Old Handymen have Moments Pt. 22

What to say...., Judith Fortner has moved, even Kat is settled down several states away, my life seems to be calming, way easier now. Service calls for my old ass are much easier on these old bones, mostly routine. A welcome vacation from all the previous crazy shit.

Rattling around my mostly lonely house lately, missing those women more than I realized. My phone rang one afternoon, a young sounding woman on the other end. Edna Walcot was her name, she had two rooms with no power, she'd gotten my name from a couple of previous customers, wondering if I had time to see about the problem. Explaining time normally wouldn't be an issue but her eighty-two year old aunt occupied one of the rooms.

Asked if tomorrow at nine was ok, she agreed but would have to leave fairly quickly for work. Turns out she was an RN at a local hospital, her turn for an early shift. Her aunt, Lillian, would be there all day. I was hesitant about disturbing her, not being aware of her state, you know, health and all. Now to me eighty-two wasn't all that old but younger people have a tendency to think anyone above fifty-five should be preparing to go into a nursing home. Ms Walcot assured me her aunt was all there mentally and health wise. I apologized for those questions, explaining I normally worked for mostly people I either knew or was acquainted with, was just making sure a stranger in her house wouldn't be upsetting to her.

Not knowing who had referred them to me, I had no idea if this woman knew I was closer to her aunts age than to hers, but even at 72, a mention of someone 82 and I immediately think of someone in a nursing home. Ms Walcot laughed at my questions, assuring me the old girl was spry and all there.

Arriving the next morning, I believe Edna was a little surprised at my age, I mean I'm in reasonably good shape for seventy-two, but she did look at me longer than usual. Not sure why. As to Edna Walcot, medium height, maybe five-seven, light brown hair, short hair style, nice figure, not skinny but not plump. Maybe 34 C or D bust, overall the woman appeared tight, didn't know if she was a gym rat or not.

We were sitting in her den, I was listening to the problem and explaining some of the things I might have to do to find and fix a potential problem, when aunt Lillian walked in, she must have been close to six feet tall, carrying a cup of coffee, an unlit cigarette in her fingers, sat next to her niece asking,

"Well 'Edie' were you going to introduce me to your electrician or just let me wander about until I bumped into him."

Aunt Lillian was striking to say the least, almost a glowing head of shoulder length white hair, pulled back in a tight, austere ponytail, held together with a three inch corded band. The woman wasn't without lines or creases, her face showed age, just not in the extreme. Crows feet at her eyes, lines at the corners of her lips, forhead, medium defined cheekbones, piercing grey/blue eyes, sitting under obviously colored light brown eyebrows. An aquiline nose, not large just maybe a bit perfect, lips weren't thin, like some women her age but not plump either. Two just about perfect lips for her face. Only a very slight beginning of sagging skin under her chin, leading to her chest.

Overall Lillian was thin but not gaunt, I don't know how much sag was there but she was carrying DD's, maybe 34 or 36's. As for the rest, couldn't say, the rest of her was hidden behind what I can only describe as a stylish pant suit, a blouse, straining slightly against the buttons, overall she was a striking figure of a woman.

I knew I was staring, could not help it, Lillian knew it as well, only a small hit of a smile let me know I was so busted. Did not care, you knew she wasn't gonna look like a twenty-five year old, I'm a normal guy, might not want to play with every woman but I still wanted a look.

Spent the next couple of hours tracking down what turned out to be a chewed feeder wire in the attic. Proof was finding the dead squirrel, luckily the line side was open, only touching the piss ant rodent, bad luck for the squirrel when he chewed the neutral side. A wonderful source of the burnt smell, killed it but didn't start a fire. Spent the rest of my time pulling a new wire to the junction box, why builder's contractors feel he need for a tune to be played on some home runs is a mystery to me. But I'm not paying for the wire am I?

So all the time I'm grubbing around this house, searching, this Lillian woman is watching me, no questions or interfering, just watching. That same unlit cigarette in her hand, at least I believe it's the same, I haven't smelled any burning tobacco.

Towards the end, made necessary repairs, checked everything was good and operating normally. The attic insured I was a sweaty, dirty mess. As I think all the time, I'm to fucking old to be crawling around in attics but I keep doing it.

Was telling Lillian I'd get Ms Walcot an invoice while gathering my tools, trying to stay down wind of her. I was certain I was smelly, offending this striking woman was not part of the deal.... you never know.

Before I can go, Lillian insisted I have a cool drink with her on their patio. No...., I'm not stupid enough to turn that offer down.

"Why don't you have a seat outside, let me bring our drinks."

A few minutes later, Lillian walks out carrying a tray with two large glasses of iced tea. Strikingly to me, an unlit cigarette was still between the index and forefinger of her left hand. This small detail had my complete attention.

"Would you put our drinks on the table, I'll get rid of this tray."

For some odd reason she returned the tray to their kitchen, retuning, as she sat down, Lillian handed me a lighter, quietly remarked. "It is so much more satisfyingly polite when a man offers a lite for your cigarette. Don't you think."

She then introduced herself formally to me, "My niece, as educated as she is, lacks just a bit in the formal social graces. I am Lillian Martin, and you are?"

I can't tell if this woman is that formal or proper, but my mother didn't raise an ignorant fool. A gentleman stands, offers his hand when introducing or being introduced to a woman, it's the polite way of doing things. So that's what I did, stood up offering my hand politely, "I apologize, I should have introduced myself earlier, I am Dave Ruston." Now...., I started to give this woman my background, work history, etc., why I do this type of work. Something told me Ms Lillian Martin did not care."

With a slight, but firm squeeze of my hand, Ms Martin aknowledged my introduction. She held the cigarette to her lips, waiting for me to ignite a flame. A small red glow, tobacco burning, smoke drifts up, I sat down, Lillian draws a short drag, turns and lifts her face upward. A tight, column of smoky breath exhales from her lips. Lillian looks at me, inhales, opens her mouth in an "O" smoke pumps from her mouth and sucked into her lungs through her nose, a cloud of her white breath seems to explode from her lips.

"The first cigarette is always the best, remarkably like the first cocktail. Wouldn't you agree.". A simple nod was all I managed.

Some of her mannerisms were a reminder of Judith Forter, the way she handled her cigarette, the fact she wanted, no...., required a man to lite them for her. Any resemblance ended at that point. This woman seemed assured and confident, she had been the person to provide my name to her niece. When I asked who she got that information from, Lillian calmly said, "I am acquainted with the Elliots and Ellen Cantor. They all recommended your services. They said you were extremely competent and skilled, from what I've observed, their opinion was correct. Perhaps you can arrange a demonstration of your skills at some point. If you have the time."

"Perhaps your niece wouldn't object to you having coffee with me Saturday morning, I can meet you at the coffee shop on 15th and Avion, say nine-thirty, if your niece can drop you off, or would you rather I pick you up."

"Ohhh...., Mr Ruston, I am not as tethered to my niece as you suppose, let's skip the coffee. I'll drop by your home Saturday instead.

I hesitated concerning mentioning anything of my normal dress or lack thereof around my home. Thinking I might just wear clothes, she interrupted my thought. "Oh, Ellen has mentioned something as to your normal attire around your home...., that I might want to call before dropping by or some such thing."

With that, we stood, no hug or passionate kiss, only a slight shake of our hands. With that terse, arrangement we parted ways, I went home to my supposed empty home, extremely curious concerning this woman. What does this woman know, what has she been told, and more importantly, what does she want. Some of it is obvious, some, not so much.

Nope, Wanda was waiting, pacing around my deck.

"Afternoon you old goat, can I use your equipment or have you worn it out for the day?". Wanda is always the epitome of tact, euphemisms do not suit her.

"I'm tired and sweaty, let me shower, we can crawl into the bed, you can use it for as long as it'll keep you happy." was my reasonable answer.

"Bed sounds great, I've been on my feet all day, fuck your shower, I get off on the smell of a sweaty man. Besides...., don't wanna lick your pits, other areas need that."

No need arguing with her, she was throwing off what little she had on before she finished her bs. The bitch must be particularly horny, my clothes are getting ripped off as I'm walking. The woman shoved me to my own bed, picks up my legs, chunks me sort of diagonally on my bed. Straddling my knees, "Damn Dave, doesn't look like you're real happy to see me, your old boy is limp as wet dough."

She's holding my soft five inches upright, opening her mouth, starts swallowing me whole. Her top lip bottoms against my hair covered pubic bone, bottom lip is rubbing my ball sack. Her tongue snakes out lathing side to side on my balls. The soft five inches is growing down her throat, a small gagging 'urlrk' comes up testing her gag reflex.

The woman is determined if nothing else, her lungs aren't moving, I'm probably blocking off her lungs. My hand rests on top of her head, my mostly hard cock is pretty much down her throat by now, she is trying to lift, I'm shoving her attempts to rise down. Sort of a mini throat fuck! She's slapping my thighs, glurking gags from her gut. I let her head loose, Wanda jerks up, my cock, saliva, sticky phlegm, blows from her mouth, out her nose, she's coughing, spitting, clearing her throat and nose.

Finally gaining some air, "You can be a real bastard sometimes, you know!"

I only nodded the affirmative, "You wanted a fast fuck, so get to it, my smelly ass is tired."

She started to ride me cowboy, facing me. "Nah..., turn around, i like watching that butt bounce on me."

Wanda is nothing if not enthusiastic, It's a very nice sight, watching a woman's hand grab your cock, swipe it up and down between a nice pair of swelling lips, sinking a tight ass down, dragging the outer vulva inside her slit and just sit there, letting her cunt expand and move, molding itself to my shaft. I can hear her low moaning while her cunt fits to me, her butt cheeks, that small flex of her muscles, my cock hardening in the sleeve of her hair covered pussy.

This was gonna be a slow starter, she slides slowly up my shaft, leaving a slick shiny glaze on my skin. Reaching my crown, a slight pause, then down to my root. She doesn't seem to be in a great rush, sliding up, she's gauging her stroke, pausing, my glans barely inside the engorged cleft of what was becoming a wet mess of hair surrounding my cock.

Holding my index and forefinger on either side of her vulva, as she slid up and down on my shaft. The crinkled, star of her butt was pouching out, her sphincter was flexing, begging for attention.

Started swiping her slickness from her cunt to the brown spot winking at me, pushing my thumb into her ass, i get a grunt from her. "Fuck...., that feels nice!"

Her motions are increasing, my thumb and hand are my only control over the situation. I can sort of control the speed of her hips, otherwise she'd get her nut, get up and leave. Been there and seen that before, something about Wanda's system of control or some kind of bull shit she enjoys.

Her pussy is flooding, cunt lips are swollen, engorged and red, she's been groaning or grunting for minutes. Our junctures have become a sloppy mess of churned up froth. Wanda is close, my grip on her ass the only thing slowing her down. One thumb is good, two ought to be great! My left thumb causes a loud, strained "MOTHER FUCKER!", from her. With two thumbs up her butt, my two handed grip on her ass, started pushing her ass up and yanking it down.

I'm tired, my cum pumps up her hole in maybe four or five dumps, my grip is slamming her cunt on my cock, her body is arched back, I can feel her pussy gripping, flexing around my shaft. Feels like I'm lying in a puddle of sloppy slime. Wanda collapses face down between my legs, my cock bent, stuck in gash of her twitching sex. My cock goes limp, pops out of her gaping hole, slaps against my stomach, standing up I walk to my shower, "Be sure and shut the door when you leave." is all I say.

My mind, inspite of the sweet, sloppy pussy winking at me, has already started shifting to tomorrow.

An eighty-two year old Lillian Martin has my attention. I debated whether to greet her dressed or in my usual lack of clothing.

Might as well give her the truth, never been one to sugar coat things. With me you get what you get, take it or go elsewhere.

Saturday might be interesting.