Repairman

I was at home waiting for the washing machine repairman to come around. My beloved husband had been washing something and all of a sudden, instead of a swish, swish, of clothes swirling about inside the washing machine, there was a grinding, clunking noise, followed first by silence, then by a gushing sound as the washing machine released all the water inside it onto the floor.

I didn't observe this first hand as I was out buying the groceries. I found out when I got home to find my beloved trying to mop up the spilt water and only managing to slosh it around. I cleaned up the mess while he rang a reputable repairman.

All that had happened on the Saturday and it was now a Monday. I'd arranged to have the afternoon shift at work and the repairman had guaranteed he'd be at our house bright and early. Knowing what some of these idiots consider bright and early I'd been up since seven but it turned out there was no need. He didn't get here until eight, just as my beloved was leaving for work.

Brian explained to the serviceman in very simple terms what was needed to be done to repair the washing machine and departed. I watched him go and then turned to speak to the repairman myself.

"Ignore what he said," I told him. "Assess the damage for yourself."

"I was going to," he assured me.

I left him to it, just hanging around watching without getting in his way. After He'd finished assessing the damage he called me over and indicated the insides of the machine. He then told me in detail what had gone wrong, what needed to be done to fix it, and how much it would cost.

I nodded knowingly and said that the cost seemed fair and reasonable to me and asked if he'd please proceed with the repairs.

He looked at me and smiled.

"How much of the explanation that I gave you did you understand?" he asked.

"It will cost a hundred and fifty to fix, which is what we budgeted for," I promptly replied.

"So, the technicalities?" he hinted.

I made a whooshing movement with my hand about an inch over my head, indicating that that stuff was above my pay grade. Computer electronics I could do, but not actual machinery.

He laughed. "So as long as the price is right and the machine is fixed you don't particularly care about the rest?"

"I care," I said, "and if I found out that I'd been cheated I'd sue as you have a professional duty of care in the advice you give me. However, your shop has an excellent reputation and I can't see you cheating me."

He acknowledged the point and got down to work. An hour later he was finished, ready to guarantee that we'd have no more trouble, or if we did, it wouldn't be with the repairs that he'd done.

"If you'd like to put a small load in you could test her out right now," he suggested. "The things you have on would suffice."

Okay. I was in my early twenties, had what I consider to be an excellent figure, and was athletic (which contributes to that figure). I wasn't what you'd call a raving beauty but men still checked me over, especially when I was all dolled up. This, however, was the first time anyone had so blatantly suggested that I get undressed.

Our friendly repairman was probably about forty, around twice my age. He was also quite a burly man, and strong. I knew he was strong from the way he'd been moving the washing machine around. Those things may not be all that heavy but they're not light, either. He also had a pleasant face, not handsome or ugly or any sort of extreme, but pleasant.

Right now he was giving me a bland look, but I could see a smirk twitching at the edges of his mouth. He thought I'd be shocked.

I was simply dressed for lounging around the house. Basically I had on yoga-pants and a t-shirt, both of which I filled very well. One other thing, I was wearing a sports-bra, a bra that had no catches to undo.

I took hold of the hem of the t-shirt and lifted it up and off, taking the sports-bra with it, leaving me naked from the waist up, my nice full breasts bouncing slightly from the movement. He had a shocked look and his eyes were almost bouncing as he watched the movement of my breasts.

I still watched him, my eyes on his, as I hooked my thumbs under the waist-band of the yoga-pants and pushed them down, again taking the opportunity to take my panties with them. I had to slip my sandals off when extracting my feet from the yoga-pants but that was simple enough. Once I straightened up I was totally naked, but now the smirk was pulling at my mouth. He was too shocked to do anything but stare.

"That's a good idea," I said, smiling. "Nothing like a practical demonstration."

I scooped up my clothes, stepped past him, and dumped then in the machine, starting it up for a small wash.

Turning to face him again I could feel his eyes all over my body.

"Problem?" I asked.

"No. No problem," he said. "Ah, do you think that's wise?"

He nodded towards my nakedness and I smiled at him.

"What do you mean?" I asked, all innocence.

"Being naked in front of someone who's a blasted stranger," he snapped. "You don't know what I might do."

"Well, as far as I can see there're only two things you can do," I explained. "You either fuck me or you don't. Sounds quite straight forward to me."

"You don't think I might lose my head and rape you?" he snapped, sounding rather put upon.

"That's included in option one, you fuck me," I said sweetly.

"Really? How does spanking you sound?"

"Option one. No way you could spank me while I'm naked and not go on to fuck me."

"You seem awfully insouciant about the possibility of being raped."

"Nah. It's only rape if I say no and so far I haven't said no. There again, neither have you indicated whether you're going to fuck me or walk away."

He glared at me and I just smirked at him, waiting to see what he'd do.

Still giving me dagger eyes he started undoing his overalls. I watched with interest as he let them drop and stepped out of them. He kicked his feet out of them quite viciously. Yep. Definitely pissed off. He dropped his jocks and I got a chance to see what he now had on display. All I could think was, Wow! His erection was long and fat, standing tall, waving slightly from his movements.

"How cute," I said with a giggle. "It's waving to me."

He reached over and grabbed me, pulling me up against him, his erection pressing against my tummy. His hands were clutching my bottom, holding me there. I waited to see what he was going to say and it turned out to be nothing. The sounds of silence you might say.

His grip on my bottom tightened and he lifted me, pushing a knee between my legs to ensure that they were parted. He was holding me so tightly against him that I could feel his cock rub against my slit as he lifted. Once his erection slipped between his legs he relaxed a little, and then he lowered me slightly. Now I could feel his cock pressing up against me, right where the opening to my passage was.

It seemed he wasn't going to bother to ask for permission. That was okay by me. This way I could claim it was consensual or non-consensual, depending on who I was talking to. (I'll admit that the little fact that I wasn't saying no at any stage did tend to make it lean towards being consensual, but I was willing to ignore little things like that.)

He started lowering me, pushing me down really, while at the same time thrusting up into me. I was just making some noise along the lines of, "Ah, ah, aaaaah," as he pushed his way deep inside me. Once he was fully in me he turned and rested my bottom against the washing machine while he reached down and grabbed my legs, pulling them up and around him. I obligingly closed them around his waist and squeezed him.

He started thrusting into me and he didn't muck about. He was pulling right back and returning hard and fast with me giving a squeal each time his cock slapped home. At the same time his hands were all over my breasts, rubbing and massaging them. (Not that I minded. I like having my breasts touched.)

I guess you could say he was a fine stud of a man. He kept banging in, working my body over, building on my arousal, fucking me in fine style. I have to admit that where arousal is concerned I'm a self-starter, but even if I wasn't his cock-work would have done the job in no time flat.

At first I thought that it was all going to be over in a heated rush, possibly leaving me a little disappointed, but no. After an energetic beginning he settled down for the long haul, timing himself to maximise his pleasure. (I'll admit that I don't really think he was considering my pleasure. That was incidental to his own but as long as I was being pleasured I had no complaints.)

He kept on going and I kept on urging him on. Why not? It was a bit late to change my mind and say no, thank you. He rode me hot and hard, giving his all and demanding a response from me, a response I was only too willing to give. Best sex I'd had in ages.

I think he picked up those subtle clues that said I was about to climax. There again, I don't suppose there was anything too subtle about screaming, "Yes, yes, yes. Now, damn you. Now."

He thrust in harder and faster than ever and I went up in flames, too lost in pleasure to even scream.

"Right," I said afterwards. "The machine seems to be working with no problems. You will excuse me if I don't see you out."

Ha. Catch me seeing him out while I was still starkers. Some nosy neighbour would be bound to be watching, hoping for a bit of scandal.

He gathered up his things and departed, telling me to be sure to call him if I had any more problems.

Or even if I don't, I privately thought.