A Handyman's Wife

If Ronnie gets a new customer and ends up getting a blow-job or more from her, I don't find out about it until he gets home. He always tells me, which is the most important part, but I don't ask him to call me and ask permission or anything like that. I'm not quite as comfortable as he is at jumping into sexual situations on my own. Maybe it's because he's in the privacy of his partner's home, and I'm just out in the world.

Occasionally though, the planets align and I find myself with an opportunity I can't refuse. Ronnie's cool with it, and it's exciting as hell.

Ronnie forgot a tool one day, and he called me to see if I could bring it out to him. It was way out in the country and he was almost done with the job. If he had come home to get it he would have had to go back the next day, and he already had another job scheduled, and another stop to make that evening. I found what he needed and headed out in my little car.

I'm sort of a bargain hunter. I love garage sales and estate sales. On the way out I noticed an estate sale sign, so I made a bee-line back there after I dropped off the tool. It was a cute little house, set back from the road. As I pulled in the driveway a nice looking man was coming out the door. He said he was closing up, but I could take a look if I wanted. He walked out to the street and took down his sign while I wandered in and looked around.

It was pretty clearly an old person's house. The man came in and told me it was his mom's. She had passed away and he was selling the house and everything in it. We got to talking about the pretty antiques and things, a nice easy going conversation that veered into some nice flirting. He really was a handsome guy—a little older than me with a nice sparkle in his eye.

We made our way upstairs where he had lots of nice old dresses and clothes all laid out, the kind of things you'd see at a vintage clothing store. It was beautiful stuff, from the forties and fifties, and it was all pretty close to my size. I was dying to spend some time with it all and find one or two treasures to take home with me, but I didn't want to hold the guy up after he'd closed for the day.

He told me he was a fan of the old movies, and he held up a dress and said Joan Crawford had worn something just like it in such-and-such a move. He was like a fountain of knowledge about it all. Another dress reminded him of Ginger Rogers, and another one he said Ann Sheridan would have worn. I hadn't heard of her before.

I got so enthused about it all, I asked him if he'd mind terribly if I tried one of the dresses on. He looked almost as excited as I was, saying he'd never seen any of them worn before. I picked an amazing metallic silver evening gown, which he said was made out of something called Silver Lamé.

He left me alone in the room, which was a spare bedroom I think. I took off my t-shirt and jeans, which left me pretty much naked, with just a little thong. It was right then, when I felt that rush you feel being naked where you're probably not supposed to be, that I knew I wanted to fuck that nice looking man. The tingle of it swelled up almost to the little orgasm stage before I got ahold of myself.

I stepped into the long gown as carefully as I could, smoothing it over my body as I pulled it into place. I was amazed at how well it fit, hugging my hips just right. The zipper started real low, down near the crack of my ass. I could have easily zipped it halfway up, but I left it and called the man in.

With my naked back to him, I asked him to help me, looking back over my shoulder with a sexy little smile. He smiled a little too, and I felt him pull the smooth, shiny material around my little waist. Back in those days they wore girdles and things, but my yoga keeps my waist nice and small and he was able to work the zipper up. He did it real slow, either because the dress was old and fragile, or because he wanted to do it slow and sensual like. I'm guessing it was the latter.

As he got near the top I had to push my tits in. They're not big, but neither was the dress, and when it was all zipped up my tits were squeezed a little and pushed upwards, giving me more cleavage than usual. I could see myself in a big round mirror, and damn if that shiny dress didn't look smokin' on me!

The man looked thrilled with seeing that old dress brought to life like that. There's something about nice clothes, when they're worn by the right person they just seem to come alive.

He told me I looked amazing, his eyes all sparkly and lit-up as he looked at every inch of me. It was super sexy. After a few minutes of me doing some model moves and showing it off, he asked if I'd try on some of the others, since that one fit me so well.

I put on a light turquoise halter top gown, and then a black satin one with a big poofy black satin flower on the hip. That one was strapless and looked super hot. There was a little shorts and top set with a bare midriff, from the fifties I guess. I was able to squeeze into it, but those shorts were tighter that would have been acceptable back in the day I'm sure. The nice man liked 'em that way though.

The last one I tried on was another shimmery metallic evening gown. It had thousands of little bits of real metal attached to a thin fabric underneath—you could see right through it everywhere but the crotch and tits. It was heavy, and moved like nothing I'd ever seen when I held it in my hand. I told the man I probably shouldn't put it on, because it looked real fragile and already had some rips, but he said not to worry because it was already damaged and was missing some of the metallic pieces here and there. If it ripped it ripped he said. He wanted to see it on me.

He left the room and I slipped into it as carefully as I could. I could tell it was gonna look super hot on me, so I called him in for a zip up. I held my breath as he slowly worked the zipper up. It seemed even tighter than the others through the mid-section. When he got it to the top I turned to show him the awesome way it showed off my tits. The next breath I took split it wide open, right down the middle like it was planned that way. It was suddenly like one of those super modern dresses that's got open cleavage all the way to your belly button.

Neither one of us said a word. I looked down at myself, my tits mostly on display, and the man just stood there, his eyes taking me all in with a lusty look. I asked him to help me out of it, so I wouldn't do any more damage. I could hear his heavy breathing as he lowered the zipper, and I just let the weight of it slide down my body, like it was in slow-motion.

I glanced back at him over my shoulder, giving him a sexy little movie-star smile as I stood there in nothing but my thong. I imagined it like that hot little Lauren Bacall smile, but I'm not sure if it really was. He put his hands on my waist real soft and tentative, so I put my hands over his and slid them up onto my tits. That awesome electricity hit me, and we were off to the races.

His soft lips kissed the side of my neck as his hands squeezed my tits. I almost melted when I felt it all, and then one of his hands went down the front of me to my little thong and he squeezed my crotch real soft, breathing hard against my neck. It was super hot.

I moaned a little and let him get used to the way I felt before I turned around and kissed him. Our mouths were wet and our lips were warm. His hands went to my ass and he squeezed, pulling my cheeks apart, open to the air. I could feel his hard cock through his pants, pressing against me.

You know what happened next—those pants were down and I was on my knees, sucking and slathering my spit all over his nice cock. He was a hairy guy, but it was soft, almost like fur. He smelled good too, sorta musky, with a nice hint of baby powder.

His cock was fatter than Ronnie's, and felt so good in my mouth. Sometimes there's nothing I'd rather have in my mouth than a hard cock, and that was one of those times. I just gobbled it up like the hungriest girl in the world.

I bet you know what happened next too—I was on all fours on one of the twin beds, with gorgeous old dresses all around me, taking that fat cock deep in my pussy. I felt so slutty and awesome, it was just about as good as unexpected sex ever gets.

My nice man was a real good fucker. He went deep for a good long time. I figured once he came it'd be all over, so I pulled off him and sat on the edge of the bed. I took his sticky cock in my mouth while I unbuttoned his shirt, and then I laid back and lifted my legs. He picked them up and held them, his cock zeroing in on my pussy like one of those heat-seeking missile things. It went in me without either of us touching it. It's so cool when that happens.

He had a nice flat stomach that I could see with his shirt open, his muscles rippling a little bit as he fucked me. Damn, he really was good looking!

All the sudden his hip went faster, and I thought he was gonna shoot off and end it all, but he was just winding up to the good stuff. He was fucking like a young guy, like a fuckin' teenager, and my pussy was on fire. I encouraged him with some good dirty talk, moaning louder and louder until I was up in the screaming range, letting it all out as he pummeled me.

In such a hot situation there was no way in hell I wasn't gonna cum big time, and I sure as hell did. I was floppin' around like a spastic fuckin' rag-doll, and my nice man finally gave up the good fight and pulled out and came all over me like some kinda porn star. As soon as I could breathe I just started giggling and rubbed the sticky mess all over myself.

It's one of those sexual memories I'll think about when I'm old and dried up, and I'll probably start giggling then too.