Servicing The Boiler

This is another of my 'stream of consciousness' stories. It concerns a woman in her mid-40s and a younger man. The expression 'old boiler' is rather old-fashioned British slang for an unattractive older woman. (I think it refers to elderly chickens too tough to roast, that need to be boiled instead). It's meant to reflect the light-hearted, rather humorous tone of the story. Once again, I'm using 'British English' slang and expressions, so I hope my US readers can follow what I'm saying. (A 'tap' is a 'faucet', 'sod' and 'git' are mild forms of abuse, and 'bollocks' is a peculiarly-expressive English word that means testicles but roughly translates as 'crap' - as in 'Excuse me, I was talking bollocks.')

I hope you enjoy it. If you're interested in the style of speech, please take a look at 'Local is as Local Does'. As always, all feedback, good, bad or indifferent, greatly appreciated – but preferably not anonymous.

*****

It was all a mistake, really. I mean Gerald said before he went out that morning – 'Don't forget to call Henderson and get that bloody tap fixed'. There was a leak under the wash basin in our en-suite, and it had caused a damp spot on the downstairs ceiling. Well I did call Henderson, not that I like the man. Gerald thinks the sun shines out of him but I find him a smarmy, lecherous old goat and his work's pretty poor in my opinion - but then I'm only a woman so what do I know? Anyway, apparently the nasty old sod was ill, so I was then stuck with finding another plumber at short notice.

I searched Yellow Pages and phoned two or three, but they were all too busy to come out, or wanted an extortionate call-out fee. Anyway, there was this little advert, hidden in among all the other national franchises, and I called them and the guy said yes, he could come out this morning, and no, there wouldn't be a call-out fee, just his hourly rate which didn't seem too bad. So I had a shower and put on jeans and a t-shirt and went to make some coffee.

The doorbell rang around 10:30, and when I answered it I was a bit surprised. I was expecting some wizened old git like Henderson in a stained boiler suit. Instead, there was this rather scrummy bloke in a tight white t-shirt and jeans, a big white smile and enormous blue eyes that I sort of fell into. I said "Yes?" and he just said "Hi. Mrs Bonfield? I'm Jack – the plumber? Come to sort this leak of yours."

"Oh", I think I replied, "I was sort of expecting someone...."

"Older?" he grinned. "If you like, I'll go and fetch me granddad!"

We both smiled and I ushered him in, took him up to our en-suite, showed him where the leak was and offered him coffee. He gave me another gorgeous smile and set to work. I went back to the kitchen, feeling very strange. 'You're behaving like a silly schoolgirl' I told myself. 'Yes, but he is very good-looking' I replied. I sometimes get like this when I'm a bit churned up, you know - sort of arguing with myself? Sometimes I do it out loud without realising it. Gerald says I'm cracking up, but then after nearly twenty years with that man it's hardly surprising!

So I poured the plumber a coffee and took it upstairs, and when I went into the en-suite, he was bent over a toolbox on the floor, and do you know what thought went through my head? 'Nice arse,' I thought. Just like bloody Helen when we're at the wine bar. She's always eyeing up the waiters and the customers, silly menopausal bitch, and I've told her that I swear she'll embarrass us both one day. But here I was, doing the same thing!

Then he turned round and asked me to put the coffee down while he washed his hands. Then he said "OK, that's all done," and did that smile again. I said I thought it was quick and he said that the previous bloke hadn't fitted a washer correctly, and it only took him a minute to put it right. The leak certainly looked fixed.

So he sipped his coffee and I just looked him up and down. His t-shirt really fitted, if you know what I mean. Those shoulders were like – well, like proper men's shoulders, not like Gerald's puny excuse for a coat-hanger. And it looked like he had a real six-pack under there, not the contents of a few hundred six-packs like Gerald's got. And those eyes...

I had to drag myself away from looking at him; he was starting to notice. "Oh, well I'll just go and get my chequebook" I said.

"Oh, that's OK. My last job was just round the corner, this only took a minute and the coffee's great." He took another swig, then gave me that smile again. "Besides, I'm just starting out on me own. I worked with me dad for the last five years, see, and I need to build up a bit of goodwill. Just make sure you call me for your next boiler service and that'll be fine."

I protested that I shouldn't take advantage of his generosity, especially as he'd been so prompt and efficient and done such a good job for me. 'And I bet you could do a really good job for me if I could only get you between my legs!' I thought wickedly.

"Sorry?" he said with a look of amusement on his face.

"Oh my God! Did I just say that out loud? I- I..." I must have gone beetroot red.

"Don't worry. I won't hold it against you. Unless you want me to?" he grinned.

I just stood speechless. What the Hell was I getting myself into here? God, this was so embarrassing.

Then he put his coffee down and just reached out, slipped his hand behind my neck and pulled me to him. His mouth met mine, and his kiss was just sooo soft and sexy. I was literally breathless.

"I allowed an hour for this appointment. And as I said, I'm really keen to build up some goodwill – no charge! You're a very sexy lady, and as

you

said, I could do a really good job if I can get between your legs. So do I forget your little outburst – or do you have something for me?"

The smug, sexy bastard was grinning at me, one hand in my hair, the other on my waist. Those eyes were boring into me. I was dissolving in front of him. I couldn't say anything. I just kept looking at him, at his handsome, confident face, at his strong body, and thinking 'You fool! Now look what you've done!' And my other voice said 'Go on, just do it! He's gorgeous and you'll never get a better offer.' But my mouth wouldn't move. Then his hand slid down onto my bum.

"Nice pert little bum you've got there, missus. I thought so when I followed you up the stairs. And nice tits." He slid his hand down and cupped a breast, rubbing it with his palm. It felt really nice. "What are you thinking right now? Come on, spit it out!"

His hands felt so nice-but-naughty on my bum and on my boob, and he was so close, and his eyes were like – like looking right

into

me. I was in turmoil. I'd never been unfaithful to Gerald at any time in our marriage, though I think he may have been, especially in the last few years. And Jack looked so fit, so strong and sexy. With him I could lose control, with him I could – I could - could....

"Could I please suck your cock?"

God knows why I said that. It just sort of spilled out. It's not like I really enjoyed giving blow jobs – at least not with Gerald. He's never really appreciative, hardly ever reciprocates and keeps criticising my technique. But oddly, the thing I suddenly most wanted to do was to be on my knees in front of this gorgeous young man with my mouth full of his cock, acting like a complete whore. Gerald is such a wimp, and this young man looked so – strong – that I felt I needed to be dominated a bit, sort of

made

to be a bad girl. Perhaps I didn't want to be responsible for what I really wanted to do – to be shagged senseless by a handsome, fit young man for the first time in many years – and if I could persuade myself that he was in control, then it wouldn't be so bad. I get the strangest urges sometimes – must be the menopause.

He smiled again – God that smile was so sexy! "OK, but only if you show me those lovely tits first!" And then he did the strangest thing. He kissed me again, all soft and tender like, and he moved his hand up and stroked my hair. Then he held me close, again very gentle, and said softly "It's OK you know. It's all right to want it. And you're very sexy. I want you too, you know?"

And then I had tears streaming down my face, and he sort of kissed them away, and before I knew it, he was pulling my t-shirt over my head and unhooking my bra. Then he kissed some more tears off my cheeks as he teased my titties and nipples, and he said "Here, this'll take your mind off it." And he undid his jeans and just put my hand on this gorgeous cock. It was hard and velvety and smooth and the tip was sticky and then I was on my knees, sucking and licking it for all I was worth. And it tasted sort of salty but nice, and he smelled a bit of soap and cologne and – and a bit sort of male musky. There was a smell of sex, a smell that made me even hornier.

I looked up at him, and he'd taken his t-shirt off and he looked so strong and powerful. The muscles in his chest and shoulders were so nicely shaped, and he definitely had a real six-pack – I find that so sexy in a guy. He told me later he works out a lot, does kung-fu and stuff. And he had this nice tan and looked all shiny and – and really

fit

. All I cared about was

serving

him, making him feel good, and having him shag me and make me feel really naughty and good and dirty and gorgeous and – oh it's all bollocks I suppose, and I was just mixed up and hormonal, but I wanted to be desired again by a beautiful young man, and I felt that if I gave him a really good sucking and fucking then he might treat me like a sexy lady and I haven't had that in a very long time.

He pushed the bathroom door closed. There's a mirror on the back, and I could see me, tits out, on my knees in front of this sexy guy with a mouthful of his cock. And I looked so horny, like some porn slut in one of Gerald's videos he won't let me look at. (Though I've watched most of them when he's out and while most are pretty sleazy, one or two do get me hot). Then he bent forward and reached down and cupped my tits and started playing with my nipples. Well, that felt pretty good. And then he made these sort of low moaning noises, saying "yes!" every now and then, and then he sort of thrust his cock forward into my mouth as I was going down on it. I don't normally like that. Gerald does it all the time, and I know he wants me to try to deep-throat him but it just makes me want to vomit. Jack was pushing deeper than I wanted him to, but it felt so wonderfully wicked, like I was being forced to suck him, like this big, powerful man was making me do it, that I didn't really mind.

Then he stopped and held my head in his hands and looked down at me. "Mrs Bonfield, I really like what you're doing but if you do it much more, I'm going to come in your mouth and I'm not sure I'll be fit for anything else before I have to go to my next appointment. Do you really want us to do what you said earlier?"

I wanted to say 'is the Pope a fucking Catholic?' but it's rude to talk with your mouth full and mine had about four inches of his cock in it. I put my hands on his hips and slowly pulled back – I didn't want to accidentally tip him over the edge – and then stood up. My throat was feeling a bit sore and my jaw ached, so it was just as well. He hugged me really close and gave me a searing hot kiss, and I could feel it right in my nipples and my clitty. I thought 'you're acting like a bloody schoolgirl!', but actually I didn't care anymore.

His cock was pressed up tight against my tummy, and those strong arms were round me and I felt – I felt so

desired

. I felt like I did when I used to walk past the 6th-form boys in my short skirt when I was 16, and knew they were all watching me and all getting stiffies because of me. In those days, I had to go into the girls' toilets and frig myself off. Now I had someone to scratch that itch for me. Oh God yes!

I tried to act all sophisticated, like I still had some sort of control – whereas if he'd just ripped my jeans off and fucked me over the washbasin I'd have been deliriously happy. I just said "Follow me. Oh and the name's – Simone – by the way." I pronounced it like it was a foreign word.

It's not my real name. I was christened Sharon Janet, but neither of those names sound sexy. Sometimes I get Gerald to call me Simone in the bedroom – when he remembers – and it makes me feel more desirable. So I led Jack into the bedroom by the cock – God that felt so

nawty

! And then he did sort of rip my jeans off – well, he unbuttoned and unzipped them and peeled them off really quickly with my panties at the same time, pushing me back onto the bed so he could get them off over my feet. And before I knew it, his face was between my legs and he had two fingers up me and I must have been squealing with delight. Good job I hadn't got round to opening the windows!

And he was really good. I mean

really

good! When Gerald can be bothered he can make me come with his mouth – but he can't be bothered most of the time. I knew with Jack I'd last about five minutes, tops. Guys are supposed to write the alphabet on your pussy with their tongue. I reckon Jack wrote the entire Chinese alphabet on mine, and I'm sure it sounded like I was already talking in Cantonese! And his fingers went straight to my g-spot – Gerald claims he can never find it – so I was in absolute heaven.

I felt I was going to come any moment, but I had to have that cock inside me, and I knew it would feel better if he fucked me before I came. So I sort of grabbed hold of his head and lifted him up from my pussy. I think I said "Fuck me. Fuck me, please." I can't remember precisely, but it was definitely something like that. I only knew that I needed to get my legs around him right then and there. He stood up and just sort of shimmied out of his jeans and pants. He looked so gorgeous naked, I was trembling with the anticipation.

Then he just sort of lifted me up the bed like I weighed nothing, and laid me down so my head was on the pillow. He ran his hands over my skin, across my titties and over my tummy and thighs – and I was going absolutely nuts. And then he said "Shit! I haven't got a condom on me!"

I reached into Gerald's bedside drawer. I know he keeps some in there, nurturing a hope that I'll one day let him fuck me up the arse – no bloody chance! So I pulled one out, and had the wrapper off and had it rolled onto Jack's cock before you could say 'fuck me senseless.'

But I didn't have to say it, 'cos that's exactly what he did. He just slid between my legs, lined it up and pushed. And it was glorious. To be frank, Gerald's pretty fucking useless when it comes to fucking. His cock's a decent size but he has no idea how to use it, and if he lasts more than a minute it counts as a marathon session. Jack was just so different. He knew how to control it, how to change the angle and the depth of his thrusts to make it feel really good, and I was responding, wriggling and twisting to make it feel good for him too.

And he rubbed his body on my open pussy lips and clit, and stroked my nipples. And he kept kissing me, and whispering in my ear. "Oh Simone", he'd say. "You're such a fabulous sexy woman. Such a gorgeous babe. Such a hot fuck. I love your lovely big tits." (Gerald made me get them enhanced – possibly the best thing the bastard ever did). "I love your pert little arse. I love your smooth pussy." (Gerald makes me wax it, but he won't even trim his pubes). Then he topped it with "I love your tight little cunt." If Gerald said that to me, I'd probably be sick. With Jack, thrusting inside me, his strong body sort of holding me down, fucking me,

making me

do it, it just seemed so right – almost like he'd said 'I love you'. (Am I a silly tart or what?)

Then suddenly he pulled out and flipped me over, it seemed almost effortlessly. He grabbed a pillow, lifted me and slid it under my tummy, and before I could say anything, shoved his cock back inside me. With his cock-head on my g-spot and his fingers on my clit, and him pressing his gorgeous hard, muscular chest down on my back and whispering those filthy, disgusting, delicious words in my ear, I came like an express train in no time. While I was shrieking the place down – apparently – I could hear him moaning loudly in my ear, could feel his cock twitching inside me.

Eventually – I have no idea how long we both kept coming – he pulled out of me and rolled to one side. We lay there for a few moments, catching our breath, gazing into each others' eyes. "Simone, you're a fucking demon!" he said. "You fuck like your life depended on it! And you're seriously hot and horny! That was an amazing fuck!"

I was so delighted. Gerald was always criticising me in bed. Jack just seemed to love what we did – what I did. "I would have thought you'd have found me too old. A bit of an old boiler?"

"Well I'll be more than happy to service this 'old boiler' any time you like, my dear. You're seriously hot, and you know how to fuck, how to move your body – especially your mouth and your sweet tight little cunt."

There was something so right in Jack using those words with me. Until then I would have been reluctant to even say 'fuck' out loud, and I hated it when Gerald used words like that to me. Now I just wanted to hear and say all sorts of obscene and delicious words for the sheer naughty joy of it – so long as Jack kept doing the things he was describing!

And it was so thrilling when he held me and we kissed – rather a lot. Then he said he'd have to go or he'd be late for his next appointment, so I said that our central heating boiler really did need a service, and perhaps he could service me again at the same time. He said he'd be delighted, and would see if he could fit it in. I said I was sure he could fit it in any time he wanted, and we both laughed.

That evening, I told Gerald about what had happened. Obviously not the fact that a lusty young man had fucked my brains out in our bed, but that Henderson had made his last plumbing bodge-up as far as I was concerned, and in future we'd be using Jack's services. He was defensive, as I knew he would be, but finally conceded when I explained that Jack hadn't charged for correcting Henderson's mistake. I also said that I was bringing our boiler service date forward from next month to next Thursday, to fit in with Jack's diary. "That's when I'll be in Amsterdam." (As I already knew and had planned for). "I won't be able to check out this new plumber of yours, so I hope for your sake he does a good job!"

I said I was sure he couldn't do a worse job than Henderson, and would charge less. That shut Gerald up, and he never asked to 'check out my plumber' again. Which is just as well, all things considered.

The following Thursday, Jack came round to service the boiler. He'd blocked out two hours in his diary at the end of the day, and the job took 30 minutes. Then he showered, and I sucked him off, and he massaged me all over – a rare talent in a man. Then he licked me out – he even licked my bumhole, which was a real and unexpected turn on for me, and of course I came very strongly.

Then we fucked. Firstly on the bed. Then, when we'd both come, I went downstairs in my bathrobe to make us some tea, and he followed me down and fucked me again on the kitchen table. (We never did get that tea!) Then we went upstairs and showered together, and he played the shower on my pussy and then he fucked me again.

It was a good job I'd planned it for when Gerald was away, 'cos not only was Jack at the house for nearly four hours, but I was sore for two days afterwards. The following week I sent him a text to say that the boiler needed another service, and we managed to fit in another hour one lunchtime. He'd got the message that I liked him being quite 'strong', and brought a pair of handcuffs with him. He proceeded to 'force' me to give him head and fuck him with my hands cuffed behind my back. I came so strongly that he stuffed his fingers in my mouth to silence my screams and I bit him! After that he threatened to leave me handcuffed for Gerald to find me, but fortunately he didn't carry out his threat – he just spanked me instead, which I didn't really enjoy but it did feel sexy.