The Serviceman Calls

Connie and I were lying in her bed with our arms out, trying to let the breeze from the overhead fan cool our naked bodies down a little bit. Both drenched in sweat. Both fucked out, that's all, just plain fucked out. That girl is enthusiastic, I gotta hand it to her.

I've told you about her before. Connie is a crazy married girlfriend of mine who had decided it would be a hoot to rent me out to the women in the neighborhood. I had never realized how many wives are out there dreaming of some good sex and not getting it. They settle into a rut with the husband and that's it, a couple times a week or whatever, same old thing. But they want some real attention. And Connie is the type of lady, the girls sit and chit-chat over coffee and they tell her their deepest darkest secrets, and she would like to help them out, and now she is doing something proactive. She says I am a "good fuck" so she rents me out to them for a couple of hours. She collects the money and I don't know how much she keeps but she gives me a fair amount.

We were lying there cooling down after an hour and a half of amazing ... everything ... and she said, "Oh! I almost forgot. I have somebody for you. Rebecca, I don't think you know her. She lives on Oliver Court."

"Okay," I said, "Name doesn't ring a bell."

"She's a quiet little thing, a little shy about things at first but we had a nice talk. I know her husband and he's a decent guy but, I guess, a little backwards is the best way to put it. A little old-fashioned, makes a lot of dough renting out heavy equipment or something. And she doesn't really know much, it seemed like. So listen Doc, I got the feeling she might be a little naive. Go slow with her, okay?"

So that's all I knew. I was given an address and Connie said to be at the lady's house on Thursday afternoon.

I parked in front of a modest suburban ranch home on a nondescript street, a few blocks behind where the Conquistador is, knocked on the door, and it opened a crack. I saw an eye peeking out at me. "Doctah, is that you?"

"Yes," I said. "Rebecca? Connie gave me this address."

"Ok, good," the voice said, and the chain came down, the door opened and I stepped inside.

Every house is so different. This one was, I guess you'd say, rustic. There was a lot of knotty pine, unfinished wood furniture, a guitar leaning in the corner. Rebecca was barefoot, in a kind of overcoat or robe thing, nice, ivory with turquoise trim, maybe it was cotton, very comfortable and simple looking. Actually, it was kind of elegant, but not fashionable or sexy in any way. She had her hair in long pigtail braids, did not seem to be wearing makeup, small hoop earrings. Petite, quiet looking. She was cute.

"Come in," she said, looking me over, appraising this stranger in her house. Apparently I passed the test. She waved me to the couch and we sat side by side.

"Connie was telling me about you," she said. "Actually, it just sort of came up when I was complaining about my stupid life. I mean, I've got everything, right? I shouldn't complain."

I did not respond to that.

"I've got everything but it's not enough, is that stupid or what?"

"I don't think it's stupid," I said, being not-stupid myself and knowing the safe thing to say.

"Anyway, we were talking and somehow your name got mentioned. Connie said she's known you a long time? I forget the whole story."

"Oh yeah, we've known each other for years. I worked with her husband. I might have even introduced them, depending on who you believe."

"I don't usually complain about my life, you know, but somehow Connie is able to get you talking, well you know how she is. And I had been realizing how kind of sheltered I had been. There's nothing really wrong, you know, but, I mean, is this all there is to life?"

"Yeah, we all go through that at some point, I think," I said.

"And so Connie, you know how she is, after listening to me she said, 'Yeah, actually there is more to life.' It kind of surprised me, because I didn't know what she meant, but she was serious. And we were talking, and she sort of mentioned that maybe I would enjoy spending some time with you. So kind of on impulse I said, 'okay, let's try it.'' I hope that's all right."

I laughed. "Of course it's all right. This is one of Connie's crazy ideas. She'll get something in her head and next thing you know she makes it happen. Who knows, maybe this will catch on everywhere. It could become a thing, service calls."

Rebecca was clearly an intelligent woman, small-boned and frail looking, the kind that seems to be made out of porcelain, educated-looking though I had the impression she was not very well educated, and she was carefully observing my expressions, my mannerisms, evaluating me. I surmised she was still considering backing out of this deal. Which is fine with me, I don't want to force myself on anybody. I had taken the time off work already, it would just mean I had a free afternoon.

"Well you know Connie, the conversation became sort of, you know, X-rated," Rebecca said. "Her favorite topic." We shared a laugh. "And she said you are fun. That was her word, fun."

"Well I'm not a comedian or anything," I said. "But I do consider myself very lucky. Look at me now, sitting here with you."

This seemed to settle her satisfactorily.

"So, what do we do?" she asked me.

"Good question. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," she said. "My husband will get home about seven, so we've got some time."

"Some of Connie's friends are interested in some sexual interaction," I said, tactfully.

"Oh!" she said, looking me over. "Absolutely. I guess I should have said."

"I guess Connie could have sent me over to wash your dishes."

"Oh, would you? While you're here I have some silver that needs polishing, too."

"I'll polish your silver," I said, and I leaned over and kissed her. It was a delicious and passionate kiss, lasting a few sweet seconds.

"One thing," I said. "Whatever we do here, can we agree to be honest about things? I'm not married to you, I'm here to bring some happiness to your life but you need to show me how to do that. You need to be able to tell me what you want."

Her face hovered a few inches from mine while I spoke. She nodded, absorbing what I'd said. "Not married to me," she repeated.

"Right. I don't own you, and I only appear when Connie sends me." This time she leaned over and kissed me. I enjoyed kissing her, good sign.

"I'm not really the bossy type," she said, "But let me try to learn to say what I want. Please tell me if I'm being overbearing, okay?"

"Absolutely."

"And also," she added. "I want you to tell me what you want. That's what I want."

"Okay," I said. "Let's not beat around the bush, how's that sound?"

She took a deep breath and fidgeted for a minute. "So is that all right? We just tell each other what we want?" I nodded. "Okay, let me try it." She took a breath. "I'd like to see you naked," she said, as if she were delivering a wish to a genie. "Oh listen to me, is that awful? I'm terrible."

"Here in the living room?"

"Uh, no, in the, no, yeah, here. Right here. You undress and I'll watch."

I stood up. "Okay, but I'm not going to dance or anything." Though I admit I made a tiny bit of a show of unbuttoning my shirt and tossing it on the chair, and removing my boots.

"Wait," she said. "Let me see you."

I was wearing blue jeans. That's all. I stood there looking down at her and she let her eyes roam over my body. "Connie has a good eye," she said. "Okay, let's see you naked. I can't believe I am telling you what to do. But actually this is terribly fun."

I unbuckled my belt, undid a row of snaps, and in a few seconds my jeans and underwear were in a pile at my feet.

Rebecca was smiling. "Oh, I could get used to this," she said. "Can I touch you?"

"You can do anything you want," I said. "I'm here for you."

"And look at you," she said. He reached out and touched my hip, ran her hand over the side of it, to the front. It was a hesitant but bold touch, as if she was making sure I was real. My penis had been hanging loose but began to twitch as her hands explored me.

She looked up at me. "Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"It jumped."

"Well it felt good when you touched me."

"That felt good?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yes," I said. "Your fingers felt good on my skin."

"But I barely touched you."

"Do you want to touch me some more?" I asked her.

"Actually, yes, please."

She was sitting on the couch, leaning forward, and I was standing in front of her, naked. Rebecca seemed pretty young, mid-twenties I'd guess. She seemed like someone with a normal social life and normal exposure to reality, but extremely innocent when it came to physical sexuality. She touched my other thigh and ran her finger toward my knee, eliciting a crop of goosebumps.

"Tickles," I said.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Rebecca, you can tickle me if you want. I kind of like it."

She ran her finger down my thigh again, eliciting another batch of goosebumps.

"And even if I didn't like it, I'm here for you. If that's what you want, we'll do it."

By now my penis was beginning to pump up, rhythmically expanding along with my heartbeat. Her eyes were on it while her hands lightly touched my thighs. "That feels incredibly good," I said.

"I see your thing seems to like it."

"My thing?"

"Your penis," she said.

"What would you like to call that?" I asked her. "We can call it something innocent and childlike, or we can call it something grown-up and sexy."

"I'd like to try grown-up and sexy," she said.

"You could call it my cock," I said.

"Okay," she said, staring at it. "Your cock is starting to get hard." This sounded extremely grown-up and sexy.

"I love the way you say that," I told her.

"Thank you."

"Would you like to touch it?"

"I think so,"

"It's here for you," I said. "You can do whatever you want with it."

She looked up at my face then reached out and put her fingers on my hardening penis. She petted it carefully, rubbing the top of the shaft.

"That feels wonderful," I said.

She let her hands wander over my thighs and my belly, coming back to my cock now and then and petting it. For me, this was paradise, the sensations were so sweet and stimulating, I could stand there forever.

She began to focus on my hardened penis, holding it, stroking it.

"Can I ask you to do something for me?" I said.

"Okay, what?"

"Would you kiss my thigh?"

"Really?"

"Yes please, just your lips on my skin. Maybe move them around on me a little."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips lightly to the front of my thigh. I could feel the pressure of her lips. She moved her mouth to my hip, up to my belly, her pigtails sweeping over my quivering erection as she explored.

"Is it okay if I kiss your cock?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied. This sounds like a binary question, but it isn't. There is only one possible answer to it.

She ran her lips along the length of it, slowly. "That is incredible," she said.

"It's incredible for me, too," I said. I was not lying.

She kissed along its length until she got to the tip, then put her lips over the head of it. I felt her tongue come out and touch me, and then she slowly lowered her mouth on my shaft, taking it into her mouth. She could tell by my sounds that I was enjoying it.

She paused and looked up at me. I said, "You know what I call that? I call it sucking cock."

"Sucking cock?"

"It sounds better when you say it," I said.

"Well I never sucked cock before," she said, trying out the phrase. "But I like sucking your cock."

"Let me tell you what I'd like now," I said.

"Okay."

"I'd like to see you naked," I said.

"Okay," she said.

"Let's switch," I said. "I'll sit, you stand."

She took a last nibble of my cock and stood up. It seemed like she was almost reluctant to leave it.

I sat on the couch. "So, what is this you're wearing?"

"It's just a robe. It's called a kaftan," she said. She untied the belt and shrugged it off and the job was done. There was nothing under it. She watched me looking at her body.

"Can I touch you?" I asked.

"I guess that seems fair," she said.

I did like she had done. I touched her hip just below where the pelvic bone pushed forward, and ran my finger down toward her thigh and toward her knee, slowly.

"Goosebumps," she giggled.

"That seems fair," I said.

My fingers roamed to her bottom and touched it very lightly. I could feel her shivering slightly. "Is that okay?" I asked her.

"I have never felt like this before," she said.

"You're not a virgin, are you?" I teased.

"No, silly, I've been married six years. Sheesh."

"Just checking," I said.

"I'm going to kiss your skin," I said. I touched my lips to her hip and, as she had done, moved my mouth over her skin very lightly and slowly. She had a tidy patch of auburn pubic hair, and I ran my tongue through it.

"So what do you call this part of yourself?" I asked her.

"I don't call it anything," she said. "I never talk about it."

"Well I am going to call it your pussy," I said. "You like that name?"

"Yes."

I lapped my tongue between her legs while I pulled her toward me with a firm grip on her butt. "You know what I'd call this?" I said.

"No, what?"

"I call this 'eating your pussy.'"

"I can see why."

"Do you like it when I eat your pussy?"

"It feels good, yes," she said.

"Problem is, I can't get to it very well from this angle. We could stay here on the couch but maybe we'd be more comfortable in a bed."

"Okay," she said, "Let's go to the bedroom."

She walked ahead of me to a nice bedroom, remindful of a ranch bunk-house. "Here's my bed," she said. "Our bed. Today I am pretending that my husband doesn't exist."

"Okay, it's up to you," I said. "So what would you like me to do now?"

"It would be nice if you would eat my pussy some more," she said. I can't tell you how beautiful she made those words sound. I am pretty sure it was a sentence she had never uttered before, and it sounded crisp and new rolling off her tongue.

"Good," I said. She lay in the bed and I lay between her legs, staring at her fragile-looking pussy with its tender pink lips. I touched my mouth to her and licked around and she groaned.

"I never felt anything like that," she said. "I wonder if this is normal."

"Normal?"

"Yes, do normal people feel like this?"

"I think so, yes," I said, and I got back to work.

I took my time and finally came around for the coup de grace, taking her clitoris between my lips and sucking it. Her hips broke into a frenzy, slamming against my face, and she began crying out in a series of uninterrupted vowels. She folded up at the waist and threw her forearms around my head, holding me in place while an orgasm wracked her.

It was a good one, and it lasted a long time, about a minute I guess. She relaxed her grip on me and fell back with a laugh that sounded like singing.

"So that's normal, huh?" she said, when she regained her breath.

"Yes," I said. "That appeared to be a good strong orgasm, but well within the range of what ordinary women experience every day."

"Every day?"

"Well I don't mean the same woman. Though, you know..."

"Well I guess it was about time for me to find out what that's about."

"You're married?" I asked, knowing the answer.

"Yes. Six years."

"I don't want to get too personal here, but do you have sex with your husband?"

"Yes, all the time," she said merrily. "He always wants it."

"And you don't have orgasms?"

She laughed. "Oh no, you don't know him. He wouldn't know what this is, 'eating pussy.' You ever heard the expression, 'wham bam, thank-you ma'am?' Well that's him. Four or five times a week. I knew I was missing something, I just knew it."

"Let's do it again," I said.

"Do what?"

"I'll eat your pussy again, maybe you'll have another orgasm."

"What? Two?"

"We can try," I said.

She'd had six by the time I needed to come up for air. Her body was coated with sweat and she lay on the bed limp as a wet towel.

"Well this is certainly interesting," she said, smiling radiantly. "How come nobody told me about this?"

"That's a good question," I said.

"Can I try something?" she asked me. "I'd like to suck your cock."

Listen guys, you know what I'm saying. We like to hear a lady say that, right? Looking at her sprawled on the bed, her nipples hard, her pussy swollen, her pigtails falling out of their braids -- and she is asking to suck my cock.

"Okay," I said, not wanting to sound too eager.

"You come lie here," she said, "And I'll go where you were." So I lay on my back with pillows behind my head and she got between my legs and looked at my penis which was pointing at the ceiling.

She didn't need any instruction, but approached it with common sense. You can imagine what's going to feel good, and also you can try something and see what kind of reaction you get. She figured all that out. I was lying there, out of my mind, enjoying the greatest blow job in the history of the world.

"You know if you keep doing that I'm going to shoot a load of cum, right?"

"I figured."

I let that hang there for a minute. "But let's not go there yet. There's something else we gotta do while I'm here."

"I bet I know."

"Rebecca, I would be remiss if we got this far and I didn't fuck you."

"Okay," she said. "That's like making love, I guess, right?"

"Similar," I said. "I think you'll like fucking better."

"Then I guess I won't get to finish sucking your cock."

"Why not?"

"Well because after we make love, aren't you going to be done?"

"Only if I cum."

"Oh," she said. "You mean you might not?"

"I'll tell you what, Rebecca, we could make a deal."

"Let's hear it."

"Okay, I propose we fuck for a while, and if I don't cum I'll let you suck my cock to finish me off."

"Wow," she said. "That sounds exciting. But isn't that putting the foreplay after the main event, sort of?"

"It doesn't matter to me what order we do things."

"I see your point," she said.

"But part of the deal," I said. "When I cum while you're sucking my cock I will want you to swallow every drop of it."

"Does it taste weird?"

"Lots of women like it, some don't. I don't know if you will. That's just part of the deal. Or we could finish up fucking."

You could see her brain processing all this. "Well I want to learn things," she said. "Let's fuck, then I want to suck your cock." She was enjoying saying this now. "I'll swallow it if I can."

She immediately flopped on her back, as I'm sure she's had six years of missionary, and that's fine for me, for this first time. I got on top of her and she spread her legs and I slipped my cock into her silky pussy. She was looking up at me with the most innocent eyes.

I gave a shove and those eyes flamed for a second. Another shove, another flame. "I like this," she said. I went deep and she moved with me like a dancer, and soon we established a rhythm. I scooted up on her to see if she was one of the lucky ones whose clitoris can be stimulated by fucking, and by her moans I would say the answer was affirmative. I slipped the length of my cock in and out of her, rubbing it against her clit on the way in and the way out, and her hips swiveled to meet mine, and after about five minutes of that she gave me a startled but amused look, then closed her eyes and went into a kind of convulsion. She was pounding me with that pussy and everything in the world was perfect.

When she descended from the orgasm I pulled out and tapped her leg to get her to roll over. She got on her knees and I came in from behind, and this went deep. I could feel it hitting bottom, and she was groaning with each thrust. I was able to reach around her waist and get my hand on her clitoris and I fucked her hard from behind, hard and deep, and she came again.