Oscar The Randy Handyman

I was awaked by glaring sunshine that streamed through the southeast glass of my bungalow bedroom.

Squinting and shielding my eyes from the death ray sunbeam, I was able to discern the time on my bedside clock. 9:48 AM.

If it hadn't been for the urgent call from my bladder, I may have lolled about longer, but I forced myself to rise.

I was up thirty four minutes earlier than yesterday.

The shocking reflected image in the bathroom mirror made me take stock my life.

Ten days after my meltdown, I decided that I would shave today. I might even get dressed.

Ten days ago I was in the Westside Hospital operating theater, struggling to resuscitate the 36 year old female accident victim I had been working on for the past hour.

Ten days ago I told the family of the mother of two, she didn't make it.

Ten days ago I walked out, vowing to never perform surgery again.

The question now was, "What was I, Dr. Oscar Simpson, going to do with the rest of my life? At 63, there was lots of life left.

Physically, I would give myself an 8 out of 10.

Playing hockey twice a week with my Oldtimers hockey team maintained a basic level of fitness. The locker room banter with my crude and vulgar teammates and partaking in a couple of chilled after game Molson Canadians, were the best parts of my life in this moment.

I would definitely not be giving that up.

Maybe I would travel. My last vacation was more than five years ago. I would never forget that trip.

Basking in the springtime sun on the Balcon de Europa in Nerja, Spain, I stood overlooking the Mediterranean. It was at that moment that my wife of thirty four years basically told me to 'fuck off'. She needed to go find herself.

Financially I was not as well off as I once was. Divorce will do that.

Still, I had no immediate worries about getting by for the time being. As I was no longer receiving a paycheck, I would need to find some way to supplement my modest annual investment income.

My ex-wife got the house by the lake and half the investment accounts.

As part of the settlement, I got the rental property in a middle class section of the city. We had purchased it as an investment.

I took occupancy after the current lease expired, from the tenants who had recently purchased their starter home. It had been my residence for the past four and a half years.

The jury was still out on my emotional well being.

I made a commitment to myself that today I would shave. Who knows what I could accomplish tomorrow?

By midafternoon, I was starting to feel better about myself. Not only was I clean shaven, I had fed myself and was even considering firing up the BBQ later on. I still hadn't dressed. Maybe tomorrow.

Pondering what my next great achievement would be, my smug satisfaction was disturbed by the incessant chiming of my doorbell.

"Oh good Oscar, I wasn't sure you were here." Jenny Crowe, my distraught next door neighbour, said as I opened the door. "I'm running late to pick my mom up and my garage door won't open. Derek is away. I don't know what to do."

"It started opening and there was a loud bang before it crashed down. Now it won't go up at all."

"Sounds like your tension spring broke. I can open it manually and get you going. You will have to park outside until it's repaired."

With some great effort, I manhandled the door open and held it while she backed out.

Later, as I prepared to BBQ dinner, the doorbell rang again.

Jenny stood on my doorstep with a bottle of Chianti. "Thanks for the rescue earlier." she said, handing me the wine.

"Happy I could help. I'm just about to put a couple of burgers on the grille. Care to join me?"

"I ate with my mother, but you could talk me into a glass of wine."

My relationship with the Crowe family was friendly, but not especially close.

Derek was a long haul trucker who was away more than he was home. Jenny worked from her home office for a national insurance company.

They had two children.

Nineteen year old Gavin, was in first year business at Dalhousie University in Halifax.

Twenty two year old Emma was a barista at the neighbourhood Starbucks and lived at home. She was unwed and in her seventh month of pregnancy.

A look of disappointment crossed Jenny's face as I drained the last splash of the wine into her glass. It turned to a smile when I uncorked a bottle of Borolo.

For the first time today, I realized my spirits had lifted significantly since my inauspicious start to the day.

I thought about how I would deal with tomorrow and for no logical reason, I said to Jenny, "I have a lot of free time on my hands. I would be happy to fix your garage door."

"I couldn't ask you to do that." Jenny replied.

"The same thing happened to my sister last year. I fixed it for her, no problem. Besides I need something to get me out of bed."

"In that case, I gratefully accept. You'll have to come for dinner tomorrow."

Aside from a slight hangover, I awoke with a sense of purpose for the first time since my meltdown eleven days ago.

Surfing the net, I located a local supplier of parts and a call verified that everything I needed was in stock.

Four hours later as I stood in the shower reflecting on what I had accomplished. I felt pretty good.

I loved to create things with my hands, even if one of those hands had bleeding knuckles. In this case it was courtesy of the wrench that slipped off the tension spring locking nut. Replacing the spring certainly wasn't surgery, but it was satisfying and no one had died.

Jenny was extremely pleased as she tested the door operation. She seemed equally disappointed when I passed on dinner.

I awoke the next day with a cheerier attitude, actually eager to tackle another project. There were endless things in need of repair on my 60 year old bungalow and overgrown property.

My first priority was to identify the items that were in disrepair, creating a 'Job Jar' with individual slips for each project.

Reaching into the jar, I pulled 'Fix front gate'.

Later as I stood proudly testing the operation of the replaced hinge and latch, a voice behind me said, "Nice job."

I turned to see a distinguished 70ish man approaching with a Golden Retriever on a leash.

"Mayer Landon. I live on the corner." he said extending his hand.

"Oscar Simpson. Pleased to meet you."

"You do good work." he said inspecting my handywork. "Guess I won't be doing any odd jobs for you. I'm the local handyman. No problem any way, There's more jobs around here than I can handle."

A few days later, Mayer stopped again as I was trimming the hedge.

"You like doing all this stuff?" he asked.

"Surprising to me, but, yes." I replied.

"Been thinking about an idea. Like I said before, I do odd jobs. Can't take some on because it requires two men. Sometimes it's just beyond my skill set. We could call our company, 'Handywork by Landon/Simpson." Mayer said getting excited by the possibilities.

"How about 'Oscar Mayer' instead? It already has good name recognition, don't you think?" I replied, trying to keep a serious look on my face.

Mayer looked confused for a second before cocking his head and groaning as the meaning of my crude sense of humour dawned on him.

"It's a kind offer but I'll pass on the partnership." I said. "Happy to help though, if you call me when you need an extra pair of hands."

I moved to the backyard in the afternoon and worked at trimming the Juniper hedge delineating the property line between my yard and Jenny's.

Midway down the length of the overgrown row of shrubbery, my electric pruning tool hit something solid. Investigation showed it to be a rotting wooden gate hidden in the lush vegetation. It had once provided access to the Crowe's yard.

As I sheared off a few more thick branches, the gate fell into the yard next door and shattered.

The noise caused Jenny's daughter, Emma to jump out of the sun lounger where she was tanning a few feet away.

The young blond now stood before me, naked except for a miniscule bikini bottom which left little for me to imagine.

We both froze in place, before she retrieved the towel she had been laying on and covered up. The pause had given me a full frontal view of her tanned, 22 year old naked body. Her ample bosom, accentuated by large dark areolas and puffy thick nipples were now firmly etched into my lascivious brain for future recall.

I should mention, the only thing that turns me on as much as an attractive mature woman, is a pregnant woman of any age in her third trimester. Emma was as alluring as any I had seen.

It probably didn't help that it had been more than two months since the last time I had been laid.

The clatter had brought Jenny out to investigate and what could have been an embarrassing encounter never materialized.

"I forgot that gate was there. It's been years since we last used it." Jenny said.

"Should we let the shrubs grow in and close the opening?" I questioned.

"Can you replace the gate?" Emma asked.

"Yes, let's do that." Jenny chimed in.

Another look at Emma was all I needed to agree.

By the next afternoon, I had gathered all the materials I needed for the gate replacement.

Emma was again stationed on her lounger, noticeably closer to the hedge opening where I would be working.

Today she had a bikini top on, but it only partially concealed her large areolas.

The next time I looked at her, the top was hanging off the back of the lounger. This was going to be a very long project.

Emma was prominently featured in my masturbating fantasy that night.

The next day was rainy, so I picked up a novel I had been neglecting.

Mayer interrupted the solitude just after lunch, requesting my help to mount a large mirror in a nearby home where he was renovating an ensuite bathroom.

Mayer's client answered the door when he and I carried the large mirror up her front steps.

Carolyn Baylor was dressed in a flowered silk robe. She was a striking mature woman. Her conservative hair style was silvery in colour and hung just short of collar length. The thin fabric of her colourful garment clung to her ample curves, leaving me to fantasize about how she would look naked.

Mayer rummaged through his tool belt pockets and cursed, "Damn, I forgot to get clips to attach the mirror."

"I can make a run to the hardware store. I need some hinges anyway." I said.

When I returned almost an hour later, I could hear a female voice that sounded in agony. It was coming from the ensuite bathroom where I had left Mayer and Carolyn.

The sight I encountered left me speechless.

Carolyn was sitting naked on the vanity countertop, with her legs slung over Mayer's shoulders. He was naked as well and his face was buried in our client's pussy. She was raking his back with her fingertips of one hand, while the other pinched and pulled at her half inch long pink nipples.

"Yessss.....keep going....ohhh....put your finger in my ass...yesss........now!"

Her eyes snapped open for a brief second looking directly into mine. A moment after that, her eyeballs rolled back as she screamed through her orgasm.

I withdrew and as I was going out the bedroom door, I heard Carolyn say, "Put that big cock in me. Fill me up."

Mayer stopped by my place later with a cold six pack.

Before he said anything, I said. "Maybe we need a signal.....like a toolbelt on the doorknob. Does that sort of thing happen often?"

"More than you might think. There are several lonely widows and neglected housewives in the neighbourhood. Are you sure you won't reconsider going into a partnership? Like I said, there is more 'handywork' than I can handle by myself."

"It would really help me out if you could do a small job for the Wilson sisters over on Elm Street tomorrow. They want their sump pump serviced." Mayer said with a mischievous grin.

Two beers later, Mayer had given me a brief recap of some recent 'jobs'.

One was a 39 year old mother of two teenagers. She was a regular customer who wanted her plumbing thoroughly inspected every Monday morning after her neglectful husband left for work and the teens were off to school.

Another was a lonely 50 something widow, that called often wanting help with unspecified projects. When Mayer showed up, they always sat for coffee and fresh baked muffins. Mayer came to understand that 'unspecified' was code for cunnilingus. Apparently he was considered an expert by many of his satisfied customers.

In the end, curiosity and lust compelled me to agree to make a service call to Elm Street.

Mandy and Karen Wilson greeted me at the door wearing night attire covered by short robes. Since it was 11:00 AM, I was pretty certain their sump pump, if they even had one, was not going to get any servicing today.

The sisters were probably in their late fifties. Mandy was a tall athletic classic beauty with long shapely legs and slight curves.

Karen was a couple of inches shorter with curves galore and a pleasant round face featuring full pouty lips.

Nothing but their striking large expressive brown eyes would make you suspect they were sisters.

There was no question that my hardening penis was intrigued by the sensuous sister act. Karen saw the bulge and moved in to cup my crotch.

"Oh Mandy, we have a good one here."

So much for foreplay.

The sisters each took one of my hands and led me to a dimly lit bedroom. Soft jazz music emanated from invisible speakers.

As Mandy unbuttoned my denim work shirt, Karen slowly shed her dressing gown, revealing her low cut short nighty that barely concealed her plump breasts and hard nipples.

Karen reclined on the queen sized bed and raised her knees revealing her full dark bush, streaked with subtle stripes of grey.

The distraction had prevented me from noticing that Mandy had undone my belt and fly zipper, until she pulled my pants and boxers down in one smooth motion.

My cock sprang out and was so rigid you could have hung a wet towel off it.

As I watched Karen fingering her dripping pussy, Mandy cupped my balls and deep throated me. When I thought I was about to explode in her mouth, she backed off and said, "Oh Karen, he's delicious. You have to taste his precum."

Karen pulled the nighty up over her head as she rose to take my cock into her mouth. At the same time, Mandy freed herself of her night attire.

In contrast to Karen, her tits were mere bumps with pink nipples that barely protruded from her small areolas. Her pubic hair was the same dark colour, but was neatly trimmed in a triangular shape. No grey hair was evident.

Karen pushed me to my back, and straddled me so that her cunt descended above my lips. My nostrils flared as the intoxicating scent of her sweet nectar became apparent. I savoured her juices as my tongue slid along her puffy slit and pushed in as far as it could reach. Karen's fingers went to her clit and she pushed down while rocking her hips in slow motion. Her massive tits swayed above me as she increased the tempo.

While this was happening, Mandy had also straddled me. She lowered herself above my cock and slowly took it into her as she grasped Karen's hips and matched the tempo of the rocking motion on my face. I was already experiencing sensory overload when Mandy clenched her pussy tightly around my cock and reached back to cup my balls.

Keren was the first to climax. She screamed when her orgasm started, and gushed a torrent of her warm sex juice all over my face.

Next, I sensed Mandy approaching her climax and grasped her ass cheeks as my cock began spurting deep inside her.

Mandy embraced Karen and they fell to the bed beside me. When we recovered somewhat, Mandy withdrew to the bathroom. A moment later, when we heard the shower running, Karen revived my cocked with her gentle hands before rising to her knees to have me fuck her doggy style.

The pace was slow and gentle, going on for several minutes. Eventually we both felt the stirring of our immanent climaxes and maintained the slow pace until my moment hit just after Karen's.

Mandy was standing at the bathroom door watching as we came down from our highs.

The next day Mayer stopped by again.

'The Wilson sisters review is in on your service call yesterday. Six stars!"

"Six outta ten? I thought I might have rated a little higher than that." I said, a little disappointed.

"Relax. The sisters rating system is usually out of 5 stars. Kudos. You are in the grapevine now. Mary Schneider called me and she wants some light bulbs changed. You up for it?"

"My schedule is fairly wide open."

"Can you make an evening appointment work? Her husband works nights."

"Like I said, my schedule is flexible."

"Great. She would like to schedule you for Thursday at 8:00PM. Oh yeah, I should mention she is in her ninth month of pregnancy. Is that a problem?" Mayer queried.

"I think I can make that work too." I said trying to not sound too excited.

"I'll text you her address." Mayer said as he left.

At just past eight on Thursday evening, Mary Schneider answered her front door with obvious nervous anticipation in response to my knock.

The gorgeous buxom six foot tall blond who greeted me was a bare foot vision in a peasant dress. She wore no make up but glowed radiantly as only a pregnant woman can. I guessed her to be in her early thirties.

I watched for signals that would confirm to me that she wanted to go through with the tryst she had requested. Her hesitation seemed to indicate this was her first infidelity and I thought it might not happen at all.

That seemed even more likely as we sipped lemonades on her living room sofa.

"Brad is a good man." She started. "I don't think he finds me attractive any more. He doesn't make love to me.......he won't even touch me....he looks at me like I am a fat whale."

"You should not feel that way. In my opinion, a woman is never more beautiful than she is during pregnancy. If I may also say, you are one of the most attractive women I have ever seen." I said. "It's no problem if you are having second thoughts."

Mary paused and closed her eyes. "I have decided that I don't want you to make love to me." Mary paused and closed her eyes again. When she opened them, she spoke. "I want you to fuck me, but my pussy is off limits. Would you fuck me in the ass? I would feel less unfaithful if we did it that way. It's another place Brad won't go."

Before I got a chance to reply, Mary stood and took my hand. As I rose, she kissed me tenderly. A tear rolled down her left cheek. She started removing her clothing as she led me to her boudoir. There was a jar of lube on the bed.

Her breasts were like delicious ripe melons. I fondled one and pinched her large dark nipple, while I leaned in to savour the other with my lips. I felt it harden in my mouth.

When I caressed her enormous belly, she sighed and moved my hand to her clean shaved pussy. I lubricated my finger tip in her moist slit and sought her clitoris. She gasped as I rubbed, slowly at first, and then more rapidly as I felt her excitement rise. She trapped my hand between her thighs as she writhed through her orgasm.

When I was naked as well, she said, "This can only be one time." She kissed me again, this time more urgently, fondling my throbbing cock.

All her hesitation disappeared as she crawled onto the bed and applied a generous glob of lube to her rosebud and surrounding area. When she reached back and separated her ass cheeks, the invitation was clear.

I got behind her and slowly slid into her welcoming rear canal. She gasped as first but commanded me to keep going until I was fully lodged deep inside her. She started the motion and soon our cadence quickened.

No matter how often I got to partake in anal sex, I never had a time that it didn't thrill me as much as my first time. It was clear to me that Mary was enjoying it too.