Handyman Han

Author's Note: This story includes a cheating wife, but no husband humiliation. It is mostly a work of fiction. The readers will enjoy this story more if they read my HANDYMAN HANK story first. I set up some background there that is not repeated here. I hope you enjoy it and as always, your comments are welcomed.

Chapter 02 (Miss Peggy)

"What'cha working on, Hank?" For some reason Old Joe was the first of The Crew to arrive today. The first thing he did was grab a handful of salted, roasted peanuts and a twelve ounce coke, throw some money in the bucket left for that purpose, and make his way back to my workbench.

"Miss Peggy's old RCA." I had to nudge him back before he stuck his hand on something he shouldn't have. Last week, Steve, another of The Crew, had asked, "What's this?" and before I could stop him, he grabbed the anode lead to a twenty five inch color set. He had grabbed it fast, but he turned it loose a lot faster. It doesn't usually take a fellow long to inspect a twenty seven thousand volt lead, especially one with cracked insulation on a damp morning. The damn thing was crackling and arcing, but I guess Steve didn't know what that meant. Obviously, neither he nor Old Joe knew what a sign saying, "No customers beyond this point," meant either.

"Hell, boy, I ain't no customer." Joe said when I pointed the sign out.

"Well, at least stand back so you don't get hurt." He complied with that, but he didn't shut up, and since I was doing some very tedious troubleshooting in the color section, I finally gave up. "Come on Joe." I nudged him back toward the front. "I need a break anyway; we might as well talk until some of the other guys get here." I grabbed a handful of peanuts, a coke, and joined him on his favorite bench, the one under the picture window up front.

"Joe, just how the hell do you eat peanuts with no more teeth than you have?"

"I gots teeths, Hank. Two on top and "tree" on the bottoms. I chaws em up pretty good." Damn if he didn't open his mouth, chewed up nuts and all, to show me his teeth. I guess when you only got five; you get pretty proud of them.

"Yeah, Joe, your teeth look fine." I turned away, checking the street, hoping to see another member of the Crew. Nope, I was stuck with Joe for awhile longer. Oh well, I liked the old guy; besides, Miss Peggy's set was kicking my ass anyway. Maybe when Hal, my helper, gets here, he'll see something I'm missing.

"Hey, Hank—you get somma dat Peggy gal yet?" He poked me in the ribs. "Dat ole gal don't look too bad fer her age. She a wild one in de sack too."

"Now just how in the devil would you know that, Joe?"

"Got drunk wid her husban las Satty nite. He was a'crying in his beer bout how she been a'givin him hell bout not being able to git it up." Joe paused for another mouthful of peanuts. "Boy, you ortta get dat TV fixed up n take it back this week. He on a fishin trip all week. Peggy up dere all lone, jus a'hoping fer a good man to show up."

"If you know all that, Joe, why don't you help out your old drinking buddy?"

"Don't be daft, boy. Iffn I cud get it up, you don't think I'd be a'settn here tellen you about her, does ya?"

For the first time, I seriously considered Miss Peggy as a sex object. Was there something wrong with me? Here I was, a twenty four year old fellow, and I'm actually considering making a play for a married woman over twice my age. While Joe chattered on about something, I tried not to hear a word; I was busy picturing Miss Peggy in my mind.

In spite of her age, only a few wrinkles showed on her face, and that body—that body was the envy of a lot of thirty year old women; full breasted, carrying just a little too much weight to be called stacked, but she still had all the curves, and her booty just begged a fellow to grab a handful. Picture that Blanche character on the Golden Girls show, the one they always show after the Eleven O'clock News, add a buffed up hairstyle and double the make-up, and you'd have a good idea of what Miss Peggy looked like. If she begged, I'd probably give her a try.

Who am I kidding? I had thought I would get lucky last night, with my twenty four year old date, but all I got was the chance to go home with a raging hard-on and balls that felt like footballs. I knew my date had the reputation of "Ice Queen" but that was too kind. She was okay when I ran the back of my fingers up alongside her neck and twiddled her earlobes. I'm telling you, I touched every erogenous spot I ever heard of and a few I even made up.

I had that little girl humming, like Richard Petty's Plymouth, leading the pack at Daytona. She held on tight when I rubbed the soft molded flesh beneath her bra. Her tongue tried to brush my teeth when I freed her titties and worked on the erect nipples with my fingers. She was moaning something fierce, when I got my mouth on one nipple while my free hand worked its way up her stocking covered leg, my fingers pretending to be a feather, while teasing the bare skin between her nylon stocking and her silky feeling panties.

Rubbing across her triangle of thick, coarse hair, I explored the slit between her labia's lips. She worked her hips in a twisting, back and forth motion, like she just couldn't wait. I could feel her wetness, soaking her panties, even before I hooked a finger beneath the leg band and slid it into her moist cunt. She jumped like she was shocked when my finger rubbed across her clit; then she pushed against my hand, like she wanted the entire arm in her, as I worked my finger as far into her as I could.

She lifted her ass to help me slip her panties off and willingly spread her legs wide for me to perform my best cunnilingus to date, if I do say so myself. She screamed when I took her over the top, her entire body shook, like she was having a fit, then she went completely limp.

"MY turn," I said, working my stiff cock out of my jeans. I positioned myself between her legs and all hell broke loose. She started yelling about how she wouldn't let me rape her, and a lot of other wild shit. "Okay," I said, moving so that we were sitting beside each other. "Here," I took her hand, moving it to my cock. "Just play with it like this." Trapping her hand in mine I tried to wrap her fingers around my shaft, which now stood with the purplish veins standing out and the head looking like a big purple plum.

She was having none of that. Pushing away, she scrambled around in the floorboard, trying to find her panties. I finally retrieved them from the back seat, and handed the still damp material to her. She wiggled into them, and then in a tone that booked no argument, said, "Take me home."

I took her home and kept my date with Miss Five Fingers, but she was totally unsatisfactory. And that's why I'm seriously considering Old Joe's suggestion. If he's correct and Miss Peggy's old man is having problems, she might be a sure thing, and to tell the truth, I was ready for a sure thing.

They always say, "Speak of the Devil and here he comes," and sure enough, when the rest of the Crew showed up, so I could get Old Joe off my neck, Miss Peggy was right behind them.

"Hank," her voice was really pleasing, the southern accent mixed with others, picked up following her husband from base to base before he retired, made me think of the long walks along the beaches of Recife Brazil, a dusky Brazilian girl dressed in the skimpiest bikini I'd ever seen, hanging on my arm, while the sea gulls squawked overhead, and she sang 'Twilight Time," one of my favorite songs, in her native Portuguese. We strolled past the native fisherman, just in from a long day's work. As I watched them beach their boats, store their nets and ready their catch for sale, I thought they must have looked a lot like the fishermen of Jesus' time just before He approached them. The girl pulled me over to one of them, and in her mixture of English and Portuguese, she arranged for me to buy dinner, which she cleaned and cooked back at her house. I had to be back on the ship by midnight, but those hours until then will live in my memory forever.

I swear Miss Peggy's voice sounded almost exactly like my little beach girl and even though I was looking at the middle aged woman in front of me, my mind was seeing the dusky beauty I'd left behind.

"Hank! Are you listening to me?" Miss Peggy's hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality. "I need my TV; I want to watch the Miss America Pageant tonight. Can you have it ready?"

I led her back to the bench where her set's guts were spread out for troubleshooting. I went into detail to explain, in layman's terms, what I had been doing, and as I talked, I took the opportunity to touch her in different places. She didn't object to my rubbing her, and I knew the Crew couldn't see us, so I got bolder.

I found the feather-like touch of the back of my hand on the nape of her neck brought a shiver, and her voice got just a bit higher. My hand rubbing her back still brought no objection, so as we stood there, side by side, I cupped her butt in my big hand. She shot me a glance of surprise, but when she leaned into me rather than pulling away, I knew I just might get lucky.

"Tell you what, Miss Peggy, I like watching the pageant myself. How about me bringing my portable over to your place tonight, and we watch it together?"

"Really! You'd do that?" She turned to face me in her excitement, and gave me a quick hug. It was brief, but I definitely felt her hard nipples pressing against my chest. "I'll have supper ready by the time you get there and we can have a party like we did in the old days, remember?" She gave me a playful shove. "No—of course a young kid like you doesn't remember; you think everybody always had TV, but back in the fifties, when there were only a few TVs in the community, the neighbors gathered to watch wrestling every Saturday night."

With a wave, she turned to leave. "You just bring that portable so I can see the pageant and I'll make you a supper you won't forget."

*****

And that's how I came to be sitting in Miss Peggy's living room watching the Miss America Pageant. After supper, we retired to the living room, and I elected to sit on the love seat, hoping Miss Peggy would chose to sit beside me. Instead, she plopped down on the sofa, just about as far away from me as she could get. This, I knew, was not helpful to my cause, which was to get Miss Five Fingers a little help in finishing last night's work.

All those glasses of Miss Peggy's sweet tea solved my problem. I answered nature's call and when I returned, I sat next to Miss Peggy; in fact, I sat so close to Miss Peggy, our outer thighs were touching. She didn't scoot farther from me so I draped my arm over the sofa's back, letting my fingers stroke her neck before settling on her ear lobes. This made her nervous; obviously she'd had time to reconsider her flirting from this afternoon.

Once again, luck was with me. Just as she started to protest, the South Carolina contestant presented her talent, a love song like no love song you ever heard. After all these years, I don't remember the title, but lord—the way that girl sang it, I'm sure the angels in Heaven were dancing and hugging. The auditorium exploded with applause, Miss Peggy turned to me with a big smile, I'm sure to make a nice remark about our candidate, and I kissed her right on the mouth.

Maybe it was the surprise, maybe it was all that time going without, if Old Joe knew what he was talking about, or maybe this time I was just looking for love in all the right places. Whatever the cause, her arms encircled my neck, she pulled me tightly to her and I'm sure our lips must have bruised each other's. Finally tiring of that game, I probed her mouth with my tongue. Immediately, her lips parted, she welcomed my ever questing tongue, and responded in a like manner.

I finally slipped my hand under her blouse, unhooking her bra and pushing it up out of the way. That freed those thirty-six Double Ds to fall to fall into my hands.

"Oh god, baby," she whispered as I took one nipple between my lips, and rolled the other around between my thumb and forefinger. "I haven't felt anything like this in ages." Her face was blushed, her breathing was more rapid than normal and here voice sounded funny. She was getting turned on, but she wasn't beyond the point of no return—not yet; I could still blow this thing if I wasn't careful. Careful was my middle name, I continued to tease her nipples, never letting my hands drop below her waist. I rained kisses on her neck, inside her elbows, sucked her fingers—the whole works, but mostly I concentrated on her breast.

"Don't suck them hard enough to leave a mark," she warned, when I covered them with little nipping kisses. I made sure I didn't; the last thing I needed was a pissed off husband on my hands, but I still used my dry lips to pull and tug on each nipple in turn, while my thumb and forefinger did like service on the left out twin. She was showing all the signs of a thoroughly turned on woman by the time I turned my attention from her breast.

"Oooooh," she moaned, when I worked my hand down the waist of her shorts, and lightly, as lightly as I could under the circumstances, rubbed the smooth skin of her lower stomach. "Yeah, like that," she wiggled her hips, like she was trying to get my hand lower. I continued to tease, just barely touching her thick, curly hair with my fingertips, but never reaching her labia, which I knew she wanted.

She was pulling at my shirt, wrapping her hands in my hair, while pulling my mouth tighter to her breast, and moaning sweet nothings, I tried every trick I knew to bring her to the white hot fever pitch, that only a fully experienced mature woman can achieve. When I felt her hand wrap around my cock, I knew I was getting close. My hand, that had been teasing her belly, now dipped down, fingers dragging through the course feeling hair until my middle finger found the top of her labia, slipped between the surprisingly slick lips and continued to the bottom.

My hand completely cupped her pussy and I started a slow circular massage, dipping the middle finger inside only as deep as the first joint. Miss Peggy was really secreting that slick musky smelling lubricant a woman's body produces when preparing for an intruder. I loved that smell then and I still love it now, even if I don't get to smell it very often anymore. I felt her hand tentatively wrap around my cock and then begin to feel around, like she was trying to gauge the size.

"It's not all that big," I whispered, releasing her nipple and taking a quick glance at her face. She had a wild look in her eyes—the look of a woman in heat and who would let nothing stand between her and her sexual satisfaction. I knew she was ready; knew she wouldn't be having second thoughts about cheating on her husband now.

Attacking her lips with mine one more time, I managed to get her to stretch out on the sofa, but not before I pulled her mostly already undone top and bra off and tossed them to the middle of the floor. When I hooked my fingers under her waistband, getting both the shorts and panties at the same time, she lifted her hips to help me rid her of the unwanted encumbrances. After her bottoms joined her top, on the living room floor, she sat up. Sitting there, just as naked as she came into the world, she made a half hearted attempt to cover herself with her hand.

"Huh uh," she said, when I tried to lift her hand for a good view. "You show me yours, and I'll show you mine."

That was as easily done as said. In a moment, my clothes joined hers and my cock sprang out, standing at attention like a Marine during inspection. I moved closer to her and she took it in her hands, letting her finger guide along its length, exploring the two bulging veins extending along each side and disappearing beneath the folds of the foreskin now rolled back to expose a purplish crown almost as big as a ripe plum.

"Let me," she said, shifting enough to get her mouth close enough for her tongue to go to work. First she circled the head, with what I call butterfly flicks, then with one fist almost closed around the base, she covered her teeth with her lips, made an 'O' with her mouth, and slipped the head of my dick inside. It felt almost like I was entering a tight pussy and her tongue flickering back and forth across the 'one eyed monster's' one eye, while her hand, steadily pumped up and down the shaft, was more than I could stand.

"Ooooh goddd," I groaned, "I'm sorry—I just can't stand it." This last was said while I was pumping spurt after spurt in her mouth. She continued her actions until I finished; she pulled my now half-hard cock from her mouth, grabbed a handful of tissue from the side table, and cleaned my cum from her face.

"Like it?"

"I like!" I knew I must have been grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I didn't mean to cum that quick, but you were just too much." I kissed her again, then laying her back on the sofa, I put one leg over the sofa's back and with her other foot flat on the floor, I got between her legs. "Your turn now."

I kissed the inside of her legs, starting at the knee and working my way up while switching from one leg to the other. The heady, musky smell emanating from her pussy was almost overpowering. Of all the women I've had, before or after her, I don't think I ever found a pussy that smelled so much like raw sex. I know that sounds crazy, but damn it, I just don't have other words to describe it.

Miss Peggy's bush was full and thick, not trimmed to just a landing strip like so many younger women were wont to do. I have never been a fan of the shaved pussy look, so her bushy triangle really turned me on. Upon reaching my goal, that beautiful little triangle of hair, I didn't immediately attack her labia lips with my tongue as I so often did.

Instead, I combed her curly hair with my fingers, then pulling the lips apart I blew my warm breath over the moist, pink area, concentrating on the little nub. By now, it was peeking from under its fleshly hood. She was writhing and moaning loving gibberish, and when I flicked my tongue over the little fella, she grabbed my head and pulled my face right down into her pussy.

Her clit really extended after I gave it more attention; I think it was the largest I've ever seen. As I licked and teased it with my tongue, it puffed out almost like a miniature dick, so this time I formed my lips into circular shape and pretended she was fucking my mouth with her clit. Man! Did she go wild! Finally I slipped two fingers into her cunt searching for her g-spot. Once I hit the peanut feeling place, I concentrated a little come hither motion on it and was rewarded with a flood of her juices.

Her body relaxed after that, but I continued to make love to her and soon had her responding. She still had a leg resting on the sofa's back, so I caught the other up in my arm; then with my right leg on the sofa and my left foot on the floor, I could use the power of my leg to drive my cock into her. She was a willing partner in crime, meeting my every thrust as best she could, until we both exploded in a mind boggling orgasm.

We lay motionless, side by side, until our breathing returned to normal and my heart stopped feeling like it was going to jump out of my chest. Then she started running her hand tenderly through my hair and the expression on her face was like a ray of sunshine.

"Thanks, I needed that," she whispered, planting a kiss on my forehead. Then she sat up and started to dress, so I did the same.

"I'd like to do it again." She just smiled. Since she didn't say no, I took the smile to, at the very least, mean maybe.

"Well, you do have to pick up your TV—we'll see."

She followed me to the door, where we kissed passionately, before finally breaking apart.