Handyman's Tool

Oscar and I retired we moved to a new home in the country that needed renovations. We found an experienced carpenter and contractor to help us. Larry is easy going and in his later forties. He carries his tools in his truck and toolbox, but his most useful tool is in his pants.

One day Larry told us that he had to go to another town to pick up materials for our job, and he asked if one of us could come along to pick out what we preferred. Oscar hopped into Larry's truck. He later told me that as Larry got into the driver's seat, he winced and seemed to be in pain.

"What's wrong?" Oscar asked.

Larry grimaced and said, "Oh, I sat on my balls. The damn things slide under my ass almost every time I get in and out of the truck."

"Ouch," Oscar sympathized. "That's never happened to me."

"Count your lucky stars," Larry said. "Mine just sag down too low and get tangled up in my shorts all the time. When I drive alone, I just haul 'em out and let them hang over the seat to keep them out of the way."

Oscar thought Larry was kidding. How could balls droop down that far? So my husband said, "If it help you, don't mind me, go ahead and haul 'em out."

And he did.

Larry unhitched his britches, unzipped his fly, reached inside and brought out an overflowing handful of large balls in a long fleshy sack. Sure enough, he laid two big balls over the edge of the truck bench seat. He smiled at Oscar, and said, "Thanks."

The drive was over hilly roads with several miles of switchbacks on narrow roads. Oscar tried not to look, but he caught glimpses of Larry's swinging nut sack. When they parked, Larry took a moment to repack his balls before carefully sliding out of the driver's side door. On the way home, Larry didn't ask, he whipped them out again and put the truck in gear.

Oscar didn't tell me about this right away. He and I haven't had much of a sex life in years since his equipment doesn't work like it used to. But he looks forward to Friday nights when I try to keep things spicy by being playful with his dick and giving him a blow job.

That next Friday, as I tickled Oscar's little balls, he told me about Larry. I couldn't believe it. My imagination took off wondering how it would feel to hold balls like that. I asked, "Did he have a big dick to go with his big balls?"

Oscar said, "I dunno. All I saw was his balls. He kept the rest tucked away somehow."

The next time Larry had to go to the supplier over the mountains, Oscar was away, and I offered to go with Larry.

I watched as Larry carefully sat behind the steering wheel. Sure enough, he gritted his teeth and groaned slightly. I said, "Having a problem?"

Politely, he replied, "No mam, nothing serious."

I could tell he was in pain, and I knew it was self-inflicted. I admitted, "Oscar told me about what you like to do when you drive."

"Oh, yes mam," he replied.

"It's okay if you need to do that. I don't mind."

"Thank you, mam, but I don't know about that," he said.

The truck lurched forward, and the movement caused Larry to rock back and forth slightly, mashing his balls again.

"It's okay, go ahead," I said.

"Well, it might be safter to drive that way," he said, and Larry unzipped and fished inside his pants. It took him some effort to get them out. I sat up higher to get a better look. Sure enough, the stretched out bag of balls in his hand reached to the edge of the seat. Larry relaxed as his pair dangled down over the side.

I looked away as much as I could, but I was mesmerized by glimpses of this man's ball sack. As much as I wanted to feel them, I kept my hands to myself and pretended that it was no big deal.

On the drive home, Larry asked me politely, "Would you mind, mam, if I let 'em out again?"

"Not at all, Larry," I told him.

He released them, and as we drove I told him, "Oscar likes me to tickle his balls, but they're nothing like yours."

Larry didn't reply at first, then said, "I imagine that every guy likes that."

"If it wasn't unsafe for you to drive, I'd tickle yours right now," I said.

Larry smiled and said, "I'm a married man."

I asked, "Does your wife tickle your balls?"

Breathing harder, Larry said, "I wish she did." In his pants, I thought I could see Larry's cock stir.

Trying to make his cock grow bigger, I said, "With testicles like yours, you must produce a whopping load of semen." Sure enough, I saw his dick move around in his pants. I was quiet for a few moments, then said, "I don't really know, maybe bigger balls doesn't mean more cum."

My words made Larry's cock move again, and then it happened. Just as the road became winding with switchbacks and nowhere to pull over, his dick sprang out of his pants. It lumbered forward and rested on the steering wheel. Both hands were on the wheel to drive safely, and his big dick was getting in the way. In near panic, he said, "Can you grab it for me? Quick, get it out of the way!"

His cock was sticking through the steering wheel now. Each turn pushed it back and forth. Clearly it was a driving hazard. The truck lurched from side to side as I reached over and put my hand around his thick dick. It was firm but still a little soft, intriguingly large but not yet hard. My fingers didn't meet as my hand circled his dick and aimed it in my direction.

Larry's eyes were glued to the road, but my eyes were glued to his dick. "Glad to help," I said.

About a mile later, we were back on easier roads, but I didn't let go of his cock. And Larry didn't ask me to let go. Occasionally I squeezed it a bit, but I didn't let my hand wander up and down. I wanted to give his bulby head a test squeeze to see how it felt, but I didn't want to alarm him more.

We pulled into our driveway with his dick still in my hand, "Safely home," I said. I released his cock and added, "I'd be glad to help you with that tool any time."

Larry followed me into the house, and I asked, "Wouldn't you like me to tickle those big balls of yours?" For the next two hours, Larry and I fucked like rabbits. I was surprised how skillful he was with that big thing. He knew how to treat a lady, that's for sure. He was gentle but insistent that he could get all of it into my pussy. By the time we were done, I was well stretched after riding his cock like a high school cheerleader.

By the time Oscar came home Larry was gone, and I was smiling and well fucked. When my husband asked, "How was your day?" I told him, "It was an interesting drive with Larry, and when we got home he used his big drill on me."

Oscar's eyes widened. "You mean what I think you mean?

I answered, "Let's just say his dick is even more impressive than his balls."

Larry kept working for us, and he kept using his big tool on me. Oscar offered to give us privacy, but we let him watch all he wanted. My husband developed a fondness for stroking himself while watching, and Larry wasn't bashful about letting a husband watch him fuck his wife.

I hinted at my ladies' card playing club that I had a helpful handyman. When they asked more about him, I told them about how he drives with his balls out. "What!" a friend said. "How do you know?" I told them the story of our first drive and about his cock popping out. None of them believed the story, but I think they wished it were true.

I decided to produce evidence. It was a warm day the next time Larry was at the house, and he wore baggy shorts. He was working on our deck, kneeling and bent over to scrape paint. His big packages dangled loosely from his shorts. I grabbed a measuring cup.

"Just keep working," I said as I reached up his pant leg and extracted his cock. Of course, his balls came tumbling out, too. I reached around his bull balls and started milking him. I oiled his dick to make it slick and slippery, and as I started stroking him I told him about my ladies' club. "They don't believe that your cock and balls are so big," I said, "So I'll bring them a load to show them what big balls can deliver through a big dick."

Larry moaned with pleasure. I said, "My friends will see your cum, Larry, so give me a big load." His breathing became labored. I tickled and teased his dangling sack and toyed with his dick, making him wait and build up a bigger reservoir to give me.

Oscar came out and asked what we were doing. "I'm draining Larry to show the girls." Larry was grunting, trying to cum, but I wouldn't let him yet. "Oscar, just look at this," I said, "My friends are gonna believe me when they see how much cum Larry gives me. One day maybe they can milk Larry, too." My words were making Larry go nuts.

I said to Oscar, "Hun, why don't you give me a sample, too? I'll show it to the girls as a comparison." He grabbed a wine glass and lowered his pants. There on our deck my husband watched me milk the handy man's big dick while he got to work to donate his little pecker load.

"I'm gonna let them guess which is your cum and which is Larry's," I said. Remember Margy and Grace and Anne and Dorothy? I'll show them both cum samples."

Talk like that hit Oscar like lightning. He got frantic, pumped himself like a fiend, and let go with a loud moan as a few trickles of his white jism fell into the wine glass. Exhausted, he leaned back and rested.

"Larry, it's up to you now," I said as I gently stroked him. "My husband just gave me a sample, and I bet you can give me a lot more." He tensed as if he was about to cum, but I took my hand away. He begged me, "Oh, please make me cum," but I wasn't quite ready.

I began slowly teasing his balls with one finger tracing them around the bottom and up in between them, raising them and lowering them in the palm of my hand, pushing them from side to side while my fingernails traveled up the underside of his long dick. Gentle touches, then I gripped his cock firmly and stroked him rapidly for a while, then stopped. Over and over I kept it up while Larry grew more and more desperate.

He was a good sport, and he let me play with him until he was ready. I told him, "This is it. It's now time for you to cum like a good boy." When I gave him permission, I felt him focus. He sighed deeply and widened his legs a little, lowering his long dick into the measuring cup. How considerate.

One hand toyed with his sensitive glans while the other rhythmically stroked the thick shaft of his dick. My work was done. Larry came with a roar. His deposits blasted into the cup as I milked him to get every drop. My thumb pressed along the underside of his dick, and more strokes produced more jets of cum.

When his production ceased, he remained in place for a last drip.

The next day at the club, I produced the evidence. My husband's wine glass with a few drips of milky fluid, and Larry's measuring cum with three ounces of the cloudy fluid. "Which do you think is from my husband, and which is from my handyman with the enormous balls?"

In no time, the handyman with the best tool in town was busier than ever.