob so she could let me out. But I took a chance she was too tipsy and too horny to offer much resistance if I should go on the offensive.

I moved my trembling mouth onto her thick red lips as she moved passed me to try and open the door.

My lusty kiss caught her off guard. Because she was already leaning, she slipped. To steady herself, she grasped my arm so she wouldn't fall. It gave me the chance to place my hand onto her hip, then slide it onto the back of the shorts that covered her bum.

Her shorts had an elastic waist and I slipped my other hand down them, sliding her shorts lower so that both my hands now squeezed her bare bum cheeks.

She wanted to gasp out loud, but my white mouth was still very much plastered to her exquisite red painted lips.

My hands, being down her shorts, must have caused the zipper to glide down, because they were suddenly loose, and dropped around her ankles.

I whipped back off my coat and tossed it aside.

She wore no panties, and I moved my right hand around her thigh, letting my middle finger slip onto her pussy. If she wasn't drunk, she might have slapped my face and tossed me out on my ear, but she was impossibly horny and void of judgement.

Her clit was enormous, and I rubbed the tip of my finger gently against it, setting off a firestorm of excitement that made her shiver in wanton ecstasy.

I had somehow managed to savagely turn her on, and she signalled there would be no going back by kicking the shorts away from her ankles.

She then pulled her delicious lips away from my mouth, and gasped aloud, breathing heavily as if all the air had suddenly gone out of the room.

Her hands now clawed at my pants, loosening the belt, then undoing the top button, forcing them down to the ground until I kicked them away.

All the while I managed to keep my wriggling finger sweetly embedded up and down along her soaking wet crack.

"Damn...you're...you're making me crazy," she managed, her entire body now shivering with delight as my skilful finger continued it's magic.

My cock was now erect and stiff, all eight inches standing proudly at attention. She was thrilled at the extra-large sight and took hold of it with her right hand, massaging it up and down with a squeezing palm that was taking me to paradise.

She then reached out with her free left hand, grasping the knob of the ornament table in the corner. She slid it quickly open and snatched the box of condoms out of it.

She then rummaged her fingers inside until the realization hit her that the box was empty.

"Empty? How is that possible?" she shrieked. "How could I not have checked it?"

She gazed into my sweating face with lovely eyes that were desperate and all glazed over.

"Do...do you...do you have a condom?" she begged, adding, "I won't do it without a condom. I don't want to get pregnant. I'm against abortion and those morning pills. If anything happens I'll be stuck."

"I don't have any condoms," I whispered back.

"Shit...shit...shit...," she shrieked, reluctantly pushing my finger away from between her legs.

Yet her raging black body was still on absolute fire.

I also was far too hot to turn back.

"I'll be careful," I promised, using both my hands to pull down her halter top.

Her breasts were magnificent, so pointy, firm and large. The nipples were thick like glorious bullets.

I lowered my lips to them and began sucking on them at once, my hands clasping her bum and pulling her closer until the tip of my cock began brushing back and forth against her enormous clit.

She became intolerably horny and at once wanted my cock inside of her. But she needed to talk to me to set the ground rules. She didn't want a baby

So she suddenly flung her right hand at my face, clasping my cheeks with red painted nails from her thumb and middle finger.

She forced me to look directly into her brown eyes as her mind raced desperately in all directions.

Her nails were sharp in my face, but she wanted to make sure I paid attention as she spoke.

"I'm ovulating," she blurted out, her chest heaving with excitement. She could feel an approaching orgasm getting ready to rock her world if I dared stick it inside of her.

"I said I'll be careful," I again promised.

"You'd better be careful, because it's far too sweet to stop now," she insisted, "Just make sure you pull out on time and don't let any get inside."

She raised one leg and rested her foot on the middle shelf of the ornament stand.

It raised that part of her a few inches until my cock was now flush against her soaked pink tunnel

Her hands became wrapped around my bum cheeks and she pulled me forward.

I slid inside of her, with both of us gasping at how sweet it was.

For the next half hour, until we both became covered in sensual, salty sweat, I moved my cock in and out of her with slow but full length strokes. I was amazed that she'd already reached two separate orgasms. And yet, she was clearly pushing for a third.

As plain and old and chubby as I was, she kept moaning frantically that I was the best lover she had ever had.

And then it happened. The ultra-sweet sensation of orgasmic glory, warning my pumping cock, that I had crossed the point of no return, and that it was time to pullout.

I curled my toes at the astonishing pleasure now thundering through my cock.

I began to both groan and shake. A sensational heart stopping orgasm was upon me.

"I'm cumming again," she suddenly shrieked, beating me to the punch. Orgasm number three was taking her to paradise.

Her hands tightened around my bum as she pulled me deeper into her.

I was now sweating profusely, and could feel her cum start to spray my cock. She shivered to pieces in my arms.

"I'm cumming too," I blurted out, warning her of impending rivers of fertile sperm.

"Can't you hold it?" she screamed, her entire body enraptured at the intense unfolding pleasure of orgasm number three.

She was soaring to the pinnacle of the greatest orgasm she'd ever had, and she didn't want me to minimize the pleasure by suddenly pulling out of her.

"Just give me a few more thrusts," she begged.

I tried to hold on, but the trigger in my balls had already been pulled, and her spraying cum against my pumping cock just made it all far too heavenly to delay things even a second more.

I tried to pull away, but I had become positioned with my back to the wall, and her giant breasts pressed tightly against my hairy chest. She was thrusting back and forth over my cock with all her might, vastly increasing her unfolding bliss. It was all far too sweet for her to stop it now.

We were both trapped.

I groaned in awe as the first squirt of semen catapulted deep inside of her, making her toes curl.

She was far too engrossed in enjoying the moment to try and come to her senses.

I began kissing her mouth feverishly as the second and third shots fired towards her awaiting egg.

A minute later and it was all over, with both of us propped up against the wall.

She gently pried herself free, and then softly slumped to the plush carpet below. I slumped also, and lay next to her, watching her sweat soaked chest still heaving up and down.

I held her close, kissing her breasts as she tried to catch a breath that still funnelled down my shoulders and neck.

"That was the greatest sexual experience I've ever had," I whispered,

"It was also the greatest sex of my life as well," she said honestly. "I guess there is something to be said for old, pot-bellied guys after all."

We kissed passionately with our lips and she seemed amazed I was still hard.

She squeezed my cock playfully, rubbing the tip of her finger against the cum hole that still had cum oozing out of it.

"My cock has been a naughty boy tonight," I said mischievously, "I'm so sorry I couldn't hold it back. Hopefully your period will come when it's supposed to, and-"

"Shhh," she pleaded, placing a finger to my lips. "Don't spoil things. I don't want to worry about a giant belly now. Let's just savor the moment."

End of Part One - Part Two to be continued.