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.
