The Plumber

I've been working for my old man's plumbing company for about seven years. I started working there part time in my freshman year of high school, and the week after graduation the job became full-time. Good money, good hours, and with my looks, I managed to turn a few customers -- the mature female ones -- into a nice extra-curricular entertainment, if you know what I mean.

People always joke about the repairman who flashes his coin slot every time he crouches down. Well, it took me those seven years to turn into that guy. Not that I was totally fat, just a little beer gut, and my jeans were pretty well-worn by now. I didn't give a shit, I just let my crack show to whoever wanted to see it.

Late on Friday night I got an emergency call. Stacey Ferguson's toilet was fucking clogged again. I must have unclogged that thing fifty times in the last two years -- at that rate, she could have paid for a new model by now. But she doesn't complain, and I don't complain, and certainly my dad doesn't complain either.

Mrs. Ferguson was a single woman in her early forties. Okay, her belly was a little pooched out and her buttocks bulged, but I have to say, she turned me on every time I saw her. I just don't go in for those wafer-thin model types like most guys do.

Well, I had a few beers in me and I ran right over there in my truck to get it done right. "The upstairs one again, Mrs. Ferguson?" I asked as she opened the door.

"Please," she said. "After this many times you can call me Stacey."

"Okay, Stacey," I said. She led me right up the stairs, and I stared right at her well-rounded ass. The pink housecoat she was wearing didn't hide any of her curves, it accentuated them. I wanted to reach out and grab her, but business comes first. My dad drilled that into me years ago.

I stepped past her and went about my business. I always made sure I took a little longer, did a little more, than the job actually called for, so she would feel like she was getting her money's worth.

"Would you like a wine cooler?" she asked me. Not really my thing, but I nodded my head anyway. Mixing drinks doesn't really bother me much. And what the hell, I was cleaning her toilet. I was in no position to be particular.

As Stacey came back upstairs, I heard the ice jingling in the glass. I ran my snake down the bowl to fish around down there, well aware that my coin slot was pretty well exposed to her. Stacey bent over me a bit to look into the bowl too, and I stood up. When I bumped into her, a few ice cubes flew up out of the glass and fell straight down the back of my pants.

Stacey plopped the glass on the top of the tank and began to fish around down there, trying to get the ice out. "I'll get them, don't worry!" she said cheerily. I started jumping around then, what with the freezing-cold ice on my ass and her sharp fingernails scratching me as she moved around. Before I knew it, she was unbuckling my belt and pulling down my jeans.

"These are all wet," she said. "Let me put them in the dryer." She didn't give me a chance to say no. Anyway, with her hands inside my shorts I could help thinking about going further. I twisted my upper body to look at her more closely.

"Got any more of that ice?"

Stacey stood up slowly, her eyes fixed on mine. Then she dug into the glass and picked up a handful of the small cubes. I turned around and she put her hand into my boxers, cramming the ice cubes tightly against my asshole.

One of the cubes went right into my chute and I winced with the pain and pleasure. Now my boxers were soaked with the melting ice and the remnants of the wine cooler, and I quickly dropped them to my ankles. Stacey dumped the rest of the glass into her other hand and ground them hard against my sticky star as well.

Frantically I unbuttoned my shirt and threw it into the hallway. My hands clenched the back of the toilet and I arched my ass high into the air for her. Stacey dropped the cubes she was still holding, took a big swing of her own drink, and then bent down and pressed her lips up against my asshole. She got an ice cube between her teeth and pushed it into my hard, and then another, and then another. Feeling the cubes go up my ass filled my whole body with amazing sensations.

"More, more!" I begged her, and she obliged me. My feet were slipping on the wet tile floor, and my legs splayed open even wider. Then there weren't any more ice cubes, and I turned around -- to find my cock going straight down Stacey's open throat.

The contrast between her burning hot lips and mouth and the ice cubes still in my ass was almost more than I could stand. With her lips firmly locked around the very base of my cock, she sent a finger, then another, up my ass chasing what was left of the ice.

"Yeah, fuck me, fuck me, baby!" I screamed as my fingers wrapped themselves in her helmet of curly hair. Then I couldn't stand up any more, and I fell down on the toilet seat as her fingers slipped out of me with a loud, nasty plop. I clutched the rim of the toilet, which was way too uncomfortable to stay on, and pulled myself up as she released my cock from her mouth.

I watched as Stacey dropped her robe to reveal her floppy tits. They really hung down low, and her nipples were hard and tubular. I immediately grabbed her nipple with one hand and stuck my other hand into her panties, groping around for her hole. Quickly my fingers were right up her sopping, gaping cunt. This old broad was as hot as a four-alarm fire!

She got her panties off and then began pushing me backwards irresistibly until I fell into her tub, throwing my hands out behind me to break my fall. She turned on the hot water tap and the water began to gush out of the faucet. I was going to turn it off, but she stopped me, turning on a little cold so it wouldn't scald me. Steam began to fill the bathroom, and Stacey stepped into the tub with me.

It was her turn to spin around now, holding on to the tile wall with both hands and sticking her ass right into my face. "Spank me, stud," she said. "Slap my ass till I cry." Her voice was filled with a cock-hunger I didn't expect to find in a woman of her age. So I whacked her ass, and in the resonant space of the bathroom the noise sounded like I was beating her with a great big paddle. Soon I could hear her sniffling and slobbering, and I could see through the steam that her big white ass was bright red from one side to the other.

There were all these candles that Stacey had set up around the tub, I guess for some kind of atmosphere when she took a bath. I grabbed a red one about ten inches long, not very thick but sturdy enough. I planted its base against her cheeks to let her know what I had in mind, then started to probe around her pussy with it. "That's my favorite one," she said. "Don't be shy."

The tub was about half full now, so I pulled on the stopper and adjusted the water until the flow in equalled the flow out, but it all stayed nice and warm. Stacey lost patience as I made these adjustments. "Fuck me!" she screamed, and I stuffed the candle into her cunt right away, pushing it all the way in until just the wick was sticking out of her.

I twisted her lips between my thumb and forefinger and used my other hand to pull the whole thing out again by the wick. Then I had it back in, and even though it was so long, Stacey was still trying to hump it further inside her. I didn't want to lose control of the thing, so I slapped her butt again and she held still, or mostly.

When I had first grabbed the improvised dildo, I had been planning to use it on her ass, but she was getting way too much fun out of having it up her cunt. I looked around to find another candle. I grabbed a stubby white one that was a little bit thicker than my hard cock. It was about five inches long with hardened runs of wax running down its shaft. I slowed down the pace on the red one and just let it slide easily back and forth in her wet pussy.

The nubby base of the white one was impossible to get into her crinkly asshole, so I grabbed a sliver of blue soap from the dish and crammed that up her ass instead. It half melted as it went in, soap dribbling down over her pussy and the red candle. As Stacey screamed with pleasure, I was able to slip the white candle inside her with no further trouble.

Soap suds were streaming from Stacey's asshole as I twisted and dipped that white candle in and out of her. There was no more blubbering now -- she was screaming like a whole train full of accident victims. I could glide the red candle back and forth in her cunt with just two fingers, but had to use the whole strength of my other hand to get the white one first as far in as it would go and then almost all the way out -- but not quite.

Eventually, I set up a rhythm so that each time I eased the white candle out, the red one went in. I quickened the pace, and Stacey's screams and deep belly moans quickened too. She reached between her legs and took over from me on the red candle, freeing me up to strum on her clit. Then she began to use her other hand to spank herself with, and as hard as I had slapped her ass before, it was nothing compared to the viciousness of the blows her own hand was landing.

I was so lost in the thrill of all this candle-fucking and self-spanking that I had totally lost track of my own raging cock. Finally, though, I couldn't take any more. I grabbed the red candle out of Stacey's hand and threw it against the opposite wall, cracking it in half. Then I grabbed the white one in my fist and cranked it up to a higher angle so I could get to her easily.

Then my cock was parting her fat and sloppy cunt lips. Now it was the slap of my thighs against hers, not the crack of her own hand on her butt, that sent noises resounding through the bathroom. I couldn't go very deep inside her and still work the candle in her ass, so I stuffed myself up her with short violent thrusts. Finally I let go and wrapped my arms around her chest and held on by her tits, crushing them to her body and squeezing them as hard as I could. My belly tightened and took over the job of hammering on the the candle that was still up Stacey's asshole.

"Stop!" she yelled. "Stop! I'm going to come!" Before I could react, she was coming, no longer holding on to the wall but slapping it with both hands alternately. Her cheeks shook and her whole body quivered, but I didn't let up one bit of the pressure on her.

I locked her body to mine by clamping my chin on her shoulder. Only her head and her cunt muscles were moving as her orgasm washed over her. I stopped thrusting so I could enjoy the sensations of her pussy clutching me over and over again. I was concentrating so much on making her come that once again I had forgotten about myself.

When it was over, I reached for the candle and yanked it out as well. "Name anything you want," she said to me, "any way at all you want me." I was tired, and I could think up kinky things later. "In your bed," was all I said.

Very soon I was lying on my back, my cock pointing toward the bedroom ceiling as Stacey was climbing up on me. Her tits swung forward as she impaled herself on me, and I clamped down on one with my mouth and began sucking on that long nipple again. Feeling her soaking wet pussy lips against my balls was just amazing as I thrust my hips up in the air, supporting myself with my feet.

Stacey's weight came down on me then, pinning me firmly against the mattress. She ground her pussy back and forth until our pubic hairs were totally mashed and glued together. I felt wave after wave of squeezing again, not because she was coming, but because she was making her pussy muscles ripple over the entire length of my shaft.

Then she pressed my hands down to the sheets so I couldn't move. All I could do was clench my teeth together as I unloaded buckets of jism inside her. Then she stopped moving as well, just using her inner muscles to extract spurt after spurt out of my cock. For ten more minutes after I was done she squatted on me, keeping me inside her by force. Then she got off me as slowly as possible, and I realized how much my balls hurt from the violence of my explosion.

Now usually I can do a woman twice in one night, but that first time was so amazing that it just didn't happen. It doesn't matter, though, because next Friday, Mrs. Ferguson's damn toilet is guaranteed to get stuck again. And she'll call me up to come on over and bring my reamer with me.